#it's like... okay. and you still have to wake up and go to work!

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're a Star

Art in the banner by Kerravi on x!

Pairings- Pornstar Satoru x shy f!reader

Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream of the boy you like. Just how will that go for you both!?

Warnings- This has a LOT going on, heed the warnings - filming porn, oral (f receiving) spit kink, creampie, cum swallowing, multiple rounds, biting, back shots, SO MUCH jealousy especially from Satoru, honestly this situation is toxic be warned, say hi to Nanami and maybe kiss him? Obsessed whipped ass Gojo, he's becoming a little yandere, this chap is ANGSTY asf, mutual pining, idiots clearly in love but stupid asf, MESSY WC this chap- 13.8k (Monster chap my god)

A/N- Taglist closed- Happy Mother's day to me and all the moms have some smut and angst lol - please comment/rb if you enjoy <3

<<<Chapter Three - Masterlist- Playlist- Chapter Five>>> (coming soon)

Chapter Four

How could you get it off your mind?

Sitting at your desk in a lull at work, your fingertips trail down the side of your neck, lashes fluttering as you remember Satoru planting firm kisses across it, the memory itself makes your tummy clench with hot desire, goosebumps rising as your fingers dance along it. Remembering his teeth sinking in as he shoved his thick cock so deep, burying it inside you.

Remembering how he cleaned you up, kissing your breasts where he’d sucked and bitten like little apologies, his boyish smile as he whispered his little ‘sorry’ murmurs along your skin. The thorough way he’d lavished your body in his shower that night, how he washed and conditioned your hair, rinsing it until it was as silky as your hair has ever been with whatever fancy products he had.

He’d made sure you had breakfast, taken you down the elevator and made sure you got in the car okay - fuck he called and texted later that night just to check on you. There was no mistaking Satoru was perfect when it came to fucking, but also above and beyond with the aftercare, but that made it all even worse for you.

Cumming with him was intoxicating, it was fucking insane, but moreso the sweetness of him, the thoughtfulness, that’s what sunk deep into your veins, in an unmistakable rhythm just whispering over and over in your mind. The days without him have only shoved the reality further down your throat - that you think you’re falling in love with him.

Are you just foolish?

You’re always led by these deep fucking feelings, you don’t think before you plunge or follow them, either. Yet, there was no other explanation for it, for what you feel when you’re under him, from what you feel when he kisses you, far beyond your cunt drooling - god, it squirted - down his cock, or his mouth, or his fingers. Far beyond being appreciative of his aftercare.

It was all too much.

So much, you’ve turned down coming back over for days, as you’re still so fucking disoriented and confused, you can’t separate sex like Satoru does, like Jenna does. You wish you had the ability, to let go and have fun - and not full of a fucking inner turmoil while your cervix is being kissed by the prettiest pink tip. You wish you could take it for what it is, and not crave more.

Selfish, maybe you were selfish?

Foolish and selfish for carrying on knowing better.

You hadn’t texted him back yet today, you don’t know how to be casual in your messages, not when you remember his arms around you in your sleep, not when you crave their warmth. You have a life and a career to focus on, you can’t let him consume all your waking thoughts, fantasies of him wanting more, of him asking you to be with him flitting like day dreams. 

“Miss…” Your attention is drawn as a colleague says your name, knocking on your open door then. “A potential client is here, are you available?”

“Oh, yes. Sure!” You shake yourself out of it, smiling and then faltering as you see him, right in your office, and the secretary walks off, whispering about the handsome, tall white haired man to her friend, earning giggles as Satoru stands there, drop dead fucking gorgeous in front of you.

“No greeting, kinda rude pookie.” He says with a little playful smile, stepping further inside your office now, as you try to gather any of your wits.

“Satoru? What are you doing here?” You ask softly, curious how he knows exactly where you work, aside from maybe seeing it on your socials.

Satoru Gojo is standing right in front of your desk with a grin on his face, hands in the pockets of his dark jeans, white dress shirt unbuttoned just two little rows, revealing some of his well muscled chest, where that necklace he always wears lays flat. He’s got on black, round shades, blue eyes glinting as the floor to ceiling window shines light in your office, filtering around his frame.

The man looks unfairly good.

“Well, sweets, I really need a good OF banner and some promo pictures all done for me, thought I’d come here. Support your hustle, since you support mine.” He smirks a bit as he speaks, sauntering closer, hands now resting on either side of your desk, the veins popping out of his forearms and drawing your attention. “You’re the best at it, aren’t you?”

“Oh I doubt all that, but I can definitely help you.” You stand up now too, and Satoru sees your cute little work outfit, a pretty blouse he’d like to rip off you, a pencil skirt that he’s aching to see from the back, and a little belt to cinch it. Your glasses match your blouse today, he has to wonder how many pairs you have, these have this cute little cat eye shape to them.

You bend over in front of him, giving his eyes just the view he was dying for, before pulling one of the gray office chairs over next to you, patting it with a soft smile at him. “I get to see it in action?”

“You do, come on.” He sits next to you, arms resting casually, while you cross one leg over the other and start typing away on your keyboard, clicking that mouse and pulling up your program, trying to ignore how good he smells, his cologne so familiar and intoxicating, filling your little office then.

“Look at you, so professional. So cute.” He teases softly, a hand brushing against your bare thigh then, making you clench them together and shift, biting on that lower lip at the sensations.

It’s been a few days since you were under him, but the thoughts wrack through your fucking mind every night before bed, several times throughout the day, cunt responding right along with your nipples pressing against your bra. Just one brush of his fingers and you come undone, you can’t stand how deeply little things affect you from him.

You have to focus.

“What all were you thinking?” You murmur softly, he hums to himself a bit, looking at his phone now, still not removing his hand, burning your skin casually while he scrolls, leaning back in the seat.

“You did the one for Jenna, right?” You nod, and he pulls it up, it’s all brightly lit with a neon glow, Jenna’s in the sexiest little outfit, little kisses covering around her body. “It’s really cute.”

“Thanks, I loved doing that one. So we will need a somewhat safe photo, they do have banner guidelines.”

“Yeah, I think I have some, help me pick?” You nod, leaning close as he scrolls, your shoulders brushing together, he can feel your heat even mid thigh, thumb running in tantalizing little circles as he scrolls through his photos.

You blush furiously at some of them, some are his cock, covered in cum, some are of him fully nude, others he’s precariously got something barely covering his cock. “You have a lot of photos, Satoru.”

“Part of the job I guess.” You sigh, as he keeps scrolling, pulling up a couple photos where he’s laying on the bed.

“Those are really good, email a couple to me?” You hand him the business card with your personal email, he types it in, removing his hand and allowing you a breath, as you pull up your email on one of your monitors, you catch Nanami talking to one of your coworkers and eyeing you with a smile, which you return with a wave.

Satoru glares at you as you do, he’s showing you him half naked and you wanna wave your cute little fingers at the boring business guy? Who is smirking at you again, and boy does Satoru wanna wipe that smirk off his face. He clears his throat then, earning your attention finally, you look at him curiously, blinking a bit, letting your hand fall.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, and he goes to just say it - he wants all your attention, just like he can’t help but give you all of his - but that’s fucking nuts.

You’re friends.

You’re his friend, a friend he wants to bend over this desk right now and fuck your insides up, have your pussy only know his shape and no one else’s. A friend who he jerks off too rather than focus on his career, who he has to picture to do anything, a friend he just had his cock deep inside the other day. A friend he wanted to bust inside and fill up till she couldn’t walk.

Maybe if he filled you with cum now, you wouldn’t giggle and smile at the blond dude giving Satoru a fucking side eye across your office, maybe you’d be so fucked out you wouldn’t give him the time of day. He throbs behind his boxers thinking of it, of cum drooling from your pretty little hole, all while you blink at him curiously, so fucking innocent and not knowing how you’re killing him.

“Satoru, you good?” You tease, as his jaw clenches, a thin blue vein popping out under his thin pale skin.

“Great, sweets, sorry. Want any of these?” He scrolls through the rest slowly, until you see pictures of Satoru with women, making you tense as he casually moves through. “They’re from a while ago,” he murmurs, but it doesn’t make you feel any better, seeing videos unplayed of certain shoots he’s done. “I usually post clips for the paid members and then charge them for the full vid.”

“Right, no that makes sense.” You look away now, the sight of Satoru with someone makes you far too uncomfortable, and it shouldn’t. “Um, these in the email will do great.”

“Yeah?” He looks at you, feeling how tense you are next to him. “I’m sorry, did that make you… uncomfortable?”

“What!? No way. It’s so cool with me.” You smile brightly, but it doesn’t hit your eyes, even behind the glass where he can see his own reflection. “You know I’m still a little um… shy about that stuff. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” He repeats softly, and you give a quick nod.

“I’ll get more used to it helping you out, plus Suguru’s um… I think she’s his friend or co-star? She asked me to do a shoot and a design too.”

“Oh shit, look at you.” You smile again, relaxing a little. “You’re just diving into the industry.”

“I wouldn’t say all that,” you start expanding the photo on the computer, flustered at just how sexy he was, shirtless and glistening with sweat, vivid images smacking you of the other night. “I guess I am getting a little involved, though.”

“Yeah you are, oh, we made more money by the way.” He transfers it to your app then, and your eyes widen.

“That much!?”

He leans close, too fucking close, lips right against your ear, which are pounding with the rate your pulse is racing. “I told you, that pretty body is made for porn.”

You tremble just a bit, trying to focus, pulling away and taking a breath - you are at work. You can’t just be soaking wet next to a pornstar you have stupid feelings for, who’s eyeing you like you’re already naked, the way only he can ever. You try to gather yourself, clearing your throat and swiping away the screen, to think you made more in ten minutes with Satoru than a month at your job was ridiculous.

“I see why you enjoy the perks I guess of your business.” You say softly, still remembering those girls on his phone and hating how you feel. “Any shoots coming up for you?”

His jaw tenses once more, eyes bright as they study you. “You wanna do another shoot?”

“What!? No… I mean, no. I just meant… with someone else.” You stare at the screen, clacking away on your mouse as you start to add colors and overlays to the pretty banner.

“I got my manager to calm down a bit finally, so none currently, but… of course I will have shoots coming up eventually.” You hate how the thoughts rush, and he eyes you carefully. “Why do you ask?”

“Just making conversation while I do this.” You’re lying, through your fucking teeth, but you don’t want to fuck it up, being around him, being near him, with your feelings.

Your whole life is that - feeling so much, too much, for friends, family, strangers even. You were prone to donate even when you were broke because someone got your feelings, some people took advantage over the years of that kindness, but you never could guard yourself properly, not when it was a core part of who you were. Not when there was no other option for you but to care, and care deeply.

Does Satoru Gojo care?

Were you just a co-star to him now? A co-star and a friend?

What did you expect from this?

Too much.

“You’re very quiet, sweetheart, what’s on that smart mind of yours?” You look back over, his hand is back on your knee, he’s tilting his head just a bit, a heartbreakingly handsome face watching you.

“Sorry just a lot of thoughts in my head today, also I am a pretty quiet person at work especially,” you put a hand on his, squeezing gently and earning a quirk of his pouty lips. “With you I’m a little more open than usual.”

“I like that, you opening for me,” his murmur is too fucking seductive, and you’re sure he knows it as he studies the color dancing across your cheeks. “You open up so good for me too.”

“Do I?” His words are met with fingers slipping up between your thighs, you bite back a gasp as he touches you over the already damp cotton of your panties, thighs trapping his hand there involuntarily.

“Mmhmm, you’re a good girl, look at you,” his words are like silky, snowy lashes low over dilated eyes as he sighs just a bit, feeling your slick coat his fingertips. “Did she miss me already?”

“Did you miss me?” Your counter question makes him pause because fuck he missed you - but it terrifies him that it’s not just the sexual need, the desire, it’s so much more than that.

He did miss you in just a few days, your smile and your scent, your sweet little giggle and the way you pressed your glasses up your nose. The very energy near him that emanates from you, the way you look up at him like that, the way he feels near you. He craves it like no drug he’s ever tried, your taste and the way your skin feels, the cute little sighs you make.

He’s fighting the inevitable fact that you’ve already sunk deep, that he’s becoming obsessed with you, and he’s not sure you feel the same. Clearly you enjoy him too, but you’re no where near his level, you’re not looking his workplace up and finding him like he just did, no Satoru doesn’t even know what the fuck in possessing him lately.

All he knows is he needs you around him, near him, on him…

Wants to bury inside you but that’s not even enough.

A quiet knock sounds on the door as Nanami walks in with a silver tablet, smiling as he walks inside, barely acknowledging Satoru then. “Hey darling,"- Hey Darling - he's gonna hey darling his fucking face - "Could you check this one for me, I’d love your opinion.”

“Of course I can.” Satoru’s hand falls and his fists clench at his sides, as you lean over the desk, and your breasts spill just a bit from your neckline, he sees the hazel eyes darting down and up quickly, wanting to smack him for even looking at you. “Oh Kento, it's so good!”

“Kento?” Satoru asks softly, and Nanami clears his throat, smiling over at him like an annoyance.

“That’s my first name,” he says, Satoru glares over at you now, and you tilt your head curiously. “Something wrong?”

You call him Kento.

He does not like it.

“No, no, sorry, go ahead sweetheart, I’ll wait.” He purrs those words, winking up at you, scrolling back through his phone, zooming right in on the picture he took, his favorite, where you have cum painted all over your ass and pussy.

Kento would never fucking have that from his darling.

“Your designs are so good,” he says, shoulder to shoulder with you now as the two of you peer at some of your work. “You need to give me a little advice.”

“What, no you’re so good at everything! You’re just being sweet,” your teasing giggle infuriates him, he wants to snatch you up and show who the fuck you are under, who gets to be inside you - but he holds it in.

It’s absurd.

He’s being so stupid and the worst part is he knows, but when Nanami’s big hand brushes against your back, leaning closer and murmuring something, it takes everything in him not to crash the fuck out. He tries to remember what you two are - but what the fuck even are you both?

You’d probably want someone like this Kento dude, wouldn’t you? You’d want someone with a career like yours, who clearly wants something serious, some ‘gentleman’ or so he seems. Even though Satoru is pretty fucking sure dude is not a gentleman, judging by the way his fingertips slip down your spine before his hand falls finally.

That’s when Satoru realizes he’s been holding his fucking breath.

“Are we still on for tonight?” He asks then, and Satoru’s stomach twists in knots as he watches you, shifting a bit, your weight on one foot, you look at him for a moment, eyes unreadable.

Say something, Satoru.

You want him to, fuck you want him to, but you wonder if you’re delusional when his lips turn up at the corners, and you turn back to Kento now, clearing your throat. “Um of course, dinner at eight right?”

“Mmhmm, also thought maybe go grab drinks somewhere after? If you’re still up for that.”

“We’ll see, I do get sleepy.”

You weren’t sleepy at four in the morning riding his cock the other night.

“No worries love, sounds good.” He presses a little kiss on your knuckles, walking out now and shutting the door behind him with a resounding click, leaving you both in the now quiet of your office, no noise but the shuffling of seats as you sit back down next to him.

“Where ya going?” Satoru asks, feigning ease and putting down his phone, you tense a bit, flustered.

It feels wrong to go on a date with Nanami when you just were getting Satoru’s cum spurted all over your body, doesn’t it?

But you and Satoru are not together, and he’s made it fairly clear when he has turned down two opportunities to stop you from it, that perhaps he doesn’t care. You still plan to be open with Nanami about this, because you don’t think it’s right not to share that sort of thing, but to close yourself off completely to a potential match in life for just sex wasn’t something you think was good to do either.

It’s a mess. Your mind, your feelings, your heart.

“I don’t know where we’re going, he is picking me up.” Your answer makes Satoru’s jaw tense, eyes flashing for just a moment over the sunglasses that have slipped down his nose just a bit.

“Oh?” His question just lingers in the air between you both, while you bite on your lip, clicking a little more.

“Yes, somewhere nice he said but I guess it’s a surprise. Do you have any plans tonight?”

“We’re all supposed to go to a party, maybe you should swing by after your date with Kento.”

“I guess I could.” You wonder if you’re imagining the inflection in his voice and in his tone. “Does he rub you the wrong way or something?”

“Just… no, I just…” Satoru never stutters, he never falters, but he can’t think of any good fucking reason he is so upset, so angry about it. He clears his throat and settles back in the chair a bit. “Be careful, though, you know?”

“Are you so worried about me?” You peek at him, hair falling across your face, Satoru brushes it back for a moment, lips parting, aching to say it.

Don’t go.

But he has no right to do that to you, to ask you to come with him instead, to have you so weak and fucked out you wouldn’t make it to your stupid date. In fact he’d love to have cum pouring from your pretty pussy, just in case Nanami touched you at all, which he very much doubts. But if he did, the thought of him just fingering Satoru’s cum gives him a sick and possessive thrill.

“Maybe I do worry a bit.” But you should be most worried about him, he’s the one that is truly not good for you, and he knows it. But how the fuck does he stay away when you’re pulling him in like gravity?

“He seems to be a gentleman. I think I’ll be perfectly safe, but it’s nice to know you care a little.” Your soft voice breaks off, he glares now at you.

“Think I don’t at all?”

“I don’t know your feelings, Satoru. You don’t… say anything really about them.” He looks away again, because before all of this, Satoru was once ‘in love’ and that girl destroyed him.

She was a pornstar herself.

It’s why he got in the industry, but her games and lies had left their mark, he knew then he didn’t wanna feel that way - to be hurt like that. But what he feels for you is different, it’s too much to explain, the obsessive nature of his thoughts were just burning up his brain. But he doesn’t need to spill it all, to explain it all - especially when he doesn’t even know what to say.

You just sigh a bit at his silence, tilting your head this way and that, fingers clicking the mouse as you adjust everything, trying to avoid the tension. “Look, what do you think so far?”

“It looks great, sweetheart.”

“Yay!” Your cute little smile and how you push up those glasses almost end him then and there. “I’ll make a couple different so you can alternate them. Want me to send them to your email later?”

“That would be amazing, how much?”

“Oh please, don’t ask me that. It’s nothing.” He frowns a bit at you.

“It’s your job.”

“Still, you’re my…” You trail off, the tension so palpable in the room as he stares at you it’s difficult to breathe. “Friend. Um, friend and family rate applies.”

“I’ll pay full price, sweets.” He pats your head affectionately, standing then and sending you far too much money.

“Satoru!”

“What? I looked up your rates online.” You roll your eyes at him, then frown as you stand as well, and his hand drifts down your arm slowly, achingly slow, in a ‘friendly gesture if anyone could see, but it felt far more than friendly.

“How did you find my work by the way?”

“Socials showed the company, I figured it was the one closest to where you said you lived.” He shrugs, as if he didn’t do a deep dive into you, and found that fucking Kento guy on the company site too, he was apparently your ‘superior’ so it’s odd he’s asking you for help, too.

He can’t reveal just how much he cares, how upset you haven’t come back over, how your replies were a little too short, even if they were sweet. Because if he said all of that he’d look like a whole fucking idiot, if he said casually ‘hey, think I’m absolutely obsessed with you and my dick is otherwise broken’ what would your response be, to a guy you still barely knew?

He needed to try to keep some of his obsession shoved down.

“Oh of course, you are probably on IG huh?” You peek then, looking him up, eyes popping out. “Oh damn, you’re IG famous too.”

“They’re thirsty is all.” You smile a bit, scrolling and seeing his sexy photos with millions of fucking hearts and thousands of comments.

“I’ll follow you, I don’t know why I didn’t think of looking you up. I’m social media clueless I’m afraid. I have like three selfies, the rest is just all the things I bake.”

Your three pictures at awkward angles are the prettiest things Satoru has ever fucking seen.

Your manager walks in then, smiling over at you. “Meeting in thirty.”

“Oh, thanks!” Satoru sighs now, realizing he needed to leave, and you put a hand on his shoulder softly. “Thank you for coming in, I’ll have the rest of these done later.”

“No rush, and of course,” he leans down, pressing a kiss on your cheek, feeling it heat under his lips, sighing as his hand presses against the small of your back, where Nanami had touched, splaying the expanse of it and hearing your catch of breath. “If you want, come to the party after, hmm?”

“I might be too tired,” tired from what!? Satoru pulls you so tightly you wince, and he loosens his hold when he realizes. “But if not I’ll for sure come.”

“Be careful tonight, though will you… just tell me when you get home?” You pull back curiously, looking up into his unreadable blue gaze, nodding then, earning a more casual smile that seems forced. “Good. Have a good… day then.”

“Thank you, Satoru.” You press a kiss of your own on his cheek, on your tiptoes, that contact alone sends him, his eyes fluttering for a moment before he pulls back, slipping his sunglasses back up.

“Bye sweetheart.” He walks out, glaring as Nanami clacks away at his own keyboard, pressing his dark green shades down and smirking over at Satoru again, and he is even more firm in his opinion  - he thinks he hates that man, even if he doesn’t know shit about him.

Just having touched you is too much. When he’s in the back seat of the black car and his driver closes the partition, he can’t help but suck on his thumb, which has just the hint of your taste. He brushes it along his lower lip like a gloss, sighing at how good you taste. It takes him moments to try to calm his racing heart, palming his hardness and wincing.

All he can think of is you, constantly. It’s not getting any better since he had you cumming on his cock - it’s just gotten worse, the thoughts maddening, making anything else impossible to focus on. He peers at your photo in his phone, not just the one where he’s coated you in his cum, no it’s the one that’s just your pretty face when you’d been knocked out that morning.

He’s now a creep who takes photos of sleeping girls.

But you were so precious and peaceful, he had to capture it, craving you in his arms every night was even more palpable, as his thumb brushes down the cool glass of his phone, as if to trace that cheek. He can’t picture not having you again, but he also can’t picture how the fuck to be selfish enough to ruin your life with him.

******

The date with Nanami is perfect, as dates go.

He’s surprisingly so funny, he’s an avid listener, the two of you get along so well it’s easy being out together, taking nibbles of each other’s plates and sips of each other’s glasses of wine. His hand is on your thigh under the table cloth, he murmurs sweet little things in your ear, the two of you tease and gossip about the crazy people at your job.

It’s perfect, really. Nanami Kento is perfect, handsome and sweet, gentlemanly but he’s also not too gentlemanly, hazel eyes darting across your collarbones, where a pretty glittery necklace decorates it. His fingers brush up high on your inner thigh, his lips press against the shell of your ear, he’s too perfect. It’s too easy, the time just flies as you two spend time together.

Satoru texts you as Nanami goes to the bathroom, and you curse him internally, since he’s been in the back of your mind the whole fucking date. He’s texted you three times during the date, one is just a selfie, one is a little meme, and one is asking how it was going. You assumed he’d be busy with women all over him at the party, not texting you.

You get another asking for you to tell him when you’re home safe.

You like it too much, the attention, the messages, the fact that he thinks about you - but then you hate it, because all it was doing was forcing the obsession you so clearly have. Jenna told you not to lose yourself, she warned you, but you’re fearing you’re far, far past it all.

All you can think of is kissing him again.

His teases in the office left their mark, you found yourself aching in your shower after work, caving in and touching your puffy clit and sensitive cunt, whining out and leaning against those tiles, picturing his fingers instead. You’d been more frustrated than anything, unable to capture whatever it was he does to you.

You were never like this before you met him.

Satoru awakened a part of you, but if it was just a part of you and nothing else, then why weren’t you turned on by Nanami? He’s made you comfortable, you enjoy him, all the reasons you asked Satoru are right here, yet the thoughts don’t cross your mind, the feverish ones that consume you with Satoru - the filthy ones that make you blush as they dance across your mind.

You don’t write him back, you can’t focus if you do and it’s not fair to give Nanami a chance if you have that white-haired sex demon blurring your mind.

When the dinner is done, Nanami is driving you back home, a hand over yours, it’s nice and warm, as the two of you drive through the night, your hand grips his right back, entwining your fingers together. “Nanami, that was so fun!”

“I had a lot of fun too, doesn’t hurt you’re looking that gorgeous.” You giggle a bit, flustered now, as he pulls into your driveway and parks the car, still gently humming in the night.

“You look handsome too,” your little whisper is met with him unsnapping your seat belt for you, his cologne in your senses, musky and heady, you can’t help but inhale it. “And you smell so good.”

“Do I now?” You nod and he chuckles, cupping your face with his warm palm, a huge hand taking over the entirety of your face, your heart quickens at the contact as his hazel eyes dart to your lips.

You’d explained it all, the ‘friends with benefits’ thing that you suppose Satoru and you were. Nanami also has a similar situation, which instantly eased any sense of guilt, and his open mind surprised you, a lot of him surprised you, just how open he is when he seemed so ‘straight laced’ along with his touches, bold yet respectful.

You should be open to this.

What was the future with Satoru? More shoots in secret? Sneaking around and fucking in his penthouse and getting pampered after? Where was more - where were the dates where you weren’t ‘friends’ where you were his date. Where if a co star came up he ignored her politely, and if a man came up to you he firmly said ‘she is mine’.

It’s all a fucking fantasy is what it was.

Your eyes flutter shut, leaning forward and feeling Nanami’s exhale, as he presses his lips to yours, and it feels good, they’re firm and delicate in how they move across yours. Your lips part and his tongue sweeps inside, while your fingers grip his suit jacket, earning him dragging you closer against him, so big and overpowering yet so gentle.

It does feel good, tongues dancing against each other, his hand wrapping to your nape, entangling softly under where your hair is elegantly done up, drinking up your little sighs as you kiss. You feel delicate butterflies arise at it, but what you don’t feel is the insanity, the ridiculous need, the obsession you felt when Satoru had kissed you, touched you, fuck just that night when he blew smoke into your mouth.

You keep trying to explain it away, so you’re not hurt, so you won’t be so fucking hurt when he gets tired of you, but how can you get over this? When he was just at your office, fucking your mind up, making you soaked from his touch? How can you keep denying it, the irrevocable truth that you wish was not true.

Nanami’s hand trails down your waist now, and you moan softly, it feels good, when you’re overheated already, when the man clearly knows what he’s doing, breaking apart a bit to sigh, looking at you, his hand trailing down your thigh. “You taste so sweet, darling,” he whispers, making you flush even more. “And you’re so cute, you know that?”

“Oh, stop,” Yyu giggle again, gasping as he kisses down your neck, his hand slipping between your thighs. “Nanami…”

“You’re so hot there, fuck,” he’s moaning now, thumb toying with the elastic of your panties, making your thighs tense.

“Um, this is too fast, I’m sorry.” You whisper, easing back, seeing his lidded gaze now.

“I wasn’t going to… I was just going to please you.” He murmurs softly, sexy handsome face even sexier when he bites his lip. “I wasn’t going to do more than make you cum.”

“Oh… oh… I…” you trail off now, gently taking his hand and pressing a kiss to his palm, he tenses a bit, clearing his throat.

“I was way too forward, I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You ease his hand down, leaning forward and kissing the cleft on his chin.

If it was Satoru you’d have spread wide for him.

The frustration builds at this, your heart is hammering in your chest, it wasn’t just being comfortable with Satoru, it wasn’t just being his friend - there was no fucking way that was it. Now you have the proof in front of you, your body is reacting to Nanami, your nipples are pressing hard against your dress, your cunt is clenching at his touch, it wasn’t physically you wouldn’t enjoy it.

It was the case you’d always had - without more you couldn’t go through with it.

Nothing’s changed in how you feel or think of sex, like you thought, the only thing was the fucking feelings for Satoru.

Deep feelings.

You can’t even think of it right now, smiling and cupping Nanami’s face now, as your lips dance across his. “I loved tonight.”

“Thank god, I was worried I just ruined it.” You shake your head with a soft smile.

“Not at all.”

It wasn’t his fault you’re obsessed with a goddamn pornstar.

******

Parties aren’t fun when the girl you can’t get off your mind is with some boring ass business guy named Kento.

Satoru can hardly focus, sipping on his drink and sighing while Suguru kisses all over his favorite co-star. Sartoru is pretty sure at this point they’re together, considering the only time she’s not over at the penthouse is when Suguru is at her house, and she’s all Suguru talks about. He’s envious of the way the two freely do just that, be together, do shoots together more than not.

His other co-stars and friends are drinking, smoking, Sukuna is over there snorting a line off his favorite girl, leaving Satoru…

Alone.

He ignores anyone who comes up to him, how can he pay anyone attention when he knows you exist? When he wants you on his lap, your lips against his for everyone to fucking see, he wouldn’t even care if rumors went flying, he’s dealt with them before for lesser things, for little flings and favorite costars.

He just wants you here.

He checks his phone for the millionth time when Toji comes up, smirking over at him. “What do you want?” Satoru asks, pouting and looking at his phone.

“Saw that co-star of yours going viral, shit, why are you keeping her a secret?” Satoru’s jaw locks at Toji’s question, and Sukuna strolls up with his girl in tow, throwing back a drink.

“Wonder if she got your dick to work though, or you still need the viagra?” Sukuna asks, his girl gasps, smacking at him.

“That’s so mean!”

“What, he couldn’t get hard for you? That’s a problem,” Sukuna’s murmuring, and Satoru sighs, throwing back the rest of his drink.

“That why you’re just eating her out, then, but fuck that pussy is pretty,” Satoru almost punches Toji in the face as the black haired man grins. “I’m way older than you and don’t need viagra.”

“You are old as fuck.” Satoru says, standing and shoving at Toji then, who just chuckles, people are all looking, Suguru comes over, putting a hand on Satoru’s shoulder now.

“What’s going on, you all are always running your mouths.” Suguru glares over at Toji and Sukuna now, who snort in laughter.

“Well, well, it’s your girlfriend.” Sukuna earns Suguru raising a brow, cracking his knuckles. “Girlfriend is angry.”

“I’m about over you two running it.”

“We were just talking about his mysterious co-star.” Suguru frowns a bit, he’d seen the stream and put two and two together, and hasn’t spoken about it. “Wondering if his dick will work.”

“You’re really obsessed with my dick, Toji, you want it that bad?” Satoru’s blue eyes are glinting when Toji scowls and Suguru chuckles.

“It’s the ongoing joke of the industry- the biggest star and his broken dick. We should thank you though, making room for us to take the spot.” Sukuna says, Satoru rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, you wish.”

“I’d say that title would go to me, anyway.” Suguru’s co-star comes over, and he wraps an arm around her, looking over at Satoru. “Wanna go home with us?”

Satoru pauses, staring at his phone again and sighing in relief when he sees you typing, three dots moving. “Um… wait a sec…”

Sukuna and Toji finally leave, and Suguru is watching Satoru curiously. “Is she coming to the party?”

“No, guess she’s tired.” Satoru’s face falls, he catches his best friend’s all too knowing gaze. “She had a date.”

“Why don’t you ask her on one?” Suguru’s co-star asks curiously, Satoru frowns again.

“How could I?”

“We can still date, Gojo. Can’t we, Suguru?” She asks, and Satoru looks to see his friend’s blush then, eyeing the two of them, blue gaze narrowing with his white lashes lowering.

“It’s easier when you’re both in the industry I guess.” Suguru admits, sighing. “I was fully against it, but we still deserve to be happy, even if our career is a little out of the norm.”

“That’s a quick change.” Satoru says, Suguru shrugs a bit.

“I know it is. Satoru, nothing's changing in our friendship because of it.” Satoru’s seething with jealousy, now. Suguru and him began this together, and something about him having a girl and them looking so happy makes him long for you.

Toji’s comment made Satoru want to kill him.

In fact he doesn’t even want to know what anyone thinks, all the comments had gotten to him as he scrolled through - the men in there, saying how badly they wanted to lick your pretty pussy. But he’s the one who did this, who put you in that position, who the fuck was he to get upset that people commented? That’s what porn was, but at the same time, it was you.

Was he changing you? The shy, sweet girl he feels such a pull toward, was Satoru Gojo changing that? The thoughts make him dizzy, suddenly the entire party just feels like the worst place to be, people he used to enjoy and have fun with, now he wants to disappear, he doesn’t want to see them, hear them. He swallows down the nausea as he peers around yet another mansion.

What was the point of it all?

“Satoru, let’s go. You look like you’ve had too much.” Suguru murmurs, a hand on his shoulder, he finally looks at your messages.

Good Girl🫦 - Sorry Satoru, I am really tired and don’t think I have any more social battery for a party. I hope you’re having fun though! I am home and safe. 

Satoru hovers over the screen now, contemplating.

🌽🌟 Satoru - Do you want me to come over to your place?

You nervously look at the phone then, finishing slipping off your heels and hanging up your purse.

Satoru at your place?

Good Girl🫦 - You probably want to stay there I’m sure. Maybe we can do lunch or something tomorrow? I don’t want to ruin your party.

🌽🌟 Satoru - You don’t ruin anything. Ever.

He feels sick even typing it, being vulnerable, fuck he wants to see you, just you, not in an office or at a party or even with a friend. He just wants to see you.

Are you not alone, he wonders then, sicker and sicker, thinking of that man around you, he knows you’re a good girl, but did you invite him back for a drink? The thoughts won’t stop, he can clearly see him kissing you, touching you, maybe he’d make love to you where Satoru fucked you, maybe that’s what you deserved over him, but he’s too selfish to admit it.

Satoru wants to just worship you.

Maybe he should show you.

Maybe you’re already over him.

Maybe-

“Satoru, you’re just standing there, dude. Are you good?” He blinks into realization that he’s having an entire existential crisis mid party, blinking a bit as he waits for your response.

