#they will never hurt one another like this

[foldingfittedsheets]

My best friend growing up was a matter of convenience over compatibility. The boy across the street was only a year older than me. We had some common interests but our personality types were a terrible clash. I remember fighting with him just as vividly as any peaceful activity.

We were stuck in the same boat though. There was no other kids to socialize with except our odious older brothers, and being together was slightly less wretched than being alone. Most of the time. Our parents joked that we were like an old married couple, always fighting. We’re both gay now.

His family was better off so he brought more toys and video games to the friendship table. My family had more land so we had animals to play with and secret forest clubhouses. We hung out most days but he refused to acknowledge me at school for the sin of being both a year younger and a girl.

He was a terribly sore loser though. When playing fighting games he’d win four out of five rounds but if I won the fifth he’d turn the console off before letting my character do a victory dance. I was fairly prosaic about this. He liked to play them and I went along. When I won I got to suggest other activities.

Now, I mentioned we both had older brothers. His older brother was only three years above him. They scuffled in a normal sibling manner but the older brother was cognizant that he was bigger and stronger and these fights were more what I would characterize as fencing. There was rules and treaties in place.

My older brother was five years older than me. When we fought it was a no holds barred pit fight. I went absolutely feral. Significantly younger and weaker I unleashed my greatest weapon which was absolute berserker tactics. I bit, scratched, went for the balls, I was a menace. I paid no heed to any injury done to me if it let me land another strike. Most of our fights ended in a stalemate of me pinned or him bleeding too profusely to continue harassing me.

I never considered that I was getting more fighting experience than my friend. When scuffles broke out between us without a controller in hand I won every time. He’d jokingly smack me and we’d go down in a ball of flying hair and monkey screeches, but I always ended on top.

The trouble was, I found, that afterward he was no fun at all. His fragile childhood masculinity couldn’t take these defeats from someone younger and more female than him and he’d always sulk home afterward. I didn’t care for that, especially because fighting him was much more fun than my horrible brother.

Then one day I found the secret. I’d whapped him far too hard upside the head and he began to cry immediately. Full of guilt I whimpered that he’d really hurt my knee. He stopped crying. He hurt my knee? Then we were even! He’d hurt me just as badly and therefore the fight was a draw.

I was delighted by this logic. Every fight thereafter I saw no shame in playing up some injury he’d dealt me. I had no pride to lose and shamelessly acted beaten to avoid hurting his feelings. Our fights were milder as a result, and we both went away feeling elated by the childhood violence rather than defeated.

[watchmegetobsessed]

BEHIND BARS

A/N: this fic is my coping mechanism with my own shit and im more than eager to read your thoughts, because it would help me knowing im not alone with these thoughts. so this one goes out to all the big girlies who struggle with loving themselves!

WORD COUNT: 9k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: You get stood up by your Tinder date, but at the same time you run into a man who works at the bar and seems to be into you. Or that's what you think when you read his message he wrote to your receipt, asking you to return to the bar the next day.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

You harbor the delusional thoughts of your date getting caught up in something… anything, just a tad more, just so that the heartache comes a few moments later. It stings, probably more than you’d ever admit to anyone, but you can’t help it. 

Sitting on the barstool in the dimly lit bar you glue your eyes onto your pornstar martini, the second you’ve had since arriving an hour and about five ‘Where are you?’ texts to Brannon before. All of them sit delivered but unread in your messages. You reach for the glass and finish the drink in two big gulps, the alcohol bringing an almost numbing sensation to your closed up throat, but it fades rather fast. 

What hurts the most is that this is not a first date. He met you just three days ago on the coffee date you two arranged once you were over just exchanging messages on that awful dating app you always swear to never download again but end up back on it at one point. It’s not like he would have walked in tonight and could have a shock about your looks, that you do in fact have quite some extra weight, your thighs are thick, curving into your ass that might look good on a better day, but only if it’s covered, because every time you look at it the only thing you see is the stubborn cellulite you can never get rid of. He saw that you’re miles away from having a flat stomach, you weren’t blessed to be the kind of big girl who has a slim waist and beautiful round waist. You often stop in front of the mirror to assess how big your arms look if you wear something sleeveless, how your collarbones only show if you put your hands to your hips and force your shoulders forward to bring them out. 

He saw all of these. Yet he suggested meeting again, pulling you into a ridiculous dream that he might be different and you could finally have the burning, passionate love you’ve always dreamed about.

Now it feels more like a nightmare. 

“Another one?” 

The bartender appears in front of you, one hand on the counter, the other one on his hip as he looks at you with a questioning look. You glance up at him, then at the empty glass and decide to just fuck it and get drunk before going home and raging your fridge for whatever comfort food you can find. 

“Sure. Bring a shot as well.”

“Vodka, tequila, rum or…?”

“Vodka sounds fantastic,” you breathe out as you square your shoulders and run a hand through your hair.

The guy nods and then disappears again. While he is making your drink you decide to have a trip to the bathroom. You wave at the bartender to let him know you’ll be back and when he nods you make your way to the back. 

You chose the bar for tonight, it’s a nice place, feels intimate and… hot, maybe that’s the word you used when you were here with your girlfriends a few weeks ago. It was the perfect spot for a girly night, but the vibe of the place definitely doesn’t limit it to a strictly feminine spot. There were plenty of men around even then and one mysterious man sent over a whole round of drinks, he remained unknown but he was probably enamored by one of your friends.

You were convinced Brannon would like this place and you could see the two of you curled up in a booth, finally overstepping the awkwardness of being around someone you met online. 

Once you’ve done your business you stop in front of the massive mirror next to the sink and have a moment to look at yourself in the overhead lights that bring out everything about your body that you usually fight hard not to think about. You hate it how one inconvenience can make you feel so… ashamed. Hopeless. Worthless. 

Truth is, you’re tired. You’ve had enough of these experiences, though it’s only your second time getting stood up, but it goes under the same cases of going completely unnoticed by men in a social setting, ending up instantly in the friendzone no matter what you do, getting the talk of ‘but I see you as a great friend, I hope we can stay friends’ whenever you dare to come clean about your feelings for someone. It sucks the life out of you and you’re not sure if you have any more left to keep trying. Because the chance of ending up alone anyway has been looming over your head for way too long to ignore it and if it ends up being your reality, you’d rather not waste any more time and energy on trying. 

When the tears start stinging your eyes you turn on your heels and head out, not wanting to have a full blown breakdown in the middle of a bar. Stepping out to the hallway you’re just about to march back to your previous spot to chug down your drinks shamelessly, but you weren’t expecting anyone to be right outside the door, so you collide into someone just as your heels hit the carpeted floor outside the restroom. 

It’s not at all the gracious kind of collision, where the man scoops you into his arms and holds you against his chest to stop you from falling. Out of reflex, your hands do find the guy’s chest, but you push yourself away from him fast and panicked, your back hitting the door that just closed behind you and you’d bet a good amount that your expression reeks of shock and the sadness from previously, which is not a gracious combination. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you exhale sharply as your eyes take in the man in front of you. 

Tall, well-built in a black, fitted suit with a black silky shirt underneath the jacket, the first few buttons are left undone, teasing a glimpse of tattoos and a thin necklace with pendants hidden from your vision. His brown hair is trimmed, but not enough to conceal how the strands curl and swirl. Pink lips curl into a smile and you can’t decide the color of his eyes because it’s too dark here, but they appear to be light, even despite how big his pupils are as he is staring back at you. He is holding up his hands in front of him, as if he is readying himself to catch you if you decide to fall anyway. 

“In a hurry?” he asks and his velvety british accent caresses your ears. You blink at him for a couple of moments dumbly before finding your voice to reply.

“No,” is all you say, to which his smile just widens and you catch his eyes dip down, running along your body before they return to your gaze. 

“Be careful then, Angel.”

“Sorry,” you breathe out, finding your balance again as you’re unable to look away from him. 

He is the kind of man that catches every female’s attention upon walking into a room, who could easily just cherry pick who he wants, because women line up in front of him just to earn a glance from him. He looks elegant and lively at the same time, but you instantly feel a sense of mystery and darkness linger around them even despite his warm smile. He is nothing like the men you ever dealt with and he is… way out of your league. 

Lifting your chin you spare him with one last look before walking away, fighting the urge to look back if he is still there or maybe you just imagined him. 

Your drinks are already waiting for you by your seat and you down the shot before you could climb back to your seat. Given the fact that you came with an empty stomach, the alcohol has started working its wonders on you. You feel a low buzz in your chest, a slight numbness in your head and you know the martini in front of you will be your last drink if you want to make it back to your place. 

Your thoughts are still circling around the man in the hallway when you spot him again from the corner of your eyes. Down at the end of the bar, he is talking to the bartender who’s been serving you. His jacket is gone, so you see the silky shirt hanging elegantly from his frame, the fabric shimmering in the light that comes from behind the bar, illuminating the wall of expensive bottles showcased. The sleeves are rolled up, revealing that his left arm is heavily tattooed, but the other one has something as well, but half of it is hidden underneath the shirt. 

He is helping the bartender unload some bottles into the fridge that’s underneath the counter as the talk. When they are down to the last one he stands up and runs a ring-clad hand through his hair and his eyes move up and catch your gaze before you could look away and pretend like you weren’t ogling him. Your cheeks burn up right away as you snap your eyes back at your drink in front of you. With silent prayers that he won’t come closer, you busy yourself with the only thing you can do: drinking. But just as you lift the glass to your lips you see a black form walk up to where you’re sitting and you can’t stop yourself from looking up at him. 

“Can I get you anything else?” he asks with a charming smile, his hands planted onto the counter in front of you, giving you the chance to see the veins running underneath his smooth skin and for a split second you can’t help but imagine what it might feel like to be held by those hands. 

“Um, no, I’m good. Thank you.”

“Good,” he repeats, but it drips with something else, something more, something… heavy. “Waiting for someone?”

His question came out of the blue, you weren’t expecting him to strike up a conversation and start it with that. Your muscles tense and suddenly, after being so drawn to keep looking at the man in front of you, it becomes your priority to avoid his gaze at all cost. 

“No,” you say shortly and take a sip, no, a gulp from your drink. 

What you don’t see is how his face darkens. The smile fades and his eyebrows draw together as he lets his hands fall from the counter and move to cross over his chest. 

You expect him to move away from the rather tensed and awkward scene, but he remains standing in the same spot until you notice him turn around, but just to grab two shot glasses, he fills them up with something that could easily be vodka again, but you wouldn’t know because you don’t see the glass he pours from. Then he turns around and places the shots onto the counter, pushing one a little closer to you. When you look up, you see his head a bit tilted, waiting with a questioning look and an unknown sparkle in his eyes that are green, now you’re sure. 

“Oh, I shouldn’t… Um…”

“Just this one. As an apology on behalf of the piece of shit who is too blind and idiotic to see what he missed out on.”

Your breath is caught in your throat as you stare back at him. For a second, you let yourself believe that there’s more behind his words, that there’s attraction, lust and desire. For you.