Good Girl🫦 - I don’t mind if you want to come over, if you’re not too far away you’re more than welcome to.

You send it after deleting three messages.

Satoru, will you ever… want more than sex?

I want you to come over so bad, I do, but I’m afraid of my feelings…

Are you sure you want to come over to see me or just have…

You had deleted them immediately, you can’t fucking say all that. You sit down now on your living room couch, tucking your feet under yourself and sighing, hair falling softly as you unclip it, setting the pretty gold butterfly pins attached on your little black table. What would Satoru think of your place?

It’s tiny, it’s neat and homey surely, but it’s nothing like his luxurious penthouse, LA was expensive and you were doing good enough to afford it. You frown a bit, wondering what he’s going to say.

🌽🌟 Satoru - Shoot me your address.

You nervously nibble on your thumb, doing just that, when Nanami texts you, the feelings of guilt come clawing. Though you were very open with Nanami about the situation, you’re not sure you can even be open to anything with Satoru fucking up your brain and heart.

Nanami - Thank you again for such a good night, I hope you had fun.

You smile at that, touching your lips carefully, remembering his kiss, passionate and surprising in its intensity. He is handsome, funny, he’s sweet, and the kisses felt nice, you were comfortable with him, all the things you tried to explain why you were so open being intimate with Satoru. It was just that, right?

Wrong.

If it was, then what was stopping you from letting Nanami please you earlier, when if Satoru touched you, you melted, you let him do anything he wanted. You’d let him do whatever, you’re not even sure he himself knows the power he has. How can you explain it all, how can you tie it in a neat bow, knowing the underlying reason is brimming to the surface?

Knowing the pain that was soon to come from it, from being in love with someone that will never see you as more than a friend or someone to fuck. To him, this is some physical connection - surely it’s enough that he only wants to sleep with you, but would that really be enough, when you can’t stop remembering how it felt to wake up in his embrace, to watch him asleep?

You- I had so much fun, thank you for tonight. I would love to spend time again with you.

It was the truth, you couldn’t completely close yourself off, that was what Jenna was warning you about. You had to still keep your ideas and options open, to learn from Satoru and enjoy him, this was ultimately your idea, and to have more expectations of Satoru, or to change him? It wasn’t fair to ask or want, you have to shove it all deep, deep inside instead.

Nanami - Good night then, I can’t say I won’t think about that kiss tonight.

You feel your cheeks heat up at that, giggling alone in your quiet townhome, sighing now.

You - Good night.

The doorbell rings, it’s far too fast from anywhere in LA to be Satoru, you tense a bit as you walk over barefoot to your door, over your soft carpet onto the little tile of the entryway, hand on the knob. You unlock it and swing it open, to see a serious Satoru right in your doorway, bathed in moonlight, his eyes looking right at yours, like he’s looking for something, anything.

“Satoru, that was stupidly quick, how?” His eyes flit down your pretty silver dress, glittering like the stars themselves, looking far too fucking pretty on you, clinging to your curves.

“Fuck you look beautiful,” you heat up, looking down nervously, you don’t have your glasses on, you are wearing some pretty silver eyeshadow too, glittering as the light reflects along your skin.

“Thank you, Satoru, you’re always being too sweet to me,” he wants to laugh at that, how is he sweet to you? He’s probably not shit, if he’s being honest, his hands sweating just slightly at the rush job he’d done to get here. “Come in.”

“That okay?” He looks around a bit, and you smile, nodding, shutting the door behind him and clicking the lock, when you feel him right against you, his hands sliding down your bare arms, making you tremble. Just a touch and you fall apart, you wish you weren’t so pathetic for him. “Your skin, it’s so soft,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your shoulder now.

“Is it?” You look back, he cups your chin, a thumb brushing against where your pulse races for him.

“Very, it always is. The softest, like your lips.” You swallow nervously as he speaks, as his thumb rushes across it, and you can’t hold back your fears.

“Did you come to fuck me?” He exhales at that, blinking then, the words feel so foreign from your lips. “I want you to, so you don’t have to… act like you want to hang out. We can just do it.”

“What?” His word cuts through the air, and you reach around, tugging on the little bow around your dress, letting it fall, looking up at him under your lashes.

“Unzip me, Satoru. If you want to.” This was what he ‘wanted’ right? To fuck you, to be inside you, but to hear you say it…

Like that…

He…

“You think I don’t enjoy spending time with you?” He turns you around instead, huge hands on your delicate shoulders, pressing tightly. You look away, shaking your head. “You just said that.”

“It’s clear you wanted to fuck me at work, so… I just figured you came over to do that. It’s what we do, and I enjoy it, I’m not complaining.” He doesn’t like a single fucking word from your mouth, especially the next ones. “Or did you want to do another shoot? I do have a ring light.”

Is that all you think he wants?

He’s sputtering now, when your hands slip down his front, over his soft black shirt, his strong abdomen tenses as you do, as one slips under, fingers touching his hot skin. “I will do another one if you want to.”

“Yeah, why?” He’s leaning so low, lips hovering. “Are you all horned up from the date?”

“Would you care if I was?” Your whisper almost ends him, he’s pressing you against the hard, cool wood of your door, his soft white hair falling over a brow, jaw so tense you can see it. “Don’t you get excited from your co-stars?”

No he sure the fuck doesn’t.

“How’d that date go?” His whisper dances across your lips, hands slipping to your waist now, thumbs pressing against the swell of your breasts over satin. “Have fun huh?”

“I did have fun,” you look right at him as you whisper. “He was sweet.”

“Was he?” He presses his forehead against yours, breaths mingling as they come out in little exhales. “Did he kiss you?”

“Yes, he did.” He glares now, leaning back up, a hand slipping up your back and entangling in your hair, making it fall back.

He has no right to be jealous, his job was to fuck women.

He has no right to be jealous, you’re not his.

He has no right to feel this way.

“Did you like it, his kisses?” Satoru’s words are met with him tugging harder at the nape of your neck, and your heart hammers in your chest, body aching for him, but it’s more, and you can’t let it be more.

“He was a good kisser, yes.”

“Oh, that so?” You nod, and he traces your lips with his thumb, seeing they’re soft and glossy. “Huh, when we kiss, they get swollen, red, they look so perfect.”

“Do they?” You raise a brow, acting like you’re not dying for him, like you don’t need him, with a longing that is frightening. He is so close you can taste the mints on his breath, mixed with the faint taste of liquor. “Need a drink, Satoru?”

“I do, I’m thirsty.” You go to move when he shoves you back against the door once more, sinking to his knees, you gasp at the action, when he shoves up your dress and glares at you. “Hold it up, now.”

You do just that, with shaky hands, when he looks at your white lace panties, moaning at the dark wet spot forming before his eyes, fingers brushing across it. “Satoru…”

“Need a drink, you’ll be a good host to your guest, won’t you?” His whisper is met with his tongue lapping over lace and silk, and your hands drop the dress, clinging to him instead. “I said hold up the dress.”

“Satoru, we- ah!” He grips your hands, shoving up the silver dress again, then slowly slipping those panties down your thighs, blue eyes almost black with desire, while you can hardly function or form a thought.

It’s all need, deep and hot.

Satoru bares your pretty cunt to his face, groaning at the sight, breath hitting your clit as he spreads your plump lips, eyeing your twitchy little clit and flicking his finger across it in slow circles, making you pour out of your little hole. “Is all this wetness from that hot date, sweetheart?” He asks, knowing it’s toxic, petty, stupid, but he can’t stop himself from it.

What the fuck do you do to him?

“No, it’s not.” Your answer is what he needed, latching his mouth on your clit and sucking it into his mouth, humming on it and sending vibrations of pleasure, you scream out at it, head thwacking the door while he hoists a thigh over his shoulder, one hand gripping your ass while the other holds your hood up. “Satoru!”

He moans as you cry out his name, slurping you up as you go boneless in his fucking hold, hips bucking up as the pleasure is blinding, you’re gasping out as the dress is bunched up in one hand, the other clinging to his other shoulder. You’re rolling your eyes back in your skull, pleasure so fucking exquisite you can hardly stand, can hardly see, while Satoru worships you on his knees.

It’s what it felt like.

How he looks at you, how he drinks you, tongue lapping at the juices that pour down his face, and you can’t form a word or a thought, just how much you love it, how much you love-

Fuck.

You tried, you tried to pull back, to make it just sex, but how the fuck can you when you’re lost in those blue and black storms of eyes, when he’s got you in a bruising grip, working your body like he’s always known it? You’re cursing internally as you rock against his face, earning his moan of pleasure as he works you into an orgasm, hitting you so hard your head smacks the door hard.

“Fuck, fuck! Mnh!”

“You’re a good girl, where’s that mouth coming from?” He yanks you down then, you almost fall on him as you lose balance, cunt pulsing from aftershocks as his eyes are unreadable, and he’s gripping your face tightly.

“Satoru…” Your words are cut off with his kiss, his deep, brutal kiss, not teasing and playful, or passionate and intense, no he’s bruising your lips with his, flipping you on your back right onto your carpet, now hovering on top of you. “We… I have a bed, Satoru!”

“We’ll get there,” his voice is hoarse as you sink into the carpet under him, and he’s yanking down your top, seeing where his marks still litter your pretty breasts, making him fucking feral as he sucks one peak into his mouth. Your hands entangle in his hair, hips arching up for more. “Look, sweetheart, your tits are so bruised, I’m sorry I left so many…”

“You’re… I…” He’s sinking his teeth into your nipple, the pain making you cry out, cunt gushing wetter and wetter when his fingers find you, two sinking right in down to the knuckle, and your cunt greedily sucks him in, despite the stretch, the burn. “Mnh!”

He presses sloppy kisses to your other breast, before biting and sucking in more places, knowing what the fuck he’s doing, the thoughts of if that man got to see your breasts, they’d be marked by him, filling his addled mind. The thoughts of marking you fucking everywhere driving him insane while he slots his fingers in your gummy, drenched walls, hearing the squishing in the room.

“Kiss me, please,” your sweet plea ends him, he’s kissing lips he wished didn’t kiss anyone else, tongue slipping into your mouth in a mess, knowing you need it, fuck he just knows you, all of you, where to curl those fingers so you cum again, as he’s curling them against your spot. “Ah! Satoru!”

“Fuck,” the way you say his name, your moans, your cries, he’s lost in them all, in your scent in his nostrils, in the taste coating his lips and tongue. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart, use your words.”

“Ngh!” How do you find the words, desperately shoving up his shirt, knowing you’re falling deeper for him, all him, he’s all you can fucking think about.

You’re going to get hurt.

Worse if you fuck him again.

He pulls his fingers out, sucking you off him and making you weak, before pulling the shirt off, his necklaces brushing against your collarbones as he leans over you, grinding his clothed cock against your heated cunt. “Please!”

“Please what, baby?” Satoru is calling you baby, and your thighs are shaking as he presses again, making you grind desperately for friction. “Use your words.”

“In me, please, in me.” You manage to spit those words out, in between gasps and moans, he has his heavy cock against you in moments with quick, precise tugs on his buttons and belt, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat of his cock against your inner thigh. “P-please…”

“I’ll give you anything when you ask like that,” his vulnerability spills out before he can swallow it, looking at your heartbreakingly beautiful face, at the way the soft lights overhead glitter on your skin, while his cock presses on your entrance. “Want all of me, baby?”

“All of it - f-fuck!” He’s slid in one stroke to the fucking hilt, stuffing you so full you’re twitching under him, gasping for breath as he moans at the feeling, of your cervix kissing his tip that’s already leaking pre, watching the way your eyes go black from desire, how your nostrils flare, how you bite that lip.

“Can you even take me? Tiny little cunt, is she able to?” He’s taunting you, but all you can do is nod weakly, when he slides out, then fully back in with a loud, squelching smack of his hips, your screams are hoarse and weak after three thrusts, nails digging into his back and making him hiss as you mark him yourself.

A petty fucking part of you hopes if he does a shoot a girl will see them.

See your nails that press again, into his biceps this time, and you just urge him on, fucking into your cunt harder, faster, leaning up on a hand while his other grips your chin. “Look at me when I fuck your perfect little pussy, huh?”

You barely find the ability to open your eyes, knowing your done for, knowing when you look into those pretty eyes you’re fucked worse. But you obey, earning his moan, his plump lips parted as he slams hard, now releasing your face and holding a thigh up, slamming even harder, while you fall apart under him, cunt spasming around his length as he works you.

“Fucking feel you, god you’re perfect,” he loses his control then, how can he keep any semblance of it up when he feels you, when he looks into your pretty eyes, glittering with tears as he presses so deep and rolls, and he brings you to another orgasm, one so intense you grip him like a vise, crying out as it works over you. “Good girl, god you’re so good for me huh?”

You weakly acknowledge him, but you’re already fucked out, he drags his canines along your collarbone, leaving imprints of his teeth, all while you’re helpless under him, shattering with every stroke of his huge cock stretching you. “Mnh, S-Satoru… fuck…”

“She’s taking me so well, she’s already learned my shape, hasn't she?” His whisper confuses your overheated mind, but your nod makes him go harder, faster, leaning up to watch what the silver dress has done, scrunched and wrinkled, giving him a sick satisfaction.

Nanami shouldn’t have seen you like that.

He is furious he kissed your perfect lips, but he can’t say it out loud, he can just make sure you forget that kiss, replacing his lips with yours as he lays over you, hands now on your ass, shoving in and bottoming out as much as he can. “Satoru!”

God, the way you moan his name.

“Cum again, for me, you can again baby, huh?” You answer by convulsing, all while he holds back from busting inside your cunt, images flitting through his mind, when he finally pulls back, jerking his cock slick from your drooling cunt and cumming all over your pretty pussy. “Oh f-fuck… oh my god…”

You watch Satoru fall apart, trying to collect your breaths, as you watch his cum shoot all over, hot messy white ropes, even some on your pretty dress, while he’s all pink cheeked, his lips pursed as he whimpers and looks down at you. The way he looks at you, before kissing you again, letting you drink in his breathy whines, it all feels too intimate, too much.

This can’t fucking be normal.

You can’t let it go, though.

He’s kissing you desperately, pinning your wrists to the soft carpet, as he takes lips hostage, they’re sore, tingling and swollen, just making you want more, as his cum dries sticky on your slick cunt. “Fuck you’re perfect, god, every part of you, so perfect for me,” he’s whispering, kissing you in between insane fucking words. “So perfect.”

“No,” you shake your head and he laughs, without humor, cupping your face with one hand, swiping tears that fell from pleasure. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you fucking are, it’s all I can think about, looking at that pretty face like this again.” You shake your head and he kisses you again, luring you to lose yourself, it’s all you can do to stay tethered. “I don’t just want to fuck you, I love spending time with you, and we never have to do another shoot.”

“Don’t say all of that.” You whisper, he sighs now, shaking his head.

“Say what, you’re the best I’ve had?”

“There’s no fucking way, you’ve had how many women?”

He blinks then, hearing the tone of your voice. “That makes me know even more.”

“It’s just… maybe different because… it’s not business.” Your insecurities scream out without you wanting them too, and he frowns, looking down and cursing then. “What’s wrong?”

“Your dress, this material, fuck…” He curses at how inconsiderate he’s already been, this is clearly expensive and he’s bunched it up and came all over it. “I need to clean it now or it’ll be ruined.”

“Oh… it’s fine I’ll toss it in a washer.”

“You dry clean this material, sweetheart.” He helps you up carefully, you get whiplash from him then, all sweet and caring like he didn’t just fuck your insides up, like he didn’t fuck your brains out. “Let me try?”

“Sure… just help me…” You turn around, and he eases that zipper down, fingers touching the marks left from it carefully.

“Was I too rough with you?” He asks hoarsely, seeing the marks from the door and carpet indented in your skin.

“No, I… loved it.” Your answer earns an exhale of relief, but you curse softly in your mind, knowing what you were about to say.

“You’re inexperienced, and I was really...”

“I’m good, Satoru.” You turn, dress slipping down your body, leaving him to eye you naked, and his cock damn near gets hard again under the hastily half zipped pants. “You can be rougher with me.”

“Rougher?” His brow raises, as he takes your dress, pressing little kisses across your thighs as he picks up the material. “You like it rough, sweetheart?”

“I like anything you do,” you curse then, shaking your head. “I need a drink. Here, I’ll show you over to the sink to rinse this out.” He blinks as he follows you, sighing now, and you show him the neat stainless steel sink. “It’s not a big deal, it was a dress I bought forever ago.”

“It’s still really beautiful, I bet he was dumb from how pretty you looked.” His words are hoarse, your eyes meet again. “You looked beautiful when we went out too, fuck you always do.”

“Thank you, Satoru. You always look… gorgeous too.” You expect a playful agreement, a smirk, but he’s quiet now, cleaning the white cum while you realize you’re still naked, so comfortable it was like you hardly noticed. “I’ll grab some pajamas real quick. I have nothing that would fit you I’m afraid.”

“Are you asking me to stay the night?” Your eyes lock again across the kitchen.

“It’s late, you should stay. If you want.”

“Yeah?” You just nod again, so much left unspoken, both of you aching to say things, both of you unsure of your worlds anymore.

“I meant it, about a shoot, if you want.” You say then, and he exhales, looking back at the wet silver material in his hands.

“Don’t do it just for me, don’t just… change for me. I’ll be fine if we don’t do one, okay?” You hate the feeling then - he’ll be fine.

With other girls. His career. His job, his life.

How would it ever include you?

“I didn’t do it just for you, it was hot, okay? It was sexy when we watched it together…” You trail off again, and he turns off the sink, gripping your naked body with wet hands, making you squeak as he does, when he slowly walks you back, until your back is against the counter.

“You didn’t hate doing it?” His words confuse you now.

“What, no. I wouldn’t have if I hated it.”

“Would you have… for anyone else?” His next question is met with a shake of your head as your answer, eyes darting to his lips. “No one else?”

“No one else. It was for you. But I enjoyed it all. I promise you didn’t pressure me into it, okay?” He sighs in relief, kissing you again, hands all over your body until he picks you up, and you cling to his neck, thighs around his waist while your dress hangs across the sink.

“Know how bad I wanna cum inside your pussy?” He says softly, you swallow as he pulls back to look at you, your breaths coming faster.

“Do you do that?”

“No.”

You bite your lip again, taking a breath for courage.

You want him, any of him, all of him, until you can’t have him.

“Thinking of cum pouring from your pussy? God you know how much we’d make, baby? But it’s… that’s a lot to ask…”

“You want to cum inside me?” He moans, nodding desperately, and you cup his face, pressing a kiss where his cheek is burning. “I’m on the pill, if you want to.”

“Are you… sure?” You nod, letting him carry you to the bed, he’s cleaning you all up with his tongue, lapping all his cum off you, off your tummy, thorough as he feels you shaking under him.

“Favorite co-star then, huh?” You tease softly, he nods weakly, words stuck in his throat when you sit up. “What position, Satoru?”

Fuck… he doesn’t deserve to have you like this, bent over as he adjusts his phone on your light, hitting record. He’s got it angled just so it’s your ass and pussy showing, the arch just so, your face buried into your pillows, which he’s covered up with a black sheet so nothing personal shows.

“You sure, baby?”

“Yes,” is your soft whisper when he’s leaned over you, your eyes meet his, away from the camera’s view, locking. “I want to do this for you.”

“Fuck, baby…” He kisses you before he pulls back, tip brushing between your folds, before sinking in, hearing your gasp, feeling your grip. “God, you’re so tight, so pretty, look at you…”

You wonder how much is for camera, but the way he fucks you is desperate, his rhythm is off as his fingers press into the dimples on your back, as his hands slap and grip your ass, and he rocks inside you. You’re gripping the black sheet and arching for more, his balls slapping your clit with wet smacks that echo, mingling with his husky breaths and moans.

“Gonna fill you up, you want that, huh baby?” Satoru forgets he is on camera then, he forgets he’s just fucking, he can’t help but whisper how good your cunt is, how you’re the best he’s fucking had, just hoping those whispers don’t get caught, that they’re drowned out by your screams of pleasure.

He’s pulsing inside your walls, as you bury your face further, getting pumped full of his thick cock over and over in a maddening pace, the way his tip drags then ends you, your orgasm leaving you weak and breathless, and he pauses at it, whining out, something he did not do on camera. He’s hesitating, he’s never cum in someone, and he’s not sure he’s deserving of it.

Not of you at all.

You’re so perfect, so fucking pretty, so tight - and he doesn’t deserve it, any of it, having you bend over for him, spread wide, taking back shots like you were fucking made for it, for him. He’s lost as he presses your head down with one hand, muffling your breathy cries while you arch more, taking his mean strokes as he falls apart, his other hand trembling as he clings to your hip tightly.

Satoru has never felt this, losing himself, uncaring how the fuck he looked on the camera or even that there was a camera, all he can think of is filling your perfect pussy with him, of doing the one thing he has avoided all these years, but that he can’t imagine not doing. Undeserving or not, he’s closer and closer, when you’re pulsing around him from another orgasm, and your cunt is dripping more and more.

He takes a breath, feeling his cock thickening inside you, leaning back over you again, mouth whispering in your ear as he delicately brushes damp strands of hair from your forehead. “Sweetheart, are you still sure?” His soft question just sinks it further, when he looks at you like that, and you feel his cock thickening more.

You’d do anything for him.

Plus you want him to.

“I want you to cum inside me, Satoru,” your whisper ends him, he kisses your cheek, your temple, nodding as his snowy lashes lower. “Please.”

Your plea destroys Satoru, as he pulls back and grips your ass, fucking into you hard for just a few more strokes before moaning so loud, his head falling forward as he cums inside your perfect cunt. He’s never felt anything like it, like your gummy walls fluttering and milking his cock, like cumming inside you, fuck he knows then he couldn’t ever do this with anyone.

Creampies on set were notorious, but he never felt okay with it, but now he fills you so fucking much, while you’re cumming from that, the warmth of his white hot cum coating your walls, shooting against your sore, bruised cervix. You’re sobbing into the pillow, pussy pulsing as if she’s sucking up all he’s got, hearing his whine, so sexy as he slows his strokes.

“God, you took it all too, you’re such a good girl, pussy so hungry for all my fucking cum, huh?” You nod desperately, thighs shivering as he pulls out, squelching sound so filthy as his cock pulls out, swirled with your gossamer slick and his white ropes spilling already. “Oh fuck, let’s see how much you took, hmm?”

“Mnh…” you’re delirious, unable to even focus, as you feel his cum start oozing out of your hole when he spreads it, you’re sure to get the shot. You can’t even feel embarrassed, not when he has you feeling so desired, so full of him, all you can do is arch that ass more for him, lost in your high. “Y-yes,” your soft words only hit his ears just barely.

He spreads your puffy lips, groaning at the sight of his own cum pouring slowly in drips from your tiny hole. “Look how much she took, she’s so full of all my cum,” Satoru angles the camera now, catching the sight of your perfect cunt leaking his white seed slowly, his fingers drifting down to collect some of it, shoving it back inside and watching your greedy cunt suck his fingers up. “Keep it in there, sweetheart.”

“Ngh…” Your thighs shake as he shuts off the camera, flipping you now, cupping your face delicately, eyes drifting across your face, sighing as he looks at you, the imprints of the sheets against your cheek. He gently touches it.

“You sure about sharing this? I want you to make sure you know, none of this is for the fucking camera,” his words are husky, devoted, as he hands you the phone, hands you the control, all while he’s slowly leaking from your cunt.

You look at the video then, blushing as you watch it, hips shifting as you see the sight of him pounding your cunt from the back, hearing your cries and the smacks, but mostly when you see the look on his face, it halts you. The lost, mad fucking look written all over his handsome face, the way he whimpers for you, the trembling of his hands you didn’t notice.

Satoru looks as lost in you as you were in him, and you’re addicted to it.

He’s pressing kisses delicately along your breasts, your tummy, where he’d left marks along your ribs, he kisses your hips where his fingers already have left bruises from your grip. He’s spreading your thighs, eyeing your face, as your thighs shake from his kisses getting higher, he worships you, every inch like he’s wanted to, wondering what you’ll say.

A part of him wants you to say no, to say it’s just for you two.

But a part of him wants to show you how perfect you are, how sexy you are, let you fucking see it.

He’s so torn, so lost in you, in the sight of that cum still leaking from your hole.

“Creampie, that’s what you titled it? What is that?”

He chuckles now, shaking his head at you as he leans up a but, and your fucked out eyes glance at him. “It means I came inside you, sweetheart. You’re cute. You really don’t know what that means?”

“No… I didn’t.” You’re all blushing again, leaning up on your elbows now as his grin is white and brilliant, again all sweet like he didn’t just fuck you twice, and bust inside you. “Is it popular?”

“Very, very popular. Just never… something I wanted to do, until you.” The more words are left unspoken, while he presses a kiss on your soft tummy, fingers dancing across your thighs. “What do you think?”

“It’s… really hot. You look so good, it’s crazy to see this angle,” he nods a little, kissing your inner thigh, as you brush a hand along his hair. “You think it’ll please your manager?”

“Oh god, baby that is the best shot I’ve done,” you bite that lip now, before pressing share, and covering your face with a breathless giggle. “Fuck, look at you, gonna be a pro.”

“Oh god,” your hands are gently pulled off your face now, while he leans over you, kissing your lips softly. “Am I like a whole pornstar now?” You ask nervously, he sighs then, he gently brushes your hair back.

“Baby you’re a star already, didn’t you know?” Your lips are taken over, while the video goes insane on the bed next to the two of you, and Satoru’s fingers are shoved in your cunt again, already so sore, but you’re fucked up off it, the pain and pleasure, the need for him in every fucking way.

He’s sucking the mix of the two of you off his fingers, he’s sharing that cum and spit in your open mouth, moaning and eyeing the comments.

“I wish I was cumming inside her… excuse me?” You giggle a bit at his glare.

“What do you care about the comments, haven’t you read yours?”

“Yes but… bet her pussy is so tight - yeah it is but…” he’s pausing, scowling at the numerous comments, and you’re blinking at him, a bit confused. “I don’t want to read them, actually.”

The dollar signs wrack up, insane amounts - way more than before, as he shakes his head, back between your thighs, tongue hitting your overstimulated cunt, making you cry out for him, when his phone rings. “You know, Satoru, I hate your phone.”

“I hate my phone.” He picks it up, while still lapping at your cunt, drinking up the taste of his cum and yours like an insane man as he answers the phone casually on speaker. “What?”

“Gojo, that girl… she’s made for porn, what the fuck? Where have you been hiding her!?”

He glares at the phone, as you cover your mouth, hiding a giggle, his blue eyes narrow when he flicks his tongue up your milky slit again, grinning as you can’t hold back your moan. “She’s my secret star.”

His words bring out too much pleasure, the way his hands grip you, the possessive way he fucking speaks. “Well, if she wants a manager, please tell her about me. You two could make so much money on a real set.”

“She wants to keep a low profile, and she’ll only do it with me.” Satoru says, the thought of you on set with a camera crew makes him unreasonably annoyed.

“All right, that works for now, but talk to her about it.”

“Sure, whatever.” He hangs up then, and eyes you carefully, lapping more of you up as he does, you’re hissing at the sensation, whining out softly. “Don’t worry or listen to him, mmkay?”

“Would I um… not be ideal on set?” He scowls now, pulling back, strings of his cum and yours falling off his lips.

“What?”

“I’m not LA hot.”

“You’re right, you’re fucking beautiful, hot doesn’t describe you.” He is kissing you again, cupping your face as he does. “You want to be anonymous.”

“I do.” But what if he still was with other girls?

The thoughts eat at you.

“Baby we could never do another shoot, and I’ll cum inside you any hour of the fucking day, yeah?” His words mean too much, you nod shyly, before gasping as he’s back at your entrance. “I’m always hard for you, you’re always soaked for me, pussy she’s made to take me, say it.”

“Satoru…”

“Say it,” he desperately pleas, and you nod, knowing it’s fucking foolish. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Made for you, ah!” He’s back inside you, gentle and slow, knowing you’re sore, and it’s all making the lines blur more and more, his kisses, his slow fucks into your cunt, the way he looks at you, all while the money racks up.

But he couldn’t care less about it.

He wants to make sure you’re so sore and full of him that man has no chance of touching you, he wants to tell every commenter he gets to cum inside you, he’s selfish, he’s stupid. He doesn’t deserve you, he knows he doesn’t, yet he wants to drink up every moment before you realize he’s not good enough.

Meanwhile your heart breaks, as you’re in his arms later, wondering how long until he will realize you’re not enough for his career, how long until he’s inside another woman, and you know you won’t be able to take it. Kissing him softly as he tugs you closer, too intimate, too much.

You’ve fallen too deep.

*****

Jenna frowns as she studies you the next afternoon, you’re disheveled and your hair is a wreck, you’re covered in marks, and she just saw Satoru leaving in the back of his limo. You’re nervously trying to fix yourself, and avoid her knowing gaze, when she peeks at her phone, with a stream of Satoru, and puts it all together, shaking her head now.

“Jenna…”

“You’re letting him change you, for what?” You blink back tears at her harsh words, glaring now.

“You don’t get to judge me.”

“I’m not baby, fuck I’m worried!? This isn’t who you are, and I don’t want you to lose yourself because of him. What’s he giving you, besides backshots?”

“You know what, you can go.” You blink more tears now, and she sighs, coming up to you and cupping your face.

“I’m sorry, I just have known you since we were kids. Is this what you want to be, a… pornstar? Like me?”

“No, I don’t want to be that. I just… want to be enough for him.” She blinks back her own tears now, swiping at yours.

“That’s my worry, you are enough for anyone. The way you are… the way you were, more than enough!”

“Jenna I need to be with him, however I can be.” She sighs now, as you tug your hair into a hasty ponytail, grabbing a drink from the fridge and throwing the coolness down your throat. “I know you just care.”

“I do. Can I ask, has he changed one bit for you?” You pause, shutting the fridge and looking at your best friend, who has her arms crossed.

“Why should he? It was my idea to… join his world. I can’t ask him to change, how is that fair?”

“But you change yourself, lose yourself, for him?” You hate how the words sink in, how you grip your glass and lean against the counter, feeling every word she’s saying, but knowing you’re too far gone. “Men like him don’t change.”

“You don’t know him, Jenna. You don’t.”

“Don’t I? Baby that’s all I know. You’re… you’re still a good girl, okay? I’m not gonna continue, I don’t want our friendship strained. But please just think for a moment, is he going to change, commit, anything?” You sigh now, you have been so obsessed with him, with how you feel, you can’t think of anything else.

“I don’t know.” Is your answer, when she pulls you into her arms, and you feel the tears falling. “I’m in love with him, Jenna. I am so in love and it hurts.”

“Shit,” she holds you as you sob against her, letting the words finally fall from your lips. “Honey…”

“I’m fine losing myself if it means I’m with him.”

“You can’t lose yourself for anyone.” You know she’s right, deep down, you know her words are dead on, but there’s no hope for it, there’s no denying it.

You’re in love with Satoru Gojo, the pornstar, the unattainable bachelor, and you’re losing yourself in him.

And the angst is actually more ahead as these two dummies make my hands hurt with how much they force me to write :') I can't believe in 4 parts I'm already at 46k and they're as dumb as before. More mess to ensue, I am glad you all love this one and look forward as ALWAYS to your comments!!!

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[vanilleandclove]

on hold; jack abbot x f!trauma surgeon!reader

when push comes to shove, sometimes there’s cracks in your relationship that can only be mended with time and patience.

warnings: pregnancy & pregnancy loss, heated arguments, emotional numbness, postpartum depression, overexertion via work, drug mention, parental disownment, jack being a widow is finally mentioned! word count: 3.2k notes: this was a pretty heavy chapter to write. pennsylvania is a middle-third state, meaning reproductive rights for women are protected but with limitations- i’m from california and it’s a top-third state, so i tried my best to represent that- there’s a reason abbot lowballed the measurements. miscarriages are a hard experience for any woman to go through especially one that could have severely damaged a woman’s health which has happened to women in the states. i urge you to stand for women's rights as there is an infringement on them worldwide. feliz dia de las madres :)

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Jack knew before you did, he knew your body, knew the time of the month when you’d have your period without fail. It was second nature to him. 

It was the middle of February when you found out you were pregnant, Jack liked to brag that he knew a week before just from your off-putting cravings and the fact that you wanted to stay in for Valentine’s Day. He still acted surprised the day you told him, the bloodwork, the pregnancy test Heather gave you, the three ClearBlues, all indicative of you being pregnant. That night he told you he already knew, but figured it would be offensive to ask you to take a pregnancy test out of the blue. 

By March, you were aching to tell someone other than your confined circle. Dana knew, Heather knew therefore, Robby knew, and Bridget knew. You resisted telling your parents, they were on your case when it came to your late twenties, believing it was your “prime”, Jack did not know how to phrase it to his mom, so you both just settled on waiting. You weren’t showing, but the middle of the night heartburns had you waking up almost choking and freaking the fuck out of Jack. 

You peed more often, craved salt with sweetness, your body was retaining more water than usual and it made your skin feel more elastic. You opted for night shift only as the morning sickness was consistent, bought a better pair of sneakers for comfort. You were a Doctor yet pregnancy on you was uncharted territory. 

The one day you chose day shift, the middle of March, you retrospectively wish you hadn't. It was a hot day in Pittsburgh, 99 degrees and only rising every few hours. 

You had two patients come in with “eye splitting”, “brain exploding” headaches, both frat boys. They were high off laced weed, luckily nothing too dangerous, they just needed hydration and observation. 

By 3 pm you had a surgical case, a 20 year old female in hemorrhagic shock from a pelvic fracture during her diving class, in need of an angioembolization. You swore you could almost curse Gloria for not hiring more interventional radiologists, therefore you had to perform it. An hour and a half goes by and you’re sending her to post-op and yourself to the maternity ward. 

The pain in your back was if someone pulled your arms back and kicked your spine in, you were feverish and sweaty all over, your heart was thumping out of your chest. 

“I just need an ultrasound Jenna” you pressed on as she kept on telling you that you were okay, that the last check up two weeks ago was fine, your fetus was healthy and growing. She saw the look on your face, one she’s seen one too many times. She scurrying you into an imaging room. 

“The gel’s going to be cold” she murmured, putting her glasses on as you laid down on the bed. The room went mute as she examined, her expression being grave and nervous. “Y/n, we need to admit you, now” she said, putting the transducer away and removing her gloves immediately. 

“Why?” you used your elbows to anchor yourself up. You saw the millions of thoughts race through her head as she got new gloves and a spare I.V. drip, immediately whipping out her phone to text, “I miscarried?” your voice broke, realizing her urgency.

“You’re septic, your body is actively miscarrying, do you want me to call Ja-“.

Throughout your career you’ve had to call more family members than you can count about mandatory evacuation of the fetus, emergency hysterectomy, pelvic fractures, the works. You gave those calls only to be met with judgmental, distraught, sometimes awkward, other times incompetent, partners on the other line. Jack was none of those but the common denominator was, they would rather their partner tell them than the woman who just operated on their partner. Jack had to hear it from you. Had to know you were conscious and not under the scalpel you basically lived with. 

“No- No, can you bring Heather please?” you cleared your throat, trying to process everything.

Jenna brought a wheelchair out to wheel you into a room, grabbing a hold of your arm and using the blood pressure cuff to find a vein for your I.V. “We can do this one of two ways, D&C or antibiotics” she told you, “For your sake I’d do a D&C, ultimately it’s up to you, it is a bit painful afterward but with a guaranteed outcome- we’ll put you under. Antibiotics we’d have to keep you-“.

“D&C” you responded, “Please”.

“Okay, I’ll alert Collins, she’ll come afterwards, let’s get you prepped love” she told you. 

You don’t remember anything afterwards, you do remember waking up in post-op, groggy from the anesthesia. Heather and Dana at your bedside. It hurt all over, mentally speaking, your limbs felt too heavy and you felt trapped.

“We’re going to keep her for another hour then could either of you take her home?” you heard a voice speak, another muffled voice saying ‘yes’. 

“What time is it?” you croaked from lack of the intubation tube.

“It’s 4:30 hon, they’re going to keep you until 5 and then Heather is going to take you home” Dana spoke up, hands patting your head to soothe you. “None of the staff knows you’re here, I forbade Robby from letting Jack know until you’re ready”. 

You nodded, throat bobbing from the overwhelming sense of pain and frustration. Your teeth and jaw remained clenched, you were angry, hurt, confused, most importantly, you were grieving. A sob broke out of you, the croaks that left your throat haunted both Dana and Heather. 

It was a long hour, an even longer car ride to your home. You had no idea what to tell Jack or how you even got to that point. When Heather’s car pulled in instead of yours and she helped you out of the car, confusion was the only thing that crowded his mind. He took over for Heather, saying thank you before she gave your forehead a kiss and bid you both a goodbye. Leading you into the house, seeing the pained expression on your face, he didn’t know if he should pry or give you space. You took a seat on the barstools at your island, eyes devoid of emotion, Jack stood at the counter, looking at you, studying you. 

“They-“ you tried to speak up, Jack’s ears perking, “Jenna had to perform a D&C on me today” you broke the news, “I was miscarrying and about to go into septic shock when Jenna gave me the ultrasound after I had a woman needing an angioembolization” you whispered, biting your bottom lip so hard you could taste the blood. You didn’t cry, you just told him. There was not a sheer worse pain than the cramps that overtook your body, but you could see it on Jack’s face. His normal, playful, stoicism was gone and he looked just as numb as you.

It broke your heart. You told him like you always do when he asks how it was at work. 

He breathed deeply before speaking, walking towards you in order to place a kiss on your forehead, “They got everything?”.

You nodded, “I just- I need some time” your voice cracked the tiniest bit. You shrugged him off before making your painful way to the en-suite in your bedroom. 

It hurt to pee, to stand, you gripped onto the support bar for dear life, blood trailed down your legs and pain raked through your entire body. Jack could hear your sobs from the living room. It hurt to breathe. 

Jack laid out your clothes, your heating pad, and was already making you soup. You stared at the bed for minutes which felt like hours. Your back would spasm with pain every few minutes. You dressed, got into the bed and wrapped yourself in the blankets. 

Jack walked in with the soup in hand, blowing on it so it wouldn’t burn your tongue. You remained asleep, in pain but asleep. He took his spot next to you, wrapping his arms securely around yours, letting your nervous system regulate. He let you sob into his chest, told you to drink water and eat so you can heal. 

You couldn’t. He wasn’t going to force you. Whimpers left your body as it ran feverish, Jack immediately put a cold compress on the nape of your neck. He didn’t know the words to say to remedy you. But he sure made up for it action wise. 

The days following you let him take care of you, Gloria had called and gave you all the time you’d want off, it counted as bereavement pay, the amount of times you and Jack worked overtime, you had enough days for a near two months. Heather came over to hang out with you and on her day off, Robby came to have beers with Jack in the backyard.

You weren’t in so much pain after a few days, the insomnia that hit you worried both you and Jack. Most days you didn’t speak so the irritability that coursed through you whenever something remotely pissed you off never made its way off your tongue. You decided you should tell your mom, wanting drive down to Boston the next day. Jack wanted whatever you wanted, even if it meant not spending time with you or taking care of you. Interactions with you were sparing to begin with. It was a 9 hour drive, of course he was worried, it was what you needed, he had no mind to take that from you. 

You left at 3 am, you stopped by the Pitt to say bye to him, it was the first time in a week anyone saw you and they didn’t know why. Rumors spread, first it was relationship issues, someone in your family died, maybe cheating. 

It wasn’t that bad of a car ride, when you reached your mom’s house 2 hours earlier than expected, she was worried you were driving all night without Jack. Once you made it to your mom’s arms, you instantly just broke. But then you remembered, the only person that got you, understood and truly comforted you, was Jack- and Heather. 

“At least you weren’t pregnant for that long” your mom started as you both sat down on the living room couch, there was a silence between you both as you genuinely wondered if those words had left your mom’s mouth or you were going crazy, “Look at the brigh-“.

“There is no bright side to this mom” you groaned, irritability finally running its course, “I lost a baby for pete sake’s, when this happened to Y/s/n my god I can’t even put into words how you were”.

“Well let’s be realistic, Y/s/n wasn’t putting herself at risk because she waited for what? For a career?” she prodded, “Not to mention look who you’re with Y/n, both of you are way too old to be thinking of kids, move on from that stage- you’re not even married”. 

“I have to drive hours to see you yet you drop everything to be with Y/s/n and she lives across the country” you raked a hand through your hair, “And what the fuck do you mean?”.

“Do not raise your voice at me” your mom shouted at you, “You and I both know it is more common-“.

“I’m sorry who the fuck went to medical school out of the two of us?” you cut her off, “There’s a risk every single pregnancy, you think because I’m 33 I deserve to be handed this for ‘betraying my femininity’ for a career? You don’t seem to mind said career when you’re googling xyz and calling me in the middle of the fucking night”.

She remained stunned, “You’re hormonal, you’re not thinking rat-“.

“I am fine!” you broke, gritting your teeth, “You know I’ve always had dreams about you at my wedding but don’t even fucking bother anymore” you told her, putting the nail to the coffin, grabbing your car keys. By 1 pm you were as far away as humanly possible.

You made it to Pittsburgh at 11 pm, traffic took a hold on the interstate. You had stopped in Philly to get cheesesteaks for you and Jack. When you got home, his truck wasn’t in the driveway. You pulled out your phone to text him you were back, smiling at the lock screen. 

It was one of the first photos you took with Jack, you both were in a trauma room in Daryl Kennedy’s chest cavity and Jack had identified the bleeder before thinking of pressure. Blood coated all over his gown and face, when you guys exited out of the room, it looked like you both saw war. So Bridget took it upon herself to snap a photo. 

From babe; Back so soon? 

The same way you didn’t want Jenna to be the one to break the news to him, you didn’t want him finding out about your mom via text. 

You ended up crashing on the couch, the prolonged driving, the arguing. You were grateful for the fact that you and Jack often disagreed but never got into heated arguments that left you both with a sour taste in your mouth. You won the lottery when it came to understanding and communicative partners, you thanked therapy on both of your parts and the fact that you guys suffered in the beginning, basically making everything else easier.

You woke up from Jack coming home at 7 in the morning, unlocking the front door and accidentally dropping his keys on the doorstep. You got up to stretch, feeling like you reeked of the air conditioner from your car. You met him at the door, his smile making you feel better. 

“Thought you were going to spend the night over there?” he told you, hanging his keys on the rack, kissing you as he walked to the kitchen. 

Jack refused to treat you like fragile porcelain, he knew you hated it just as much as he did when he got his leg amputated. So, he’d talk to you normally, avoiding talking about the subject unless you brought it up. Only thing he did refuse was sex, you needed to heal internally. He did give you massages every other night, you’d beg him to massage your clit only for him to try and the contraction of your vagina to cause pain in your pelvis. 

“We got in an argument” you confessed, trailing behind him, “Didn’t really end so well”.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked as he went into the fridge for his water jug. 

“She insinuated this happened because I focused on being a surgeon in my twenties- I passed my prime and knew the risks” you sighed. 

“What do you think?”.

“I think I was just careless, I was working long days, overtime and always on my feet- I was stressing myself out” you shrugged. 

“You weren’t careless Y/n” he said before taking a swig of water, “Hell do you not remember the amount of books we bought?” he chuckled, “We’ll- you’ll get through this”.

“We will” you clarified, “It takes two” you joked. It was the first time you had- if anything this is the most Jack’s gotten out of you in days. 

After a moment of comfortable silence, you gave him a hug, leading him to kiss the top of your head. “I’m sorry” you whispered.

“For?”.

“I’ve nudged you out of this” you sighed, “I don't even know how you feel”.

He looked into your eyes, “I feel like we should wait, let time run its course” he got closer to you, “When the time comes, it’ll come”. Jack had a staring problem, made you swoon, made others intimidated, “But for now we need to focus on you”. Those were the same eyes you fell in love with, the eyes you wish your children would have, “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”.

“I feel like I’ve rushed and forced this whole thing” you sighed, tears slightly welling up in your eyes, “Would we have gotten engaged if we didn’t almost break up over that argument?” you were spilling every thought and word, you knew him, you knew he wouldn’t get defensive over something you felt, “Better yet kids? Would that have even been a thought a couple months ago?”.

He sighed before squatting down so you can look down at him rather than up this entire time, it hurt the hell out of his back and put more pressure than he’d be comfortable with on his prosthetic. “I’ve wanted both of those things, before and during you” he took your knees in his hands, “It was hard to come to terms with it especially after already-“ he’s grip on your knees went tense, “It was always a ‘when and where’ with you. Before, dating, marriage, hell even hookups, kids, all were off the tables- not even a thought. I have to admit I’ve had my doubts, I’ve had vices and moments where I felt like I couldn’t be enough for you, couldn’t be enough to be there for you” he confessed, your hands found their way to his, “But I’m not me without you”.

“I’m not me without you either” you spoke up, “You’ve been more than enough help to me Jack” you slowly appreciated, “I need time. So much time that I can’t put a limit on” you spared breath, swallowing the shudder, “I love you, I don’t want this to break us”.

“Y/n, you could never drag me out of this, unless it was something you really wanted” he told you, “You’re it for me- for as long as you’ll have me”.

You returned to work that Monday, working day shifts, your engagement ring shining again the fluorescents. It turned down the rumors of the nurses, the silence as they saw you working was enough. The warmth of Pittsburgh cascading through the air, spring in full swing. 

By the middle of April, you decided to take a test, two weeks of sporadic and careful passion with your fiance. As the lines indicated a pregnancy, you immediately dropped everything that night, driving to PTMC as quickly as you could. You stole Jack away from his job, he was worried for you, thinking you were hurt, only for you to ask for a blood test. All indicative of pregnancy.

dividers by @cafekitsune

[astars-things]

#FindNorris part 2

Summary- Y/n Hughes can't find Lando for media

Part one here

1.6k words

--------

When you saw Landos' Twitter post, you were walking around the garage taking some behind-the-scenes content, you laughed as you pictured Lando hiding behind Oscar, using him as a human shield while nervously checking his phone for your reaction. Typical Lando tweet first, suffer later.

You walked over to the McLaren hospitality, after being told by Zak that both of his drivers were there, and you were now on a mission. You weren't even that mad, but Lando didn't need to know that. It was he who would have to suffer through a meeting with Zak about taking naps at work, and also having to pay a fine from the FIA for missing media without a good reason.

You stepped into hospitality, immediately looking around to see if you could spot Lando. A couple of people looked at you, most likely already seeing the tweets and pointed down the hallway. You gave them a quick smile before continuing on your mission.

When you heard the voices of Lando, Oscar and Max (f) behind the closed door, you raised your hand to knock on the door, and the door slowly opened. Max poked his head out, "Hey y/n, Lando isn't-" Max said, looking at you, you raised a brow. He immediately gave up the act. "Yeah, okay, he’s here."

You walked into the room just in time to see Lando attempting to squeeze himself into the small gap behind the couch. Oscar, sitting comfortably on a bean bag with his water bottle in hand, looked up and greeted you with a knowing grin. "Hey y/n" Oscar waved very much enjoying the drama he was about to watch take place, You heard Lando let out a deep breathe before popping up his head up from behind couch, His hair was slightly messed up, and his eyes were wide with guilty anticipation. 

"Hey love, you look great today" Lando said in a small voice, still crouched behind the furniture like it was a blast shield. "Hi," you responded calmly, arms folded. "You hiding from me, Norris?"

"No…" Lando tried. "I was… stretching." Oscar choked on his water.

"You know," you continued, walking further into the room, "I could’ve killed you via text, but where’s the fun in that?" Lando finally stood, brushing invisible dust off his hoodie. "So you saw the tweet." "You mean the one you posted before even sending me a message or coming and seeing me, yeah I saw it" Lando winced, rocking back on his heels. 

"It was a panic tweet. I thought if I made it funny, maybe you’d laugh instead of murder me." Lando said rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. You tilted your head. "That’s the defense you’re going with?" He gave you the most pitiful smile he could muster, but you weren't softening, not yet.

You let out a single, sharp laugh.  "Lando seriously, I ran around the paddock for an hour trying to find you, nobody knew where you were, then I find out that you were taking a nap, then you made twitter think I was psycho because I said 'I'm going to kill him' and someone asked for a welfare check on you" Lando’s eyes widened. "Wait, what? Seriously?" 

You weren’t done with your rant yet. "and you respond with you had a great nap and then before messaging me or seeing me you posted on twitter," Lando opened his mouth, but you raised your hand before he could say anything else.

"I walked in here not mad at you, knowing that Zak and the FIA want to have words with you," You took a step back and pointed at him. "but now I am mad so I'm going to step out for ten minutes for you to figure out your story. No jokes. No tweets. Just the truth." You spun on your heel and walked out, leaving three stunned boys in your wake.

Oscar blinked at Lando. "Bro." Max whistled. "You’re so dead." Lando just sat down on the floor with a groan. "Okay. I deserved that." 

You had set a timer on your phone for ten minutes and sat down in the main area of the hospitality unit, Your phone buzzed with notifications, some from mutual friends sending laughing emojis at Lando’s tweet, others from PR asking if everything was under control.

You ignored them all. You needed a you moment to remind yourself that you also worked for McLaren but also that Lando is your boyfriend, you knew when you walked back into that room you needed to have the mindset of either you're his colleague or his girlfriend you couldn't have both. 

The timer buzzed softly. You stood, steadied your breathing, straightened your McLaren polo like it was armor, and walked toward the hallway. The air in the building was cool, but your palms were warm. 

As you reached the door, you didn’t knock this time. You just opened it. Lando was mid-sentence with Oscar, visibly rehearsing something, when he saw you. He froze, eyes wide again like a student caught cheating on a test. You shut the door behind you and took a slow breath.

"Lando," you began, voice calm but firm, "We need to have this conversation, not as colleagues, but as partners. So let’s set the work stuff aside for a minute and just be us." That was a sign for Oscar and Max to leave the room even though they wanted to watch the dram unfold it wasn't their place 

Oscar sighed dramatically as he stood. "This is better than Netflix." Max clapped Lando’s shoulder with a sympathetic look. "Good luck, mate. You’re gonna need it." The door clicked shut behind them, and for a moment, it was just silence. You and Lando. No cameras. No jokes. No audience. Just the two of you.

Lando stood there, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Lando grabbed your hand walking the both of you to the couch that was in the corner of the room, you both were sitting across from each other, Lando pulled out his phone and opened up his notes app He cleared his throat. "Okay. Don’t laugh." 

You nodded.

"Y/N. First of all, I love you. That’s the most important part. Second, I am a complete idiot. A hoodie-wearing, nap-taking, tweet-before-texting idiot" He paused, glancing up. You didn’t say anything, so he kept reading. "Third I'm sorry, For making Twitter our battleground instead of just being a man and talking to you. For hiding behind Oscar like a child and making you chase me around the paddock like I was a lost intern. I wasn’t respecting the lines we’ve tried to draw between our personal and professional lives. I blurred them, I crossed them, and I didn’t check in with you first. I acted like your boyfriend in the stupidest way possible, and not like your partner. The kind that communicates, supports you, shows up." Lando put the phone down and looked at you. Not with a smile. Not with nerves. Just honesty. 

"I'm truly sorry and I know I have a lot more groveling to do so second on my list is for however many months you feel is necessary I will do McLaren tiktoks which also includes me being posting on your personal account too,"  

Your eyes lit up for ages you have tried to get Lando to feature on either tiktok account of him trying to learn a dance or playing with the silly tiktok filters , He always found a way out of it, "I’m too tired," or "That’s Oscar’s thing," or "I can’t embarrass myself before quali." 

"Babe I love you so much" you said, your voice quiet now, softer. "but you and I have to get better at separating our personal and professional lives" Lando nodded along "C'mere" Lando said opening his arms for you, you gladly moved closer to him snuggling up to him, Lando placed a small kiss on your forehead. 

Just then, the door creaked open slightly, and Oscar poked his head in with the worst attempt at an innocent expression you’d ever seen. "Hey sorry to break up your little moment but Lando, Zak is asking for you to meet him in his office. And he did not sound thrilled." 

"Of course he is" Lando sighed turning to you, squeezing your hand again before releasing it. "Love if you want to go back to the hotel and pick a movie and snacks out for us, this is probably going to take a while" You nodded trying to hold back a laugh knowing Lando now has to sit through a meeting with Zak, Pr and the FIA about his nap time adventure, you blew Lando a kiss before he walked off to Zaks office 

"Well, today has been an interesting day", Max signed, sitting next to you "Tell me about it," you groaned, rubbing your hands on your face. you were just waiting to get into to bed, cuddled up with Lando and try to forget about today 

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Taglist

@mimisweetz @olivyamarvelgirl @chocolatemagazinecupcake

[akindaflora]

Dessert in the Studio

Pairing: Bangchan x Female Reader

Theme: Smut

Quick Summery: Chan working a tad bit too hard so you decided to bring him some dinner and he decides he needs you close.

THOSE UNDER 18 PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT

This is all complete works of fiction and please treat it as such.

It had been a long night, well, not for you. Today you were off and while you spent the morning cleaning and small every day to day tasks, you couldn’t help but think of him.

He left this morning to do some work, and when it was well on its way to lunch. You had texted him when he would be home, but he didn’t give a real answer. Not until the hours were approaching dinner.

Sorry baby, I'm almost done. Go ahead and sleep, I'll be there when you wake up. Love you - Chan

Chan wasn’t always busy like this, but it was the finishing touches of a due date, and you knew that on those kinds of days he’d be too far focused on the task at hand. So focused he didn’t really eat a proper meal. So you decided that if he wasn’t going to come home, you’d bring it to him.

Here you were outside his studio warm meals at hand. You had already texted the rest of 3racha wondering if they were going to be there, but the boys told you they were home, already finished with their side of the work.

You knocked softly before opening the door, knowing that Chan would never mind you coming in. There he sat in his ridiculously comfy office chair, the glow of the desktop and the blue light glasses you got him last Christmas shielding his focused gaze.

“Channie, come on break time, I brought dinner,” you said sweetly as you closed the door. He nodded slightly before typing for a few more seconds, slowly turning around to meet your soft gaze.

The tiredness in his eyes only lessened slightly but still remained as he watched you walk into his awaiting arms.

“Baby, you didn’t have to,” he said as he closed his arms around your waist. His strong jaw lay softly on your stomach as he looked up at you. Your hands couldn’t help but trace the muscles of his face.

“But then you would only eat protein bars for dinner, and how will I sleep at night knowing my love hasn’t eaten well,” you said, slightly pouting. His smile deepened at your care, and he slowly raised in your hold his arms, tightening around you as his head nuzzled in your neck.

“You treat me so well,” he said in a voice that trembled into a pout.

“Not as well as you treat me,” you said, softly taking in his scent that always seemed to warm you. You pulled away slightly, not before kissing his lips in a quick peck, “Now come on, handsome, your dinner's getting cold,” you said, but he remained locked in your warmth, picking you up as your legs circled around his waist. Giggling as you both made it to the couch.

He sat you down first, but before you could get comfortable, he was already pulling you into his lap, your back meeting the warmth of his chest. He sighed as his head rested on your shoulder.

“Are you gonna eat like this?” you giggled at him.

He only let the slight noise of a mhmm as his hands rubbed softly at your waist. It took everything in you to not squirm.

“Okay,” you said, softly opening the containers for dinner.

While it was a tad bit awkward, you didn’t mind feeding him. He didn’t do this often, but whenever he had worked just a tad bit too hard, he’d cling to you and say, “I need my emotional support, human,” pulling you in deeper. You always worried about his digestive system when he ate like this, but when you saw the tired pout in his eyes, you couldn’t help but let it slide.

And tonight it was just one of those nights. He didn’t speak much, but you’d tell him about your quiet day and catch him up on the work drama from time to time. He only gives a few facial reactions and laughs when you say something funny.

When the meal had finished, you both sat on the couch, wrapped in each other, letting the quiet hum of the air conditioner fill the sounds of your breath.

Peace was something that came naturally in your relationship with Channie, and you both were appreciative of it. With his loud career as an idol and your sensitivity to noises these moments were precious.

But sometimes they became a tad bit more intimate, like now, the feeling of his lips on your neck. The kisses weren’t just soft touches of adoration. No, they were slow and filled with yearning for more than the feeling of heat or the smell of your perfume.

As his lips began to nibble, pulling in the most upsetting, slow ways, his name left your lips in a moan. “Channie here,” is all you said breathlessly.

And he gave that same “mhmm” as before but this time it wasn’t filled with sleep but purpose. Just like the same purpose his hands had as they roamed your body.

You couldn’t help but flutter your eyes as his fingers wrapped around your nipple, the chills that sprang when his hands began to undo your pants.

“Look at me,” he said, pulling his lips from your neck. Your doe eyes followed as you turned your head to him. You could feel his member brushing against you, his hand that slithered to your nipped pulled your head rapidly to his lips.

Tonight, he decided to set the place however he pleased. His lips softly overlapping yours, pulling back to only lick at the shape of your lips before pushing his tongue into your mouth. You could taste your cooking on his tongue you could feel the way the warmth of his mouth consumed you.

A moan left you as his hand brushed your other lips. Drawing lazy circles just near your clit.

“Channie, please,” you said desperately, knowing he would listen. Both your lips were not even a hair away as he kissed you softly. “I got you baby,” he said pecking at them now as he rubbed his member slightly at the back of your butt.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he said now with a groan of his own as his fingers finally circled into you. His lips find your neck again.

He suddenly picked up the speed, causing you to slightly jerk in his hold. But his other hand only held you closer to him as his lips came close to your ear.

“You know better,” he said in a whisper as his hand slipped in finger by finger, he stretched you out. Normally, Chan was the type to make love, to treat you with respect, only letting himself lose it every once in a while. Then there was frustrated Chan who railed you in dumb to let some tension loose, but this Chan was always your favorite, he’d like to take his time devouring you. Using slow moments nipping in places, and he’d watched you lose it to the point of insanity. Making you feel wanted in ways like no other.

Just like he was doing now, fingering you in intervals of quick and slow, and going back and forth whenever you moaned just a tad bit too much.

Like clockwork, you could feel a moan coming, but you did your best to not let it out. Currently, he was going at a pace that was lazy in movement, but every swipe, every bump had a purpose in unraveling, leading you closer to that deep satisfaction.

“Sneaky baby,” he said, kissing your temple as he suddenly quickened his speed, holding you tighter to his chest as you squirmed.

“Please, Channie,” you said in between moans.

“Please, what baby. Use those pretty words,” he said mockingly.

“Please let me cum,” you said head now resting on his shoulder as he looked at your unraveling face.

“Okay,” he said, simply pulling out his hand from your pants. You only looked confused, but he motioned for you to get up, and you did with a slight tremor, the blood still not circulating properly from your unwarranted torture by pleasure. Chan turned you around and quickly removed your pants. You gasped at the coldness. He smirked and quickly pulled his cock of his jersey shorts.

“Wait right there and watch this for me, yeah,” he said, slowly gathering himself in slow strokes.

You squirmed at the sight, your legs coming together, but he only softly slapped your thigh, forcing you to separate them. “I wanna see,” he said, his eyes taking in the glistening shape of you.

His hand quickened slightly as he moaned from his hand and the sight of you.

“Come here,” he strained out, pulling at your thigh, his face coming closer to your source. “I wanna eat my dessert,” was all he said before his warm tongue grazed at your clit. He ate away at you as your hips rocked into his face. His other hand was still slowly stroking himself. His moans sent vibrations through you as you shuddered and moaned at his desperation. One hand in his hair, pulling him closer, while the other kept you from falling, firmly leaning on the wall.

Your high came sooner than later as you felt the blur of your mind from pleasure. You gasped as he licked slightly at you. “Gotta save some for mini me, think he’s hungry too,” he said slapping your ass as you pull back. You shrank slowly as he pulled you down. His darkening eyes met yours as you sank to his lap, as he lined up at your entrance. Both gasped before he rammed into you. The deep moans filling both your ears.

“Look at me,” he said, your fluttered eyes met his lust-filled ones as you both moved in sync, meeting at the base. Moans mixing in with breaths as you connected even further.

His hand resting at the small of your back to keep you close as his other hand wrapped, gripping at your thigh to keep him stable, keep you close. Until a settle fuck left his lips both hands grabbing at your waist and he rammed into you.

You lost it, your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head at the feeling. With him hitting so deeply within you.

“No, no baby, keep your eyes on me,” he said. You struggled to focus, as moans left your lips, holding onto his shoulder, gripping in the pleasure that he gave you.

You could feel it, the pleasure building up the sweat that dripped from his hair, the way his eyes consumed you, the grip of his hands as you pulsed around him. You were close, and he knew, “Go on, come on me. Please, baby, I wanna feel it,” he said with desperation ramming into you faster.

And just as he was about to do it again, you tightened around him a loud moan, leaving your lips as you unraveled, falling into his shoulder, nearly going limp from the over stimulation.  

But you knew he was just as close. With as much energy as you had left, you moved your hands around his head, huffs of moans and air leaving your lips as you found his. He met with a deep kiss, messy and full of hunger, as he sought out his own completion.

Moments passed as you moan into his mouth, desperate to stay close before he groans into your mouth. Holding you close as he busted right into you. His cum warming you as you finally were able to go limp in his arms.

The quiet hum of the air conditioner is back as the ringing in your ears finally stopped. And both your heated breaths had calmed down.

His arms were still wrapped around you, and he was still buried in you. “Thank you for dinner and dessert, baby, it was delicious,” he said, kissing your temple.

You could only weakly hit his chest as you giggle at his complete 180 of his personality.

“You’re a menace,” was all you breathed out.

He laughed at your choice of words, “Only for you now, let’s get you cleaned up.. I’m tired after our after-dinner workout,” you laughed even harder.

How you got lucky with this dork, the world would never know, but whoever was on your side definitely gave you only the best.

dividers by @cafekitsune

AN: Hi this is my first time writing something like this and at first I was slightly uncomfortable writing stuff like this but this story came to me suddenly and I like it way to much to not share it with you all. If there is a good response maybe I'll write more stuff like this but I fear I like writing my fluff a lot more haha. Anyway hope you'd all enjoy. Please don't be afraid to interact with me. I get lonely writing to the void sometimes.

-YaYa

[scarletwinterxx]

the archer - choi seungcheol imagine

helllloo ~ short backstory as to why this is titled 'the archer', i was omw home one day and the line "Who could ever leave me, darling But who could stay?" just stuck. i hope when you read this one, it will make sense😅 oh and yea we have a cute shy cheol for this one sksksks

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(photos not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You’ve heard the crying before but tonight, it’s relentless. For nearly an hour now, it’s been Soojin’s voice echoing through your studio, softening only to rise again like a wave you can’t block out with pillows or music.

You lie there, eyes on the ceiling, heart pacing with a mixture of concern and hesitation. It’s not your place. You barely know him—Choi Seungcheol, your next-door neighbor with the quiet eyes and tired smile. You’ve exchanged the occasional nod in the hallway, a few polite words in the elevator. He moved in six months ago, shortly after the baby was born. Alone.

But something about the way the cries go unanswered tonight makes you swing your legs out of bed and pad toward your door. You don’t think too hard as you knock. It takes a moment before he opens it. 

“I’m sorry,” he starts, already looking apologetic. “She—she won’t calm down. I’ve tried everything.”

“May I?” you ask, surprising even yourself.

He blinks at you, caught off guard. But when you extend your hands, he hesitates only a second before handing her over.

She’s warm and trembling, but you sway gently, instinctively, and hum something low under your breath. an old tune from a drama your mother used to love. Soojin’s cries hiccup, then soften. Within a minute, she’s quiet against your shoulder.

You glance up.

Seungcheol is staring at you like he’s witnessing a miracle.

“Uh—wha—how?”

You glance at him, one eyebrow raised as you continue to gently sway with Soojin nestled against your shoulder, her tiny fists tucked under her chin now. 

Seungcheol looks like someone just handed him the answer to a test he didn’t study for.

“I… I swear I tried everything,” he says, running a hand through his hair, which sticks out at odd angles like he’s been yanking at it all night. “Bottle, diaper, bouncing, singing—I even googled ‘is my baby possessed’ at one point.”

“That must’ve given you comforting results,” you say, adjusting your hold slightly as Soojin lets out a soft sigh. “Any luck with the holy water?”

“Didn’t get that far. I was about to throw salt at her, though.”

You laugh. You haven’t laughed like that in a while, and from the way his expression shifts, neither has he.

“Okay, but seriously,” he says, crossing his arms loosely over his chest as he leans against the doorway. “What did you do? Are you some kind of baby whisperer? Do you own a magic shoulder?”

“She probably just likes that I don’t smell like desperation and instant noodles,” you tease, nodding at the small mountain of convenience store trash on the kitchen counter behind him.

Seungcheol groans and presses his palms over his face. “That’s so valid. You’re right. I reek of ‘guy barely holding it together.’”

“You said it, not me.”

Soojin shifts in your arms but doesn’t wake. You lower yourself gently onto the couch, adjusting your hold.

Seungcheol watches, awe still etched into every line of his face. “She never calms down like that with me,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “She usually screams like I’ve offended her ancestors.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

You blink. Right. You’ve lived next door for months and this is your first real conversation. You tell him your name.

He repeats it, softly, like he’s testing the sound. “Well. I owe you. Like… a lot. If I had knees left I’d be bowing right now.”

“Save the bowing for when she starts teething,” you murmur, eyes on the baby now curled like a bean in your arms.

He laughs, and it’s warm and real, like it hasn’t been heard in his apartment for a long time.

“So,” he says after a moment, still watching you like he can’t quite believe it. “Do you do this for all your neighbors or am I just lucky?”

You glance at him over Soojin’s soft head. “Only the ones who google ‘possessed baby’ at 3 a.m.”

“Damn,” he grins. “That narrows it down.”

“She probably felt you freaking out,” you say, keeping your voice low so you don’t wake the now peacefully sleeping Soojin. “Babies are weirdly psychic like that. You panic, they panic harder. It’s like emotional Wi-Fi.”

Seungcheol squints at you. “You’re telling me this tiny human was mirroring my mental breakdown?”

You nod. “Pretty much.”

He drags a hand down his face. “Well, that makes me feel both seen and judged by someone who can't even sit up by herself.”

“She is very advanced,” you say with mock seriousness. “Clearly an empath.”

He huffs a soft laugh and flops into the armchair across from you, legs sprawled, head tilted back. “You have one too?”

You glance down at Soojin, then back at him. “A baby? No. I just like them. And—lucky me—they like me back.”

He lifts his head and raises a brow. “That’s not fair. I made her. She should like me.”