But then your usual mechanism kicks in and your mind is quick to turn it around and convince you it’s not at all like that. He just feels sorry for you, it’s only pity, because a man like him would never be interested in a woman like you. 

“Sure,” you whisper with a nod and take the shot. He takes his and holds up, waits for you to do the same. 

Then he gives you a nod with a charming, crooked smile and your eyes remain locked on each other as you both take the shots. It’s vodka and it burns, but you don’t even flinch as you put the glass back onto the counter and watch him snatch it away. He is just about to say something when the bartender calls out for him from the end of the bar, but because you weren’t listening, you miss what his name is. He looks back at you once more and then walks away. 

You don’t see him for the rest of the time you spend there. Finishing the drink you ask to close your tab and then you’re getting ready to leave when the bartender slips the receipt over to you. At first you don’t even pay any attention to it, but then you notice something is different about it. You grab it from the counter and then read the words scribbled onto it with a black marker.

Please come back tomorrow.

You feel like an idiot all day. Trying to keep yourself busy by cleaning and cooking, no matter what you do you always find yourself looking at that damn receipt, reading the words over and over again. Since you left the bar yesterday until this moment, you’ve thought of every possible scenario why he would ask you to return. Realistic ones, ridiculous versions, you thought of them all, but somehow you always ended up settling on the same one, even despite the fact your mind has been fighting hard not to let you believe he could want anything from you. 

It grinds your nerves all day until you decide to act on it. You put on a pair of jeans and a simple black shirt with your trusty sneakers, nothing extra, very far from looking fancy and then head back to the bar before you could talk yourself out of it. 

It’s the afternoon on a Sunday, it’s no surprise the place is deserted when you walk in, only a handful of people are lingering around here and there in contrast to the buzz it had yesterday. You try your best to settle the uneasy feeling in your gut as you walk up to the bar. There’s a woman standing behind this time who you didn’t see last night. She’s drying glasses with a cloth since there’s not much to do without anyone sitting on the stools. 

“Hi, what can I get you?” she asks with a bright smile as you walk up to her. 

“Um, I was wondering if the guy who worked last night was working today? Brown hair, tattoos… I don’t… know his name.”

It’s an understatement to say you feel awkward asking around about the guy even though he practically asked you to come back. At least he could have given you his name to avoid appearing like a stalker. 

The woman furrows her eyebrows as she purses her lips, tilting her head.

“I swear I’m not here to make a scene or anything,” you add with a nervous laugh. 

“Ah, I was just thinking. Because I know for a fact that Nico was working last night, but he for sure has no tattoos.”

You swear you saw the tattoos on his chest and arms, you did not just imagine those, but now you’re doubting yourself.

“He, uhh, he wore, like, a black suit and a black, silky shirt… Rings…” This is as far as you can go describing him without adding details you’d rather keep to yourself. Like how his hands looked delicate but rough at the same time, the way his lips curled when he smiled could push all the air out of your lungs and his smooth, velvety voice was like you were wrapped into a warm, soft blanket whenever he talked.

Luckily, you see her face light up at the last few details you just said.

“Oh! You must be…” She doesn’t finish it, just lets her smile stretch wide as she squares her shoulder. “Let me grab him for you,” she then winks and before you could get another word out, she disappears. 

Laying your hands flat on the bar top you start drumming nervously as you wait. A thought flashes through your mind that it was a mistake coming here, trying to convince you to just leave before it’s too late, but you fight it and shove it to the back of your head, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as you pull your hands back and start rubbing your palms against your thighs. 

A few seconds later the woman appears from the back with the same wide smile and just when you start to think the man is not here, he follows her out, turning your sanity upside down with just a simple look. 

He is wearing a black t-shirt this time, short sleeved, putting his previously mentioned tattoos on perfect display. The shirt is tucked into a pair of gray dress pants that hug his waist so well, you’re drawn to stare at his body for a few moments as he moves closer behind the bar. 

The bartender woman passes you while the man stops in front of you, a cheeky, but genuine smile tugging on his lips as he leans onto the counter just like how he did yesterday, only this time you see his muscles flex from the movement thanks to the short sleeves. 

“What a pleasure to welcome you back.”

Your knees threaten to give up for a second from hearing his voice again, as if it’s proof that you didn’t just make him up last night, he is not just a mirage. 

Reaching into your purse you pull the receipt out and slide it over to him. 

“You invited me back.”

“I did,” he nods, not even glancing down at the piece of paper, like he doesn’t need to be reminded of what he did. “But I didn’t know you’d actually return.”

Unsure what to say, you allow yourself to assess him, take in his perfectly carved features, the unruly curls, the rings adorning his inviting hands. If you were on your own, just looking at a picture of him, you’d definitely tell yourself it’s too good to be true that a man like him would ever pay you any attention. But having him standing in front of you, feel his burning gaze on you, this magnetic pull that vibrates from him, you’re battling yourself harder than ever.

“I was curious,” you admit at last. 

“Then I’m happy to satisfy your curiosity. Why don’t we sit down?” he asks, gesturing towards one of the booths by the wall.

“Won’t you get into trouble?” you ask, but he just gives you a toothy smile as he shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about that, Angel. Go ahead and sit, I’ll make us a drink.”

Once you’re turned away and walking towards a booth you let out a long, shaky breath. 

“Get a grip,” you tell yourself as you slide into the booth and try to get comfortable. It’s frustrating a man could have an effect this powerful on you after barely even talking to him. What kind of black magic is he practicing?

A few minutes later you see him walking over to you with two drinks in his hands. One is obviously a pornstar martini for you, the other one you don’t know. It’s in a simple, short glass, one big cube of ice, the drink itself is a nice amber color, you spot a curl of orange peel and some fresh rosemary in it. 

He slips into the booth with ease and moves closer to you than you expected as he places the drinks to the table. 

“Might be best if we started with our names,” he suggests. “I’m Harry.” 

His name rolls off his tongue so ravishingly, you have to stop yourself from repeating after him. He holds out a hand for you that you take. Your skin starts tingling the moment it meets with his warm touch.

“Y/N.”

“Such a pleasure to meet you, Y/N,” he nods, giving your hand a squeeze before letting it go. 

While you feel a bit awkward, trying to find a way to sit beside him, it appears he is quick to find his place, crossing one leg over the other, his arm closer to you is stretched over the back of the booth, his hand falling somewhere behind you, but it’s not touching you. His other hand is gently playing with his drink, twirling it between his fingers. 

“I know it’s probably not the best thing to start with, but I just have to ask. Last night, were you stood up?”

All your blood rushes to your head and your palms start sweating as you turn your head away embarrassed. You’ve been so caught up in him that you kind of forgot about what Brannon did. 

“Yes,” you whisper, hands dropping into your lap as you nervously fidget with your fingers.

The hand that’s been behind you moves to the side of your face, his knuckles gently brushing across your cheek, just enough to make you turn your head and look at him. 

“Don’t even think for a moment his behavior lessens your worth.”

“I’m not so sure if there’s any left of that to lessen.”

The words leave your mouth before you could even think them through, surprising you with their bluntness. You’re not one to share such personal thoughts with a stranger, not even your closest friends. 

Harry stares at you with an unreadable expression and you half expect him to just let it slip and not acknowledge what you said. But he sticks to that in a way you never experienced.

“I would give an arm to have the chance to show how much I see just after spending only minutes with you.”

You’re speechless and from the hidden smile you notice in the corners of his mouth you assume he finds it entertaining, witnessing the effect he has on you. He grabs his drink from the table and you watch him lazily take a sip before placing it back and leaning forward, getting closer to you, but still not quite crossing an invisible line between the two of you. 

“Y/N, I know this is very straight-forward and I’m aware that we are very much just strangers at this point, but I’m more than eager to change that.”

“Why?” you hear yourself asking in an airy, weak voice. “Because you’re sorry for me?”

Now it’s his turn to be taken aback. The way he frowns almost makes you want to apologize even for asking. 

“Sorry is the last thing I’m feeling right now. And it wasn’t what I felt when you bumped into me last night or when I wrote that message to your receipt. Or… when I sent over that round of drinks to you and your friends not long ago.”

“You what?”

“You were here, maybe a few weeks ago, with your friends, right?”

“I-I was, but…”

“The round of drinks. I sent it.”

“Why?” you ask again and notice the amusement in his look.

“The same reason I wanted you to return today. Because take my breath away and I never give up on the chance to get to know whoever has that effect on me.”

You stare back at him blankly, a million thoughts racing in your head while also not able to put together a coherent one. It is everything you ever wished to experience, but it also feels incredibly odd and… wrong. 

“What kind of twisted game is it you’re playing?”

Harry furrows his eyebrows slightly.

“None. Why are you questioning my intentions so passionately?”

“Because it’s ridiculous,” you say with a bitter laugh, shaking your head as you grab your drink and take two gulps, hoping the alcohol might help you untangle the mess in your head. 

“How is my interest in you ridiculous?”

“Because it is. You cannot sell me that you spotted me among my friends last time, that I was the one who caught your attention and that when you saw me last night again you just had to take your chance to lure me here again so you could talk to me. It’s absolutely ridiculous.”

He stays silent and you don’t look at him for a bit, trying to calm your rocketing pulse. But his silence starts to drive you mad again, so you turn to face him and see that unreadable expression on his face again. 

“You’re invalidating my attraction just because you haven’t received it before.” 

It’s like he is reading you like you’re an open book, he looks at you and you can feel him raiding through your mind and you can do nothing against it. 

“It’s actually sad but also exciting to be the first one to give it to you.”

“But why me?” you keep pushing.

“Why do you like pornstar martini?” he asks with a cheeky smile and you decide to ignore how erotic that sounded from him. 

“What?”

“You choose it because you like it, yeah? Why?”

“Because… I don’t know, it tastes… good,” you answer, complete confusion taking over you. 

“See, that is why you. I don’t know it just yet, but I just know that…” He doesn’t finish, but you can hear the rest.

I just know you taste good.

The all too familiar pulse between your legs is making you cross your legs underneath the table, but Harry catches the movement and his grin grows wide, but he doesn’t comment on it, just takes a sip of his drink. 

“We took it very intensely quite suddenly. Let’s just talk and we can return to this matter a bit later,” he suggests then softly, losing that tiny cockiness from his voice for now. “What is there to know about you, Y/N?”

You need a bit of time to recover and actually start telling him about yourself. He asks you about your job, your family, your hobbies, what you like and what you hate, all while giving you his full, undivided attention. Even though he has made it clear he is interested in you, somehow you end up taking the situation with even more caution than usually, but slowly and almost unnoticed, it eases from your gut. 

“Now it’s your turn,” you say, once you’ve had enough of talking about yourself. Just as he is about to start talking, the bartender shows up at the table and you’re convinced she’ll ask him to go back to work. 

“Boss, the supplier was on the phone, they need confirmation until tomorrow morning.”

Boss? 

“Thanks Jenny,” Harry smiles up at her warmly. “I’ll take care of it.” The bartender, Jenny as you learned, nods and then disappears. When Harry looks back at you, it’s apparent he was expecting the questioning look from you. 