“Maybe she’s still bitter about the eviction from the womb.”

He lets out a half-laugh, half-groan, like he’s not sure whether to be offended or impressed. “I’m never going to win an argument in this house, am I?”

“Not with her from the looks of it”

He tilts his head, giving you a look that’s part amused, part grateful. “Seriously, though… thank you. I didn’t realize how close I was to completely losing it tonight.”

You shrug, glancing down at Soojin’s soft lashes against her cheeks. “It’s okay. Everyone has their limit. Even sleep-deprived single dads who try to summon baby-calming magic via YouTube.”

He groans again. “Ugh, please don’t remind me.”

“No promises.”

Seungcheol smiles—really smiles this time. “Well… if you ever want to visit your favorite fan again…”

You glance up at him. “Are you saying I have visitation rights?”

“With Soojin? Definitely. With me… maybe. I’m still evaluating.”

“Rude.”

“Fair.”

You don’t say anything at first. Just watch him watching her.

Then, softly, “She looks just like you.”

His eyes flick to you.

You nod, gentle. “Same nose. Same shape of her eyes when she squints. I saw it the moment you opened the door.”

Seungcheol huffs a quiet laugh, the sound laced with disbelief. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling down at Soojin. “It’s a good face to grow into.”

He exhales, some of that pressure inside him loosening, like you handed him a valve to let the fear out slow. He rubs the back of his neck, looks down at the floor, then at his daughter again.

“I’m scared all the time,” he admits. He doesn't know why he's telling you this but it's too late to stop, “Like—I love her so much it physically hurts, but I keep wondering if that’s enough. If loving her this much makes up for everything I can’t give her yet.”

“You’re here,” you say. “You’re trying. You’re sleep-deprived, semi-malnourished, and your apartment smells like baby wipes and cold coffee. But you’re here. That already makes you better than a lot of people.”

“Also,” you add, “she fell asleep in like, two minutes. I’m pretty sure that means she’s happy and safe. Or she’s secretly plotting. Either way, you’re doing okay.”

“Thanks,” he says. “For everything tonight.”

You shrug one shoulder. “What are neighbors for, right?”

=

A knock at your door isn't unusual. Packages, random hallway noise, maybe the building ajumma making her rounds with gossip and kimchi. But this one is too soft to be a delivery guy and too polite to be a kid. You pause your Netflix episode and head over, peeking through the peephole.

It’s Seungcheol.

You open the door and he’s standing there in jeans, a hoodie zipped halfway up, one strap of Soojin’s diaper bag slipping off his shoulder. He looks a little frazzled, hair tousled like he ran his hand through it too many times.

“Hey,” he says, a little breathless. “Sorry, are you busy?”

You glance behind him. Soojin is in his arms, blinking like she just woke up from a nap and hasn’t decided whether the world deserves her attention yet.

“Not really,” you say, brows raised. “Everything okay?”

He nods, shifting Soojin to his other arm. “Yeah—yeah, I just—look, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t really quick, but I have to run down to the ward office to drop off some paperwork. It’s boring, annoying, and they hate when babies scream through it.”

You smirk. “So you’re abandoning your child to avoid judgement.”

“Exactly,” he deadpans. “And you’re the only person she doesn’t seem to think is a demon in disguise.”

You hold out your hands automatically, and he hesitates just long enough to look guilty before gently placing Soojin in your arms. She blinks up at you like, Oh, it’s you. Okay, this is fine, then promptly grabs a fistful of your shirt.

“I’ll be gone maybe thirty, forty minutes tops,” he says, already half-turning like he doesn’t trust himself not to second-guess this. “I swear, if she cries, I owe you—like—coffee for a month. Or five years. Whatever’s fair.”

“She’ll be fine,” you assure him, bouncing her a little as she starts to hum her sleepy protest song. “Go do your boring adult things. We’ll be here, judging your outfit.”

He looks down at himself, frowns. “What’s wrong with my hoodie?”

“It’s giving ‘college sophomore in finals week.’”

He looks personally wounded. “Wow. Harsh from someone wearing pajama pants.”

“Bold of you to assume these are pajamas and not my formal lounging attire.”

He grins, then presses his palms together in a dramatic bow. “Gamsahamnida. You are a lifesaver.”

“Go, Seungcheol,” you say with mock severity, like you're kicking him out of your own house. “Before I charge you babysitting rates.”

“Noted,” he says, already backing down the hallway. “If she starts crying, play her that weird folk song you hummed the other night. She apparently likes that.”

You snort. “It’s not weird. It’s vintage. Now go.”

He disappears down the hallway, mumbling something about government forms and how adulthood is a scam. You close the door, look down at Soojin.

About an hour after Seungcheol left, someone knocked on your door again.

“She’s out,” you said.

Seungcheol blinks “Out?”

“Like a light,” you said, stepping aside to let him in. “Didn’t even fight it. Just conked out mid-conversation with her carrot.”

He entered cautiously, peering over at the couch where Soojin lay snoozing like an angel, one sock halfway off her foot. His whole body went still for a second, like even his breathing slowed down.

“No way,” he muttered. “She never naps this easily. I have to do a whole routine. Like, bouncing, swaying, bribery, gentle pleading—”

You held up a hand. “To be fair, I did sing her an exclusive remix of ‘Arirang’ with some freestyle humming in between. It was Grammy-worthy.”

Seungcheol leaned down slightly, adjusting Soojin’s sock with that instinctive tenderness he probably didn’t even notice he had anymore. 

“You’re doing okay, you know,” you said quietly.

He looked at you, startled.

“I mean it,” you added. “You always look like you’re bracing for a storm, but… she’s happy. You’re doing okay.”

He swallowed, his throat bobbing. “I never know if I am.”

“You are.”

He nodded slowly, then straightened up, brushing a hand through his hair. “Okay. Um. Thank you. Really. I owe you, like… a year’s supply of coffee or something.”

You grinned. “How about you start with dinner next time?”

He paused. Not in surprise but like he was waiting to make sure you really said what he thought you said.

“Dinner?” he repeated.

You leaned against the doorframe, casual. “Yeah. You bring the baby, I’ll bring dessert. Seems fair.”

“Deal,” he said.

“Why don’t we let her sleep?” you say, voice soft. “You want coffee?”

His head snaps toward you like you just offered him oxygen. “God, yes.”

You stifle a laugh. “Come on.”

You move to the kitchen and start pulling mugs from the shelf. Behind you, he hovers awkwardly for a second before cautiously lowering himself onto one of the kitchen chairs like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to sit down in someone else’s life yet.

You hand him a mug, fingers brushing his. “Cream and sugar?”

He stares at you for a second too long.

“Huh? Oh—yeah. Just a little.”

You smirk as you fix it the way he asked, then slide it across the counter. “Look at you. Saying ‘just a little’ like you didn’t pour half the sugar jar into your coffee the other morning.”

He narrows his eyes over the rim of the mug. “I was sleep-deprived. I needed moral support in powdered form.”

You sit across from him with your own cup, resting your chin in your palm. “And here I thought you were this composed, competent, remote-working professional.”

He scoffs. “I am composed and competent. Most of the time. Except before 8 a.m. Or when Soojin decides sleep is for the weak.”

“So… most days,” you tease.

He shakes his head, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. One that doesn’t look so tired now. You sip your coffee and let the quiet stretch a little, comfortable and warm.

“Thanks again,” he says after a moment. “For today. For—whatever magic you’ve got going on. I still don’t get it.”

You shrug. “She’s easy to love.”

There’s something in his face that flickers at that. like he’s trying not to show how much those words hit. His thumb taps against the side of the mug.

“She really is,” he says. “But… sometimes I forget that it’s okay to enjoy it. I’m so busy trying to keep up with everything, I think I forget to stop and—feel it.”

You lean back slightly, studying him. “Well. You’ve got backup now. Whether you want it or not.”

He settles more into the chair, like your words gave him permission to breathe a little deeper. The mug cradled in his hands, still warm, anchors him in the moment.

You glance toward the living room, then back at him. “You always wanted to be a dad?”

He hums, considering. “Yeah. I think so. Not like—I didn’t grow up dreaming of diaper bags and formula,” he says with a faint smile, “but… I always liked the idea. Being someone’s safe place.”

Your heart stirs a little at that. You hadn’t expected such a soft answer.

“And now that you are?” you ask, gently.

He exhales a laugh, tilting his head. “It’s like I got dropped in the middle of the ocean with floaties and a smile and they were like, ‘Good luck!’” He pauses, then adds, “But then she looks at me like I’m her entire world and suddenly I don’t mind drowning a little.”

You smile into your mug. “That’s… weirdly poetic for someone who wears socks with mismatched cartoon characters.”

He looks scandalized. “You noticed that?”

“Hard not to when you wore Pororo and Iron Man.”

“Okay, but hear me out. Laundry day.”

“Sure,” you nod solemnly. “Blame the system.”

“What about you?” he asks after a moment. “No kids of your own, but you’re, like, terrifyingly good at it.”

You shrug, swirling your coffee. “I’ve always liked being around them. Babysat a lot. Volunteered at a daycare during uni. There’s something honest about babies, you know? They don’t pretend. If they like you, they like you. If they don’t, you know immediately.”

He grins. “So what you’re saying is, Soojin’s got good taste.”

“Exceptionally,” you deadpan. “Especially considering her father pairs Iron Man with penguins.”

You both laugh again, soft and low so you don’t wake the sleeping queen in the next room. 

“You know,” he says, almost shy, “I didn’t expect any of this. The neighbor thing. You, being... kind.”

You quirk a brow. “Kind? Is that what we’re calling basic human decency now?”

He gives you a look. “It’s different. Most people don’t know what to do with single dads. They either pity you or overstep.”

You nod, thoughtful. “I’m not here to fix anything. I just... like her. And you’re not exactly awful either.”

He chuckles. “High praise.”

You finish your coffee and set the mug down with a soft clink. “Besides, I figure anyone who handles a teething crisis without crying deserves at least a neighbor who makes decent coffee.”

“This is decent?” he teases, lifting his mug. “That’s all I get?”

You smirk. “I’m keeping ‘great’ in my back pocket. You have to earn it.”

He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table, and smiles in that quiet, melting way he’s got. “Challenge accepted.”

=

It’s been a few days, but the rhythm is already familiar.

You’re coming home later than usual. Just as you hang up and juggle your keys, you hear it again. soft giggling, baby babble, and the unmistakable click of a stroller wheel bumping over the hallway tile.

You glance back and there they are. Seungcheol in a black cap and hoodie, pushing the stroller like he’s trying to look inconspicuous but failing because Soojin is loudly babbling and flapping her arms like she’s the mayor on parade.

“Caught you,” you say, smiling.

Seungcheol grins sheepishly. “We were trying to sneak back in.”

“Oh yeah? How’d that go for you?”

He peers down at Soojin, who grins up at you like she just told a great joke. “She’s terrible at stealth.”

Soojin kicks her feet in response and lets out a very enthusiastic raspberry.

He unlocks his door, gesturing you over. “You wanna come in? She’ll never forgive me if you don’t.”

You grin. “I could be convinced.”

A few minutes later, your groceries are in the fridge, and you’re sitting on his living room floor, legs crossed, feeding Soojin tiny bits of cut-up apple. She’s babbling nonsense and trying to grab the bowl, grinning like this is the best part of her day.

Seungcheol leans against the counter, arms crossed, just watching.

“She’s been in a mood lately,” he says. “But you walk in, and she turns into a cartoon sunflower.”

You glance over your shoulder. “She just knows good vibes.”

He smiles quietly. “You’ve got this… thing. With her. I don’t even know what to call it.”

“Charm,” you say matter-of-factly.

He snorts. “Dangerous charm.”

Seungcheol walks over, drops to the floor beside you, close enough that your knees brush. You both look down at Soojin, who is now focused on trying to fit her whole fist in her mouth.

“I never thought…” he starts, then stops, fidgeting with a baby spoon. “I mean, before she was born, I didn’t know if I’d be doing this alone. I had no idea how to be good at it and I’m still scared. All the time. Like if I mess up once, it’s over. For both of us.”

You reach out, brush your fingers gently against Soojin’s soft little hand.

“She’s happy,” you say. “She’s healthy. She feels loved. That means you’re already doing the most important part right.”

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “Not just for this. For… showing up. For her. For me.”

You hold his gaze for a beat. “You don’t have to thank me. I like being here.”

He lets out a breath. “Yeah. Me too.”

He watches Soojin for a while, her small hands grasping at the last apple slice like it’s a national treasure. There’s a little silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. Just soft, shared air.

Then, without you asking, his voice comes low, careful.

“Her mom… left after she was born.”

You don’t move. You just listen.

“She—uh, she told me she wasn’t ready. For any of it. And I guess I knew. Deep down. We were already drifting, and then the pregnancy—it just pushed everything to the surface.”

He looks down at his hands, thumb rubbing at a small mark on his knee.

“I tried to hold things together for a while. Bought the crib. Took the classes. Thought maybe if I showed her I could do it, she’d change her mind. But after Soojin was born… it was just me.”

You feel something tighten in your chest.

“I signed the papers. Named her. She wasn’t even there. No message. No goodbye.” He pauses, blinking a little too fast. “And I didn’t know if I was angry or just… numb.”

He exhales slowly, the sound more of a release than a sigh.

“It’s weird. People always say they can’t imagine doing it alone. But you don’t really get the choice. You just… do it. You wake up. You feed her. You change her. You learn what each cry means. You hold her even when you’re falling apart. And the worst part is that sometimes I wonder if I’m enough. If one parent can really make up for the absence of another. If she’s gonna grow up and ask where her mom is and… and I’ll have to tell her.”

You reach over without thinking and gently lay your hand on his. He flinches slightly, not because he’s startled—but because it’s been a long time since someone touched him like that. Quietly. Kindly.

“You are enough,” you say, voice steady but soft. “She doesn’t need perfect. She needs you. And she’s got you.”

His eyes meet yours. There’s a shine there he doesn’t bother to hide this time.

Soojin lets out a tiny burp and promptly faceplants into her own lap, startling herself into a squeaky hiccup. You both look at her, then at each other—and laugh.

And just like that, the heaviness lifts. Not completely. But enough.

Enough to let the warmth back in.

Seungcheol leans forward slightly, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. His voice, when he speaks again, is quieter than before. Like he’s afraid saying it too loud might make it more real.

“I just don’t want her to grow up thinking she wasn’t wanted.”

You look at him, and something in your chest aches. He’s not just talking about Soojin now. He’s talking about himself too. About the fear that all his love won’t be enough to drown out the silence someone else left behind.

“She won’t,” you say softly, certain. “Not with you. Not with the way you look at her like she’s your whole world. Not with the way you know the exact rhythm that calms her down. Or the way you whisper to her when you think no one’s listening.”

He gives you a shaky little smile, eyes shining, jaw tight like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“She’ll know she was wanted,” you say again, firmer now. “Because you show her. Every single day.”

He nods slowly, like he's trying to believe you. Trying to let that truth settle somewhere in the spaces guilt has lived too long.

“When she was a newborn, she hated the crib. I used to hold her all the time even when my arms ached, her little cries broke me. It still does”

You smile, imagining a newborn Soojin and a sleep deprived Seungcheol, “Yeah well cribs don’t have a heartbeat, yours probably calmed her down”

And that statement stirs something in him. Seungcheol turns to you, something breaking open in his expression. Not sadness, exactly. Just… gratitude. Raw and unguarded.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You squeeze his hand gently. “Anytime.”

=

It’s a slow, golden Saturday. You’ve got no plans today no errands, no calls, no responsibilities. Just you, your comfy clothes, and the peace of a rare free weekend. Meanwhile, right next door, Seungcheol is pacing his living room barefoot in a plain tee and gray joggers, Soojin perched in her bouncer like a tiny queen on a throne. 

He stops mid-pace, turns to her.

“Okay. Hear me out,” he says, pointing a spoon in her general direction. “We should go ask her.”

Soojin gurgles and kicks one leg.

“But like—not in a weird way,” he adds quickly, eyes wide like he’s already spiraling. “Just casually. Like, ‘Hey, what’s up, you doing anything? Wanna hang out with this delightful six-month-old and her semi-stressed dad?’ Totally normal.”

Soojin lets out a fart noise with her mouth and slaps the penguin.

“Exactly. See, you get it.”

He rubs the back of his neck and glances toward the door.

“But what if she’s got plans?” he mutters. “Like… what if she’s one of those mysterious types who secretly has a jam-packed social calendar. What if she’s got a date. A tall, charming, emotionally available—ugh. No, nope, not thinking about that.”

He turns back to Soojin, hands on hips.

“Okay, but what if she’s just chilling in there with snacks and no idea what to do with her Saturday? What if she wants someone to knock?”

Soojin makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a cough-sneeze-laugh hybrid and flings her penguin across the room.

“That’s a yes?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

She kicks both feet at once and squeals.

Seungcheol sighs dramatically. “Fine. If this crashes and burns, you’re going to daycare on Monday in mismatched socks out of spite.”

He walks to the mirror, runs a hand through his hair, then turns to Soojin. “Do I look casual? Like, ‘Hey, I just came over on instinct and not because I’ve been rehearsing what to say for the past fifteen minutes’ casual?”

Soojin lets out a loud raspberry, very pleased with herself.

He points at her. “Don’t sass me. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Finally, he scoops her up—socks and all—grabs a burp cloth (because he’s not a total amateur), and heads for the door.

“I swear, if she’s got company over and I walk in holding you like a prop, we’re moving apartments.”

Soojin gnaws on his collar, utterly unfazed. He sighs, shifts her in his arms, and knocks. Twice. Light. Hesitant.

Then waits.

And you, from the other side, put your book down, already smiling because somehow, you knew it would be them.

Seungcheol is standing there, Soojin on his hip with one sock off and the other one half-on, clinging to his collar like she owns the place. 

“Hey,” he says. Voice a touch too casual. “We were just… y’know. Wondering if you were around.”

“I am around,” you say, stepping aside. “And I see I’ve been summoned by royalty.”

“She insisted,” Seungcheol says, shifting her with a grin. “Practically bullied me into coming over.”

You raise a brow. “Ah. So this was her idea, huh?”

“Yeah. She’s the boss. I’m just the driver.”

Soojin lets out a burble and grabs your sleeve with sticky fingers like she’s making a legal claim.

“Well,” you say, gently taking her from his arms, “I’m honored to be chosen by her highness.”

You cradle her easily, bouncing her on your hip. “She smells like she’s recently made some… decisions,” you add, scrunching your nose playfully.

Seungcheol’s eyes go wide. “Oh no, did she—? Wait, really?”

You laugh. “Relax, she’s clean. I’m just messing with you.”

He exhales, clearly relieved. “Okay. Good. Because I forgot to bring the emergency diaper and I was not about to make a dramatic exit.”

You nod solemnly. “Wise. Nothing ruins a cool entrance like a diaper blowout.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyway��� I was just thinking, if you’re not busy today, maybe we could hang out? Or just… sit around and pretend we’re doing something productive?”

You smirk. “That sounds like exactly what I had planned.”

You motion toward your living room. “Come in. She can help me finish this coffee I forgot about an hour ago, and you can tell me what you’ve been pacing about for the last thirty minutes.”

He steps inside, mock offended. “Okay, how did you know I was pacing?”

You grin. “I didn’t but now I do”

A little while later, after Soojin had taken a tour of every object on your coffee table and spent a solid five minutes drooling purposefully on your shoulder, Seungcheol stands up with a stretch.

“I should probably grab her stuff—she’s gonna get hungry soon, and I didn’t bring anything except a bib and blind optimism.”

You snort. “Go. We’ll hold down the fort.”

He’s only gone for maybe five minutes before he reappears, slightly out of breath, carrying a small insulated bag and what looks like a pink spoon in his mouth.

“Sorry,” he mumbles around the spoon before pulling it free. “She has this weird sixth sense about when I try to move fast and immediately decides to throw a crisis.”

You take the bag from him as he plops onto your floor with a sigh, Soojin perking up at the sound of the zipper being undone like she knows exactly what’s coming.

Seungcheol pulls out a small container of baby food and holds it up like it’s radioactive. “Just a warning. She hates this. Like, we’ve had full negotiations over a spoonful of this stuff.”

You laugh, settling on the rug with Soojin in front of you. “What is it?”

“Sweet potato banana something? It smells… unsettling.”

He hands you the spoon and the little jar like he’s surrendering it. “She usually swats it away. Or looks at me like I’ve betrayed her.”

You scoop a small amount onto the spoon, raising an eyebrow at Soojin. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got, tiny critic.”

She blinks at you, eyes curious. You gently offer the spoon—and without hesitation, she opens her mouth and eats it. Chews. Swallows. And then opens her mouth again.

You glance at Seungcheol. “Um. That didn’t seem like a struggle.”

He looks absolutely gobsmacked. “What—wait—she ate it? Just like that?”

You nod, offering her another spoonful. She chomps happily.

Seungcheol stares, eyes wide. “Are you some kind of baby whisperer? What is going on?”

You shrug, trying not to laugh. “Maybe I just have really good snack energy.”

Seungcheol leans back against your couch, watching the scene like it’s defying all natural laws. “I swear, when I try, it’s like feeding a tiny, angry gremlin who knows martial arts.”

He watches you feed her another bite and he doesn't say anything at first but his face softens. Something gentle settles in his chest. And quietly, just to himself, he thinks, Maybe we needed her in our lives more than I realized.

Soojin is fully invested now—tiny mouth open, little hands waving in excited anticipation every time you bring the spoon near. At one point, she grabs at your wrist with surprising determination, trying to pull the food toward her faster, making a high-pitched whine that’s half-demand, half-excitement.

“She’s got a strong grip,” you laugh, letting her catch your fingers as you scoop up another bite. “She means business.”

He puts a hand dramatically over his heart. “Betrayed,” he says, deadpan. “By my own blood.”

“She didn’t even hesitate!” he says, sitting up straighter to look at Soojin like she’s done something treasonous. “All that effort I’ve put in—singing songs, dancing like a clown, inventing entire operas just to get her to eat half a spoon. And here she is, practically writing you a love letter for mashed bananas.”

Soojin responds by making a delighted little grunt and reaching for the spoon again with both fists.

You grin. “Don’t take it personally. Some of us just have snack-based chemistry.”

Seungcheol slumps theatrically against the couch. “This is how it starts. First the food. Then she’ll want you to read her bedtime stories. Then I’ll be voted off the island.”

You gently guide the spoon back into Soojin’s mouth, chuckling. “She’s just expanding her circle. You’re still the main character, Dad.”

“Barely,” he mutters, though there’s no real pout to it. He’s smiling—watching his daughter giggle and eat and look up at you like you hung the moon.

And yeah. He’s a little dramatic. But he’s also never been more relieved to be outshone.

It hits him. Not like a big, dramatic realization but like a slow, quiet bloom in the back of his mind, impossible to ignore. You laugh again, brushing a bit of puree off her chin, and Soojin squeals in response, delighted.

It’s almost daunting, how easy you are with her. How completely she adores you. How at home the two of you look like this.

And he tries—really tries—not to read too much into it.

But part of his brain… the part that’s been whispering louder every day lately… it won’t stop.

It’s saying: This is what it could look like. This is what it could feel like.

And it terrifies him.

Not because it’s bad but because it’s good. Because for the first time since Soojin was born, he’s seeing a picture he didn’t even let himself hope for.

A picture with someone in it.

Someone who isn’t just passing by in the hallway anymore. Someone who holds his daughter like she’s something precious. Someone who might be holding him too, in ways he hasn’t dared to admit.

You glance over your shoulder and catch him staring.

“Everything okay?” you ask, tone light.

He clears his throat, straightens a little too quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, just… zoning out.”

You smile, not pressing. “Don’t worry. Happens to the best of us.”

You’re wiping Soojin’s hands with a wet tissue, cooing at her like you’ve got all the time in the world, even though she keeps squirming and trying to eat the wipe instead. You’ve got that calm, unbothered rhythm to your movements, like nothing this baby could do would surprise or overwhelm you. Like she’s yours.

You glance over. “You good?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah. Just thinking…”

Finally, he exhales. “The weather’s… really nice today.”

You nod slowly, smiling. “That it is.”

He looks at you a little longer, then finally goes, “Do you… wanna grab lunch? Like, out? I mean—if you don’t have plans. Which, if you do, that’s totally fine, I just thought it's too bad to waste a good day”

“I don’t have plans,” you interrupt gently, amused. “Lunch sounds good.”

“Yeah?” His eyes brighten a little.

“Yeah,” you say again, bouncing Soojin a bit. “And I think our third wheel here is already dressed for the occasion.”

Soojin squeals like she agrees wholeheartedly, flapping her arms and narrowly missing your chin.

A few minutes later, you’re all out the door. The spring air feels fresh on your face, the streets buzzing with quiet weekend energy. You walk side by side, Soojin tucked against Seungcheol in her little carrier, her head bobbing gently as he walks. 

Every now and then she lets out a content sigh or babble, and he automatically adjusts the shade over her face, so used to moving with her now it’s like second nature.

And then he speaks, a little hesitant.

“I’m not, uh…” He clears his throat. “I’m not stepping on anyone’s toes, right?”

You glance at him, brows slightly lifted.

“No jealous boyfriend about to appear out of nowhere and beat me with a stroller or something?”

You burst out laughing. “Wow. That was oddly specific.”

“I’ve seen things,” he deadpans. “This is Seoul.”

You shake your head, still smiling. “No boyfriend. No jealous ex. No one waiting in the wings.”

He hums, eyes on the sidewalk ahead. “Okay. Just had to check.”

You glance at him again, slower this time. “Why? You nervous?”

“A little,” he admits, hand resting instinctively on Soojin’s back. “You… You’ve been really kind. And easy to talk to. And Soojin loves you, obviously. I didn’t want to assume anything. Or make you uncomfortable.”

You look ahead, thoughtful, before replying softly, “You didn’t assume anything. You asked.”

He meets your eyes then, like he wasn’t expecting you to say it that way. And maybe he didn’t know how much he needed to hear that.

The place Seungcheol picks is tucked on a quiet street corner—one of those old-school Korean restaurants with handwritten menu signs taped to the walls, it’s cozy, worn in a way that feels like a warm hug.

The owner, a sprightly woman in her late sixties with cropped hair and a floral apron, greets you all with a wide smile as you step in.

“Omo, what a cutie!” she says, eyes immediately landing on Soojin nestled in Seungcheol’s carrier. “Look at those cheeks. Aigoo, she’s a living doll!”

Soojin blinks at her, wide-eyed and curious, then lets out a delighted sound that has the woman absolutely beaming.

She waves you toward a table by the window, already reaching for menus. “Sit, sit! This one’s good with the sunlight for the baby.”

You thank her, and Seungcheol gently shifts Soojin out of the carrier and into his lap while you take the seat across from them. The owner returns with water and leans slightly closer, eyes dancing between the three of you. Then she claps her hands once.

“Aigoo—what a beautiful family.”

You pause mid-sip. Seungcheol blinks.

“Oh—uh—” he starts, fumbling a little.

“We’re not—” you add, just as quickly.

But the owner just waves you both off with a cheeky grin, already scribbling something on her notepad. “Ah, I see, I see,” she says, in the tone of someone who does not see but is choosing delusion. “No need to be shy. Young parents these days, so stylish. Such a pretty mama and a handsome papa. And this baby—so healthy!”

Soojin gurgles right on cue, smacking the table with glee. Seungcheol opens his mouth again, clearly gearing up to correct her.

But then you just smile and say, “Thank you.”

The owner beams. “I’ll bring you something nice, service. For the baby, okay? Don’t worry, it’s all soft. Very gentle for little tummies.”

And just like that, she disappears into the kitchen.

Seungcheol looks down at Soojin, who is currently grabbing for the side of his sleeve with one hand and trying to eat the air with her mouth slightly open.

He chuckles. “Well. That happened.”

You lean back. “She meant well.”

“Sure. Though now we’re officially a stylish young couple with a baby.”

“Hey, I’ll take ‘stylish.’”

Then, quieter: “You handled that well.”

You smile, reaching across the table to nudge Soojin’s tiny hand. “I don’t mind being mistaken for your family.”

His eyes catch yours for a moment. And he doesn't say anything right away.

But the silence between you?

It feels like an answer he isn’t quite ready to say out loud.

The table fills slowly with food—banchan dishes placed with practiced ease, two bubbling pots of jjigae, warm bowls of rice. 

“She really thinks we’re a thing,” Seungcheol says under his breath, amused, as the woman disappears again behind the swinging kitchen door.

You lift your spoon and glance up. “You sound like you mind.”

He pauses, opens his mouth, closes it. “No,” he says after a second. “Not really.”

You nod, smile into your rice, and don’t push.

Soojin sits in her little portable chair between you, supported by pillows and mostly fascinated by a plastic spoon she’s been chewing on for ten straight minutes. Occasionally, she lets out a delighted squawk, causing you or Seungcheol to look over instinctively, like clockwork. He wipes her chin. You fix the corner of her bib. Neither of you comment on how easily it all flows.

“So,” you say between bites, “what does stylish dad do when he’s not being mistaken for my husband?”

Seungcheol chuckles. “Work. Meetings. More work. And then about sixteen loads of laundry.”

“Ah, a man of many hats.”

“Too many. I swear, I didn’t even own this many burp cloths before she was born. I don’t know where they come from. They multiply.”

You laugh, “Like gremlins?”

“Exactly. Feed them formula after midnight and bam twelve more burp cloths in the drawer.”

You both burst into quiet laughter while Soojin slaps the table enthusiastically, completely unaware of the comedy unfolding around her.

He doesn’t date. Hasn’t even thought about dating. He’s a single dad with enough on his plate to feed a small village. But sitting here, with you across the table and Soojin babbling between you like she belongs to both of you—it feels suspiciously close to something he used to want.

Something he wasn’t sure he’d get.

When lunch wraps up, the owner insists on taking a photo of “the beautiful family.”

You start to protest, but Seungcheol just laughs and waves you into the frame. You lean in beside him without hesitation, Soojin in his arms, her head flopping slightly against your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Click.

And just like that, there’s a photo of the three of you now.

Later, he won’t be able to stop looking at it.

=

You juggle your keys, your takeout bag, you hadn’t planned to stop by anywhere but the moment they handed you an extra set of banchan and grilled fish at the restaurant, something tugged at you.

Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was… him.

You pause in front of Seungcheol’s door, free hand raised to knock. You think you hear faint music something mellow, like a playlist for winding down.

You knock twice. Then the door opens.

Seungcheol blinks at you, hair slightly mussed like he’s run a hand through it more than once. 

“Hey,” you say, lifting the bag. “I accidentally ended up with enough food for two. Felt like a waste to eat alone.”

“She’s still with the sitter,” he says, stepping back to let you in. “I had some work I needed to wrap up tonight.”

“Oh,” you say, kicking off your shoes and stepping in. “So it’s just you?”

He smirks faintly. “Just me.”

“Well,” you grin, “lucky me.”

He lets out a soft, honest laugh at that and you both settle at his small dining table, where he quickly clears a stack of papers and a nearly empty coffee mug to make room.

You open the containers and start unpacking, setting up the rice, the kimchi, the fish, the spicy radish.

“You didn’t have to,” he says.

“I wanted to.” You glance up at him. 

He watches you move the plates around like it’s your table too—like this isn’t the first time. Like it won’t be the last. The food steams gently between you, the air filling with the familiar comfort of grilled sesame and garlic.

You glance at him. “You okay? You look like you’ve been thinking too much again.”

He leans back slightly in his chair. “Yeah. I just…” He rubs the back of his neck. “It’s quiet without her. That’s all.”

“Lonely kind of quiet?” you ask, soft.

He nods slowly. “Yeah. That kind.”

You don’t say anything for a moment. You just pick up your chopsticks and slide one of the containers closer to him.

“Well,” you say gently, “for tonight, you don’t have to eat in the quiet.”

He looks at you like you’ve said something bigger than what you meant—something that echoes a little too close to a wish he hadn’t allowed himself to name yet.

But instead of running from it, he says, “Then stay a while?”

You nod. “I’d like that.”

And as the night eases in around you both, laughter slipping through conversations, the space between you doesn’t feel quite so quiet anymore.

The food dwindles slowly, not because you’re eating slow but because the conversation keeps veering—sideways, up, spiraling through nonsense. 

You learn that Seungcheol is deeply opinionated about how jjigae should be spiced, and that he once accidentally deleted an entire quarterly report because Soojin spit up on his keyboard mid-call.

You nearly choke on rice at that one.

“She projectiled,” he says, completely deadpan, “like something out of an exorcism.”

“Why do I feel like you weren’t this funny when we passed in the hallway before?” you tease.

“Because I wasn’t,” he admits, sheepishly. “I think I was trying not to fall asleep standing up.”

It’s adorable, the way he trips over his own words. Like he’s still not used to speaking freely, like he’s trying to find a version of himself that doesn’t second-guess everything he says around you.

You pretend not to notice his ears tint pink.

Eventually, when the table’s cluttered with empty containers and chopsticks, you help him clean up. He tries to wave you off—“You’re the guest, you don’t have to—”

“I’m not leaving you with this war zone.”

Somehow it turns into a dance of bumping elbows and nearly dropping the dish soap. He’s holding a wet bowl when your hand accidentally brushes his under the faucet.

He freezes. Just a second. But you catch it.

“I don’t bite,” you murmur with a teasing smile.

“Y-yeah,” he says, eyes flicking away like the faucet is suddenly fascinating. “I know.”

When the last bowl is drying on the rack, you both end up just… standing there. Side by side. Not saying much.

He glances at the clock. “It’s getting late.”

“Yeah,” you say, but you don’t move right away.

He shifts his weight, rubs the back of his neck again. “Thanks. For coming over. For the food. And just… being around.”

You look up at him, eyebrows raised in gentle teasing. “Why do you always sound like you’re giving an acceptance speech when you say nice things?”

“I—” He laughs, low and helpless. “I’m rusty, okay? I haven’t had adult conversations that didn’t involve pacifiers in like, months.”

You smile. “You’re doing fine.”

You step out into the hallway, then turn, glancing at him again.

“You know,” you say, “if you’re free tomorrow… you could come over for dinner. Just you. I mean unless you’ll miss the spit-up too much.”

That earns a real laugh. A shy, surprised one.

“I’ll try to survive,” he says, his hand braced against the doorframe, like he’s not sure if he should lean in or keep his distance.

You grin, backing away. “Then it’s a date.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, is it—?”

But the door’s already closing behind you. He stands there for a good thirty seconds, blinking at the wood grain.

“…A date?” he mutters to himself.

Then smiles, just a little.

Definitely doomed.

The next day Seungcheol adjusts Soojin’s little headband as they walk up to the sitter’s door, her soft babbling filling the air between them.

“Okay, I know we’ve been over this,” he says, one arm holding her close, the other fumbling for the doorbell, “but let me just say for the record—she was the one who said this is a date”

Soojin blows a raspberry.

“Exactly,” he nods. “You get it.”

“It’s just dinner. Two adults. Eating. No pressure. Just… food. With a neighbor. Who laughs at my jokes. And smells really nice. And always has that soft, glowy thing going on with you that kind of makes my brain forget how breathing works sometimes.”

Soojin lets out a coo and smacks her tiny hand on his chest.

“I know,” he sighs. “I sound like an idiot. You don’t have to rub it in.”

The door opens and the sitter beams, reaching for Soojin with practiced ease. She goes willingly—of course she does—and Seungcheol hesitates for half a second before letting go.

“Be good, okay?” he tells her, brushing a kiss to her temple. “And if I don’t make it back, tell her it was the grilled mackerel that got me.”

The sitter chuckles. “You’re being dramatic again, Mr. Choi.”

But even as he walks away, trying to play it cool, he’s hyperaware of everything.

He groans softly. “I should’ve brought Soojin. She’s a good buffer.”

But it’s too late now. 

He adjusts his collar one last time. Then knocks. This time, he's the one holding his breath.

You open the door with that familiar easy smile. Your hair’s tied back in that half-messy way that makes you look both totally relaxed and somehow unfairly gorgeous. 

Seungcheol forgets what planet he’s on for a second.

“Hey,” you say, stepping aside to let him in. “You’re just in time. I was about to taste test and pretend I knew what I was doing.”

He walks in like a man trying not to trip over his own shoelaces. “You cook and downplay your skills? What don’t you do?”

You raise a brow as you shut the door behind him. “Flatter people at the door like a drama lead.”

He clears his throat and tries to sound normal. “So… Soojin said she’d cover for me if I don’t survive this.”

“Oh yeah?” You glance over your shoulder. “And what does survival entail exactly? You afraid I’m gonna poison you?”

“No, I’m afraid I’ll like it too much and then embarrass myself asking for seconds before the rice is even done.”

You snort. “Wow. That’s dramatic.”

“I know. I was practicing in the mirror earlier.”

You pause at that, turn to face him, spoon still in hand. “Wait, what?”

He freezes. Blinks. Regrets everything.

“I mean—not seriously, I wasn’t like—practicing lines or anything. I just—I was…” He trails off and finally throws his hands in the air with a sheepish laugh. “You know what? Yeah. Mirror. Full speech. There was pacing involved. It wasn’t my finest hour.”

You break into a laugh that makes him feel like he just passed some kind of secret test. “Well, now I have to impress you. I can’t let that rehearsal go to waste.”

He watches you lift the lid off a pot, steam rising in fragrant clouds, and swears the apartment smells like something from his childhood—warm, familiar, comforting.

“You okay?” you ask, looking at him again, voice softer now.

“Yeah,” he says, hands shoved in his pockets, that same shy smile tugging at his lips. “This is… nice.”

You tilt your head. “It’s just dinner.”

You turn back to the stove, giving the stew one last stir, but your smile doesn’t fade and Seungcheol sees it. He sees how the corner of your mouth twitches like you’re trying not to grin. Like maybe he’s not the only one feeling this.

“You want to try it?” you ask, ladling a bit into a small bowl. “I need an honest review.”

“Sure, but if I say it’s good, you’ll think I’m just trying to impress you.”

“You are trying to impress me,” you say without missing a beat.

He freezes halfway to the bowl and laughs, quietly. “Wow. Okay. You’re terrifying.”

You hand him a spoon. “Eat, coward.”

He takes the spoon, eyes still on you as he tries it. Then closes his eyes. Groans. “Okay. Okay, see—now I can’t be cool about this. This is actual comfort food. Like, soul-restoring, existential-clarity food.”

You raise a brow. “Is this the speech you practiced in the mirror?”

He points the spoon at you. “You wish it was this polished.”

You both laugh again, that easy rhythm building between you like it’s always been there, waiting.

As you finish prepping, he helps without asking. Dinner is soft and familiar. Seungcheol tells you about the time Soojin tried to eat a remote control with the most serious face he’s ever seen. 

When everything’s finally done and the dishes are stacked neatly in the sink, you both end up on the couch without really saying anything about it. You sit with your legs tucked under you. He leans back, elbows on his knees. Close. Not too close.

“I had fun,” you say first, voice quiet now, softer under the buzz of the kitchen light.

He nods. “Me too.”

Then a pause. Not awkward. Not rushed. He turns his head toward you slowly, like even this moment is something he doesn’t want to break by moving too fast.

“I wasn’t really expecting tonight to feel like this,” he admits.

You look over. “Like what?”

He shrugs, but his voice is warm. “Like the part of the day I didn’t know I was waiting for.”

“You’re kind of a softie, huh?”

He groans and drops his head into his hands. “Don’t call me out like this.”

You laugh. “Too late.”

And when he lifts his head again, there’s color on his cheeks, that same bashful smile tugging at his lips—but this time, it stays. For a while, you don’t talk. You just sit. Close. Quiet. Like neither of you is quite ready for the night to end.

“So… uh,” he starts, clearing his throat once, then twice. “Soojin and I… we’re—uh—we were gonna go to the aquarium. This weekend.”

You raise your brows, curious. “Yeah?”

He nods. Doesn’t look at you. Just at his sleeve. “Yeah. Just… thought it’d be good. For her. Well—for me too. Kind of our first, like, out-out trip, y’know? Outside the baby bag radius.”

You smile, head tilting. “That’s really cute.”

He lets out a breath of a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks. Yeah. So…”

He trails off. You wait. Then he blurts it all in one go: “If you wanted to come too I mean I thought maybe you’d like it but it’s totally fine if you’re busy or if you hate fish or—”

“Seungcheol.”

He stops. Freezes like he’s been caught in a lie. You’re smiling again. That calm, steady kind that says you’ve got all the time in the world to wait out his nervous spiral.

You lean forward slightly. “I’d love to come.”

His eyes snap up to yours, wide like he wasn’t expecting that answer to be real.

“Yeah?” he says, voice too hopeful, too soft.

“Yeah,” you say, easy. “I mean, how could I say no to Soojin? She’s clearly the boss.”

He laughs, the tension finally breaking a little in his shoulders. “She is. Completely. I’ve accepted it.”

“Good,” you grin. “So… Saturday?”

“Yeah. Saturday.” He looks like he’s mentally adding that to five different lists. “Cool. Cool, cool cool…”

You squint. “You’re going to overthink this the whole week, aren’t you?”

“Only absolutely,” he says without missing a beat.

But he’s smiling. Really smiling now. And for the first time in a long while, it feels like things might actually be moving toward something better than just figuring it out day by day.

Saturday comes. You're locking your door when you hear the soft wheels of a stroller squeaking down the hallway. You turn just in time to see Seungcheol pushing Soojin toward you. Her little legs are kicking excitedly, hands flailing the second she sees you.

“She’s been doing that since we left the apartment,” Seungcheol says, breathless like he jogged here, “which is either a good sign or she thinks you have snacks again.”

You laugh, crouching to greet her. “Hi, boss lady. Ready for some fishy business?”

Soojin squeals like she understood every word.

Seungcheol grins at the both of you, adjusting the strap on the diaper bag. 

“You look nice,” you say as you stand.

He straightens. “Thanks. You too.”

Then he immediately adds, “I mean, you always do, but—uh—not that I’ve been paying attention like in a weird way, just—you know, normal neighbor-level noticing.”

You snort and start walking. “You rehearsed this too?”

“Absolutely,” he mutters.

The ride is full of soft Soojin giggles and your laughter overlapping with his quiet commentary. She grabs your fingers like they belong to her now, and when Seungcheol tries to reclaim her attention with a pacifier, she practically bats it away in protest.

By the time you get to the aquarium, it’s late morning and the crowds are still manageable. The moment you step inside Soojin goes completely still in her stroller as the first tank glows to life with swirls of orange fish. Her mouth falls open.

“Oh no,” Seungcheol whispers. “She’s about to have a spiritual awakening.”

The two of you take turns pushing the stroller, stopping often so Soojin can smack her little hands against the glass. At one point, a stingray glides by, and she lets out a tiny gasp so dramatic that a passing toddler actually applauds.

Seungcheol leans down next to her. “That’s right, baby girl. Get your nature documentary moment.”

You can’t stop laughing. “She needs her own voiceover.”

He shrugs, then adopts a deep narrator voice. “Here, the wild Soojin discovers her first sea cucumber. She is—”

“Absolutely unimpressed,” you finish, pointing at Soojin’s deadpan expression.

Lunch is simple convenience store kimbap on a bench outside, the stroller parked beside you, Soojin chewing on a toy like it wronged her in a past life. Seungcheol offers you half of his triangle kimbap without a second thought. You don’t even hesitate to take it.

“This was really nice,” you say after a moment. “I mean it. Thanks for inviting me.”

He glances at you, then at Soojin, then quickly away again. “Yeah. I—uh. I’m glad you came.”

After lunch, with the sun warm and steady above, you glance down at Soojin in her stroller. She’s got her tiny fists outstretched like she’s summoning someone, and that someone is clearly you.

You kneel beside her with a soft smile. “You wanna see the fish up close, huh?”

She squeals, arms waving dramatically now, little feet kicking like this is the most urgent request in the world.

Seungcheol stands nearby, halfway through packing up the leftover wrappers into a bag. “You don’t have to, she gets heavy—”

You’re already scooping her up, one arm cradled under her legs, the other behind her back like it’s second nature. “I think I can manage a very powerful six-month-old.”

Back inside, Soojin’s wide-eyed and alert, tiny hands reaching for the glass every time something colorful swims by. You walk slowly, giving her time at every tank, while Seungcheol trails beside you, hands occasionally brushing yours as you both lean in close to point something out to her.

The three of you moved deeper into the aquarium, into a quieter exhibit tucked in a corner where the lights were lower and the tanks stretched high like glass walls, casting slow, rippling reflections across the floor. 

You let out a quiet, awed, “Oh—look at that,” and without thinking, your hand reached out.

You grabbed his hand. The free one. Your fingers wrapped around his instinctively, tugging gently as you stepped closer to the tank, pointing upward toward the shimmering dance above you.

“Look how they move all at once—like they’re connected,” you said, voice soft.

It took a second. A full second before you realized your fingers were still around his. Still holding him. Still warm and unhurried. Your eyes flicked down—then up—to see him already looking at you, his face unreadable for a beat too long. Not surprised, exactly. Not alarmed.

Just still.

You opened your mouth to say something—maybe apologize, maybe pull away—but then he shifted his hand.

Not to let go.

His fingers curled around yours. Gentle, a little unsure, but steady. And when your gaze met his again, there was a quietness there. Something real. Something that settled between you both, subtle but unmistakable.

Soojin shifted slightly in his arms, murmuring a half-asleep sound, and he gave her a gentle bounce as his thumb brushed against the side of your hand.

Neither of you said anything more. Not because there was nothing to say, but because for the first time words didn’t seem necessary at all.

The next few days blurred into something soft.

It started with small things.

You’d stopped knocking when you came over. Seungcheol had said once, “Just come in,” and you had. 

One afternoon, you were helping fold laundry on his couch. Soojin was on the floor, busy gnawing on a teether, occasionally babbling up at you like she was chiming in. You tossed a baby sock at Seungcheol’s face. He caught it mid-air, mock-offended.

“That’s assault,” he said, tone flat but lips twitching.

“You missed a fold,” you replied, pointing at a tiny shirt he’d lazily half-folded.

“Why do baby clothes even need folding? They’re this big,” he said, holding up a onesie with both hands, then tossing it dramatically into the basket.

You laughed, and the sound made him glance over. You were grinning, hair falling a little into your face, and something about the sight made his heart do a slow, inconvenient flip.

You didn’t notice it Or maybe you did.

Another night, you both ended up cooking dinner together. His kitchen now seemingly half-stocked with things you liked. It wasn’t planned. You were there, Soojin was asleep early, and somehow your hands were brushing while reaching for the same spice jar. Again.

He paused when your fingers touched. You didn’t move either.

Then you looked at him and said, softly, “You always hesitate.”

His brows lifted slightly. “Hesitate?”

You leaned in just a little, eyes steady. “Like when you’re about to say something but stop yourself.”

He went very still. Then looked away, mumbling, “I don’t wanna mess this up.”

You didn’t push. Just smiled, gentle. “You’re not.”

Later that night, you were on the couch again. Soojin had fallen asleep in your arms mid-bottle, and you didn’t want to move her, so Seungcheol had passed you a blanket, then sat beside you again without a word.

His arm brushed yours. You didn’t move away.

In fact, you leaned into it.

And he let his shoulder rest against yours, hesitant at first. Then, gradually, comfortably, as the silence stretched and the tension thickened like a thread being pulled tighter.

Neither of you spoke.

Because maybe that silence said everything.

Because maybe you both already knew.

The living room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the kitchen light left on behind you. Soojin was curled up against your chest, utterly knocked out, her soft breaths rising and falling with yours. 

Seungcheol was beside you, not quite touching but close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. His hand was on the back of the couch, just behind your head, and every now and then, his knee would brush yours.

You chuckled quietly, so soft you felt it more than heard it.

He turned his head. “What?”

You looked at him, and your smile deepened, eyes amused. “You’re too easy to fluster.”

His lips parted like he had something to say but nothing came out. His brows lifted slightly, cheeks dusted pink in the low light.

“I am not,” he muttered, clearly flustered.

You let out another quiet laugh. “You so are.”

He shook his head, a hand running through his hair. “You’re the one who says things like that and then looks at me like… like that.”

“Like what?” you asked, tilting your head.

He groaned under his breath. “Like you’re not even trying to kill me but somehow you are.”

You paused.

And then, softer, your voice barely above a whisper, “You don’t know how my heart literally jumps when I see you.”

The words settled between you, unhurried, delicate but powerful.

Seungcheol’s eyes met yours.

There was a beat.

Then another.

He opened his mouth, closed it, swallowed. “You can’t just say stuff like that,” he said, voice low and uneven.

“I can’t?” you teased gently, lips twitching.

“Not when we’re like this,” he said, nodding slightly to Soojin nestled on your chest. “And it’s late. And you’re… here. And you say something like that.”

Eventually, you leaned your head back against the couch cushion, still holding Soojin close, and murmured, “Maybe it’s okay, though.”

Seungcheol turned to you slowly. “What is?”

You glanced at him. A tiny, knowing smile on your lips. “Letting it happen.”

The next morning, you found a coffee waiting for you outside your door. A simple sticky note pressed to the lid with his messy handwriting: 

Thought you might need this. You always look too good to be that tired. - SC

You grinned the whole time you drank it.

One evening, you were helping him put Soojin to bed, your voice low and soft as you read aloud from a worn picture book. Seungcheol leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, watching.

Later, in the kitchen, as the night settled into quiet again, you rinsed out Soojin’s bottle while he dried dishes beside you. Your shoulders brushed once. Then again.

And this time, he reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You paused, looked at him, caught that flash of hesitation in his eyes, like he still couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch you like that.

“You’re getting bold, Choi Seungcheol,” you teased gently.

His lips quirked. “Trying,” he admitted, cheeks pink. “Is it working?”

You set the bottle down, turned slightly to face him. “It’s cute,” you said, voice soft. “You’re cute.”

And just like that, the boldness flickered. His eyes widened a bit, and he ducked his head with a huff of embarrassed laughter. “Ah, don’t say it like that. I’m gonna combust.”

You stepped closer, your hand brushing his.

He didn’t pull away.

Instead, his fingers slipped between yours still a little shy, but deliberate now. Steady.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” you said, tilting your head. “You’re kind of the highlight of my day.”

He looked at you then. Really looked.

And smiled that slow, sincere smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Yeah?” he said softly.

“Yeah.”

You just looked at him, heart stuttering, and then leaned in without a word, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He blinked. The tips of his ears flushed red. “You—okay. That’s fine. Cool. Totally fine.”

“You’re flustered again,” you teased, grinning.

“You kissed me!”

“Not even on the mouth.”

“You kissed me,” he repeated, dazed but smiling.

And then, because it was him, he cleared his throat and offered his cheek again.

“…Just in case it was a fluke,” he muttered.

So you kissed him again longer this time. And he didn’t say a word after but his hand found yours, and he didn’t let go this time. You smiled, the kind of smile that crept all the way into your eyes and without a word, you stepped in and wrapped your arms around him.

You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, steady and strong—but a little fast. Like yours.

“I’m not very good at this,” he murmured, voice low near your ear.

You hugged him tighter, your cheek resting against his collarbone. “You’re doing better than you think.”

His voice came quieter this time, barely above a whisper, “I really like you.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your smile still there, softer now. “I know.”

His brows lifted, surprised. “You do?”

You nodded. “I really like you too, you know.”

His mouth opened a little like he was ready to say something but then he just smiled. He leaned in, forehead pressing gently to yours. “I think I’m gonna keep falling for you,” he whispered.

“Good,” you whispered back.

=

The apartment was quiet again, warm in the late afternoon light filtering through the sheer curtains. 

Seungcheol was in the kitchen, rinsing out Soojin’s sippy cup and tossing a few snack wrappers into the bin. He didn’t even really need to clean, he just needed to do something because otherwise his heart might start sprinting again just from thinking about how easily you laughed earlier.

When he stepped out to check on you two, a dish towel still slung over his shoulder, he froze.

There you were.

Curled into the corner of the couch, Soojin nestled securely in your arms, her tiny hand fisted in your shirt, both of you deep in sleep.

Your head had tipped slightly to the side, mouth parted, hair a little tousled from the nap. Soojin was using you like a personal pillow, her cheek pressed to your chest, completely still except for the slow rise and fall of her breathing.

And just like that—like a switch flipping in his chest—Seungcheol knew.

It wasn’t a crush.  It wasn’t just appreciation. He wasn’t just touched that you loved his daughter.

He was in it. In deep.

There was something terrifying and sacred about the way the two people he cared about most looked so safe with each other. About how he didn’t want this to be a moment—he wanted it to be a life.

Eventually, he moved quietly, grabbing the folded blanket from the armrest and gently draping it over the two of you.

You stirred slightly, shifting, and your eyes fluttered halfway open. You looked up at him blearily, smile lazy and content.

“Hey,” you whispered, voice scratchy with sleep.

“Hey,” he said just as softly.

You didn’t even move to get up, just adjusted your arms around Soojin and let your eyes fall shut again, trusting him to take care of whatever needed doing.

Later that evening, Seungcheol stood just outside a convenience store, phone pressed to his ear, one hand buried in his coat pocket as he stared out at the quiet street. The light above him buzzed faintly, the sky overhead dimming into early night.

“Hyung?” came Jihoon’s voice on the other end. “You okay?”

“I need to drink,” Seungcheol said flatly.

There was a beat of silence.

“…Like, now?”

“Now,” he confirmed.

“Did something happen?” That was Soonyoung chiming in now, voice already laced with concern and that slightly chaotic energy Seungcheol expected.

“I left Soojin with the sitter. Just come meet me. That fried chicken place near the station.”

Another silence.

Then Wonwoo’s voice, casual but amused: “You sound like you’re about to confess to a crime.”

“I might as well have,” Seungcheol muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ten minutes later, the guys showed up, filing into the booth around him. Beers clinked onto the table. Chicken arrived. And then the staring started.

Seungcheol just slumped in the booth, arms crossed, beer untouched.

“…Okay, spill it,” Jihoon said. “You didn’t call us out here just to eat.”

Seungcheol looked at them, defeated. “I think I’m in love.”

Soonyoung nearly choked on a fry. “Wait—what?”

“With your neighbor?” Wonwoo asked, already grinning.

“She fell asleep on my couch holding Soojin like—like it was nothing. Like she’s always been there. Like we’re…” He groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “I am so done.”

The table fell into chaotic laughter.

“I knew something was up!” Soonyoung exclaimed. “You’ve been all weird and fluttery for weeks!”

“I haven’t been fluttery,” Seungcheol mumbled.

“Bro, you giggled last time she texted you,” Jihoon deadpanned.

“Okay, maybe I giggled—”

“This is good, though, right?” Wonwoo leaned forward. “I mean… she’s great with Soojin. You like her. She likes you.”

“That’s the thing,” Seungcheol said, staring at the beer bottle. “It’s too easy. Too good. I keep waiting to mess it up. Or for her to realize I come with a lot more chaos than most people want.”

“But she already sees that,” Jihoon pointed out. “And she hasn’t gone anywhere.”

Seungcheol paused. Thought about you, smiling sleepily at him from his couch just hours ago.

“…Yeah,” he said quietly. “She hasn’t.”

“But like—what if it doesn’t work? I mean, she’s—she’s calm and smart and funny and actually sleeps more than three hours a night. And I’m over here talking to my ten-month-old about whether I’m embarrassing myself!”

“Didn’t you just say it was good?” Soonyoung blinked.

“I did, but that was ten minutes ago when I was delusional and riding the high of a nap scene from a drama,” Seungcheol groaned. “Now I’m thinking about the reality of it.”

He shoved a piece of chicken into his mouth like that would fix it, then talked around it.

“I mean, look at me. I’ve got formula in half my clothes, I haven’t gone on a proper date in more than a year, and my idea of romance is asking someone if they want to share baby wipes. That’s not attractive. That’s functional despair.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “Functional despair sounds like a great band name.”

“I’m being serious,” Seungcheol said, waving his chopsticks. “She deserves someone who’s not already drowning in dad mode. Someone who doesn’t have to pause kisses to check if the baby monitor blinked.”

“So don’t kiss near the baby monitor?” Jihoon offered unhelpfully, popping a fry in his mouth.

Seungcheol ignored him and ran a hand through his hair, “What if I fall harder and then she decides she can’t do this? Or worse, what if Soojin gets attached and then she leaves? That’ll wreck both of us.”

“Or,” Wonwoo said slowly, “she stays. Because she already cares. You’re kind of freaking out about something that hasn’t even started.”

“I’m pre-freaking,” Seungcheol corrected. “It’s like damage control but emotional.”

Soonyoung stared at him. “Do you even hear yourself?”

“Yes,” Seungcheol said dramatically. “And I don’t like it.”

“You’re so gone it’s almost poetic,” Jihoon muttered.

Seungcheol groaned and dropped his forehead to the table. “I hate how much I like her.”

And underneath all their laughter, the teasing and snark, none of them missed the truth in his voice.

Wonwoo leaned back, one eyebrow raised. “Do you though?”

Seungcheol lifted his head slowly, hair slightly flattened from where it had been pressed. “Do I what?”

“Hate how much you like her.”

Seungcheol sighed, finally leaning back in the booth. “No,” he muttered. “I don’t. That’s the problem.”

Jihoon smirked. “You poor sap.”

Soonyoung grinned. “Wait until she actually kisses you. Your brain’s going to short circuit.”

“If she kisses me,” Seungcheol stressed. “I’m still not even sure I’m not imagining half of this. What if I’m misreading things? What if she’s just naturally sweet and I’ve been out of the game so long I’m confusing basic kindness with affection?”

“Okay first of all,” Jihoon said, “you’re not imagining it. Remember when you said she called Soojin her girl once. Like, ‘where’s my girl?’ You don’t ‘my girl’ someone else’s baby unless you’re all in.”

“Exactly,” Wonwoo said, raising his glass. “You're not doomed. You're just deeply, ridiculously smitten. Congratulations.”

Seungcheol let out a breath, somewhere between a laugh and a groan, and picked up his beer.

“Yeah,” he said, staring at the glass. “I really, really am.”

He stood there, keys in hand, swaying just slightly not from alcohol, really, but from overthinking. The hallway was quiet, dim, the kind of silence that made every thought echo a little louder in his head.

His fingers hovered over your door, not quite ready to knock.

He sighed and leaned his shoulder against the frame, muttering to himself, “She’s probably asleep. Or busy. Or—”

Click.

The door swung open, and there you were, hair a little tousled like you'd just gotten comfortable, holding a half-full mug and blinking in surprise.

“Oh—hey,” you said, a little smile tugging at your lips. “Were you about to knock?”

Seungcheol froze like you’d caught him sneaking candy from a jar. “I—uh. Maybe. I wasn’t sure if—uh—hi.”

You leaned on the frame too, mirroring his posture. “Hi.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but your eyes. “I didn’t mean to be weird. I was just… standing. Near your door. For no suspicious reason.”

“Completely normal,” you deadpanned, but the soft laugh in your voice made his shoulders relax.

“I was with the guys,” he explained. “Had a drink. Nothing wild. No one danced on tables.”

“Disappointed in you, honestly,” you teased, stepping back slightly. “You wanna come in?”

He blinked. “Really?”

You tilted your head. “Well, you were already loitering. Might as well make it official.”

You glanced over your shoulder as you set your mug down on the table. “You good?”

He blinked, then cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Just… wasn’t expecting you to open the door right when I was about to have a full internal crisis.”

You smirked, settling onto the couch. “Timing’s always been my thing.”

“You ever feel like your brain’s just… racing ahead of everything else?”

You gave a soft laugh. “Constantly. That’s why I eat snacks in bed. Brings balance.”

He chuckled, head dropping for a second before he glanced at you. “I think I’m just…” He hesitated. “Scared.”

Your voice was quiet. “Of me?”

“No. God, no.” His answer came quickly, eyes wide. “Of… how easy it is. With you. And how fast that happened. It’s not bad. It’s just... surprising. And kind of terrifying.”

You leaned back, watching him gently, your voice softer now. “You don’t have to rush anything.”

He looked at you like that was the first thing he needed to hear all week.

“I know,” he said. “I just… I want to get it right. With you. With her.”

“You already are,” you said simply. “Even when you’re awkward and rambling.”

He groaned and flopped back against the couch. “Don’t remind me.”

You smiled, looking at him. “It’s charming.”

He turned his head toward you. His voice was quieter. “You think?”

You nodded. “I do.”

And maybe it was the way the room felt warm or how the night wrapped around the moment so gently but he looked at you for a long beat, his eyes a little softer, his heart a little louder. He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to.

You didn’t say anything either. Just leaned over, slow and easy, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He went still for a moment when your head gently rested against his shoulder, but then you felt it the subtle shift of him relaxing, his shoulder settling just a little deeper into the couch so you’d be more comfortable. Like his body had made space without him thinking about it.

His arm lifted awkwardly at first, like he wasn’t sure where to put it, before it curved around your back, warm and tentative. You heard him breathe in, soft and shaky.

“This okay?” he asked quietly, the words brushing the top of your hair.

You nodded, your voice just as low. “Yeah.”

Silence fell again, but it wasn’t awkward this time. It was gentle. Companionable.

Eventually, he whispered, half-laughing under his breath, “This is really dangerous.”

You tilted your head slightly to look up at him. “Why?”

His eyes were on the ceiling, a crooked smile forming. “Because I could get used to this.”

You shifted just slightly so you could look up at him, your cheek still resting against his shoulder. “You know,” you said softly, “you’re allowed to feel things. To want things. You can be more than Soojin’s dad.”

His gaze dropped to you slowly, like the weight of your words took time to settle. His eyes searched your face, but he didn’t speak, not yet.

You reached up, brushing your fingers gently over the crease between his brows. “You’re still Seungcheol.”

And it wasn’t until right then that he realized how much he needed to hear that. How long he’d been carrying this version of himself, carefully trimmed down to the essentials: provider, protector, father. As if there wasn’t space for anything more. As if it was selfish to even hope for it.

But here you were. Not asking for anything. Not expecting him to be perfect. Just… seeing him.

“I forgot,” he said finally, his voice a little rough. “I didn’t mean to, but I did.”

“You’ve been doing the hard stuff,” you murmured. “You’ve been strong for her. But you don’t have to lose you in the process.”

His arm tightened around you slightly, his thumb brushing against your side in small, grounding circles. He didn’t say thank you. He didn’t need to. The way he looked at you said everything.

“I didn’t think I’d get this again,” he said after a long silence. “This kind of quiet. This kind of—someone.”

You looked up at him again, your voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t lose your chance, Seungcheol.”

He glanced down at you, his eyes searching yours like he was trying to believe it.

“I think you’re kind of incredible,” you added, smiling just a little. “Even when you’re running off to buy emergency baby food or panicking in the hallway at midnight.”

A small, surprised laugh slipped from him, his eyes crinkling. “You remember that?”

You bumped your shoulder into him lightly. “You muttered a full monologue out there.”

He shook his head with a bashful smile. “I was trying to psych myself out of it.”

“Did it work?”

He looked at you again. Really looked. His gaze softened.

“No,” he said quietly. “Not even close.”

“I don’t know what this is yet,” he said, his voice unsure but honest. “But I know I don’t want to run from it.”

You smiled, leaning your head back on his shoulder. “Good. Because I wasn’t planning on letting you.”

He chuckled under his breath, his head tilting down to rest against yours again.

And just like that, the silence returned—but this time, it held something new. Something neither of you said aloud yet, but both of you felt.

The beginning of something.

=

It’s another random day, the three of you just lounging around. 

Soojin was curled between you, triumphant and snug, and Seungcheol was pretending to pout, eyes narrowed at her while trying not to smile. His arm was still behind you, his body warm and close, and for a second you looked at him

And then, almost without thinking, you leaned in.

A soft kiss. half on his cheek, half on the corner of his lips.

He froze. You pulled back slowly, your smile still there but quieter now, a little uncertain. And then he turned his head toward you, just enough that your faces were closer again, but not quite touching.

“You missed,” he said, voice low, a little breathless.

You raised a brow, trying to play it cool even as your pulse fluttered. “Did I?”

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to your lips for just a second. “A little.”

Soojin, completely oblivious, let out a content sigh in your arms and stuffed her fingers into her mouth.

You looked at him, at the way his usually calm eyes were dancing with something nervous and bold all at once. And then you leaned in again closer this time, a heartbeat away—

Only for Soojin to let out the loudest hiccup of her life and slap a drool-covered hand to your chin.

You and Seungcheol both burst out laughing.

“Okay,” you said, grinning as you wiped your face. “She’s really committed to cockblocking you.”

Seungcheol laughed so hard he had to cover his mouth. “She’s ten months old and already has better timing than I ever will.”

But even after the moment passed, even with Soojin demanding your attention again, he kept glancing at you from the corner of his eye—like the space you almost closed still lingered in his chest.

You were finishing the last of the dishes, sleeves rolled up, humming under your breath when you felt the shift in the room. You didn’t need to turn around—you could sense him. That quiet energy of his when he wasn’t quite sure how to act, like he was rehearsing what to say even as he approached.

Then, arms slid around your waist.

You smiled before he even said anything.

“Hey,” Seungcheol murmured against your shoulder, his voice low, a little too casual.

You grinned, rinsing the last plate. “Hey yourself.”

His hold tightened, not too much, just enough to feel the beat of your pulse and make you pause. His chin rested on your shoulder, breath warm against your neck.

“You do this now every time I’m doing dishes?” you teased, flicking water off your fingers. “Getting cozy so you don’t have to help?”

“I like the view,” he muttered.

You turned your head toward him with an amused look. “Of the sink?”

“Of you at the sink,” he said, then groaned quietly like he hated himself for how that came out. “That sounded better in my head.”

You laughed, setting down the towel and turning in his arms, your hands still a little damp as they rested against his chest. “You’re really bad at this, huh?”

“I am,” he admitted, no hesitation, ears slightly pink. “Like, embarrassingly bad.”

“I kinda like it,” you said with a soft smile. “It’s… endearing.”

“Yeah?” He tilted his head slightly, watching you. “Endearing enough that I don’t need to pretend I came out here for water or something?”

You squinted at him. “You came out here to flirt.”

“I really thought I was being subtle.”

“You were about as subtle as Soojin when she wants to be picked up.”

He let out a breathy laugh. “Wow. Harsh.”

“But accurate,” you teased, poking his chest gently.

There was a beat then, quiet and close. His hands were still on your waist, yours resting between his ribs and shoulders. The kitchen was soft around you, dim and warm, the sound of the hallway clock ticking faintly in the background.