“Boss? Did I hear that right?”

“Absolutely did,” he chuckles. 

“So you’re…”

“I won this place. Along with another one downtown and two more over on the West coast.”

You click your tongue as you turn away to have a look around, though you’ve examined the place enough before. It’s not the kind that screams ‘this is my first business, it’s doing fairly well’, but rather one that screams wealth and business. The bar itself is definitely high end, but it’s also connected to the hotel above, so it drives in some great traffic from there as well and of course, it’s a five star hotel, so the guests are usually not the kind who shies away from paying for a nice drink. Adding just the thought of three more places similar to this to the picture is just plainly mind-blowing to you.

And yet, just minutes ago you were convinced he’s a bartender here. 

“You knew I thought you were staff when I asked if you’d get into trouble.” Harry nods. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because that would have immensely changed the dynamic.”

“No, I–”

“Yes,” he fights back with a meaningful look. “You had a hard time believing I could be interested in you when you thought I was a bartender here. Had you known I owned this place you would have never let go of the power imbalance that comes with the judgment of my position in my business.”

You want to protest, but you can’t. Because you know it well that he is actually right. 

To ease the sudden change in the mood, Harry starts talking about himself and the business as he can tell you’re curious how he ended up as the boss. He tells you how it all started in college, he and a few of his friends came up with the idea of opening a bar and once they graduated he and the one remaining friend who was still into the idea decided to act on it. Niall, the friend, earned a great amount of money from his trust fund after graduation, which they used to the last cent to open the place ten years ago. Feeling guilty that he couldn’t bring as much money into the business in the beginning, Harry tried to make up for it by working twice as hard. As time passed and they opened the second place three years later, Niall started to wander to different fields and only remained a silent partner in the business, letting Harry take over fully. The expansion on the West coast happened just two years ago, but they are already thinking about the next location.

“Are you still friends?” you ask him.

“With Niall? Yes, absolutely. He has his own company in IT security that he actually started from the money of this business. It’s more his world than this now, but we try to meet at least every month when we are in the same city. And I still need his signature on some stuff,” he adds with a chuckle. 

“That’s great it didn’t ruin your friendship. Working together can be risky.”

“I know. We had our ups and downs for sure, but nothing we couldn’t talk through.”

It was amazing to see him talk about it so profound and passionately. It makes him so… humane. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket and when he pulls it out, he sighs quietly. He ignores the call, but when he looks at you again you know he has to go.

“Y/N, we need to revisit what we talked about earlier, because I have to go soon.”

Your cheeks heat up instantly as you roll your lips into your mouth. 

“What about it?”

“Most importantly we need to talk about when we can meet again.”

You look at him from the corner of your eyes and can’t hold back a smile when you see his cheeky grin as he sits turned towards you, his upper body angled to face you completely. 

“The most convenient would be tomorrow,” he adds shamelessly.

“So soon?”

“I wanted to say I would love to see you in about three hours when we close, but I didn’t want to come off as too eager.”

That makes you laugh and Harry gifts you with a proud, crooked smile.

“Are you sick of this place?”

“Why?”

“Because you could come here tomorrow and I could teach you how to make your drink,” he says, nodding towards your now empty glass. You actually love the idea of that, doing something new in a not so new setting. 

“I can be here by seven.”

“I’ll be waiting for you behind the bar.”

You have never been this eager to put down work at five finally. It doesn’t matter that you still have a few unanswered emails in your inbox, you decide they can wait until tomorrow. 

You haven’t stopped thinking about Harry since you left the bar yesterday. You can’t even remember the last time you were like this, probably in high school when you had a crush in junior year. It’s ridiculous, honestly, but it’s also quite exciting. 

You walk into the bar for the third time in the past three days. You would have guessed that a Monday evening would be just as eventful as Sunday, but apparently a lot of people like to go out for drinks on the first day of the week. It’s not like on Saturday, but about half of the tables are taken. Crossing the place you’re heading straight to the bar, searching for one particular tall figure, but you don’t see him. 

Nico, the bartender from Saturday, is on shift again, though as you reach the bar he doesn’t seem to recognize you. 

“Hi, what can I get you?”

You’re just about to ask him to tell Harry that you arrived when the familiar, velvety voice speaks up right behind you. 

“I have the lady covered, thanks Nico.”

Turning around you’re met with Harry’s warm but cheeky smile as he stands just a couple of feet away from you. Today he is wearing a pair of black dress pants with a black long sleeve, but the sleeves are rolled up above his elbows. There’s a light stubble darkening his jawline, he surely skipped shaving this morning, but you’re not mad about it, it adds a bit of roughness to him. 

“Welcome back, Y/N,” he nods at you.

“Hi,” is all you manage to push out of yourself. He is very much aware of your nervousness, but it just widens his smile. 

“Ready to master the pornstar martini?” he asks as he steps closer and places a hand to the small of your back to usher you behind the bar. 

“Absolutely.”

The two of you settle at the end of the bar so you’re not disturbing the actual service with your little scene. Harry hands you a black apron and he puts one on himself as well after helping you tie yours behind your back. Then the learning starts.

Harry is actually a great bartender himself. As he gathers everything you need for the drink, he tells you how he learned to bartend after opening the place. They had a few times when they fell short on staff and he needed to serve, so he figured it’s best if he just learns it fully rather than just clumsily mixing up the drinks whenever help is needed. 

“What’s your favorite to make?” you ask as you’re cutting the passion fruit in two on a cutting board and Harry examines your every move like a good mentor.

“I think it’s Rum Martinez.”

“What’s that like?”

“It’s a Japanese cocktail, pretty smoky and kind of complicated to make. I’ve had it twice, it was always served with a cigar. I only made it once though, but it was fun.”

Harry truly meant it when he said you’d learn how to make your drink. He doesn’t touch anything in the mixing process, only instructs you, clear and patiently as you add the right amounts into the shaker. When you put the top of the shaker on however, he moves behind you and as his arms come round you to grab the shaker along with you, for a few seconds you definitely forget to breathe. 

This close you can smell his cologne, the warmth of his body is melting you against him and when you lean back just the slightest bit he pushes forward to tighten the physical connection between the two of you. 

“Alright. Now, this is how you shake it properly,” he murmurs, his face right next to yours as his hands cover yours on the shaker. 

You let him take the lead as he starts shaking, his warm palms holding your hand against the cool shaker, moving it up and down, left and right in a controlled, rhythmic way. He is giving it quite the force, you feel the ice inside tumble harshly as you keep shaking. 

“Okay, now take the cap off.”

He lets go of the shaker, but remains standing behind you as he instructs you. You do as he said and he reaches past you to bring the glass closer for you. 

“Carefully, but with confidence” he murmurs, one hand moving to cover yours when you start pouring, but too slowly, so he helps you to tilt the right amount. The beautiful yellow liqueur fills up the glass with a perfect layer of foam on top. 

“And finally, the passion fruit.”

He points at the fruit on the cutting board and you take one half, gently dropping it into the middle and watch as it stays afloat with pride. 

“There. You just made your first pornstar martini.”

Harry steps away from behind you and you almost protest, eager to feel his warmth behind you as he comes into your view again, watching you bring the drink to your lips. You take a sip and once you taste it, you can’t hold your smile back.

“It’s amazing.”

“All yours,” he dips his head a bit with a bright smile and you can’t look away from his sparkling eyes. 

The foam of the drink sticks to your upper lip so when you put the glass down you run your tongue over, licking it off and you catch him watching your mouth with obvious hunger, as if he is ready to have a taste from the cocktail, but only from your lips. 

The moment burns and you feel it deep in your chest. Almost unnoticed, you both inch closer and you feel an irresistible pull towards him. Your heart is drumming in your throat and the muscles in your torso tense even at just the thought of kissing him. 

But right when you are about to cross the line Nico’s curse pops your bubble and Harry’s head whips around in alert.

“Shit!” you see Nico jump back from the counter, one hand wrapped around the other, a cutting board with lemons and a knife left behind.

“What happened?” Harry asks, grabbing a rag as he steps closer to assess the situation.

“I wasn’t paying attention and cut my finger,” Nico hisses and you step closer just in time to see him showing the cut. It doesn’t look bad, but it’s bleeding quite heavily.

“Go and clean it out. I’ll cover the bar.”

Nico mumbles a quick thanks as he rushes back before he could bleed on anything behind the bar. Just as he exits, two women walk up to Harry, who switches into bartender mode pretty fast. He gives you a quick ‘I’m sorry’ glance as he takes their order and starts mixing up their drinks. You just give him a reassuring smile and focus on your drink, patiently waiting. 

At first you don’t even pay attention to the conversation the two women strike up with him. But as Harry starts serving a man who walked up to the bar after them you notice how they stayed there and it makes you wonder so you turn your attention to their sugar coated voices. 

“Oh, then we feel honored to be served by the big boss,” the blonde one chuckles, leaning forward just enough so that his shirt tugs down, teasing the view of her cleavage. 

“Just… helping in,” Harry gives a tight-lipped smile, barely even glancing at her as he makes the cocktail. 

“See, I told you it'll be worth coming here on a Monday,” the other one giggles as she gently sways to the soft music that’s playing through the speakers. 

It’s a sight that’s an easy trigger for you. They did nothing wrong other than flirting with a man they find attractive. And you know Harry barely even acknowledged their efforts, but still, it was enough to let that evil little voice out of its cage in the back of your mind. 

They are gorgeous and you’re nothing like them. They are thin and looking around you already see a dozen men looking at them. You can never be like them. 

Deep down you know these thoughts are worthless, but once they take over it’s hard to fight them, to see yourself in a better light. Not when you’ve struggled with this for so long and spent long years to convince yourself it’s all that matters. 

There’s nothing left of the free spirit you were just minutes ago. When this happens you simply close off and want to disappear as fast as possible. For a moment you think of just leaving while Harry is not paying attention, but you’d hate to walk out on him like that so you stay there, trying to take up as little space as physically possible as you finish your drink. 

Nico soon comes back, his left ring finger bandaged up, ready to get back to work, which means Harry is free from bar duty again. He doesn’t hesitate to walk away from the two women and return to you, but you’ve let your spiraling thoughts win by now.

He notices something is wrong the moment he sees you avoid looking into his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, dipping his head to try to get you to look at him. 

“Nothing,” you shake your head, but it’s a weak attempt to mask just how uncomfortable you’re feeling.

“Y/N, I know that’s not true. What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” you push, then take a deep breath to help you swallow the bitterness in your mouth. 

There’s a few seconds of pause when you’re convinced he’ll say to end the date and then you already see yourself never coming here to avoid ever running into him. The voice in the back of your mind is already working hard to convince you it’s for the best, that it would have never worked, you’re way too different and sooner or later he would see you the way you see yourself. 

But it never happens. Instead, he silently packs away everything you used for the cocktail and when he’s done, he gently takes your hand and starts to pull you towards the door that leads out to the hotel’s lobby. Confused, but curious, you follow him and don’t say a word until the two of you stop at the elevators.

“Harry, where are we going?”

“Up. To my suite.”