And suddenly the air changed.

Seungcheol swallowed. “I’ve… kind of wanted to do this for a while now.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Help with the dishes?”

He huffed a laugh, nervous and fond all at once. “God, you’re really not gonna let me have this moment easy, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

Then he leaned in. Tentative, close enough for your breath to catch but still watching your face like he was giving you every chance to pull away. You didn’t.

Your hands slid around his neck instead, fingers curling into the hair at his nape. “Okay,” you whispered, “I’ll let you have this moment.”

He smiled. Soft, real, and just a little shaky.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t perfect. His nose bumped yours a little, and your teeth almost clacked from the way you both smiled halfway through it. But it was warm and real and his hands tightened just slightly like he was anchoring himself there with you.

When you finally pulled back, he rested his forehead to yours, eyes fluttering shut.

“Worth the bad lines?” he asked.

“Definitely,” you whispered, cheeks flushed.

And from the hallway, as if on cue, Soojin let out a sleepy little squeak in her crib.

You both laughed quietly.

“Guess that’s our timer,” you said, leaning into him again.

He kissed your temple, still holding you like he wasn’t quite ready to let go. “She’s gonna be so mad she missed that.”

=

It was an ordinary morning. Soojin was babbling her usual string of soft sounds while sitting on the floor between you and Seungcheol.

You were handing her one of her favorite toys, grinning as she smacked it against her chubby thigh in excitement. She was bouncing, babbling, making nonsense sounds and grabbing at your sleeve like she always did when—

“Mama.”

It was soft. Clear. Unmistakable.

You froze mid-reach. So did Seungcheol, his mug halfway to his mouth.

The silence that followed was almost comical. Soojin just blinked up at you like she hadn’t just shattered the entire room into stillness.

You slowly turned your head to look at Seungcheol. He was already looking at you, eyes wide.

“Did she—” you started.

He nodded, eyes even wider now. “She said—”

“Mama,” Soojin chirped again, reaching for your hand with her gummy grin.

You blinked fast, a wave of emotion flooding your chest so quickly it knocked the breath out of you. “Oh my god.”

Seungcheol was already moving, crawling closer to the two of you, completely abandoning his coffee. “Wait—say it again, Soojin. What was that?”

But she just giggled now, slapping your arm with baby enthusiasm, still beaming. “Mama!”

You laughed, a sound caught between a sob and sheer disbelief, hugging her instinctively to your chest. “I swear I didn’t teach her that. I didn’t—”

“I know,” Seungcheol said, staring at you both like the world had just shifted. “She just… she chose it.”

“She called you mama.”

You looked up at him, cheeks warm, eyes a little wet. “She did.”

He leaned in and kissed the top of Soojin’s head, then your temple. His voice was barely a whisper, like it was only meant for the space between the three of you.

“She knows who loves her.”

Your eyes welled up so fast it surprised even you. You blinked hard, trying to breathe through it, but the moment, it cracked something open.

Seungcheol’s head snapped up, alarm flashing across his face. “Wait—are you crying? Are those—are you okay? Was it too much? I mean, she just—she just said it out of nowhere, I didn’t mean for—"

You let out a watery laugh, shaking your head as you held Soojin closer. She patted your cheek, like she could sense it. “No—no, it’s not that, it’s just—” you looked up at him, your voice catching in your throat. “Do I deserve that? Is that okay with you?”

His breath caught. His mouth parted, like the words couldn’t come fast enough.

“Hey,” he said, moving closer on his knees, gently reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You didn’t take her from anyone. She chose you. She’s been choosing you.”

You swallowed hard, but the tears still fell, quiet and honest. “I’m not her mom…”

“You love her like one,” he whispered. “She feels that”

You stared at him, breath shaky.

“I didn’t know if it was okay,” you murmured, “to feel this much.”

He leaned forward, forehead touching yours. “It’s more than okay.”

Soojin squirmed in your arms, reaching one tiny hand up to grab a piece of your hair and yanking gently. You both laughed, eyes still wet. And then Seungcheol pressed a kiss to your cheek, soft and sure.

“Welcome to the family, mama.”

You were crouched on the floor, gathering up Soojin’s toys and it hit you all at once. The memory, bright and clear, of her smiling up at you with those shining eyes, her chubby hands reaching out as she said it.

Mama.

The quiet shuffle of feet made you look up. Seungcheol stood at the edge of the room, eyes wide with concern, a half-folded blanket still in his hands.

“Hey—” he said gently, moving to crouch in front of you. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You shook your head, wiping at your cheeks, the words barely able to form. “I don’t know. I just—” you swallowed, voice cracking. “She looked at me like that. She smiled and she called me mama like I’ve always been that for her and I—”

He moved closer, hands bracing on your arms as if to ground you.

You took a deep breath and looked at him, tears still spilling. “How can I even love someone this much? She’s not even mine, but I feel it—I feel like she is. Every part of her. And then I think…” Your voice wobbled harder. “I think, how could anyone not want that? How could her mother not want her? Not love her?”

Seungcheol’s expression folded not in shock, not in discomfort but in something raw and full of understanding. He pulled you forward, wrapping his arms around you tight, pressing your face against his shoulder as you cried.

“I ask myself that all the time,” he murmured. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand it. But I’m grateful—” he held you tighter—“so damn grateful that she has you. That she loves you.”

You clutched his shirt in your fists, letting yourself cry into him, letting the weight of all of it — the love, the ache, the wonder of being chosen — pass through you.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” you whispered.

“You won’t,” he said softly. “You already gave her what no one else did.”

You pulled back a little, eyes still glassy. “What’s that?”

He smiled gently. “Your whole heart.”

“I don’t want her to grow up ever thinking she doesn’t have enough love,” you said, voice raw and breaking. “She doesn’t deserve that. She deserves so much more.”

Seungcheol’s arms tightened around you, his breath catching like your words had punched straight through his chest.

“She won’t,” he said firmly, his voice a little hoarse now too. “Not with you in her life. Not with us.”

You pulled back, just enough to look up at him, your face still streaked with tears. “What if one day she wonders why her mom left? What if I can’t—what if I’m not enough to cover up that kind of ache?”

His hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing the tears away with the gentlest touch. “You being here doesn’t erase what happened,” he said. “But it gives her something else to remember. Something better. She’s gonna grow up knowing that she was wanted so badly that even the people who didn’t have to stay… did.”

Your breath hitched.

“I didn’t mean to love her like this,” you admitted. “I didn’t expect to. But now I can’t imagine not.”

“She doesn’t know anything else but love when you’re around,” he said quietly. “You’ve already changed her whole world. Mine too.”

You closed your eyes, more tears slipping free, but they didn’t feel heavy now. They felt… full.

“I’m so glad she has you,” he whispered. “I’m so glad I do too.”

And there, in that quiet room filled with baby toys and love you didn’t see coming, you nodded and leaned into him, holding on like the two of you — all three of you — were exactly where you were meant to be.

=

He was just coming out of the other room, towel slung around his shoulders, when he heard your voice. Not loud. Not laughing. Not teasing like it usually was when you played with Soojin. 

This was quieter—gentler.

He padded closer to the bedroom doorway, peeking in without making a sound. You were sitting cross-legged on the floor in one of his old sweatshirts, Soojin nestled between your knees, her little arms lifted as you struggled to get her tiny hand through the sleeve of her onesie.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” you whispered, a fond smile on your lips as you smoothed the fabric over her back. “Look at you, almost dressed all by yourself. You’re so smart.”

Soojin babbled in response, wiggling slightly as if trying to help.

“You are,” you told her softly, brushing a kiss to her cheek. “So smart, and brave, and kind. And everyone who meets you is going to see that, because you shine. You know that? You shine.”

He stilled, towel forgotten in his hand. Something tugged hard in his chest. You laughed a little when Soojin blew a spit bubble in reply, unbothered, like she understood every word you said.

“And you’ve got the strongest little heart,” you continued, guiding her chubby feet into her leggings. “You’ve been through more than most, haven’t you, sweetheart? But you keep going. You keep smiling. And you’re so, so loved.”

You paused for a second, your fingers slowing.

“By your dad,” you whispered, kissing her forehead. “By me.”

Soojin squealed, flapping her arms with glee, and you grinned, lifting her up in a little bounce. “Yeah? You know it, huh?”

Seungcheol leaned against the doorframe before he could stop himself, heart in his throat, eyes on you like he couldn’t believe this was real. You glanced over, surprised, but your smile didn’t falter.

“Hey,” you said, lifting Soojin a little higher. “We’re dressed. Tell Daddy we got dressed like champs.”

He laughed “I heard.”

You tilted your head. “Too much?”

He shook his head. “Not even close.”

And in that moment, watching you cradle his daughter like she was the whole world and speak to her like every word mattered, Seungcheol realized something else. 

You weren’t just part of his life now. You were helping build it.

You were still laughing softly with Soojin, brushing her wispy hair back and blowing a gentle raspberry to her cheek, when he said it.

“I love you.”

Your hand paused midair.

The room stilled not tense, but full. Full of everything that had been building for weeks in glances, in soft touches, in the way you carried his daughter like she was a part of you, too.

You looked up slowly, lips parted slightly, eyes wide with something between surprise and breathless warmth. “What?”

He stepped forward, leaving the towel forgotten on the hallway floor. His voice was calmer than he expected, his hands at his sides, heart pounding—but steady.

“I love you,” he repeated. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to say it just now. I was going to… I don’t know. Plan it better, maybe.”

You blinked, standing up with Soojin still in your arms, her head now resting lazily on your shoulder like she was sensing something important.

“But then I heard you,” he went on, his voice rough around the edges. “The way you talk to her. The way you love her. And I just—there was no way I could keep it in.”

You stared at him for a beat longer, as if trying to decide if this was real, if you were allowed to feel everything you were suddenly feeling.

Then your mouth curved into the softest smile, and your eyes glistened.

“You’re really bad at planning, huh?”

He let out a breath of a laugh, stepping closer. “Terrible. But I meant it.”

You nodded, hugging Soojin a little tighter between you. “I know.”

He tilted his head, suddenly unsure again. “You know?”

Your smile deepened as you stepped close enough to press your forehead to his, Soojin squished gently between your chests. “Of course I know.”

Then, quieter, your lips brushing his:

“And I love you, too.”

He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for months.

You felt it — the way his shoulders dropped, the quiet shudder of relief through his body, how his hands finally moved to hold your waist, steady like he was anchoring himself to the moment. You didn’t pull away. If anything, you leaned in closer, letting Soojin nestle in between you both like she belonged there — because she did.

He let out a breathless laugh, rubbing one hand gently up your back. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You smiled against his jaw. “You let me in. That’s enough.”

Soojin shifted in your arms with a sleepy little whimper, and both of you instinctively rocked slightly, a quiet rhythm the two of you had already fallen into like it was second nature.

Seungcheol watched you the curve of your smile, the softness in your eyes, the way your arms curled protectively around Soojin like you were born to love her.

And now, him too.

He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I want you to stay.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, eyebrows raised slightly. “Today?”

He shook his head, a little crooked smile tugging at his lips.

“No,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “I mean… in our life. Always.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, full and aching and warm.

You whispered, “Okay.”

And when he leaned down this time — with Soojin smooshed between you both, giggling now, tiny hands batting at your chins — you tilted up to meet him halfway, a soft, sure kiss shared right there in the center of your little world.

Messy, imperfect, beautiful.

Yours.

=

It was the day before Soojin’s first birthday, and the apartment was a gentle mess of soft pinks, pastel streamers, and tiny decorations waiting to be set up. 

Later that evening, after Soojin had gone down for the night, the apartment was unusually quiet. The living room still held the remnants of earlier chaos. You were at the table, folding the last few napkins.

You caught him staring.

“What?”

He gave a guilty little smile. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

“That’s always dangerous.”

He laughed under his breath. “True.”

“Thinking about what?”

He hesitated, then came to sit across from you, elbows resting on the table, hands clasped. “Just… tomorrow. Her first birthday. It feels like a milestone for her, but also… for me.”

You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hands. “I think it is. You kept her alive, loved, and growing for a whole year. You did amazing.”

“She made it easy. And you…” he trailed off, gaze softening. “You came in and filled in every space I didn’t know was empty.”

Your heart squeezed at that.

“You know,” he said after a beat, “I used to count down every hour until bedtime. Just so I could breathe for a second. And now—now I look forward to the mornings because I get to see her smile. And I get to see you.”

You smiled gently, voice quiet. “Cheol…”

“I mean it,” he said, sitting up a bit straighter. “You changed everything.”

You reached across the table, resting your hand over his. He turned his palm to meet yours, fingers lacing instinctively, like they’d always meant to do that.

Then he squeezed your hand. “Wanna stay over again tonight? Just us. Before the chaos of tomorrow.”

You smiled softly. “Only if you make me your famous midnight ramen.”

He grinned. “Deal.”

He stood, pulling you up with him by your joined hands. You laughed as he tugged you close, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

Later, you found yourselves curled on the couch, sharing a blanket, your legs tangled, a bowl of instant ramen balanced between you. You took turns feeding each other, whispering quiet jokes and memories from the past few months, letting the soft light from the kitchen be the only thing illuminating the moment.

And neither of you said it, but it was clear. This, it wasn’t fleeting. It was growing roots.

Right here, in the warmth of laughter and late-night ramen, on the eve of a little girl’s first birthday.

You're both lying in bed, the lights dimmed to a soft glow, the sheets pulled up to your waists. Soojin was asleep in her room, the baby monitor quiet on the nightstand. Seungcheol was on his side, facing you, one arm tucked under his pillow, the other resting just barely on your waist.

You’d been talking about her birthday party tomorrow, about whether the cake would survive the trip from the bakery, about how she was probably going to end up covered in icing before the day was done. 

You’d laughed, light and sleepy, and then the room had gone quiet. Not awkward—just still.

And you’d gone quiet too.

He noticed it almost instantly.

“Hey,” he murmured, brushing his knuckles along your arm. “Where’d you go just now?”

You blinked out of your thoughts, glancing at him. “Nowhere.”

He raised a brow, giving you a look.

You exhaled a soft laugh. “Okay… not nowhere.”

He waited, eyes patient, a quiet comfort in the dark.

“I was just thinking,” you said, your voice low, barely more than a whisper. “How fast everything changed. How we went from being strangers in the hallway to…” You trailed off, gesturing softly between you and him.

“To this,” he said.

You nodded. “And how it doesn’t feel scary. I thought it would. But it doesn’t.”

He smiled, eyes still on you. “I thought it would too. I tried really hard to keep things from going too far, honestly.”

You gave a playful scoff. “Wow. Thanks.”

He laughed quietly. “I mean because I was scared. Because I thought maybe it was too much to hope for. That someone could just… walk into our lives and fit so perfectly. Be exactly what I didn’t know I needed.”

“I still get scared,” he admitted. “But every time you’re here, or she reaches for you, or you say her name like it’s the most beautiful thing in the world… I stop doubting for a little bit.”

You shifted closer, pressing your forehead to his. “Then I’ll just have to keep doing all of that. So you don’t forget.”

His hand found yours under the blanket, fingers curling around yours gently.

“Okay,” he said, voice low. “Deal.”

He never said it outright again after the first time, “I love you”, but he didn’t need to. 

It lived in every small thing he did. In the way he made your tea just the way you liked. In the way he gave you the first bite of everything. In how he never missed a chance to touch you — hand on your back, brushing your fingers, tucking your hair behind your ear.

And you — you loved them back so fiercely it scared you sometimes.

“She’s so loved,” you whispered

“She is,” he said, almost like a vow.

You looked at him — this man who had doubted everything once, wondered if he could be a good father, a good partner, someone worth staying for. Now he says things like vows he'll keep for the rest of his life.

“I was so scared,” he murmured, voice low. “That I’d mess her up. That I’d never get it right.”

You reached for his hand. “You did everything right, Cheol. Everything.”

A long pause.

Then, softly, with a small laugh in his voice, he asked, “So… same time next year for birthday number two?”

You smiled, leaned up to kiss him — gentle, reassuring. “Already thinking what theme we should do next”

Right here, right now he doesn't even remember all those who left, everything he once lost. Now, all he can think of is what he has, wha he gained ever since he met you.

Wrapped in each other, the past behind and the future so very close, it felt like the beginning of everything good. Of everything true.

[bakug0uzb1thc]

saw this trend and was like ‘im going to imagine this as Katsuki’ and it hasn’t stopped bouncing between my 2 brain cells. this would NEVER happen in cannon.. but hypothetically. (I’m going to shut up.)

(You and Bakugou are both 2nd years but your younger than him just fyi.)

Katsuki Bakugou x fem! Reader

warning: teen parents, suggestive, cruising, mentions of smut themes.

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

It happened by accident, you were being stupid teens and made a mistake and trusted your birth control too much and ended up pregnant.

You were sixteen and petrified— but if you had the option to go back in time you would do it all over again.

Telling Katsuki was more of a ‘what the fuck do we do.’ Conversion then a ‘please don’t leave me.’

Yes you are scared to tell Katsuki but he was your best friend before anything else and you needed him the most.

When you told his parents they laid it out very simply. They were not joyed at the fact their son knocked you up but that was on you both as well as your decision on what to do.

You both agreed to keep the baby, you understood the consequences and responsibility’s of not only getting pregnant and how your parents were gonna ground you like crazy (it didn’t happen it was an empty threat that Mitski once told.) but Also having a baby and how heavy that truly was.

But it all worked out— you gave birth to a healthy baby girl that you named Sumire and it was like a light was turned on.

The first week was rough, having to wake up to crying in the middle of the night, the postpartum phase and the constant lactation.

It was default but that’s what you both signed up for. Happily. And you both got a pretty neat label at UA as the ‘one iconic couple that had a kid.’

Once she was 5 months old it truly hit you that you and Katsuki were teen parents.

“we’re fucking parents.” You were sitting on his bed, back towards his wall as you held your daughter in your lap as she played with your fingers babbling to herself as you faced Katsuki who was at his desk doing homework.

He put a hand on the back of his seat to turn his body to look at you and his daughter. “yeah it’s not news.” He admired the sight, taking a mental picture.

“How’d that happen?” You said in shock, acting like it just happened.

“We had sex and you said ‘oh don’t worry Katsuki I’m on birth control have a field day’” he laughed at himself.

“Okay you’re funny. Now do me a favor and take your daughter my thigh is going numb.” Sumire was his sidekick, that’s what he called her.

He wanted a girl so bad (would never admit it) but he pumped his fist in the air when he found out the gender.

He got up without a complaint and took the infant from your lap, and held her small hand in his own and kissed her palm.

When he did it always made her laugh and he adored it.

He gets cuteness aggression BAD.

“I’d do it again.” He spoke up between kisses. “Do what again?” You raised a brown in confusion at what he said. “Cum.” He let out devilish chuckle.

“Omg Katsuki.” You covered your flushed face at his wording.

“All jokes aside- I’m not complaining. I think it’s tits that I have a mini me.” He chewed her chubby cheek lightly, making her look at you confused but still wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Language.” You poked, acting like you didn’t just curse 5 minutes ago.

“Oh my god! Sumire do you hear your mom. Telling me to watch my language. Get a load of this.” He hugged the baby against his cheek, putting his other hand on her other cheek and squishing her face slightly.

You couldn’t take him seriously. “You’re a jerk.” You said sitting on your knees dragging him down to the bed safely watching as he was holding your daughter securely.

“Jerk you had a kid with.” He laid on your lap, holding Sumire against his chest.

“I’m aware.” You reached down to kiss him on the lips.

It wasn’t planned but it worked out and that’s all that mattered to both of you. The best thing that happed to the two of you was Sumire and she didn’t even know.

(I am convinced I’m unable to write a short fic. Thank you for reading my inner thoughts, this has to be the fic I enjoyed writing the most^_^!!)

[sanjisblackasswife]

Caleb x Black Fem Reader

You confessed to Caleb while drunk and mentioned your unspoken night together.

Caleb takes care of you when you’re sick, when you’re having cramps, but he never thought he’d take care of you when you were—-

“I’m not drunk.”

“You are, Pips…”

This week haven’t been the best, college is kicking your ass, work is kicking your ass, your best friend Caleb haven’t been around as much as you want—-it’s stressful.

You usually don’t drink, a few glasses of wine is always enough, but after just BARELY passing your final exam knowing you studied your ass off all night made you just want to wash away your irritation, even if it’s for the night.

And if you might regret it in the morning.

Caleb always kept tabs on you, location and tracker on to know if you are ever in danger. Being the man that he is it wouldn’t surprise him if he did have enemies trying to hurt you. Though that wasn’t the case, he left his job early to come get you when he called and you chose not to answer.

“She just kept saying Caleb and drinking. Now she’s—“

“I got her. C’mon y/n…”

“CALEBBBBB!” Your face was warm, feeling nothing but bubbily and happy you throw your arms around him, and Caleb picks you up with one arm with ease bridal style and takes you to his car, “BYE GUYYYSSSS!”

You definitely going to be the topic of tomorrow’s work meeting between your coworkers.

Caleb never seen you this drunk, tipsy sure, but you were clearly not lucid. Eyelids lowered and you had a very sneaky subtle smile whenever you stared at him that made him feel a little suspicious as he buckled you up.

“You should have at least invited me.” The car was silent, you weren’t facing him anymore just mindlessly looking at the flashing lights of the city night, “If you’re going to drink you should be around me that way I can watch you.”

“Just watch?” You slowly blink at him, looking down at his pants you place your hand on his thigh, immediately causing him to tense up, he loved your touch, he melted everytime you even leaned on his shoulder but this wasn’t the time for that right now.

“Why not drink with me….?”

“Who would take us home? One of us has to be sober, stupid.”

“You’re stupid.” You weakly barked at him, your tone wasn’t malicious, but borderline hurt, “I’m only drinking because of you.”

Caleb’s heart sunk in a bit, making him adjust himself in his seat. He knew better than anybody why you were upset, he has been gone a lot lately, he feels terrible about it. Leaving you alone at his place or yours when he promises to spend the whole night with you.

“I’m sorry…I am. Tomorrow it’s just you and me okay? I promise.”

“…and what about tonight?”

“Tonight…I will be right with you. Making sure you don’t wake up with a hang over.”

“Tuh.” You laugh, looking back at the window, “I’m not even drunk. Tipsy perhaps.”

Caleb just laughed, still a bit stung from your words he continues to drive in silence until he takes you back home, and carries you to your room.

“Here. Do you need help taking your clothes off?”

You stared at him, examined his features. Was it you or was he finer than usual?

You looked like a little puppy, tilting your head at him, Caleb would be a liar if he didn’t admit you were so cute right now, but his main mission was to get you back sober. Just enough to prevent a headache.

But you made it difficult.

“Take my clothes off…sir.”

Your tall, usually composed friend would have given you a little snarky remark back, but he seen from the look in your eye, you weren’t feeling a bit different than usual.

Almost similar to that one night.

Your curls were all over the place like that night, you bit your lip the same like that night, they way you smiled at him was like that night—-even the tension in the room when he approached you.

Ignoring your comment he begins with your top, sliding it off you as gentle as he could to prevent hurting you, that’s when you landed on your back in the bed, squirming a little without breaking contact with Caleb’s darker purple eyes. “Now pants.”

He made sure you were okay with unbuttoning your bottoms and you nodded, “Tell me if you’re uncomfortable okay? Please.”

“I’m never uncomfortable with you, Cay…”

His big doe eyes looked up at you, a tinge of worry came about, but when you noticed it you smiled at him to cup his cheek, “I’m okay Caleb…I promise. Go ahead.”

He sighs softly in relief, you’re intoxicated, but not enough to not make decisions for yourself. And you wanted to reassure him of that.

Especially for what you wanted to ask him.

When he took off your pants you wiggled your legs, still looking at his broad backs en slim waist as he searches for you a shirt to wear with dilated eyes,

“Let’s recreate night we shared did after graduation.”

You seen his entire body tense up, he looked at you through your vanity mirror with widened eyes, a look of shock almost, “I thought—-Y/N i thought we swore not to…talk about that night.”

Caleb tried laughing it off, as much as he’s trying to put you off right now, he wouldn’t dare do anything with you after drinking. He wants you again, but not like this.

“I’m not drunk Cay.” You sit up, walking towards him to hug his back, “I know what I said. I know what I’m doing…I want —need you again.”

His knuckles turned white from how tightly he held your shirt, not saying anything due to being too tongue tied, his mind already remembering that night like it was yesterday you continued, “I need to feel you again….feel you on top of me. Kissing me. Holding me. It’s been years, but I still think about every minute of that night….and how you felt….”

You place your forehead on the center of his back as if it’s his own forehead and , inhaled his natural scent ,

“Inside me.”

With the quickness he turned around and held your cheeks, his eyes searched yours as if he was trying to find confirmation. You can see it in his expression he was conflicted. whether to kiss you or stop you from speaking. Though he believes you know what you’re saying he had to deny you of this one thing. Just for tonight.

“If…any other time you’ve said this….I ….I would’ve said yes. But for now…I need your undivided attention and consent to what you’re asking me….okay? “

“So you don’t want me.”

“I want you as bad as i breathe.” He immediately responded assertively and confidently, “but I’m telling you no now because I don’t think you’re in the right state of mind…..you understand?”

His thumb caresses you, falling sleepy into his touch alone you kiss his palm and nod, he was right. Though you felt more than confident to say yes and no, it may just be that liquid courage making you feel bolder.

Caleb exhales and smiles, putting you on your pjs for the night and putting you to bed, he went to the kitchen to clear his mind and bring you some water and aspirin.

He thinks about the night you took each others virginities everyday, but since that night you both just never spoke about it again. He always hoped you want to talk about it, and hopefully in the morning you do.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

One Night

Summary: Joaquin Torres x fe!Reader -> One Night is never just one night.

Disclaimer: 16+ with sexual themes, FwB/enemies to lovers, swearing, platonic!Kate Bishop. Not Proof Read.

One Night. 

They say it just takes One Night for everything to change. You just didn’t expect it to be that night. 

When Kate walked into the compound kitchen and living area that morning, she had been expecting no-one. Not a single person. 

Clint was at home with Laura and the kids, Natasha had wrangled Steve and Sam to help her plan Yelena’s birthday party, Bucky had been sent to talk to the cake shop since the owner seemed to always take a shine to him and practically melted any time he walked through the door. She was in her late eighties, but was quite possibly the most terrifying woman Natasha had ever met. So, Bucky it was. 

Kate figured Joaquin would still be in bed since he’d finished up his work pretty late last night. He was still in his office when Kate walked by, having worked two hours of overtime herself. 

As for Tony and everyone else, they were taking their long awaited vacations. 

And as for you. Well, Kate had never woken up before you. In fact, nobody had. Not even Steve who’d wake up at four-thirty every morning to go for a run. Everyone was pretty sure you didn’t even own pajamas. They’d never seen you in them, for starters. And Kate was 97.6% sure you were a vampire, or some kind of supernatural creature that never seemed to sleep. 

But that morning…

That morning she walked into the kitchen and living space to see you, stood by the kitchen island, stirring some creamer into your coffee, dressed in pajamas. 

Kate had to take a mental image. Maybe more than one. You were human?!

Your hair was down from the usual braid-into-bun. You were wearing a short length, earthy green robe. With, from what Kate could gather, was a matching set underneath. 

You hadn’t spotted her yet, which was also unusual. You’d usually say the person’s name before they even walked into the room, already knowing who they were. It made trying to get the jump on you all that more frustrating. 

But Kate couldn’t even take any satisfaction out of scaring you when you jumped after spotting her, because you were in pajamas. 

“Jesus, Kate. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Why were you in pajamas? 

Was it your birthday? 

No. Natasha had found out your birthday after hacking Shield’s computer system. It wasn’t your birthday. 

Had you finally taken time off?

Were they a present? Maybe a Secret Santa gift for last year?

“Kate?”

“You’re in pajamas.” 

Those were the only words she could form as she tried to figure out why. 

You chuckled and looked down. “Yeah. Because it’s the morning and I just woke up.”

Kate’s eyes almost bugged out of her head. “You slept in?”

You looked at her, a little dumbfounded. “Yeah. I had a late night last night.”

“Doing what? You usually clock off at six like the rest of us.”

You shrugged. “I had some paperwork to catch up on. Are you okay?”

Kate had to physically shake her head in order to restart her entire body. Once she had done that, she moved closer into the kitchen like a normal person. 

“Yeah. Yeah. Just surprised to find out you own pajamas. I thought you just kinda woke up ready for the day.”

“I wish, but no.” You smiled before lifting your coffee mug to your lips. And you were glad you had something to cover your face with because what happened next was not a situation you had fully prepared for. 

“So, now that I know you own more than just tactical gear. I was thinking we could-”

“Morning.”

Kate looked behind her after hearing Joaquin’s voice as he walked inside, also in his pajamas. 

“Morning,” you replied. 

Kate’s head whipped around to look at you as Joaquin passed her. “Coffee?”

“In the pot,” you told him. 

Kate was starting to give herself whiplash as she looked between yourself and Joaquin. The cogs started turning and the longer she watched both of you, the faster they started turning until they all finally clicked into place. 

“What were you saying, Kate?”

Kate’s mind was screaming. 

“Kate?”

The chair she had been sitting on practically fell over. “I need to speak to you. Now. Right now.” Kate rounded the kitchen island before taking you by your elbow. 

“Hey, watch my coffee.”

Keeping a hold of your mug, you tried your hardest not to spill any as Kate dragged you from the room, down the hallway and around the corner and through the double doors that led out to a different section of the balcony. 

“Kate, that the hell is wrong-”

“You slept with Joaquin?!” 

Your shoulders somehow both relaxed and tensed. “Oh. That.”

“That?!” Kate spat in shock. “That?! Y/n!”

“It’s not as bad as it seems.”

“It’s not as bad as it seems? It’s not as bad as it seems?”

You looked at her, “Are you just gonna keep repeating what I say?”

“Y/n! It’s not like you two are known for frollacing on a beach together. Quite the opposite.”

Kate had you there. It wasn’t exactly a secret to people that you and Joaquin weren’t the best of friends. Or even co-workers. You didn’t know what it was, you just never got along. You spent more time fighting with each other that it would be more believable to be known for doing as much on a beach together, rather than frollocking. 

“Kate-”

“How-How did this even happen? How long has this been going on? Oh, my god. Was it an act? Just to throw us off the scent?”

“No, no, no. Kate.” You put your coffee down on a table before taking her by the shoulders. “It’s nothing like that. It was just one night.”

Kate just sighed, “It’s never just one night.”

“Yes, it is.”

Kate became a little calmer, or rather, was starting to internalise her freak out. But it didn’t last long because the minute you let go of her, she threw her arms in the air. “God, I can’t believe this. God, what are the others gonna think?”

“They’re not gonna think anything because they’re not gonna find out. It was a one night thing. It didn’t mean anything.”

“You’re in pajamas. How long ago did-” Then Kate shook her head. “Nevermind, I don’t wanna know. Actually, yes I do. Hm, no. No, I don’t. Hm. Yes. No. Yes. Okay. No wait. Don’t tell me. Tell me.”

“Kate?”

She just nodded. “Tell me.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, suppressing the smile on your face. 

“Yes.”

You waited for her to stop you again, but when she didn’t, you finally told her. 

“It was late last night, and yes, he’s good. Whoever he ends up with will be a lucky woman.”

Kate looked up at you, a little shocked. She was pretty sure that was the very first compliment you’d ever given Joaquin. Like, ever. 

“Wow.”

Kate finally sat down. After a morning training session and finding out about you and Joaquin…she was exhausted. 

You sat opposite to her at the coffee table. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

You raised an eyebrow with a chuckle escaping you. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Kate looked at you. She did. She was more curious than scared. “How about I go and get dressed and we can head into the city? Go and check out that new boutique?”

“How do you do that?” That was what Kate had been planning to ask you before Joaquin walked inside. 

“Give me twenty minutes.”

Over the next five hours, Kate asked you every question she could think of twice. 

What the hell happened?

Did he kiss you first? Or was it you? 

Did you enjoy it?

Did he enjoy it?

What the hell happened?

And you’d explained everything. At the makeup counter, at the deli, inside the curtain set up for two dressing rooms in the new boutique, at the coffee shop and on the drive both in and out of the city. 

“I just…I can’t even imagine you two having a conversation. I mean, that’s what gave it away this morning. You never tell him where the coffee is, even when he asks. And you never say good morning to him.”

You chuckled. “Kate, it’s not a big deal. It was just one night.”

“That’s what they all say. And before you know it…it’s not just one night anymore.”

You had just rolled your eyes and brushed it off. You and Joaquin had both agreed before and after that it would be a one time thing. 

You’d kissed him by accident. And after pulling away, he’d pulled you back. It had only gotten more heated from there until eventually you collapsed beside him in his bed. You’d both fallen asleep shortly afterwards and as much as part of you wanted to stay laying beside him when you woke up, you knew you couldn’t. 

Though, maybe you should have. It would have saved you watching Kate have an aneurysm at realising exactly why you were in your pyjamas, why you had slept in, and why you were talking to Joaquin like you actually considered him a friend of some kind. 

And you were both adamant it was to be a One Night thing. But apparently neither of you had factored into the conversation how good it truly was. Not just the sex, but not fighting each other all the time. 

“I need you.”

You’d been walking down the hallway, minding your own business, when Bucky suddenly nearly pulled your arms out of its socket as he dragged you inside the training room. “Sam’s stuck me with the elementary kids.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” You asked, sounding a little mad. 