“You have a suite here?”

“I do. Comes with the perks of owning the bar that’s part of the hotel.” 

His hand is still holding yours, warm and gentle, but still confident, especially when he tightens his hold as the elevator arrives and he pulls you inside, pushing the button of the 18th floor. He doesn’t let go of you as the elevator starts moving, you just stand there next to each other without a word until it arrives and the doors slide open. 

Harry once again pulls you with him, striding down the carpeted hallway to the door with the number 1804 next to it. He fishes out a card from his pocket and taps it against the lock that clicks silently, letting him open the door and that’s when his hand falls from yours, letting you walk in first as he holds the door open for you. 

You haven’t been to a hotel this elegant, not as a guest at least. You’ve attended a few conferences but you could only see the lobby and the conference rooms during those, not the rooms or in this case, the suites. 

You walk into a spacious living room  with a minibar, dark purple couches facing the TV mounted onto the wall, the floor-to-ceiling windows giving an impeccable view of the city lights. There’s a door on the left and the right, one is probably leading to the bedroom, the other one must be the bathroom and though the doors are closed, you can imagine how good they must be designed.

The suite is definitely not untouched, you see signs of Harry here and there, the envelopes on the coffee table, the single used mug next to them, some sort of hoodie thrown over the back of one of the armchairs and a Macbook lying on the desk next to the TV. 

“It’s permanently reserved for me. I spend so much time at the bar, it’s easier if sometimes I don’t have to drive all the way home and can just stay here,” he explains as you walk further inside, stopping by the window to have a look at the view. 

Slowly, you turn around and look at him with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Why are we here?”

He is standing a few feet away, his hands hidden in his pockets, but his stance feels welcoming and open even despite your closed off behavior. 

“To be alone. I don’t want the circumstances to bother you. I know things can get overwhelming sometimes.”

You remain still, not sure what to say or do. It really has been overwhelming, but only because sometimes your own mind turns against you and there’s nothing you can do about it. 

Harry pulls his hands out of his pockets and cautiously takes a few steps closer to you, but still leaves a bit of space between the two of you. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks so softly, it almost makes you want to cry, because he doesn’t feel real, nothing does when it’s about him. You’re so set on how unmatching you feel around him that it’s almost impossible to think otherwise now. 

“I don’t see it,” you reply in a whisper.

“See what?”

“I don’t see what you see in me. I only see my version of myself and it’s… not good.”

The tears are stinging your eyes. You have probably never said these words out loud, but somehow, you feel safe enough with Harry to bring this side of you out, though the fear that he might get fed up with it is still strong in the pit of your stomach. 

You have no idea what kind of reaction you were expecting from him, to be honest you couldn’t imagine a version where he stands his ground and doesn’t agree with all the awful things you harbor about yourself. 

But then he steps closer, his hands gently cupping your face in them as he angles your head so you’re looking up at him, holding you like that, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. 

“I want to show you. How I see you.”

His hands slide down to your neck, his thumbs are underneath your chin to keep you in place, his gaze dipping down to your lips a couple of times before settling on your eyes, waiting, silently asking for permission and though you don’t say a single word he understands you.

His first kiss is brief, but confident. His lips press against yours and they open slowly, just enough so that his tongue can tease you before he pulls back, though he doesn’t move far, his nose is still brushing against yours. Opening your eyes you find him looking at you, his otherwise light and bright eyes are now several shades darker, lust dripping from the curled up ends of his lashes as he waits for you to make up your mind whether you want to go further or not. Somehow, his black magic must have worked enough on you to mute that evil voice in the back of your head, the absence of it giving you the chance to give yourself into the moment. 

You push up against him this time eagerly, open mouth meeting his and he’s quick to react with just as much passion. 

One of his hands moves down to your waist and when his fingers dig into the soft flesh you can’t hold back a moan that’s immediately swallowed by him. You fist his shirt, desperately trying to pull closer even though he is entirely pressed up against you. 

Blindly he starts moving, pulling you with him, your kiss never breaking as you move around the couch. Then his lips leave yours and you’re forced to open your eyes just as he sits down on the couch, his hands grabbing the back of your thighs as he pulls you between his knees and he kisses your stomach through the fabric of your shirt. Out of reflex you try to pull away or avert him somewhere else, but his hands squeeze your thighs as his eyes snap up to meet your gaze.

“How I see you, remember? Let me show you,” he reminds you and though every inch of you is screaming to pull away, you stay.

Harry pushes your shirt up and unbuttons your pants before his hands grab you by the waist. He twists you around and pulls you down on him, so you end up lying half on top of him with your back pressed against his chest. 

“Harry,” you gasp when his right hand starts to slip into your pants and then under your underwear, but his other hand falls to your heaving chest as if he could calm your jumping pulse with just one touch.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, I don’t want to push anything on you.” His lips are by your ear that brushes against them when you nod and just let him do whatever he wants. 

When two of his fingers slip between your wet folds, your lips part with a sigh, your head rolling back to his shoulder just from his touch. He is gentle but determined, starts off by just moving those two fingers up and down, gently applying some pressure at the perfect spots before keep moving. Then they settle on your clit and start drawing circles in a slow pace, playing with the pressure once again, setting your nerves on fire. 

You keep moaning and gasping as you still lie on top of him, his other hand moves underneath your shirt, but it doesn’t go further up just yet, only remains flat on your skin. You can’t stop your body from falling into a rhythm, hips buckling, spine arching with certain movements, especially when he starts to gradually increase his pace. 

When a tiny shock rides through your body with a rougher movement one of your hands grabs onto his thigh by your side, fingers digging into his muscles, earning a deep grunt from him that rumbles right underneath you. 

Your other hand snaps to his wrist as you completely lose control over yourself and push his hand a bit further, showing him where and how you need him the most and he is quick to pick up on the clues and add to the sensation. 

“Y/N, Angel, let go for me,” he whispers into your ear and while his hand between your legs doesn’t stop for a moment, the other one finally inches up and cups your breast, kneading it sensually. 

“Harry, I–Ah!” You’ve lost your ability to voice a coherent thought. You have none, the feelings Harry is making you feel have taken over you entirely. 

“I know, I know,” he murmurs and when you turn your head he doesn’t hesitate to capture your lips in a deep kiss and while you’re eager to return it, you lose control over your movements when you feel your orgasm tipping you over the edge. It stretches and teases and then it washes over you like a tidal wave. 

Gasping for air, your back arches and your nails dig into his wrist and thigh, you hear him say something but his words are tuned out, you hear or see nothing, only feel.

But you feel everything. 

You have no idea how long it takes for you to calm down and come back to real life. When it happens you realize Harry’s hand has moved away from between your legs and both of them are placed on your stomach, his fingers gently brushing against your skin in a slow rhythm. 

When you find your strength you wiggle around until you’re lying on your stomach, facing him. Even though you were the only one who benefited from the scene you just experienced, you see a deep satisfaction etched across his face as his lips break out into a smile. 

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you chuckle and pushing yourself up you stretch your neck until your lips meet his. This kiss is different, it’s gentle and slow, but just as meaningful as the ones before. 

“So,” he starts as he reaches up, running his fingers down the side of your face. “Did you see what I see?”

“I… felt it,” you say, part of you afraid of his reaction. But as you watch him, all you see is that same sweet, charming smile you’ve seen from him so many times before.

“That’s a start.”

“Yeah.”

“And I’m more than happy to work on it until you really see it.”

Staring at him, you search for something. Anything that gives away the slightest sign that gives away that he is not being genuine, but you find none and it feels heavier than if you did. Completely touched by his words the tears start dwelling in your eyes. 

“Where have you been?” you ask in just a whisper.

“Well…” he breathes out, locking you in his arms. “Behind bars the past ten years,” he says and there’s a heartbeat of silence as you both realize what he just said and the duality of it. 

You both burst out in laughter at the same time.

“Not like that!” he shakes his head.

“I guess there are a lot I don’t know about you, that’s fair.”

“And do you want to know more?” He challenges you. Your laughter fades into just a soft smile.

“I do. Do you want to know more about me?”

“Everything. I want to know everything.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[heartfullofleeches]

What if darling orders from a different restaurant and brie coincidentally arrives right when the actual delivery person does? I feel like he'd be jealous af

Yan "Pizza Boy" + Reader

-

Who is that-

Arriving at your street, tires screech to a hault as your home rolls into view. The driver takes a second look. Then a third - knuckles white as fingers clench around the steering wheel.

A car he's never seen before sits in the little parking spot outside your house. His parking spot. Some old, beat up hatchback painted the ugliest shade of blue he'd ever seen - tape covering its left tail light and bumper held on by zip ties. By now, the delivery boy has made enough visits to your home to recognize cars of your friends and loved ones. Who is this? The flickering sign atop the rusting hunk of metal lifted some of the weight from his shoulders - only to crush him with a new fear as the other driver casual steps out of his vehicle, carrying bag strapped to his shoulder.

"Oh, hell no-"

Brie curses under his breath - pulling into your neighbor's driveway with one hand on the wheel as he reaches into the passenger seat with the other. He quickly gathers his things, kicking the driver's side door open as he goes to exit - hissing in frustration as his seat belt digs into the flesh of his neck. He unbuckles himself, shutting the door behind him with the heel of his sneaker as he races across your neighbor's yard. He slows down to carefully step over their hedges right as the other delivery person reaches your porch. Brie curses again-

"Oh my God! There's someone hiding in the back of that blue car with the dirty windows!"

The delivery person runs off back to their car. With little time to celebrate his victory, Brie marches up to your front door and rings the doorbell. You looked surprised - yet oddly happy to see him. His heart flutters.

"You?"

Brie beans from ear to ear "Yup! It's me! Got another pizza for you here. Same as the last."

"Thank you, but I already ordered from someplace else. Couldn't find anywhere nearby with alfredo sauce pizza so I had to settle for the usual."

You were looking for him?.... The place he works for that is. Brie shoves the box against your chest, biting down the scream ready to escape. "Don't worry, this one's on the house too. We're still experimenting with the recipe so it isn't available on our menu yet. I'm sure my boss will be happy to hear you enjoyed it."

"Well... Since it's free I guess it wouldn't hurt to take it off your hands. Won't have to order out for a week at this rate. Do you have a number I can reach you at?"

Multiple issues could arise from giving you his personal number - Brie was too excited to dwell on future problems when he had your attention now.

"Sure! Do you have a pen and paper?"

In the time it takes you to retrieve said items the other delivery person returns. He looks at Brie, a flicker of recognition in his eyes as he inspects his face.

"Hey... Aren't you-"

"Their boyfriend attacked a guy once."

The delivery driver looks taken aback. "What did you say?"

"I had a friend who worked at this one other pizza place. He had a black eye the last time we met. Said the person with the exact address had a scary looking boyfriend who thought he was flirting with them. He moved last we and I think I know why."

Brie's smile widen as the wobble in the other man's voice. "Hey, man... It's not cool to joke like that. If you're trying to scare me off you'll have to try harder than that."