“Just demonstrate something to the kids.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno. You and Joaquin figure something out.”

“Joaquin?” You practically threw up his name before Bucky answered, “Yes,” and threw you towards the training mat where you were met with Joaquin. 

“Okay, kids, these two very helpful volunteers are gonna show you what sparring is.”

“We are?” You and Joaquin asked. 

Apparently you were. 

Which was how you found yourself and Joaquin explaining small moves that the kids could copy, safely. However, Joaquin had been enjoying himself far too much, so taking the opportunity to explain a small self-defence method, you sent him flying to the floor. 

All the kids took in a breath, some laughed, some gasped. 

But once Joaquin laughed, letting the kids know he was okay, they all relaxed. 

“Okay, rugrats. You’ve got fifteen minutes to use the climbing frame!” Bucky announced before letting the kids run free. Meanwhile, you remained on top of Joaquin. 

“That was fun.”

“Really got the drop on me, didn’t you?”

“Those kids were boosting your ego far too much.”

“My god,” Joaquin breathed. “Are you jealous?”

“Hell no,” you laughed. “Just don’t think your ego needs inflating anymore than it already has.”

“Well,” Joaquin suddenly flipped you and had you pinned under him. “I could say the same about you. You forget I know what I’m doing, Angel.” 

For that last part, he leaned down and whispered it low so only you could hear. A slight whimper threatened to escape you but when you were met with Joaquin’s eyes once again, one of the kids had dropped an end of a bench, reminding both of you where you were and who you were around. 

Carefully, Joaquin climbed off you before lowering his hand down to you to help you up. Without thinking, you accepted. You were greeted with the same kind of electricity you’d experienced that night when he’d intertwined his fingers with yours, pinning them above your head before tantalisingly moving down your body…

“If you don’t need me?” You called out to Bucky. He brought his forgotten attention back to you both. 

“Yeah. Thanks!”

You just nodded, before nodding at Joaquin. His hand waited as long as it could to let you go as you walked away, his gaze trailing after you and you left the training room and hurried back the way you came before Bucky had pulled you inside. 

Later that night, long after the training room and a short while after dinner where you and Joaquin had tried to avoid contact; seemingly making more than either of you had done in three years. He knocked on your door. 

All he wanted to do was check in on you. Maybe apologise for what happened in the training room. Maybe ask why you hadn’t scoffed at his choice of food combos at dinner like you usually did. But instead, once he opened the door, the wind was knocked from him completely. 

“I just wanted to-” Joaquin was trying to find his words again after seeing you, but he was struggling. 

But that didn’t matter. Because your lips were on his almost instantly. Pulling him inside, his hands pulled you closer to him. You shut the door and he pushed you against it. 

Hours later, sweating and gasping for breath yet again, you both told each other it was just a One Time thing. Well, a two-time thing. 

Yet, just as Kate had predicted, it wasn’t. 

“It happened again.”

Those were the first words out of your mouth as she opened her apartment door. “I told you.”

“What happened?” Yelena yelled from the living room, a pint of ice cream in her lap. 

“It’s Y/n!”

That was all Kate had to say as she invited you inside for Yelena to reply, “Did she and the Bird Boy sleep together again?”

“Did you tell her?”

Kate shook her head as she locked the door. “She already knew. Don’t ask me how.”

“Did she bring drinks? This conversation is gonna need drinks!” Yelena called out. 

Over the next three hours, you sat on Kate and Yelena’s couch, mortified at what had happened. 

“I told you it wouldn’t be a one time thing.”

“It doesn’t have to be a one time thing. If you both enjoy it, and I can tell you do-”

“Yelena!”

“What?” Yelena asked. “You’ve been less pissy since the first time. I’m just saying…if you both enjoy it, enjoy it.”

“But it’s more than that.”

“What is?”

When you didn’t answer, both Yelena and Kate looked at each other, already knowing. 

“Y/n…”

Kate pushed your hands from your face. “Do you like Joaquin?”

“No! No, of course not!”

Yelena dug her spoon into her pint of ice cream. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

You just groaned. “I can’t. What? Why are you smiling?”

“No reason.” Kate said, shaking her head. 

“She thinks you and Joaquin are gonna get married.” 

“Yelena!” It was Kate’s turn to yell at her roommate. 

“What?”

You looked at Kate. “You really think that? Really?”

Kate had been the one person to see everything. Every reason you gave as to why you didn’t like Joaquin. And clearly this marriage concept to her wasn’t new. 

“Look, I just think, sometimes, the lines between love and hate can be a little…fuzzy. Yelena?”

She just shrugged. “If you want to fuck him, fuck him. But if you love him…”

You barked out a laugh. “Whoa, hey, hey, okay. No. No. We’re not- no. I don’t love Joaquin.”

Yelena hummed to herself, holding up her spoon, “The lady-”

“Hey,” Kate raised her voice and Yelena kept hers silent, but still acted out what she was going to say. 

“Kate?”

“Look,” Kate took your hands in hers. “Maybe this was it. But, Yelena’s right. If you like Joaquin, maybe you should tell him. Before someone gets hurt.”

It was sound advice. And you gave yourself some time to figure it out. Maybe it was just the sex. Maybe he’d just muddled your brain. Time away would be good. 

But time didn’t fix feelings as you came to find out. 

After the third One Night, you’d accepted a three month placement from Hill. Maybe time away would do you good. And it worked, for the first six weeks. Joaquin didn’t cross your mind once. 

Until the day he walked inside your tent with some of his tech gear, “Where can I set up?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Don’t sound too happy to see me.”

You would come to learn Joaquin had been sent in place of Yelena. A woman you sent a very, very long text to: who only replied with a kissy face and a good luck symbol. 

“I’m gonna kill her.”

“What?”

You looked up at Joaquin, “Nothing.”

It took three weeks and thirty different fights, including mini spats, for something to break between both yourself and Joaquin. 

“Do you do this by accident, or do you just enjoy being a pain in my ass?” 

“Says the guy who can’t leave me alone to do the work I’ve been trained for!”

“Well excuse me for giving a crap about my team-mate?”

You barked a laugh. “That’s rich, coming from you. I’m pretty sure you’d rather fly me to the top of the Empire State and drop me.”

“Believe me, that hasn’t not crossed my mind once or twice.”

You were just standing opposite each other, your chests heaving for breath when all of a sudden his hands were in your hair, your hands were pulling his overshirt from him and his lips were crashing against yours. 

With his tongue dipping inside your mouth, tasting you, he moaned. “I’ve missed this.”

Shaking your shirt from your arms, your hand slipped into his curls and pulled his kiss closer to you. As you ass bumped against the table set up, Joaquin moved his kisses from your lips to across your jaw and down your neck. 

It was the first time neither of you talked about it being a One Night thing. Because, between the kissing and the breathy moans, a silent agreement had been made. This could never have been a One Night thing. 

You couldn’t keep lying to yourself. You’d missed it, too. You’d missed him. 

And part of that conversation came to a head the next night when Joaquin found you in your tent since you’d been avoiding him all day. 

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

“Joaquin-”

“No, I don’t wanna fight. Not tonight. I just want an answer.”

“I haven’t been avoiding you.”

“Yes, you have. Despite our history, I know you, Y/n. You’ve been avoiding me. Why?”

You stopped folding your clothes and looked at him. For the first time in forever, you too didn’t want to fight him. Not with him standing there looking all…Joaquin-like. A kind, yet worried face. A comfortable presence. 

You moved closer, pulling him in to kiss you. This kiss was different. Rather than raw and needy for sex, it was a little more delicate. But there was still a force behind it. 

“Because I’ve missed this, too. I’ve missed you, Joaquin.”

Joaquin looked you in your eyes as you stood, inches from his face. You weren’t lying. Even when you’d been fighting him, and he’d been fighting you, one thing he’d known since the beginning was when you were lying. 

He was apparently the only person you knew with that skill, which just added another thing to the list of why you hated him so much.

You weren’t lying. 

Joaquin didn’t say anything. He just kissed you. And kissed you. And kissed you. 

And for the first time, you both took it slow. Well, slower. 

“I think this is gonna be more than a one time thing.”

You laughed as Joaquin broke the silence with his sentence, and his laughter joined yours until you kissed him, crawling to straddle him under your bed covers.

By the time you both got back, it was like nothing had ever happened. You and Joaquin seemed to fall right back into your old ways with each other. 

But none of it was real. 

The truth was in how he kissed you late at night, and in how he would brush his hand across your hip as he passed you in the kitchen. It was in the way you’d pull him around the corner in an empty hallway and kiss him. It was in the way he’d lean against your body and it was in the way a quiet moan, only he could hear, would leave you as his leg pushed between both of yours. 

The truth was in the way he’d watch you as you sat up in bed, reading over different mission material. It was in the way you’d look at him when he was training in the training room, early in the morning, the sun kissing the sheen of his skin as he ran his third mile on the treadmill. 

The truth was in the way he followed behind you, no matter who was around either of you. It was in the way you both fought less with your superiors about being placed together for different training exercises and missions. 

The truth was in the way you had both been slowly falling for each other, despite wishing for the opposite. 

“I’m gonna ask Y/n on a date.” 

That had been the statement Joaquin had blurted out to Kate one afternoon when everyone else was at training. 

“W-w-what? Oh, yeah. No, that’s cool.”

Joaquin just looked at her, “You’re a terrible actor.”

“I am not!”

“I already know you know.”

Kate relaxed. “Oh, okay then. So, you’re gonna ask her out? Finally!” Kate smiled. 

“I just can’t decide where. I want this to be perfect. But I don’t want to set us up for failure.”

Kate watched as Joaquin sat beside her on the sofa and pulled out his phone, scrolling through the different options he had written down in his notes app. Any of the options he had would be good. 

But that wasn’t what made her smile. 

It was the fact that Joaquin was putting so much thought into it. He always put a lot of thought into things, but knowing it was for you. For both of you. It made her want to say “HA!” to Yelena. 

But if Joaquin was being completely honest with himself, from knocking on your door and hearing you walking to open it, he’d never been so nervous in his entire life. 

“Joaquin,” you seemed surprised. Probably because he had knocked in a way that might throw you off in thinking it wasn’t him, giving him a few more seconds to psych himself up. 

“I want to take you on a date.” Well, there went the speech he’d prepared. “And I’m hoping you’ll say yes because this isn’t just-”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes,” you repeated. “I’ll go on a date with you.”

“You will?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

Joaquin smiled before stepping inside and kissing you before you closed the door. 

You didn’t quite know when or why, but you and Joaquin had gone from being at each other’s throats aggressively to it being affectionate. And for some reason - one that Kate would probably explain to you one day - you wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

And neither would Joaquin.

[humans-are-seriously-weird]

Hey all things have been wild and i havent been on a lot

I wanted to make this post to raise some awareness for the chronic illness Ive recently been diagnosed with, in the hopes that someone suffering something similar feels less alone.

Around Christmas i started getting very very sick. I would throw up 5-6hrs of the day, and it kept me from eating or sleeping at all. For four months straight i cycled between ER rooms and hospital admissions. Ive lost over 100lbs since Christmas due to a complete inability to keep any food or water down. After dozens of tests, I finally have been diagnosed with Cyclical Vomiting Syndrome.

Its a brutal disease. Essentially it’s a stress induced illness where the autonomic nervous system that controls the stomach becomes out of sync. When my body becomes too stressed, I start getting sick. And when I am out of the stress, my stomach and abdomen dont get the memo that we are okay now. It continues to have its own mini anxiety attack, contracting and twisting and forcing me to throw up everything I have inside, and keeps going after with dry heaving. This is called an abdominal migraine, and let me tell you, it is so much worse than it sounds. Once you are in an episode, it is difficult to get out of. Once the body is stressed, the sickness stresses it more, which makes me sicker. It is a vicious cycle.

I lost my job to this disease because I missed two full months. I collapsed at work and had to be rushed to the hospital. The worst part of this disease is that it is so uncommon most hospitals dont know how to treat it. Ive been labeled a drug seeker at every hospital within 10km of my home because of how frequently I had to go to the ER, severely dehydrated and in such pain I could barely stand. I started refusing strong pain meds in favour of antispasmodics instead. ER docs and nurses blamed cannabis and told me that was my sole issue. It wasnt, though it does exacerbate the illness. Ive since stopped smoking, even though it brought me some relief, just to be taken seriously.

I am one of the lucky ones who got diagnosed quickly. Most people take years to get a diagnosis, and I got mine within 4months, though it is only because of how severe my illness was.

I am finally getting proper treatment that gives me some quality of life. I have a new job that is very understanding of how many days Ive had to take off due to flare ups and episodes. Im doing well now, but for awhile, i truly thought this disease was going to take my life. I wrote a will. I picked out a grave plot.

This isnt a sympathy post. CVS is often misdiagnosed as chronic appendicitis or GERD. The odds of someone following me who also has this disease is high, and I want to make sure they dont feel as alone and unheard in this as I have.

There is no cure for CVS, you can only try to manage it and lengthen the time between episodes. The hardest part is everyone constantly saying “but youve been doing so well”. I may be doing well now, but tomorrow is not guaranteed, the next hour is not guaranteed. My episodes come quickly and with little warning, and triggers can only be found through trial and error. I still miss a lot of work, I still wake up in the night dry heaving. If i miss a single dose of medication, i relapse. It is a brutal road, and I have been fortunate that I have a supportive partner and friends who have walked it with me.

If this sounds like you, you are not alone. Find a doctor who will listen to you, and trust your instincts. Advocate for yourself, and accept nothing less. Once, when an ER refused to see me, despite the fact that I passed out on the threshold, I started just screaming. I absolutely screamed my head off as if i had been shot. That got their attention, and they said they would treat me just to shut me up. Make a scene. It sucks that that is what I had to resort to, but they finally agreed to do an ultrasound and CT scan. It started me on the path of getting a proper diagnosis. Advocate for yourself loudly and without reserve. And if you cant, find someone who can on your behalf. When i was flitting in and out of consciousness, my partner advocated for me, and refused to let them discharge me until they got the vomiting under control, even just for a day. Be loud, be annoying, do whatever it takes.

You are not alone.

[peachessndreamss]

Animal Magnetism

Summery : A date volunteering at an animal shelter for you and Bob.

Characters : Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female Reader (No use of Y/N)

Warnings : None (other than bad)

Word count : 2.2k

A/N : Lewis Pullman is fully ruining my life. I wrote this a long time ago, idk if I like it or not 😆 but here we go.

peachessndreamss Masterlist l peachessndreamss ask box

"So I've got a fun idea for a date…" you said innocently over your morning coffee.

You’d been watching Bob since he entered the kitchen a few minutes before, his shirt was still untucked from his pants and he’d yet to push his hair back off his forehead, he’d gotten himself a cup of coffee from the pot and had been rooting through the cupboard looking for breakfast when you’d spoken.

Bob turned to look at you and narrowed his gaze for a few seconds. The last time you’d had a “fun” idea for a date it had been a terrifying tour of a supposedly haunted house which had left Bob on edge for days and unable to look in the mirror for at least a week.

"It's not a scary idea, I promise,” you followed up quickly, knowing exactly what he was thinking about.

"Okay, what is it then?" He replied before taking a mouthful of coffee.

“Volunteering at an animal shelter,” you started, grabbing your phone and opening up Instagram.

“One of the girls from work did it a couple of weeks ago and told me about it. We’d be helping exercise the dogs and socialising the kittens, it would only be a few hours and I think it would be so cute!" you explained excitedly, pulling up the social media page and clicking on the most recent set of volunteering photos and pushing the phone toward Bob as you swiped through the pictures.

“Cute,” Bob agreed with a tentative nod, “and very unlikely for there to be any ghosts,” he muttered under his breath.

“So, what do you think?” you asked.

Your eyes were shining with excitement and you were practically bouncing in your seat, Bob would not have been able to say no if he’d tried. As Bob had grown up with a multitude of family pets and since joining the Navy he had missed having a furry little friend to come home too.

"Yeah, book it,” he agreed as he put his coffee down and ripped open a protein bar with his teeth.

You booked a slot for the next Saturday, which Bob already had off and no prior plans in his diary. As the day got closer and closer you were constantly sending Bob pictures from the shelters Instagram of the animals you’d be seeing.

Saturday morning you woke hours before your alarm was due to go off but like a child on Christmas morning you just couldn’t wait any longer.

"Com'on!" You moaned, shaking him awake, "It’s time to wake up!”.

Bob continued to pretend to be asleep, keeping his eyes tightly closed but unable to stop himself grinning.

"Bob please!" You insisted before he gave a very fake snore.

"Bob!" You cried, yanking the pillow out from under his head and hitting him with it.

"Ahrigh'!" He cried as the pillow made contact with his stomach, "Ah’right woman, I'm awake!".

Bob did manage to convince you that you didn’t need to be out of bed that very second and you could enjoy a few minutes of cuddles before showering. You rested your head on his shoulder and let your fingers run up and down his stomach and chest. When his stomach gave a rumble he agreed it was time to get up and have some breakfast.

The two of you worked easily together in the kitchen. He set the coffee pot up to run while you warmed croissants in the oven and gathered the butter and jam. As you pulled the pastries from the oven you caught Bob watching you with a dopey, love struck look on his face.

"What ya looking at Baby?" You asked.

"Just the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he replied with an easy smile.

“You’re only saying that because I’ve got food in my hands,” you joked as you transferred the pastries to a plate and put them in front of him.

“That’s only half of the reason,” he teased as he took a croissant and pulled the jar of chocolate spread toward him.

The two of you washed up before heading back toward your bedroom to get dressed. The shelter had advised you to wear old, comfortable clothes that you didn’t mind getting dirty.

Bob’s choice of pale blue jeans, faded olive green t-shirt and backward baseball cap should have looked perfectly ordinary but instead it sent shivers up and down your spine.

You stood in front of him and slipped your arms around his neck, finding a few long strands peeking out the back of his cap to twist around your fingertips.

"Do I pass muster, Commander?" He joked as you ran your hands down his back before bringing your hands to rest on his firm, round backside.

"Certainly do Lieutenant," you replied, giving him a soft kiss on his lips before you headed off to brush your teeth.

On the drive to the shelter you couldn’t sit still for a second, Bob placed his hand on your thigh as he drove to try and limit your bouncing but just found his hand bouncing along with you. Bob hadn’t stopped smiling since you’d left the house and as much as he was looking forward to your day, he was happiest to see you so excited. At the shelter you joined a number of other couples who were volunteering that day. There was a similar look of excitement on everyone's faces. A young and bubbly shelter employee greeted everyone and explained how the day would go before dividing people up and giving out your first job of the day.

You and Bob were starting your day with dog walking. You were taken to the kennels and shown which animals you would be walking, Bob immediately took a shine to a miniature schnauzer, he took several photos of the dog, sending them to Rooster as “moustache inspiration”.

After placing the dogs into their harnesses you were shown the large field they would be having their exercise in. You had a leash in each hand with two excitable dachshunds at the end. The two small dogs kept crossing in front of you and you had to keep your wits about you to make sure you didn’t trip over them. Bob was to your left, the miniature schnauzer walking at his side.

“We should get a pet,” Bob said as you carefully untangled the dachshund's leads for the 15th time.

“Do you think we’re settled enough?” you replied.

Bob paused for a few seconds, considering your question. He gave a small, one shouldered shrug.

“I think we could give a little guy a better life, a real home,” he replied thoughtfully, a smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah, I can see us with a little guy,” you agreed, picturing the home the two of you shared but with a four legged addition running around the place.

The two of you returned to the kennels to give the dogs their lunch, Bob was down on his knees as he tried to unhook a particularly excitable dachshund from their leash but was struggling as the dog kept bouncing up to try and lick his face.

Bob managed to get a good hold on the dog and held their small, wriggling body against his chest, using his other hand to unclip the leash, all the while the dog licked his chin.

"It's a good job you're cute," Bob laughed as he let the dog go and they scampered off to their feed bowl.

"You’re normally saying that to me," you teased.

"Yeah, and you're normally trying to lick me to death as well," Bob quipped back with a grin.

"But you never normally tell me to stop,".

Bob laughed, his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning a charming shade of pink.

After a lunch break in the sunshine with the other volunteers, you and Bob were shown to the kitten room where the shelter’s smallest residence lived.

"Cats normally don’t like me,” Bob said quietly as you were shown to a large, bright room where several kittens were sleeping in a basket in a patch of sunlight.

“Don’t be silly, Mrs Khan’s cat loves you!” you replied, recalling how your neighbour's cat would often come bounding across the street to greet Bob in the morning.

“That’s because I gave it some tuna once,”.

“The way to a cat’s heart is through their stomach,” you joked as you turned your attention to a small ginger kitten that had just woken up and was making its way toward you.

“We have that in common then,”.

The two of you settled in, encouraging the kittens from their basket, rolling balls for them to chase after and flicking feathers through the air for them to leap and paw at. Bob laughed until his stomach hurt when two of the kittens started to play fight and you began to narrate the tussle like a wrestling match.

A tiny white kitten with black ears and the bluest eyes you’d ever seen seemed to take a particular liking to Bob and hadn’t stopped clambering all over him since he’d taken a seat on the floor. Bob sat back on his elbows and watched as the kitten climbed up onto his stomach and carefully made his way up Bob’s chest to sniff at his chin.

As your time at the shelter was drawing to a close a shelter employee who was taking some photographs for social media posts dropped in on the two of you. She captured several of Bob resting back on his elbows with the kitten rubbing against his cheek.

"He's really taken with you!" She commented as Bob gathered the kitten in one hand and sat up.

"Yeah, he’s cute," Bob replied.

"You guys know all the animals you've been with today are available for adoption…".

“Yeah we know,” he replied as the memory of your earlier conversation floated through his mind.

“We were just saying earlier about that,” you said, your voice filled with hope.

Bob took a deep breath and brought the kitten up to his face, gazing into its bright eyes.

“Do you think you’d like to live with us?” Bob asked.

After a pause of a few seconds the kitten gave a tiny mewl of assent.

With the new cat carrier strapped in the car and the boot full of anything and everything a kitten might need, the two of you headed home. You kept looking over your shoulder to see the back seat where the furry little face was peaking through the mesh of the carrier to see what was happening.

"We need to name him," you said.

"Whatta‘bout Snowball?" Bob replied, not able to fight the smile that was plastered all over his face.

"So unoriginal," you criticised with a roll of your eyes.

"Okay judgy,” Bob replied with a roll of his eyes, “what do you suggest?”.

“We could call him Sugar? He’s certainly sweet enough,”.

“He doesn’t look like a Sugar to me,” Bob replied uncertainly.

You argued names back and forth the whole drive home, still not able to come to a consensus. You carried the cat into the house and took him into the kitchen, you'd decided that would be the best place for him to be while he acclimatised to his new home, and the floor was easily cleaned of any little accidents.

You were in the kitchen opening the carrier when you heard Bob's phone ring, he answered it and started to talk to someone you couldn't hear.

"You're such a handsome boy aren't you?" You cooed at the kitten as you lifted the tiny thing out of his carrier.

"It's kind of you to say so," a voice drawled from Bob's phone with a laugh.

You turned to see Bob in the midst of a video call with Hangman.

"Not you," you replied with a roll of your eyes.

"I was talking to this guy," you added, holding the kitten up so Hangman could see.

"That's a cat," Hangman said with a confident nod of his head.

"You should call him Hangman, seeing as we're both so handsome,".

"Not on your life," Bob replied, taking back control of the conversation and taking the video call out of the kitchen and into the livingroom.

Except the name did stick and Bob ended up with a cat called Hangman, much to his own annoyance. But despite the name, Bob loved his cat more than just about anything else in the world. Hangman would follow Bob around the house like a duckling with its mother duck, and your camera roll very quickly became hundreds of photographs and videos of the two of them.

"I never thought of myself as a cat person," he mused one evening while stretched out on the sofa, Hangman curled up on his chest in a spot you might have occupied otherwise.

"Maybe you're not," you shrugged, "but you are that cats person,".

Bob chuckled and scratched the spot between Hangman’s ears.

"So, where shall we go for our next date?" You asked innocently, knowing you had already made enquiries at a nearby alpaca farm about spending the day.

Bob turned his eyes to you and narrowed them slightly.

"Nowhere where we're gonna end up with another living thing in our home please,".

"Maybe we'll just stay home?" You offered with a grin.

"Still risky," he replied with a wink.

[kale-of-the-forbidden-cities]

Do you have any gravity falls headcanons I could borrow? It can be any character(s) at all, I just need some ideas for a fanfic i'm working on

Thx!

ooh okay!! i'm honored and i'm sorry this took so long to get to

i'm just gonna list a bunch of random ones in the order i think of them and you can pick and choose which ones. i have no idea what your fanfic is about so. you get everyone

big fan of transmasc Dipper, but he's not like the kind of guy to be super open about it until he's more comfortable- he just wants to be a normal guy

Mabel loves owls

Ford somehow never gets hot. he wears his big coat and sweater most of the time, and when he sleeps has a ton of blankets and pillows

(he also feels more comfortable sleeping when he's not "out in the open" probably as a side effect of his multiverse travels)

that being said, he still has somniphobia, depending on the night. he doesn't like sleeping, he knows everything's okay now but it still scares him

Even as a kid, Ford liked wearing long sleeves better and stuff with pockets he could put his hands in. to draw less attention to them and hide them when he wanted to

The little llama Pacifica had in lost legends got thrown out when her parents decided she was too old for it. Llamas have always been her favorite animal and she chose the sweater in weirdmageddon on purpose

continuing the Pacifica tangent, she always has the worst bedhead

Bill once told Ford "you talk too much" and then proceeded to stitch up his mouth the next time he fell asleep

Autism Dipper, but when he gets diagnosed he's like. he has mixed feelings about it. he doesn't want people to know about it because he thinks they won't take him seriously because of it

Fiddleford erased Ford's memories quite a few times while they were working together

Teeth is Bill's favorite henchmaniac and all the others know this

Ford likes Mabel juice

Stan still draws, he has quite a few sketchbooks from over the years. it's quite stylized and if he showed Ford, Ford wouldn't really get it or think it's very good because it's not realistic

Autism Ford too but he doesn't seek a diagnosis or really know about it or anything

Dipper's clones don't have the birthmark

Stan has never said a swear word in front of the kids. Ford tries not to but he has a few times

You'll know if Mabel is mad at someone because they will be covered in glitter. she will shoot them with her glitter gun

(She never does it to Dipper though)

Ford sometimes overshares some of the stuff he went through to Dipper. Dipper just. doesn't say much to that, because what is he supposed to say. Ford asked Dipper not to tell any of it to anyone

Stan sometimes feels really bad about the stuff the kids had to go through

Mabel sticks magnets to Ford's head randomly

she made magnetic cat ears

and a unicorn horn

When Dipper is having bad nights with nightmares or just anxiety, he wakes Mabel up and they have a sleepover on the floor of their room

Next summer, Dipper gets his hat back from Wendy and they swap hats at the end of the summer again, but the summer after that, they end up not swapping back because Dipper doesn't like the Pine Tree reminder of the nickname and the zodiac

Wendy is chill with this

Mabel is only a little taller than Dipper, but the difference is emphasized with Dipper's shrimp posture

Pacifica likes hugs and needs them a lot. but would never ask for them. Instead she just hugs people impulsively sometimes (such as in nwmm and in lost legends)

Dipper uses the oversize pterodactyl bros t shirt as a sleep shirt

Dipper could win any staring contest. He's got that blank autism stare

Ford would try anything once for science

okay i'm out of time maybe i'll add more later

you can tell me what kind of headcanons to narrow it down too

[sentientgolfball]

Mushy May: Secret Admirer

Rain is a freak who has to leave vague poems lying around instead of telling Mountain he has a crush on him like a normal person

He is nothing if not an dramatic

Mountain smiles to himself as he opens his lunch. A folded piece of paper sits perfectly on top. He grabs it, tail wagging behind him as he unfolds it. Another poem in that same perfect handwriting. Still no name. Not even an initial to give him a clue. His eyes scan over the words, a small blush now accompanying the wide grin on his face. 

Devour me 

Break my skin to consume tender flesh 

Let my blood quench your thirst 

Let my body satisfy your hunger 

Devour me 

Consume me 

Savor me

Oh how Mountain wishes he knew who his little mystery poet is. Everyday for the past two weeks he has been finding these notes. Slipped under his door, left atop his laundry, on the seat of his drums. They started out simple, but quickly they evolved into something more. Now even he cannot deny each is charged with some underlying adoration. Or maybe infatuation. 

He would be lying though if he said he hates it. He looks forward to it. Every morning he wakes up and smiles as he wonders what today’s note will say, where it will be. Wonders if today will be the day he finally gets to meet them. 

“Mountain?” A deep, smooth voice calls out. 

He snaps his head up from his slip of paper. Rain. Shit. He forgot the quiet little new summon was joining him in the greenhouse today to learn how he can use his water to help with growth. He haphazardly throws his lunch and the note on his work table, standing from his stool and making his way over to the entrance. 

He grins when Rain comes into view,” Hey. Sorry, I would’ve met you. I lost track of time.” 

Rain looks up at him, but he does not meet his eyes, opting to glance between his chest and over his shoulder. “It’s okay, I didn’t mind the walk…what were you working on?” 

How does he tell him that he forgot to go meet up with him because there was a horny fruit poem in his lunch from his secret admirer? 

“Oh you know. Vegetables.” 

Rain nods. He looks like he wants to say something more, but he does not. He just stands there awkwardly, shifting his weight between his feet as he waits for Mountain to direct him. 

“Come on,” he motions with his head for him to follow, “I’ll show you were you can start. The process is pretty simple, I’m sure you’ve pulled moisture from the air before.” 

Rain hums in acknowledgment as Mountain leads him back toward his work area. As they pass by his table though, Rain suddenly speaks up, “what’s that?” 

“What’s what?” 

“That.” Rain points to the piece of paper. 

Mountain feels himself flush. He does not necessarily need to keep his little notes a secret, but he also does not need the new summon knowing all it takes to make him swoon are a few fancy words. And that he is wholly obsessed with a person who he does not even know the name of. What kind of impression would that be? 

“It’s uh. Cheat sheet. For what soils each plant likes. Moisture and nutrients and all that.” He hopes it is vague enough to pull his attention away. Unfortunately for Mountain, Rain starts walking toward the work table. 

“Wait—“

“What? Wouldn’t I need it? So I don’t accidentally drown something.” 

Oh why does he have to be smarter than him? Mountain tries to come up with an excuse on the spot, but any ghoul would tell you he is a horrible liar. Nothing sounds convincing, not even to himself. All he can do now is chew his lip as he watches Rain pick it up and read it. 

After quickly scanning the paper, he lifts his gaze, meeting Mountain’s with a question in his eyes. He scuffs his hooves in the dirt as his tail twitches behind him, “It’s not mine! I mean it is, but I didn’t write it.” 

“A lover then?” 

“Something like that. I don’t…actually know.” He mumbles the last part, the words running together. 

“What was that?” 

Mountain sighs, “I don’t actually know. Who it is. They show up randomly.” 

Rain’s tongue darts out, wetting his lips before he speaks, “But do you like them?” 

“Huh?” Not the response he was expecting. 

“Do you like them?” 

“Uh…yeah. I think they’re sweet.” He thinks they are much more than sweet, but his true thoughts are being reserved for his poet. 

“Good. That’s good. But then why don’t you look for the one leaving them?” 

Mountain furrows his brow. Why is Rain, quiet Rain who barely talks to any of them, so interested? Unless. He is the one leaving them. Could he really be his little poet? 

“Well. I don’t know. The mystery is fun. I guess?” 

“Would you be upset if it ended?” Rain takes a small step towards him. 

Mountain feels his heart skip. Images of Rain stringing together words of adoration, sneaking around, memorizing his schedule just so he can leave these notes in the perfect places flash through his head. Is it really him? Did he finally find them? 

“Course not. If it ended that means I could thank them.” He takes his own step forward. 

“And how would you do it?” He whispers. 

“Why do you want to know?” Mountain matches the soft tone. 

“Humor me.” He says it so casually, but there is a glint of something more in those deep blue eyes. 

“Well…I would get close. ” He takes another step forward, leaving only a foot of space between them. If Rain is not his poet then certainly he will back up. When he does not, Mountain continues. 

“I’d hold them,” his hands come up, hovering over Rain’s shoulders before finally settling, “Then I’d tell them how much each one meant to me.” 

Rain leans into him, looking up at him with dusty cheeks and parted lips. “What did they mean to you?” He breathes out. 

“Everything. They meant everything. They made me feel important.” 

He licks his lips, “Then what?” 

Mountain dips his head, “Then I’d kiss them.” 

Before he even has to register the movement, Rain crashes their lips together. His hands tangle in his hair, cupping the back of his neck to keep him close. Mountain’s eyes widen, all his previous suaveness gone. He blushes furiously, from the tips of his ears down to his collarbones. 

When they finally part, Mountain is panting, “It’s you?” 

Rain nods, his own blush deeper now, “It’s me.” 

Mountain kisses him this time. A proper kiss. Something sweet yet filled with everything each of those poems made him feel. The burning, the passion, the obsession. The tenderness. The care. The love. 

“Why now?” His lips brush over Rain’s as he pulls back just enough to speak. 

“I got tired of waiting. I needed you.” 

This time, when Mountain kisses him, he walks him backwards until Rain hits his work table. If his poet wants to be devoured, then he will be devoured.