"If that's what you want-"

Brie drops the conversation there. No point in wasting any more of his precious time - not with you standing there, pen and a small notepad in hand.

"Thank you~" Brie scribbles down his number, tearing off a page of paper beneath the one he wrote on as he hands the notepad back to you - pen still in his possession. With other matters to attend to, asking for it back was the last thing on your mind as you then turn to properly greet the other driver. Brie turns on his heels and makes his way down your driveway, checking over his shoulder as he drops the pen off the sidewalk - watching it roll by the rear bumper of the car.

"Whoops- Looks l dropped my pen."

Brie crotches down to grab the pen, eyes scanning the dented license plate as his fingers graze the pen. He picks it up, jotting down the license plate on the scrap of paper as he stands and walks off in the direction of his car.

One light broken is bad enough. He wonders how that other driver's boss would feel with all four smashed.

[abigails-gf]

abby x fem pregnant (and then mom) reader plss

abby anderson x f!reader.

warnings: brief mention of IUI (insemination), reader is pregnant, brief mention of sickness, labor/delivery, some postpartrum baby blues.

a/n: hi! i'm so sorry for taking so long to write this one. i had to do some research for all of this since i've never been pregnant, so i'm sorry if it's not accurate, i guess? i tried my best. i'm super proud of it though, and i hope you all enjoy it too. this one is pretty long, around 6k words. maybe my longest fic? honestly, mama!abby might be my favourite version of abigail. 🫶🏻🫧🫧 she's just so sweet and caring. i love her so, so much. thank you all for the support! thank you. i hope you all like this one. ♡

you and abby had been wanting a baby for a long time. you'd seen multiple doctors, talked to nurses, got a bunch of blood tests, saw files of potential donors...

until the day finally came — around two weeks after the insemination, you had decided to take a pregnancy test. your period was late and the doctor had suggested you to do so. abby went to the pharmacy and got you a pregnancy test. you closed the bathroom door behind you, abby on the other side. a few minutes later, you washed your hands and opened the bathroom door.

abby closed the toilet lid and sat on top of it, pulling you onto her lap. you held the test in your hand. you two waited in silence, waiting to see the second line appear. abby had her arms around you, squeezing you.

suddenly, you squealed. "oh my fucking god!" you and abby looked at the test quietly before she started to tear up. she hugged you tightly, crying into your arms as you started to cry too, looking down at the test. "can't believe it..." she whispered, taking another look at the positive test. "we're gonna be parents." you turned your head a little, facing abby who smiled at you, her cheeks flushed, tears in her eyes. "oh, baby..." you kissed her. "i love you so much. love you so so much." you kissed her lips, cheeks, nose, eyes. everywhere. she chuckled and kissed you softly. "i'm so happy, baby. so happy you're gonna carry our baby." her eyes fell to your stomach. "there's a little guy in there", she sniffled.

she took a few days off, to come with you to the first ultrasound. the doctor applied the gel on your stomach. abby was standing next to you, squeezing your hand.

"ah. there they are... see that little white ball, here?" the doctor spoke in a gentle voice, pointing at the screen as she moved the transducer on your stomach. "see it?" she looked at you. your eyes were fixed on the screen. you could barely see it – see them, your baby. but oh, how you cried. the doctor smiled as abby hugged you, kissing your head. you looked up at the doctor and apologised. she let you and abby alone in her office.

abby took your face in her hands, caressing your cheeks. "we're gonna be mamas, baby", abby spoke, your foreheads touching. "yeah, we are." you looked into her blue eyes. "i love you s'much, angel. my pretty girl. mama of my kid." she kissed you, feeling you smile against her lips.

weeks passed by and abby was still so supportive. you both had noticed the changes in your body: the way your favorite jeans and the bra abby got you for your anniversary didn't fit so well anymore, the little belly bump being more visible. and the way you complained about feeling sore, tired... abby gave you massages each night before bed.

she sat behind you in bed, put some essentials oils on her hands before placing them between your neck and shoulders, softly applying pressure. "oh, god..." you let out. she smiled as she massaged your shoulders.

her hands started to travel to your front, as she massaged your breasts. you had been complaining about them hurting. she held them in her big hands, oiling them. you pressed your back to abby's chest, letting out sighs of contentment. "feels good, honey?" you nodded, eyes closed as she started to play with your nipples. she kissed your neck before massaging your boobs some more. she then let her hands fall on your stomach, rubbing your small bump. you opened your eyes and smiled at her. she looked into your eyes and smiled as she caressed your stomach. "so pretty, mama", she whispered, kissing your shoulder, her eyes on your stomach. you looked at her big hands on it. what a pretty sight, you thought.

she did this for the entirety of the pregnancy, even massaging your feet when you complained about how sore they felt. she made sure to cater to all your needs.

when you started feeling sick, she was there for you, she'd wake up at the crack of dawn to check on you, hold your hair if needed. she had taken notes on what helped with sickness and had gotten you a "snack box" which rested on your nightstand. it contained crackers, ginger candies and other goods. she always made sure you drank water and ate throughout the day.

even when she was at work, she called you to make sure you were alright. "how's my girl doing? you know, mel said fruits helped with her sickness when she was pregnant. can you check if we still have some? i'll go to the market after work if not."

you two would go to the mall on weekends, starting to prepare for the baby. you'd gasp over how small the clothes are. "baby! look, it's so small!" you said, holding a pair of shorts or socks. she'd smile and let you put the pair of socks in the cart. abby had picked a few clothes for the baby as well – since you two didn't know the sex yet, you decided to pick things that would fit them no matter what the sex was. she picked some overalls, some bodysuits. "honey, look. isn't that one cute?" she said, picking up a shark plushie. you smiled. "aww, put it in!" you said. she kissed your cheek, putting it in the cart. "love you and our little shark."

as for the nursery, you two decided to keep it simple for now. you had a spare room in your apartment. you and abby decided to leave the walls white, she hung up pictures of you two on the wall just above the crib that she had built. "baby? you okay if we put this picture of my mom here?" she asked, bringing in a photograph of her late mother. "sure, we could put it on the dresser?" abby put the frame with her mother's picture next to a bouquet of tulips. she turned around and hugged you. "thank you, sweetheart." you hugged her back. "hey, are you alright?" you rubbed her back as she hugged you tightly. she sighed.

"yeah." she pulled away, taking a deep breath. "just wish she was here, is all." you smiled softly and caressed her cheek. "honey... your mom would be so proud of you, i'm sure." she held your hand against her cheek. "i know, i know. i just wish she could meet our kid, be there. you know?" you nodded. "i know, baby. i know."

suddenly, you felt a kick in your stomach. "what's wrong?" another kick. you looked up at abby and smiled. "the baby, it's kicking." you took her hand and rested it on your belly, waiting for the next kick. your hand resting above hers as the baby kicked once more. abby got on her knees, putting both hands on your stomach. you smiled down at her. "hey there, little guy. or girl." another small kick. you both chuckled, looking into each other's eyes, standing in the baby's nursery. abby kissed your belly. "so excited to meet them. so thankful for you, baby." she squeezed your hand.

abby had taken a day off to come with you to your 20 weeks ultrasound. she sat on a chair next to the bed as the doctor put the gel on your belly. "let's see..." she spoke, putting the transducer on your cold stomach. as soon as she did so, the sound of a heartbeat came out of the sonogram. you gasped. "oh my god. is that the baby's heartbeat?" the doctor smiled and nodded. "mhm, that it is." you looked at abby. "that's our baby's heartbeat", you whispered. she squeezed your hand tightly, looking at the screen. you could see the shape of the baby's head, their little nose, and tiny legs curled up. you cried. "they're healthy, all is good, mamas." the doctor moved the transducer to the side, up on your belly. she spoke. "do you guys wanna know the sex?" you and abby looked at each other. "do you want to?" you asked abby. she shrugged. "it honestly doesn't matter to me, i'll love them either way." you smiled and abby kissed your head. "then, no." the doctor nodded and wiped the gel off your stomach.

"would it be possible to have a copy of this ultrasound? like, two of them?" abby asked. "sure, just wait here." the doctor left the room and came back a few minutes later with an envelope containing the scans.

you put your copy of ultrasounds in a photo album, along with the first scans you did months ago. abby had kept one of the photos in her wallet and given the others to her father.

she was the sweetest. you were so lucky to have someone like her by your side, to share your life with her, so lucky to have her be the mother of your child. you wanted to thank her, show her how grateful you were, how much you loved her.

you had planned a date night – a picnic, as the days started to get warmer, longer.

you started to prepare the picnic. preparing peanut butter sandwiches, some carrots to munch on, crackers and fruits. you put a blanket first in the basket, then the food, two wine glasses, some water and the bottle of sparkling apple juice that was in your fridge. you got ready, chose something you'd be comfortable in for the evening. abby and you went shopping for maternity clothes, so you had new clothes to wear. you finished getting ready, smiling at your reflection in the mirror. your bump was now the size of a watermelon, as you entered your sixth month.

you made the bed, picking up something from under it, which you've been hiding for a few months.

abby came home around 7pm. "baby, i'm home!" she looked at the full basket in the kitchen and walked to your bedroom. "pretty girl, hi", she said, hugging you. "what's going on?" she whispered. "thought we could go picnic tonight? a date?" abby smiled and nodded. "so sweet t'me, baby." she lifted your chin up and kissed you softly.

abby drove you two to a park. it was a pretty warm evening. she carried the basket until you found a spot near a tree, the sun beaming through its branches.

you helped abby lay down the blanket. "here, sit, baby." you two sat down next to each other and started getting the food out of the basket. you stayed quiet for a few minutes, enjoying this peaceful moment. "thank you, abby." you broke the silence, looking at her. she looked so pretty, the golden hour resting on her face, making her eyes sparkle. "thank me for what?" she asked, popping some berries in her mouth.

"for being here. for taking care of me, for being the absolute best girlfriend ever." you took her hand in yours and looked into her eyes. "i love you." she kissed your forehead. "i love you more, baby. love you so so much, sweet girl. no need to thank me, i should be the one thanking you. you're carrying my kid, already the best mama in the world. prettiest girl, sweetest girl in the world." you kissed her softly.

you reached for something in the basket, hidden by the tissues. you left abby's hand and looked down at your hands, they were shaking. abby was eating a strawberry, looking ahead. "abby?" she was about to answer, when she looked at your hands. she almost choked on the fruit. "baby?"

"abby, will you marry me?"

you opened the small velvet box, revealing a wedding ring. abby started to cry. "baby... is that..." you nod. "your mother's ring, yes. your dad wanted you to have it." you felt tears on your cheeks, smiling brightly, waiting for abby's answer. "baby, fucking yes, yes, yes!" she chuckled and cupped your cheeks, kissing you lovingly. "of course, i want to marry you." you put the ring on her finger. you wiped her tears as she wiped yours. she brought your foreheads together and smiled. "i love you so fucking much. swear, you're the best girl ever. my wife." she couldnt stop smiling. "my wife, mama of my kid, my sweet girl, love of my life." you giggled and kissed her soft lips.

you two spent the evening at the park, in each other's arms. abby rubbed your stomach, smiling at how big it's gotten. "can't believe it. how did i get so lucky, huh?" she kissed your forehead.

abby's father, jerry, invited you both for dinner one night, to celebrate his daughter's engagement. you and abby were seating on the sofa, abby's hand on your thigh. "i'm so proud of you, sweetheart", jerry said, coming back from the kitchen. he smiled at his daughter and hugged her. "your mother would be so proud, too. i can't believe my baby's gonna be a mother and gettin' married." jerry started to tear up. abby smiled. "dad, don't cry. c'mon."