[faiszt]

⠀⠀ ⊹ ⠀ slightly nsfw blurb of ⠀─── ⠀bob reynolds! ୨୧⠀⠀ his needy nights⠀⠀ ꒰⠀mdni⠀!headcanon⠀꒱ ⠀·⠀ ୭

THINKING ABOUT how BOB is just a man looking for the calmness that he could only find in you. he needs you, one way or another, even if he’s obsessive, what could he do? you’ve cared for him since the day you met, so he was tied to you, waiting for you to care for him again and again.

constantly, he had a few nightmares about his early life and he tried his best to appear strong when this happened, but he always ended up getting up from his bed and staggering in the dark to your dorm, barefoot and quiet, trying not to wake any of the others as he slowly opened the door. bob needed your affection those nights, he could only go back to sleep like this, when he could smell you next to him.

the silent agreement between you two had always been to leave your door unlocked, for him, so when he needed you, he wouldn’t have to say it, just come in and lie down next to you in bed. it worked well, he only woke you up when he really needed you to take care of him and apparently, this was one of those nights.

his hand gently moved you in your sleep, he was sitting beside you in your large bed, waiting anxiously and apprehensively for you to wake up. “wake up, please,” he asked, still poking you until he seemed relieved to notice your eyes opening. you didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just yawning and sitting up in bed as you looked at him, it wasn’t hard to tell what happened. “need you.”

“i know, baby, calm down.” you whispered sleepily, your fingers caressing the back of his neck before tangling in his strands of hair. he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to calm himself and forget the horrible nightmare he had had. “need help gettin’ back to sleep?”

still with his eyes closed and his breathing trying to return to normal, bob agreed, but not before making an observation about what he wanted. “i want it the way you did it before.” he added, making you nod before running your fingers down his shoulder in gentle touches. “please.”

the way you had done it before, of course, he had become a little addicted to the way you had made him sleep when things had gotten particularly heated between you a few nights ago. you didn’t expect him to ask for more, but here he was doing it in your bed after a nightmare. “it’s okay, i’ll do it for you.”

you tapped his shoulder softly, signaling for him to lie down on your bed as you lifted the pillow a little, not enough for him to sit up and lean back, just something in between. “just be quiet, yeah? the others don’t need to hear us.” your whisper was gentle and delicate, he did what you silently asked and stared at you the whole time, his pupils dilated waiting for what he needed.

calmly, your hand caressed his abdomen under his hoodie, gently going down and scratching him very lightly until you reached the hem of his pants. you didn’t even need to ask him if he really wanted this now, if he was sure about it, the look of anticipation on his face said enough.

a groan escaped him, your fingers were cold when they touched the milky skin beneath his boxers. he felt a shiver run through him, he was still dealing with the effects of his previous nightmare, but your touch was beginning to relax him. bob just wanted you to be nice and take that stupid frustration out off him like you did last time without even knowing.

“relax, you know i won’t hurt you.” the whisper you gave came out a little more muffled this time, when your lips connected with his and a sweet kiss was placed there. as a show of affection, that you were taking care of him as he wanted. “you deserve to be well taken care of.”

he nodded, biting his bottom lip without pressure as your lips pulled away from his, he wanted this to last longer, but he could settle for now. “thank you.” he whispered back to you, one of his hands slipping under your shirt to caress your bare waist, he genuinely wanted to thank you in some way other than words. “i... i love you.”

the small smile that formed on your face when you heard him was like the calm he felt he’d always need. he liked the way everything with you was nice and calm, as it should be, even when he was a mess. “i love you too, sweet boy.”

REQUESTS ARE OPEN.⠀⠀feel free to send me asks and suggestions in my inbox, you’ll be welcome. ꒰ ˶> ˕ <˶ ꒱ ♡

©⠀𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐙𝐓, 2025.⠀don’t use my work without my consent.

[clouddyyneptune]

Waiting for Now (pt 2).

Summary: Joe makes sure he’s home early enough this time to hopefully catch you before you’re asleep, but he is pleasantly surprised to see an invitation waiting for him.

warnings: somnophilia, joe being joe, cunnilingus, oral (f receiving), implications of intercourse, fingering, and pet names.

(please let me know if you guys want a pt. 3!)

ever since joe came home one night to you asleep in bed, he couldn’t stop thinking about all the things he wanted to do to you in your sleep. he always liked to admire you as you slept. not in a weird way, no, of course not, but in a loving way.

you were such a breath of fresh air, and he could confidently say that seeing you after a long day at Mooney’s could make him forget about every awkward conversation at the counter.

joe purposely made sure he got out of work sooner than later, not wanting to risk the mistake he made last time.

joe made it home and locked the door behind him. the lights were already off, besides for the kitchen light, which you always left on for him when he got home late. he wasted no time kicking off his shoes, which then led to him unbuttoning his shirt while he made his way into the bedroom.

you were fast asleep, wearing one of joe’s crewnecks. you looked so beautiful, tangled up in the sheets of the bed, your skin peeking out from underneath. he wanted to wait a second more, to stay where he was and admire you for a bit longer, but his eyes widened slightly when he realized you hadn’t been wearing any pants. had you been waiting for him? did you purposefully go to bed knowing joe would see you like this? the thought of it made joe’s slacks feel tight around his thighs, his cock hardening. the effect you had on him drove him crazy.

quietly, joe knelt down on the bed, watching you as you made a small adjustment. he didn’t want to wake you, not yet, at least.

joe then began to slip off his shirt, placing it on the bed before he then leaned down to lightly tug on the sheets you were laying underneath. with little to no movement coming from you, joe pulled away the covers off the lower half of your body before he sighed, contempt as his eyes met your nakedness. not only did you not have pants on, but you had no panties either. with you being utterly bare beneath him, joe’s cock throbbed, arousal apparent. the moonlight’s gleam made you look ethereal, as though you were twinkling before him.

while your body adjusted to the change in temperature, you hadn’t woken up, only a small sigh escaping from your lips. this gave joe the invitation to continue. carefully, he maneuvered himself so his head rested inches away from your thigh, where his eyes then focused on your pussy. with a gentle touch, his hand moved to rest on your thigh, spreading your legs ever so slightly before he pressed a chaste kiss to your clit. you stirred in your sleep, your body reacting to the touch as your eyebrows drew together.

still asleep, but on the verge of waking up, joe licked a broad stripe up the folds of your pussy. confusion and pleasure arose in your body, as you now slowly opened your eyes to see joe between your thighs, a smile flashing across his face before he then wrapped his mouth around your clit, sucking.

your mouth opened, gasping as you quickly reached for him, for anything, as his soft lips continued to suck your clit. his hand on your thigh gave you a comforting squeeze.

“joe!” you moaned, thighs spreading wide for him as your hands now found their place on his head, fingers curling into his hair. “how… what..?” you lazily questioned, followed by a guttural moan escaping you without warning.

joe pulled away from you, his lips detaching from your clit as he quickly shushed you, “it’s okay baby, no questions needed. just focus on cumming for me.” joe then leaned down to press his nose up against your clit, his tongue swiping over your entrance. he tasted your arousal on his tongue, sending a message straight to his cock which continued to throb in the confinements of his slacks.

your body began to stir in bed, your back arching as your nipples peaked against the fabric of joe’s crewneck. your thighs trembled as joe looked up at you with those dark eyes of his, his head coming up from between your thighs before his fingers claimed the space. two of fingers collected your wetness, all while joe then began to sit up and slip his hand behind your neck, holding you so you could take his fingers.

“you look so pretty like this, honey.” he would comment, his lips connecting with yours as he enveloped you in a passionate kiss. the lingering taste of your arousal flooding your tastebuds. you couldn’t help but moan into him, his warmth comforting you as he then began to slide his fingers into your pussy.

it had been a while for you, but the stretch was delightful, and joe looked at you while you became accustomed to the intrusion. “there you go, baby, such a good girl for me,” he leaned down to place a kiss along your neckline, inhaling your aroma before his fingers began to move inside you, curling in just the right way.

joe knew everything about you, especially what it was you liked in the bedroom. he had no problem getting you to climax, which was often a struggle with others you had been with before. sex with him was always special, and joe knew that by the way you were unfolding before him, fingers curling in and out of you at a pace that was just enough to keep you teetering on the edge. “joe, i’m gonna cum, oh god yes,” you breathed, grasping onto his bicep. “please please please please.”

that familiar feeling growing inside you continued to grow as joe now moved his fingers faster. “cum, baby. i know you can.” he cooed, all while his thumb pressed to your clit, the last thing you needed to push you over the edge.

your eyes squeezed shut as your climax flooded your body, and joe was there to hold you while he helped usher you through your high. his fingers never stopped moving inside you, not until you squirmed, which signaled to him that you were overstimulated.

a sigh escaped your lips as you looked at joe, his pupils dilating as he gave you a warm smile. “good morning, baby.” he whispered, before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. you couldn’t help but smile, laughing with him. “it can’t be morning yet, silly. we still have the rest of the night.” you slung your arm around him, pulling him close to you as his nose brushed yours.

“indeed, we still have the rest of the night.” joe stated, looking over to the clock that read 11:43pm.

his erection still pressed against his slacks, and you hadn’t noticed the light throbbing against your thigh until now.

a sly smile appeared on your face, heat rising to joe’s cheeks as you placed your palm against his hard cock. “i didn’t know you had a thing for waking me up like that.” your hand squeezed the outline of his print, mischief in your eyes as you pressed a kiss to his lips, followed by another on his cheek. “you can wake me up like that anytime. i bet you were thinking about it all day at work, isn’t that right?” it was your turn to give him attention, and joe couldn’t help but lean into you, a strained groan escaping him. “been thinking about that ever since last week, baby,” he whispered, eyes fluttering closed.

before the sleepiness began to take over you, you lightly nudged joe over onto his back before claiming your place on his lap, straddling him. he smiled, eyes narrowing at your determination. “i guess it would only be reasonable that we make use of the rest of the night.” his erection pressed into your core, the texture of his slacks giving you just enough friction to grind against him.

joe seemed to ponder the matter in his head, his finger tapping at the corner of his mouth playfully. “why, i don’t think that’s a bad idea at all…”

[emmylksblog]

TICKLING FEELING // MARC GUIU

summary: you finally get to shave marc's beard

genre: fluff, slice of life

based on this request

warnings: slightly suggestive at the end

a/n: i miss marc and i miss his baby face cuz what do you mean we’re the same age but he seems 5 years older than me 😭

It was Saturday morning, and you were sleeping in Marc's apartment. The weather was soft and gray outside the window, the kind that wraps around you and begs you to stay in bed. Chelsea didn’t play again until Wednesday, and everything about this moment felt right, like time had slowed down just for the two of you. The warmth of Marc's body behind yours was grounding, safe. Your breathing had synced in the quiet intimacy of shared sleep.

That is, until a familiar prickly sensation tickled at your neck, lips brushing softly along your skin, making you shift and groan. You tried to ignore it, but then came another kiss. And another. The unmistakable scrape of Marc's beard trailed from your neck to your jaw, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. A giggle bubbled from your chest before you even opened your eyes.

"Dreaming of me makes you wake up this happy, hm?" he purred against your skin, his voice still heavy with sleep, rough and teasing. You could hear the smirk in his tone. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

“I did have the best dream, actually,” you replied, triumphant, making him pause, now intrigued.

“Oh yeah?” he mumbled, pulling back slightly to look at you with those sleepy brown eyes. His hair was a mess, tousled from sleep, and his lips were parted just enough to make your chest flutter. “Do tell.”

You stretched, stifling a yawn, and smirked at him. “I dreamed I shaved your beard off. Got my baby-faced Marc back.”

Marc let out a dramatic gasp before grabbing you by the waist and lifting you effortlessly over him, your body hovering above his as he used his legs like a gym machine to keep you up. You squealed with laughter.

"How's the view of my beard from this angle, huh?" he teased, making ridiculous faces that had you laughing even harder, breathless and clutching at his shoulders.

"St-stop! Marc, my stomach hurts!" you wheezed between giggles.

"Alright, alright," he surrendered, lowering you slowly onto his bare chest, warm and firm beneath your cheek.

“Okay, and not to say you were right or anything,” he said with that sass he wore like a second skin, raising an eyebrow at you while you gave him a sarcastic uh-huh face. “But I think it might be time to say goodbye to this baby.”

He grinned, fully aware of how you’d been campaigning for that beard to go for weeks. It wasn’t that he looked bad with it, not at all, it just aged him, made him look ten years older. And you missed that youthful softness he used to have.

“It just adds, like, a whole decade to your face, baby, try to understand me,” you said with big puppy eyes and puffed cheeks, trying to soften the blow.

Marc rolled his eyes but the fondness in his gaze gave him away. “You're so dramatic,” he muttered, cupping your face gently. His thumb brushed your cheek like you were made of glass.

"Okay, last kisses with the beard, then I’m all yours."

You leaned in before he even finished, catching his mouth in a soft kiss that quickly turned deeper. He responded instantly, lips moving with a hunger that stole your breath and left your mind spinning. His hand slid into your hair, and for a moment, the world narrowed to the heat of his mouth and the press of his chest.

The bathroom was warm from the steam of a quick shower Marc had taken earlier. He handed you his full shaving kit, laying it out meticulously like it was some kind of sacred ritual. There was a slight grin tugging at his lips as he watched you tie your hair into a high ponytail, your face all determination.

“Careful now,” he said, lowering himself onto the closed toilet lid, “the professional’s about to work her magic.”

“Say one more word and I’ll shave your head next,” you threatened, razor in hand, but couldn’t hide the smile pulling at your lips.

Marc lifted both hands like he was surrendering. “A tus órdenes, señorita.” (yes ma'am)

You grabbed the shaving cream, squeezing some into your palm and carefully lathering it across his jawline. You made sure to spread it evenly, gentle and focused. His eyes were on you the entire time, dark and unwavering.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you muttered, biting down a grin. “I can’t concentrate.”

“Like what?” he asked softly, tilting his head. His voice had taken on that lazy, teasing tone that always got under your skin. His eyes softened into something even more dangerous, wide, warm, almost puppy-like, and it made your knees buckle just a little.

God, the things he did to you.

“Okay, okay, I’ll behave,” he laughed, sensing the effect he had on you. “But hurry. I wanna kiss you already and this foam is in the way.”

You gently held his face, your brows furrowed in that concentrated way Marc secretly loved. Your nose scrunched a little as you carefully guided the razor down his cheek. From his perspective, you looked heartbreakingly adorable, so serious about something so small.

He didn’t even notice he was staring until you were halfway done.

And then he, the idiot, decided it was a good time to tickle your sides where his hands were resting.

You jerked in surprise, nearly sending the razor flying.

"Are you dumb?! I could’ve hurt you!" you snapped, grabbing a fistful of his hair.

"Ow ow okay okay! I was bored! Hurry up," he whined, rubbing your waist softly.

"Impatient boy," you muttered, but kept shaving.

“All done!” you exclaimed, bouncing on your heels.

Marc stood up and leaned into the sink to rinse off the last of the foam. He patted his face with a towel, then looked up into the mirror, eyes scanning his reflection. You watched him nervously, unsure if he’d like it or hate it. Maybe you messed up?

“What do you think? Do you like it? Did I ruin it?” you asked a little too quickly.

Marc ran his fingers over the now-smooth skin of his jaw. He turned toward you, eyes bright.

“I love it,” he said simply, walking up to you and kissing you square on the lips. “I feel like a new man.”

You cupped his cheeks with both hands, marveling at the softness. “You applied the moisturizer like I told you to, huh? Good boy,” you teased. You knew you’d nagged him enough about skincare that he took it seriously now.

He grinned, leaning in closer again, his hands finding your waist. “You need to stop being so irresistible, baby. I’m barely holding back.”

His mouth found your neck again, this time clean-shaven and smooth, and his kisses turned slower, deeper, more dangerous. Your tank top slipped slightly on one side, exposing more skin for him to explore.

“Marc,” you breathed, laughing against his hair, “we’ve got the whole day to ourselves, did you know that?”

He hummed against your neck. “Is that your way of saying, yes, Marc, take me back to bed already?”

You didn’t have to say anything. Your smile was all he needed.

With that, he scooped you into his arms effortlessly, and the two of you disappeared down the hallway, swallowed back into the warmth of that sunlit bedroom.

And you, completely, hopelessly, and happily in love with your now baby-faced Marc, couldn’t have asked for a better way to begin the day.

[seoulmatez]

𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝑜𝓃𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉

a day you convinced yourself you'd never live has arrived—your first date with boothill.

• boothill x f!reader ﾉ 3.8k wc ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ non-canon compliant ﾉ farmhand!boothill ﾉ light teasing ﾉ petnames (darlin', m'lady, sweetheart)

previous part ♡ masterlist

here's the finale! i hope everyone enjoyed the resurgence of farmhand boothill! if anyone is interested, i have some "extras" that follow the story but aren't connected to the main plot that i may post :3

Your room looks like a hurricane ripped through it—all the clothes from your closet scattered messily over your bed, makeup products and hair appliances strewn across your vanity, and at the center of it all is you. Your fingers are tangled in the roots of your hair and a groan that sounds like it came from another person penetrates the air. Unlike a hurricane, there’s no calm in the eye of this storm. You thought your stress was supposed to be subsided by now—the hard part has passed, so what the hell is this?

The date hasn’t even started and everything seems to be going wrong. You have no idea what to wear and Boothill has been absolutely no help on that front, not budging even an inch when you asked for a hint as to where he was taking you. The answer you got was, “patience, darlin’,'' accompanied by his signature smirk and wink before he left you to continue with work for the day. 

Just as you consider tracking the farmhand down to ask him again and force him to give you something a little helpful, your phone dings. You ignore it for a second and then another before you remember that you recruited help from Meg a little while ago. You practically dive for the device, quickly unlocking it so that you can read over her long-awaited advice.

go with the white babydoll dress!!!

The one she’s referring to and a few other options lay atop the mound of clothes that you’ll have to put back later. It caught your eye earlier but you had wondered if it would be too dressy for the occasion. There’s only so much to do in town and half of those things involve getting dirty but if you and Meg both have your eyes on it, then the dress must be the one.

thank you, love you!

With one less thing to worry about, you hop in the shower a little more carefree than you have been since waking up this morning. The nerves that have had you on edge for most of the day are slowly but surely turning into ones that are itching for time to move quicker.

The rest of your preparation is considerably less taxing with Meg’s input and your gradual decline of overthinking. You’re able to style your hair and paint on some makeup without any trouble, your foot mindlessly bouncing up and down as you hum the melody to the last song you listened to. Soon, the only sign that you had experienced any turmoil at all is the state of your room. You’ll deal with that later.

You’re packing your bag with the essentials—chapstick, mints, hair ties—when there’s a knock at your door. The sound makes you jump and suddenly the nerves come rushing back. You can’t let Boothill see your room like this. Luckily for you, he’s content talking through the door.

“I’ll be waiting for you outside, darlin’. No rush.” His voice is a little muffled but despite the obstruction, you can still hear the smile in his tone. You can see it in your head—soft pink lips curling up at the corners, a little higher on the left, and sharp, pearly white canines of display. The sight once ignited annoyance in you but that feeling has all but died down, replaced with something closer to fondness.

“Okay!” you yell back.

He assured you that it was no rush but you find yourself hastily gathering the rest of your things. Before you tuck your phone away in the bag, you shoot Meg a text that you’re about to head out. The device buzzes with a notification before you’re able to put it away and you quickly read over Meg’s reply.

have fun and be safe! update me as soon as you get home… or not ;)

Your lips part in surprise at her thinly veiled implication. The thought alone of anything even remotely intimate like she’s suggesting is enough to make your cheeks burn and the tips of your ears heat up. You put the screen of your phone to sleep and shove it into your bag, hoping the thought will disappear with it. 

You make your way down the stairs and stop at the doorway to slip on your boots before you pull the door open to meet Boothill at his truck. The vehicle is pulled up right in front of the porch. He leisurely leans against the passenger door, legs crossed at the ankle and arms crossed over his chest. He looks like a still taken from a romance movie and the corners of your lips turn up as you wonder if that was his intention.

He's never struck you as the type to watch those kinds of movies but as you look at him, you realize that there’s a lot you still don’t know about Boothill. You bite back a smile at the thought that a little part of you is looking forward to learning more.

“Well,” Boothill starts, standing up straight and stuffing his hands away in his pockets. Irises like stormy clouds look you over from head to toe before finally stopping at their destination—your eyes. “You look mighty pretty—as usual.”

“Thanks.” You suck in your cheeks to stop yourself from puckering your lips in embarrassment. It’s nothing you haven’t heard before but the compliment feels different when you’ve put in the effort to look nice, and for him, at that. You clear your throat and gesture to his figure, moreso the outfit he’s dressed in. “You clean up nice.”

His outfit is simple, a plain white t-shirt paired with jeans and the pair of boots he reserves for occasions outside of work at the ranch. There’s a red bandana tied around his neck and one of his favorite hats, a brown beige, sits atop his hair that’s pulled back into a ponytail. It’s nothing out of the norm for him, though, the dirt and sweat that typically stain his attire is absent. He’s clearly put in a bit of effort for the experience.

Boothill grins at the courtesy. He could get used to receiving a little bit of praise from you. Even such a simple statement makes him feel like he’s on top of the world. All his patience seems to have paid off. “I hoped you’d think so.”

A strange sense of ease overwhelms you knowing that the farmhand also had you in mind while he was getting ready, was compelled to try and impress you. Though, you’re sure his room didn’t end up looking anything like yours in his pursuit of the goal.

Thankfully, Boothill doesn’t allow much time for your mind to wander and for you to get self-conscious all over again. He’s moving before you, spinning on his heel to open the passenger’s door of his truck. He turns to face you once more.

“Your chariot, m’lady.” He swings his arm out in a gesture full of flourish that makes you hide a laugh behind your hand. Your suspicion that Boothill may have taken some inspiration from a film only grows stronger with the motion but you play along, not minding feeling like the main character of a romantic story as you walk down the couple of steps from the porch to meet Boothill.

You catch a whiff of him as you slide past to take your seat, clean with soap and the subtle scent of earthy sandalwood. It’s a heady smell that drifts away too soon as he cautiously closes your door and rounds the vehicle to join you on the driver's side.

Your head is practically swimming with the pleasant scent of him when Boothill takes his spot beside you and even more so when he turns on the air conditioning. Your thoughts are bound to roam if you continue to focus on it so you close your eyes and shake your head before turning to Boothill. “So, are you finally going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope,” he tells you as he pulls out of the driveway and onto the main road. The man spares you a quick glance with his next words. “You’ll find out when we get there.”

You force out a dramatic sigh that earns a chuckle from Boothill. Despite your theatrics, you don’t push the issue. He seems hellbent on keeping it a secret and maybe the surprise will have been worth it not being spoiled by your curiosity.

So, while Boothill drives, you settle for fiddling with the knob of his radio, switching between stations until you land on one that’s playing a song you like. Boothill playfully ridicules you for skipping past so many decent songs but you stand your ground, arguing that the radio is the one thing you have control over since he insists on being so secretive.

He can only smile and agree.

One full song plays before Boothill pulls off to the side of the road. A crease forms between your eyebrows, confusion written on your face. Other than a house a little farther down the road, there’s not a building in sight. What around here is worth stopping for? “What are we doing here?”

“Quick pit stop,” he tells you, unbuckling his seat belt and pushing the door open. Cluelessness must be evident in your expression because Boothill tips his head down to laugh. He explains once he lifts his head. “Stay here, I won't take long—promise.”

You don’t question him, you just let your eyes follow his figure as he sets out to the field beside the road. You have no idea what business he has in the grass but you don’t question it, choosing instead to change the song playing over the speakers. Warm air from outside the truck flows into the vehicle through the door Boothill left open and while it’s not hot enough to make you sweat, you lean closer toward the vent. With your attention focused on a multitude of other things, you barely notice Boothill’s return, not taking note of his presence at the open door until he clears his throat.

Your head whips in his direction and you find him bent over the seat, his feet planted outside the truck and his arms resting on the seat. It takes you a moment to register that there’s a bunch of something colorful in his hands—flowers. They’re wildflowers, a pretty blend of orange and yellow, not nearly as neat as a professional bouquet but just as thoughtful.

“For you.” He holds the homemade bouquet out to you. It reminds you of a time a little while ago when he said those exact same words. He was handing you flowers from Miss Alma then but the more you thought about it after the fact, the less sense it made that the lady didn’t give you the flowers herself—you were right there, after all. The thought had nagged at you—the possibility that they may have really been from Boothill—but you paid it little mind, choosing not to read too deeply into the gesture for your own peace of mind.

Unlike then, you don’t hesitate to take them. The bunch is held together with a hair tie and it’s only then that you realize Boothill’s ponytail has been freed from its confines, hair flowing freely over his shoulders and down his back. “From you this time?”

“Of course.” He smiles. If he picks up on the fact that you’re onto him, he doesn’t show it, simply boosting himself back into the truck and closing the door behind him. You gently run the pads of your fingers over the soft petals as Boothill makes his way back onto the road. A soft smile pulls at your lips, one that Boothill catches out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t mention it, just cherishes the short glimpse of the sight he’s beginning to think he’d move mountains for.

Several minutes pass before the environment shifts, the tires of Boothill’s truck going from riding smoothly on the pavement to roughly over uneven dirt. It makes for a bumpy ride. That paired with the fact that you’re unsure where the two of you could be heading is enough for you to speak up. “Are we allowed to drive down here?”

Boothill shrugs, keeping his eyes ahead. “What’s a broken rule here and there?”

You frown at that. It’s doubtful that anyone will see you out here—it’s secluded enough—but you can’t help but wonder if you’ll end up getting in any trouble. Sure, it would make for a memorable first date but you’d rather the occasion go off without a hitch. “You didn’t say we’d be partaking in illegal activities.”

“It’s not illegal,” he tells you with a laugh, one that he tries to conceal under his breath but is loud enough for you to hear. “Just frowned upon, maybe.”

You click your tongue in response.

“Wow, a city girl and goody two shoes. I’ve got my work cut out for me with you.”

“Oh, shut it.” You slap his shoulder which earns an entertained chuckle from the farmhand. Your annoyance at yet another nickname is short-lived as you look out your window. Boothill is driving down what you imagine is meant to be a hiking path, far too narrow to have been intended for anything larger than a park ranger’s utility vehicle. The only thing you’re passing by is trees, and plenty of them. “What the hell could possibly be out here?”

Boothill grins—partly at you swearing but mostly because his goal of surprising you can now be considered a success. “You’re looking at it, sweetheart.”

You send him a questioning look but he only points ahead in answer. Following the direction of his finger, you peer straight ahead through the windshield. Underneath the sun’s glowing rays, the soft waves of a creek glisten. The densely wooded area has thinned out to make way for a clearing, one of dusty dirt and tiny pebbles that crunch beneath the tires as Boothill maneuvers the truck so that the rear faces the body of water.

He turns the key in the ignition, the engine dying with the motion. Gray eyes flit to his right to catch your gaze. “Meet me in the back?”

You nod, unbuckling your seatbelt, opening the door, and hopping down to the ground. The slam of the door alerts two birds and sends them flying. You watch their wings flap as they flee while you make your way to the back.

Boothill is busy opening the trunk when you arrive, pulling down the horizontal door and peeling back the topper that covers the bed. Once it’s open, he rounds the back and effortlessly climbs onto the open space. He looks down at you and offers his hand. His fingers wiggle in invitation before you take hold of him. With his support and the step on the bumper, you’re able to join him in the bed.

At the new height, you see that the bed looks different than it did when you last saw it. Instead of being lined with the protective mat and filled with groceries, a blanket covers the surface. There are pillows propped against each other, a wicker basket filled to the brim with an assortment of snacks and Boothill’s guitar is even laid out amongst the things he brought.

“Didn’t wanna overwhelm you with anything fancy or nothin’,” Boothill explains upon taking note of your silence. 

You think about how awkward it would have been to share a meal with Boothill alone. Though, the thought of Boothill dressing up in something more formal than his typical attire and hating every second of it is a humorous one. Despite missing out on the opportunity to see a whole new side of the man, you’re grateful he had your comfort in mind when it came to planning this. “No, no, this is nice. This is great.”

You take a seat on the cushioned bed, not-so-subtly eyeing the spot next to you in a silent gesture for Boothill to do the same. He follows your lead and sits down with his legs crossed. Your shoulders bump in his attempt to get comfortable and the accidental movement reminds you that there’s no center console separating the two of you now. Without the air conditioning, your closeness makes it much easier to feel the heat radiating from Boothill. It’s not unpleasant but, just like his scent, it makes you a bit lightheaded.

 “So,” you start, tilting your head toward him so you can get a better look at the farmhand from the corner of your eye, “What are we doing besides taking in the scenery with snacks and music?”

“Talkin’.” 

You turn your head fully so you’re facing him, waiting patiently for the rest of his sentence. The subject never comes. “About what?”

“Well, you haven't really jumped at the opportunity to tell me about yourself.” 

You can’t argue with that—you’ve been fairly private in terms of your life when it comes to Boothill. Other than the little bits your grandpa has let slip and the few things he’s picked up during your interactions together, there’s a lot Boothill doesn’t know about you. First dates are all about getting well acquainted with each other, right? “Okay… what do you want to know?”

He smiles a soft smile at your willingness to share. “Whatever you wanna tell me.”

It’s a broad ask—lets you keep certain things to yourself and expand freely on others. So you do. You tell him about your summers on the farm—how you’d pester your parents to drive you down practically the second school let out for summer break. You tell him about the tree climbing, the horse rides, the fruit picking—everything you got up to during those warm months off. You tell him about your summers at the ranch coming to an end, traded in for internships and job interviews. You tell him about how all the stress you tried to ignore over those years caught up to you, how you finally bit the bullet and came back to find some solace.

Boothill listens intently, nodding along to your stories, smiling at the parts where you find yourself speaking through giggles, hanging on your every word. He says it's a bummer that something so crummy led you back here but that he’s glad it did—otherwise, he wouldn’t have met you.

That part makes you bite your cheek in a failed attempt to hold back a smile. Being the sole subject of his stare is intimidating. It feels as though he’s seeing you—really seeing you, beyond the walls you put up that he’s actively tearing down brick by brick. It feels almost selfish that the spotlight has been shining on you all night. You take the break in conversation as an opportunity to turn the focus on Boothill, to ask him what he asked of you; to talk.

He tells you about his days in high school—how he used to help his dad out at his auto repair shop and how he took up guitar at his mother’s insistence. He plays a song his mom used to like—the first one he learned—for you before opening the floor for requests. You ask for “A crazy little thing called love” by Queen. The implication of the song’s title doesn’t hit you until Boothill’s eyebrows raise in pleasant surprise. Your mouth opens to explain but he cuts you off with a little ah-ah-ah, fingers finding their place on the strings and beginning to strum.

You lose track of how many songs he plays, how many pieces of popcorn you’re able to toss into his mouth, how much time has passed in this peaceful little bubble Boothill created just for the two of you. By the time you question any of it, the sun has bid you goodnight and left you with its glowing white counterpart. Bright stars speckle the sky and crickets chirp amongst blades of grass when Boothill finally checks the watch on his wrist.

“Gettin’ pretty late,” he informs you, wiping the palms of his hands on his thighs. He turns to you with what looks like a sleepy grin—he must have woken up for the day a while ago. “About time I get you home. If that’s alright with you, of course.”

You nod. As nice as these few hours have been, it wouldn’t be fair of you to keep him out here because you’re not ready for the night to end. 

He stands up with a grunt, offering you a hand to help you do the same. You accept it and let him pull you to your feet. The warmth of his hand disappears as he lets go to hop down from the bed. He beckons you forward with two fingers, holding his arm out to help you down.

Such a gentleman, you think, smiling and shaking your head as you take a couple of steps toward the edge. Before you make it, the toe of your boot catches on the blanket. The mishap sends you forward with a shocked squeal but your shins don’t scrape the bed and you don’t hit the ground with an ungraceful thud.

You’re safe in Boothill’s hold, his arms wrapped around your thighs, your chests pressed closely together. It’s a compromising position, though, despite the frantic beating of your heart, you don’t bother telling him to put you down or fighting your way out of his grasp. You simply look down at him and swallow the nervous lump in your throat.

He smirks. “You alright?”

“Fine,” you tell him. The reassurance comes out a bit breathy.

“Good.” He doesn’t put you down. “Did you have a nice time?”

“Yes.” You nod. “I did.”

Bathed in the dim moonlight, you gaze into Boothill’s eyes. He stares back into yours. Neither of you make any effort to move. It’s like you’re frozen in time, or maybe it’s moving slower, you’re not sure, but there’s only one thought circling in your mind at the moment.

You have no idea where it came from but you act on it before you can think any better of it, leaning down, your nose bumping his. You’d barely consider it a kiss—more like your lips gently brushing against his, but the shockwave that courses through your body at the contact hits all the same.

Boothill’s lips stretch into a smile underneath yours but he chooses to keep them sealed, not teasing, not escalating.

You don’t go back for another, nothing deeper, nothing more passionate, nothing more raw. You’ll have plenty of time for that after tonight. Instead, you bring your hand up to run your thumb over his lower lip. Your next words come out as a whisper. “How about I plan the next one?”

You can feel his chuckle against your finger. “I expect you’ll show me a good time, little miss city girl.”

sua here ( ≧ᗜ≦) thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, reblogs are greatly appreciated!