"happy tears, sweetheart, happy tears", he reassured her. he pulled away from abby and looked at you. "told you she'd say yes." you chuckled. "i know. but there was still a tiny part of me that was scared of a no."

abby looked at you and raised an eyebrow. "really? you're carrying our kid and you expected me to say no? really, baby?" she kissed you. "silly girl." jerry smiled at the sight of you, wiping his tears. he looked at abby's ring finger. abby noticed his staring and looked into his eyes. "thank you for this, dad. you sure you don't wanna keep it?" jerry shook his head. "it's yours, sweetheart. plus, i still got mine to remind me of when your mother was mine - that she is mine." abby hugged her dad tightly and sat back down next to you.

jerry thanked you for carrying his grandchild and making his daughter happy. he even gifted you abby's childhood stuffed animal: a zebra. "thank you, honey. for making abs so happy, for being there for her when i can't. you're a real sweetheart. but i'm sure she tells you that everyday, huh?" you smiled and hugged him. "and you call me if you need anything, okay?"

only a few weeks were left before your due date. abby had gotten used to you waking up in pain, your pelvic hurting and back too. you shook her arm, trying to wake her up. you felt guilty for doing so, but she told you to wake her up whenever the pain was too much for you. "mmh, what is it, baby?" she stretched and opened her eyes. she turned on the bedside lamp and looked at you.

"it hurts." you took deep breaths, trying to calm down. "it's okay, baby. just lay back down, lay down." she helped you, putting the pillow under your head, holding your hand. "deep breaths. that's it, good girl." she rubbed your stomach with her free hand as you hissed at the contractions. laying between your legs, hovering over your belly, abby kissed it. "just lay down for me, baby. deep breaths." you relaxed a little as abby started to caress your stomach. "stay here, pretty girl. just gonna get you some water."

she came back a few minutes later with a bottle of water and sat at the edge of the bed, next to you. "sit up for me and open." abby brought the bottle to your lips and made you drink. "good." she put the bottle on the nightstand and laid back down next to you, rubbing circles on your stomach. "how do you feel now?" the contractions had calmed.

"better. thanks to you." she smiled and kissed your temple. "yeah? come here, sweet girl." she wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer, spooning you. her other hand on your stomach, continuing its soothing motions. "sorry for waking you up", you apologised. she kissed your neck. "shh, s'alright, mama. told you to tell me if you need anything."

you slowly drifted off to sleep in your wife's arms.

during the last weeks, abby had taken days off here and there, to be by your side. "but what if you go into labor while i'm at work?" that was her worry.

she helped you prepare your hospital bag – packing comfy clothes, sweatpants, pyjamas for you and the baby. toileteries, some essential oils, diapers and things for the baby. she also put the plushies for the baby, but also for you, if you needed some comfort.

thankfully, the day you went into labor was her day off.

you two were on the couch, abby had prepared your favorite for lunch. you were watching a movie, her hand on your stomach as you ate. the plate was balanced on your belly. you were about to put the plate on the coffee table when suddenly you felt something damp. at first, you had thought you peed yourself – which happened once during the last month. you looked at abby and stood up, looking at your seat, feeling the liquid trickling between your thighs. abby looked up at you. "baby, i think your water's breaking", she said calmly. you were in a state of shock, not moving.

abby stood up and put her hands on your shoulders. "baby, look at me. look at me, sweet girl." you did as she told you. "we're gonna get you changed, and then, we'll drive to the hospital. okay?" you nodded.

abby took you to the bathroom and helped you put on a diaper. abby could tell you were anxious and embarrassed. "baby, it's alright. i'm here, i'm here", she reassured you, taking off your soaked clothes. "arms up, baby", she said, helping you get dressed. she seemed so calm compared to you. she kissed your head.

"we'll be okay. promise."

she went to the bedroom and picked up your hospital bag. she helped you put your shoes on.

"come on, baby." she opened the door and took your hand, pulling you out of the house. you stayed close to her, hugging her as she walked you to the car.

in the car, she had her hand on your stomach. "it's alright, baby. deep breaths", she said as you started to have contractions. you listened to her, trying to focus on your breathing.

as you arrived to the hospital, abby held you, an arm wrapped around you. "my wife's going into labor", she said to the secretary at the entrance.

you were laying on a hospital bed, wearing a hospital gown as abby sat next to you. you squeezed her hand whenever you felt your stomach contract. "abs, it hurts so much." you said, on the verge of tears. "i know, baby. but you're doing so good. they said you were already 5cm dilated." she kissed your head.

you two had been sitting here for a two hours already. abby tried her best to reassure you, help you. she massaged your shoulders, helped you off the bed when you needed to go to the bathroom, tried to distract you from the pain by talking.

she put a wet cloth on your forehead and caressed your belly. "you're doin' so good, baby. keep on taking deep breaths." she kissed your cheek as you tried to focus on her voice.

"you're doing a good job, just a little more", the obstetrician said between your legs. you were sweating, letting out grunts as you pushed. "slow and long push, come on."

abby let you bite her fingers and squeeze her hand. "you can do it, sweetheart. think of the baby, how happy you'd be holding them in." she kept on patting the wet cloth on your face, caressing your hand.

one last push.

you were out of breath, tired, exhausted, your ears were ringing, your eyes almost closing. but screams woke you up. you flashed your eyes open and looked at the midwife who put the baby in your arms.

as soon as they were in your arms, they stopped crying. their skin covered in white vernix, eyes shut, small fingers moving toward yours. the baby wrapped their small fingers around yours. you started to sob.

you looked at abby, who was crying. she smiled down at you and the baby. "it's our baby," you whispered, looking back down. the midwife wiped the baby a bit, giving you a warm towel to hold them with. "it's a girl, congratulations", she said, smiling at you and abby. "a girl", you repeated.

abby kissed your cheek and your head. "love you and her so much." she cried, her lips against your cheek.

you looked at your daughter, her small hand wrapped around your fingers, the way she looked at you and abby – you were sure there was no greater feeling than this. abby put one of her fingers in front of your newborn, who wrapped her other tiny hand around abby's finger. "hey, sweet girl", she spoke in a soft voice.

"she's so small", she whispered. you smiled. "mhm, but ain't she adorable?" abby nodded and kissed your head. "just like her mama."

a total of 6 hours had passed since abby and you entered the hospital. the sun was slowly setting down. it had been an hour since your daughter was born, she was sucking on your nipple. abby watched you two from her chair.

you looked at her. "thank you for being here, abby. wouldn't have done it without you."

"no, thank you. thank you for being here, for being my wife, for giving birth to our daughter." she kissed your head and looked down at your daughter. "prettiest baby girl, there is." abby couldn't help but grin as she caressed your daughter's face.

"her skin is so soft." the baby moved her face towards abby. "let me hold her", abby said, carefully picking the baby up, making her scrunch her legs. you felt tears running down your cheeks at the sight.

"i'm so scared to move, she's so small." abby chuckled. your daughter in the crook of her big arms, she had her eyes closed, her little chest rising up and down. she was wearing a footie pyjama with different kinds of sharks that abby had picked and a little beanie. abby couldn't peel her eyes off your daughter. "she's so pretty. so small, so soft. and so, so cute. just like her mama." she looked back at you.

"thank you, baby. thank you for being the best wife i could ever ask for." you grinned as abby came closer to you, leaning down to quickly kiss your lips. "i love you, i love you and our daughter more than anything."

the first weeks back home were hard. you had some days were you could barely get up, stayed in bed and only held the baby for her meals or when she was asleep. abby would bottle feed your daughter if you were asleep, or when she woke up during the night. "baby, you don't have to do it. i can feed her, just wake me up", you've told her multiple times.

she walked around your room, bottle in hand, baby in her arms. "shush, mama. you gotta rest. i got it", she reassured you. you looked at your wife and your daughter, who was sucking vigorously on the bottle's nipple.

abby held your daughter against her, gently tapping her back until she heard a small burp. you giggled and abby smiled at you. "cute burp, isn't it?"

abby was there for you and the baby. she took care of you while the baby was napping, giving you massages, preparing you baths, make you lunch. she made sure you felt loved; always reminding you throughout the day how grateful she was to have you in her life.

once, you had sent her to get some diapers and she came back with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. "i love you, sweetheart." she kissed your head as you were holding the baby, walking around the house. you smiled and kissed her back. "i love you too, abby."

another night, you had woken up to abby's side of the bed being empty. it was early in the morning, still dark outside. you heard some whispers coming from the nursery. you got up and walked to the room.

the door was opened, the night light casting a blue hue in the room. you could see abby sitting on the armchair, not wearing anything on top, holding your daughter in her arms. abby's braid fell on her shoulder, the baby's hand on her naked chest. abby looked up as she heard your steps. she smiled. you walked to abby's chair and kissed your baby's head. you looked at abby and smiled. "hi." you kissed her lips. "let me put her to bed and i'll join you."

abby stood up, careful not to wake up the baby up. she walked to the crib and gently put the baby inside. you hugged abby from behind, kissing her bare back. abby stayed there for a minute, watching your daughter sleep so peacefully. abby grazed her fingers on one of the aquatic felt animals on the mobile above the crib and turned to face you.

"i love you, so much", she whispered, wrapping her arms around you.

abby's dad often came over. even more since abby had gone back to work after her paternity leave. since he was retired, he had plenty of time to come and help you. he also always insisted on babysitting your daughter so you and abby could go out for dinner or just go out the two of you. you were a bit scared to leave him alone with her at first, not wanting her to feel abandoned or confused. but your daughter seemed to love her grandfather, always reaching out for him when he walked through the door. and he loved her too.

jerry was playing with your daughter on her playing mat. she was giggling as he blew raspberries on her tummy. your daughter was now 4 months old. she was holding her zebra stuffie, which once belonged to abby, in her hand. absolutely adorable, you thought.

abby put a hand on the small of your back as you stood in the doorway. "you ready to go, my love?" you nodded. "mhm. jerry, you're sure you got this?" abby's dad looked up at you two and smiled. "go, don't worry. ow, ow!" he looked down at your daughter who was putting his fingers in her mouth. he giggled and poked her small tummy. "alright dad, call us if you need anything", abby said before walking out of your apartment.

she had booked a reservation at your favorite restaurant. you held her arm as you two entered the place. "here." the waiter said as he guided you to your table.

abby, pulled your chair towards her for you to sit. "well, thank you." you smiled. she sat in front of you, and looked into your eyes. "you look so pretty, baby." she smirked at you. "oh, shush."

dinner went well, abby and you talked about her work, how you've been feeling, and your wedding. "i thought, maybe we could do something, just the three of us. elope." you looked at her. "you don't want to invite your dad?"

"just us three", she reaffirmed. "what do you think?" the waiter came with your desserts, a cheesecake for abby and your usual. "thank you."

"well, i would love that. but when? and where? and what about our families?" abby takes your hand in her. "we could have a small party once we're back. but for now, i just want it to be us three. you, our daughter and me." she smiled softly. she squeezed your hand and looked into your pretty eyes. "as for when and where: how about next summer? i could take a few weeks off. and for where – anywhere my wife wants to go." she brought your hand to her lips and kissed it.

you smiled at her, feeling your cheeks warming. "i love you so much, abs."

"baby? how about catalina island?" you asked abby, scrolling on your phone. abby was changing your daughter, closing her overalls. "let me see."

you put your phone in front of her as she picked up the baby. "oh, s'pretty. can you check the laws on marriage certificates in california?" you nodded, opening another page on your phone.

abby gently bounced the baby in her arms. "we don't need to be from cali to get married, no blood tests required but a we need a witness..." you said, looking at your phone. "alright, i'll check for an attorney and an officiant." abby kissed your head. "you look for a photographer, mmh? and we'll check places to stay at together." you kissed her softly and looked down at your daughter. "your mama is the sweetest. did you know that, sweetheart?" abby blushed and hugged you close.

valentine's day arrived. you woke up, abby already gone to work. you went to your daughter's room to find her already awake, babbling. "hi, my love", you cooed. "hi, my baby." you picked her up and kissed her cheek. you went to the kitchen when you found a small note on the fridge: "happy valentine's day. x i'll come home a bit later. i love you. abs."

you smiled and started your day. you fed your daughter some banana puree. she had grown so much these past few months, already 8 months old. she had grown out of her newborn clothes so fast. you smiled as you put the spoon in her mouth. "good job, sweetheart." she looked up at you and smiled, flashing you her smile, her two bottom teeth showing. you kissed her small nose.

the day went by fast, you and your daughter went out to the park. she was so adorable, looking around, observing the world around her, babbling. then, you went to the florist and got a bouquet of blue hydrangea.

you went back home and put the bouquet in a vase, on the kitchen table. you spent the afternoon with your baby, reading for her, bathing with her. after the bath, you put her in her diaper and pyjamas before doing the same with you. you made your baby some puree and fed her.

you played with her a little until she cried. you breastfed her, watching her slowly dozing off. "mama loves you, baby", you whispered, wiping her mouth and kissing her head. you put your daughter to bed, turning on her night light and mobile.

you went to the kitchen and prepared dinner for you and abby. she finally came home around 7:30pm. she came to the kitchen to greet you. "baby, thanks for the flowers." she spoke, kissing your cheek. "happy valentine's day, my love" you looked at her and kissed her. "what were you doing? comin' home so late?"

she smirked. "had some work to finish." she kissed your head and hugged you from behind.

you two had dinner, talking about your elopement, your day, how much your daughter's growing. "by the way, i checked and we'll have to make a stop for a few days in L.A, to get our wedding license. and then get the ferry to the island." abby explained. "oh, that's alright. yeah, we can do that." abby kissed your hand, sensing you were a nervous. "it'll be alright, i promise."

abby went to take a shower as you waited for her in your bed, reading. she came out of it, wearing nothing but her towel. you looked up from your book and felt your face get warm. all this time, and she still had the same effect on you. she quickly looked for something in her work bag before clearing her throat. she sat on the bed.

"my love?" you nodded. she opened the small box, a ring with a small diamond in it. you gasped. "abby, i can't – why?" she grinned. "course you can, you're my wife. but you'll get to wear it on our wedding day. just wanted your approval. you like it?" you leaned your head on her shoulder and kissed her neck. "mhm. thank you, baby."

she smiled and closed the box, putting it on the nightstand before kissing you. she cupped your face and deepened the kiss.

that night, she came on your tongue, thanking you, her wife. she worshipped your body, kissing you all over. thanking you for being hers, for the kid you had given her. you two made love, whispering "i love you's" to each other.

abby was slowly falling asleep when the baby woke up. you were about to get up when she stopped you. "i got it." she stood up and put a random t-shirt and underwear before going to your daughter's room. you smiled, still wondering how you got so lucky.

the trip to los angeles went smoothly. abby and you decided to pay for an extra sit so you'd have a row for you three, and somewhere to put the baby's bassinet. you made sure to pack enough diapers and changes for the flight. you nursed your daughter during take-off and landing, as you read it helped with ear pressure and she slept during the whole two hours flight. you checked into the hotel you were staying at for the next four days. "we'll rest for the rest of the day and then tomorrow we'll go to the county clerk. the appointment is at 10am."

you spent the rest of the day sleeping, abby took the baby on a walk while you did so. she made sure to put sunscreen on her small face, little arms and legs and even put on her little bucket hat. "you're so cute." she spoke to your daughter, kissing her tummy.

the next day, abby, your daughter and you were on your way to the county clerk. you had checked before hand if you had all the documents needed to request a license. it all went well.

the attorney said that they will call as soon as the license is ready and will assign you a judge. you and abby smiled at each other. "thank you." abby said, shaking the attorney's hand.

two days later, abby got a call on her phone. "hello?" she answered. she looked at you and your daughter, sitting on the hotel bed. she grinned. "amazing! we'll be there. 2pm, today. thank you." she hung up. "they got our license."

abby looked down at you sitting and cupped your face, kissing you. "we're gonna get married, it's official." you kissed her back, holding your daughter close to you. "my wife." you whispered into the kiss. "my wife." she repeated.

you stayed one more day in los angeles before taking the ferry to the island.

the trip on the ferry was a bit hard, despite it being only an hour – your daughter was feeling a bit fussy, probably uncomfortable due to the warm weather. you and abby tried your best to calm her down, make sure she drank water, was changed, rubbed her face with a cold wet cloth. and it's only when abby took her on the deck a bit, the breeze touching her puffy cheeks, that she calmed down.

you rented a small apartment a few minutes by foot away from the beach. the californian sun fell on your skin, making you sweat. you made sure to put sunscreen on your daughter's face, arms and legs and even got her a little bucket hat.

as you three settled in the rental, abby called the photographer and the judge to remind them of the place and time of the wedding.

the photographer had texted that she had arrived to the island a day prior you arrived. "baby? she's asking if we want a pre-wedding photoshoot tomorrow afternoon, at the beach?"

you were in the bathroom, washing your daughter. she's giggling and splashing the water. "how much is it?" abby leaned on the bathroom's door. "says it'll be 90 dollars." you turned around. "do you want to? i mean – it's amazing with the sun, the beach. but do you want to?"

abby smiled and got closer to you, kneeling next to you. "it's our wedding. if you want to, then let's do it." she kissed you softly and turned to your daughter. "does my little girl wanna go to the beach? mmh? wanna go see sharks?" you looked at abby. "wait what? there are no sharks, right?" abby chuckled and kissed your head as you looked at her, confused. "you're too cute."

for your first night in catalina island, you three decided to go out for dinner. you had taken the baby wrapper with you, abby being the one wearing it. one of her hand on your daughter's back and the other hand in yours. the sky was a shade of purple, with some hues of red and yellow. the night slowly setting in.

"hey, baby, what about this one? they got cheesecakes." abby said, stopping in front of a restaurant with a view on the beach. "sure." you kissed her cheek as you entered the restaurant. music was coming out of the speaker. "good evening, a table for three, please. with a high chair, if you guys have that." abby spoke to a waitress.

the waitress smiled and asked you to follow her to a table on the terrace. "here, i'm gonna go get the chair." you thanked her.

you and abby sat across from each other, the sunset on your left and on her right. "look, baby. isn't it pretty? it's pretty, mmh?" she spoke to your daughter, who had turned her head to look at the sunset. "ma" she babbled. you and abby smiled. you couldn't believe she was going to turn one year old in a few weeks. the waitress came back with a highchair, putting it on the side of the table. abby held the baby carefully as she unwrapped her, before putting her in the chair. your daughter held abby's index finger.

you ate, abby and you talking about the next few days, as you admired the view – the sunset and your wife, feeding your daughter some mashed potatoes. "the plane's coming, brr..." abby smiled, bringing the food to your daughter's mouth, she clapped her hands and opened. "the plane landed!"

"you okay, baby?" she looked at you from the corner of her eyes. "mhm, just looking at my beautiful wife and my baby." abby chuckled, wiping your daughter's mouth with a tissue. "i love you."

the next day you met with the photographer at the beach. "just act as if i wasn't there", she said, preparing her camera. you and abby played with your daughter, sitting next to her in the sand as she touched it, smiling as she discovered the new texture.

abby and you walked to the water. you held your baby by her hands and lowered her gently, so her feet touched the water. she moved her feet up. "it's okay, baby. s'just water." she hesitated a second before letting her feet on the wet sand again. abby kneeled and looked at her. "yay!" she encouraged your daughter who started giggling at the feeling of water hitting her ankles. "my little shark." abby pretended to bite your daughter in the neck, making her giggle. "nom, nom, nom..."

abby picked her up and looked at you. your daughter looked at you and reached for you, touching your shoulder as abby leaned in for a kiss. "i love you." you kissed her back and grinned. "i love you too, abby. and i love you too, my baby." you looked at your daughter and kissed her head as she giggled and wiggled in abby's arms.

the sun was starting to set, the photographer was starting to pack her things. "so, after tomorrow's the big day for you, huh?" you smiled and nodded. "we're so excited. thank you again for accepting to be our witness." she smiled. "it's no problem, really. i love photographing elopements, though i don't get to do it as much as i'd like to." she put her backpack on her back and waved goodbye. "see you, lovebirds!"

you couldn't believe that in two days you were going to be married to the love of your life. it all seemed so surreal. "i love you, abby." she hugged you close. "i love you more, sweet girl."

it was finally the day abby and you would officially be wife and wife. you had dressed your little girl in a white dress with her little bucket hat. abby was buttoning her white shirt, wearing a pair of light blue pants. she had her hair down, grinning. her cheeks were flushed. "you look so pretty."

she sat on the bed next to you and kissed your head. "so do you." you were wearing an all light blue outfit that matched her suit. you quietly brushed through your wife's blonde hair, before braiding it. once you were done, she turned to you and kissed you softly. "i love you." your noses touched. you kissed her once more. "i love you too."

you three made your way to the beach, the sun caressing your skins. your baby in her stroller. you met with the judge who was already there, and the photographer.

you placed the stroller in front of the judge, where you stood across from abby, waiting for the judge to start speaking. your daughter looking at the both of you as she nibbled on her teether.

"thank you all for coming here today to witness this union. we are here today to celebrate the love between two - or shall i say, three, people." you chuckled nervously, already feeling the tears well up. abby took your hands hers.

"do you", the judged turned to you, "take abigail anderson to be your wedded wife?" you nodded, squeezing abby's hands. "i do."

"and do you, abigail anderson, take this woman to be your wedded wife?" she wiped her tears and nodded, "i do."

"i love you so much. i swear, i love you and our daughter more than anything. i've loved you for so long, i don't know what i'd do without you. you've been here for me during good and hard times, always trying to help. you've been my anchor all these years. i love you." she looked at you, sniffling. you were also crying, squeezing her hands. she caressed the back of them with her thumbs. "i love you", you whispered back.

abby got the ring out of her pocket, the one she had gotten you on valentine's day a few months back. she held your left hand up and slid the ring on your finger. she kissed each one of your fingers. "i love you." she cried as you caressed her cheek.

"you may now kiss", the judge spoke. you wrapped your arms around her neck and kissed her, passionately. she wrapped her strong arms around you. "i love you so much", she whispered into the kiss.

all you've ever needed was here. your wife, your daughter. you felt like the luckiest woman in the world, and so did abby. she was so grateful to have you in her life, grateful that you'd chosen her as your wife and mother of your child. "mama!" your daughter said right before the photographer clicked a photo.

taglist: @abbysprettygiiirl @bambishaven @bunniehrtz @cowboylikeabi @dykeanderson

@lesbian-useless

[megalony]

Toughen Up

As promised, this is a new Eddie Diaz imagine, requested by a lovely anon. I hope you will all like it, let me know what you think.

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Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: When another station is short staffed, (Y/n) gets transferred over for a shift. But when she gets hurt, nobody takes her seriously and she has to call her family to come and help her.

Enjoy.

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A shiver rattled down (Y/n)'s spine and sent goosebumps rising up on her skin when she heard the shower door open. For a brief moment, her arms bound around her chest and she was about to scream until she looked over her shoulder.

It wasn't just anyone on the team wandering in or opening the door by mistake. It wasn't someone trying to sneak a glance at her undressed and trying to clean up ready for their next call out.

It was her husband.

"What are you doing?" (Y/n) took a step closer to the wall and pressed her lips together tightly to smother any noise she might make when Eddie walked in to join her. She was relieved when he shut the door so the draft finally stopped and the water created another aroma of steam to circle around them.

She let her hands drop from around her chest and her eyes closed automatically when his arms circled around her waist.

"Joining you." Eddie tucked his face into (Y/n)'s neck and pressed his lips against her wet, burning skin. He felt the water drip down and flatten his hair and trace down the bridge of his nose. And as fell onto (Y/n)'s shoulder, he felt her shiver against him.

He tightened his arms and pushed forward when (Y/n) groaned as if she might just have the willpower to fight him off and tell him to get out. He knew she wouldn't. He grinned into her neck when she seemed to melt against him instead of push him away.

They were at work. They were on shift.

This was the first time (Y/n) had found Eddie wandering in to take a shower with her while they were at work. He had never been this sneaky before. Usually they were affectionate when their shifts lined up and they worked together, but this was different. This was breaking the rules and testing to see if they got caught or not. (Y/n) didn't want to get caught out.

Her dad wouldn't go easy on them if he found out they were doing this. Evan would have a field day if he found out. Hen would never let them live this down and Chimney would probably die of embarrassment for them.

(Y/n) opened her eyes and looked down when she felt Eddie's hands curve round from her hips to grab and squeeze at her waist. His thumb brushed up and down her skin against the water cascading down around them and (Y/n) took a sharp breath when he suddenly bit down on her neck like a vampire.

"You shouldn't be in here… go next door." (Y/n) motioned her hand to the right to signal any other cubicle. There were four shower blocks in here, Eddie needed to go into one of them and get washed. On his own.

If they were gone for a while at the same time, people were going to notice they were missing and if anyone came in here and found them, they would get disciplined. It wasn't within the rules to take a shower together or cop off while they were still on shift.

"You want me to be lonely?"

"Eddie…" (Y/n) tilted her head back when Eddie moved his lips down and started to bite another mark onto her skin. If it wasn't bad enough that he was taking the risk to be in here, he was also marking her up and if people noticed, they would know what they'd done. "You want us to get reprimanded?" She countered, but her words did very little to persuade him otherwise.

She took her time turning around in his arms and her hands traced down to his chest to try and nudge him backwards. If he was going to do this, she would try and get out with him. (Y/n) would cut her shower short and get out if it stopped Eddie from becoming insatiable like this.

"No one knows you came for a shower. Just let me have five minutes with you, baby. Please? No fun and games, I swear." Eddie dug his fingertips into her hips and pushed her back until her back hit the tiles and she gasped.

They were like ice cubes sticking to her burning skin and the mix of hot and cold made her shake until Eddie tilted his head down so their foreheads were pressed together.

He just wanted five minutes alone with his wife. They were pulling a double shift at the station. Eddie wanted a few minutes alone with his wife before they had to go back on shift and be somewhat professional. He wasn't asking to risk getting caught or risk having sex in the shower and get carried away. He just wanted to be as close as he could to (Y/n) for a little while. Just a few minutes.

She liked the way the water dripped down from his pale pink lips and jumped free from his chin. Each droplet made (Y/n)'s chest tighten while she reached her hands up to cup the back of his neck.

"Five minutes." She warned, keeping her fingertips pressed against his skin as she pulled him down to her level and connected his lips onto hers.

She sucked his lower lip between her teeth and gave a little bite until Eddie growled and pulled her chest up against his.

He cocooned both arms around her waist and splayed his hands out on her back, gliding his fingertips up and down her skin while his temple pressed into hers. He kept her pressed back against the wall and closed his eyes, leaning his chest down onto hers so they were as close as they could possibly get.

This was all Eddie wanted. He just wanted to hold her. He could restrain himself and stop from dragging this moment out into an hour-long shower where people really would notice they'd gone missing. Eddie had self-control and he could about handle holding her and not taking it any further.

When (Y/n) moved her hand up higher and began dragging her fingers through his wet hair, she felt him groan into her lips and his hands pressed down firmer into her back. Her nails scratched against his scalp and she gave a sharp tug on his roots before Eddie disconnected their lips and moved back down to her neck.

He kept his face tucked into the crook of her neck, eyes still closed and lips floating across her glistening skin with a more gentle touch this time. He didn't bite down or attempt to leave anymore marks, he just glided his lips up and down her neck until (Y/n) was reduced to a shivering mess.

He worked his way back up to her face and connected their lips again, but they both froze when they heard the shower room door open.

"Eddie…" She murmured as quietly as she could against his lips but he shook his head and pressed his lips back to hers as if to make sure she stayed silent.

He kept their noses touching and their eyes locked as Eddie leaned down and moved slowly. His hands wormed their way down her back so one hand was in between her hips and the other gripped the underside of her thigh. (Y/n) could feel his fingertips pinching into her skin so he had a good grip and she pressed her lips together tightly when he slowly hoisted her up.

Her shoulders stayed pressed against the tiles and Eddie pulled her leg until she took the hint and wrapped both legs around his hips so she was sitting on his torso. At least this way, if whoever came in happened to look down at their cubicle, they would only see one pair of legs and not two.

"Eddie?"

A light knock on the door made Eddie roll his eyes and tuck his face back into (Y/n)'s neck while her arms tightened around his shoulders. "What? Has the bell gone or something?" Eddie had never been in the shower when the bell sounded to signal a callout. But he guessed he would be able to hear it in here if it did sound.

"Not yet. Bobby wants to have a word with us all… like now. I haven't seen (Y/n), you know where she is?"

"Buck I'm in the shower, get lost and I'll find my wife when I'm done in here." Eddie tipped his forehead against (Y/n)'s neck so his voice didn't come out muffled.

But he couldn't help but groan as he dug his fingers into (Y/n)'s thighs and kept her pressed against the wall, trying to make sure she didn't slide down or make a noise. Evan might keep this a secret if he found out, but he might go and tell Bobby or tease them too, depending on what mood he was in.

"Alright, alright grumpy."

As soon as the shower door slammed closed, Eddie slumped his head back down onto (Y/n)'s shoulder and sighed. He pulled her chest tighter against his and gave her thigh a squeeze. They would have to get out soon before Evan went searching round the whole station and realised (Y/n) wasn't anywhere to be found.

"I think we'd better go get ready," (Y/n) murmured softly into Eddie's hair and she tangled her fingers at the back of his neck. Waiting for him to slowly untangle from her so they could move.

She felt his hand tighten around her thigh and he slowly pulled back and allowed (Y/n) to drop back down to her feet so he wasn't holding her on his hips anymore. His slid his hands up the expanse of her thighs until he was holding her hips and gave her another searing kiss while (Y/n) reached behind her and turned the shower off.

"Don't worry, we can pick this back up when we get home tonight."

(Y/n) tilted her head back into Eddie's shoulder and smiled as they made their way over towards the rest of the team who were lined up near the truck. They joined the procession line and (Y/n) leaned against Eddie's chest. Grinning to herself when she felt his arm curve around her waist so his hand could hold her hip.

Their eyes all locked on Bobby who was stood in front of them with his hands on his hips. Just as he went to say something, they all winced at the piercing sound of the alarm blaring through the air while the red lights started flashing.

Once the sirens finished, Bobby clapped his hands and looked over them all.

"Alright, I'll make this quick since we've got a call. The 178 station are three people down and they need some helping hands for the next few days. (Y/n), I want you to head over there since you're on a double today. Hen's shift finishes in two hours so I need Eddie and Chimney here as my medics. Then Buck you can go there tomorrow for your shift."

A jolt ran through (Y/n)'s heart and she felt her smile dampening, even as she nodded and tried to stay composed.

She didn't want to go to a different team.

One shift was far too long to be working with a completely different team, especially just for one day. (Y/n) would have to get to know them and get into their way of working just for today, they probably wouldn't let her help and she would be sat on the sidelines.

But she couldn't say no.

It wouldn't be fair for (Y/n) to decline and make Eddie go instead or have Evan go when his shift wasn't as long as hers. She and Eddie were on a double shift from last night until eight o'clock tonight. That was why she was going, so she could spend the majority of her shift at the 178 and help them out.

It made no sense to send anyone else when their shifts were going to be over sooner and Eddie was a medic, (Y/n) wasn't. Eddie needed to be here so they still had two medics on the A shift.

And (Y/n) couldn't ask her dad to change send someone else and risk people saying she got preferential treatment. It was hard enough with all the new starters in the 118 when they learned (Y/n) was both Bobby's daughter and Eddie's wife.

"Copy." (Y/n) mumbled quietly while she felt Eddie lean over and kiss the back of her head softly. He could feel the discomfort radiating off of her already.

"Hop in the truck, we can drop you off on the way to the next call."

At least she was getting a lift down there, and she felt Eddie lean down so his lips were hovering over the shell of her ear. "I'll pick you up tonight when we finish." Their shifts had lined up today so Eddie had drove them both here. He could easily swing by the other station and pick (Y/n) up tonight after they both finished.

Once Bobby nodded and motioned his hands towards them, they all hurried over to the lockers. (Y/n) could still feel Eddie glued to her back as they each grabbed their florescent jackets and slung them on before Eddie grabbed both their helmets and headed over to the truck.

(Y/n) liked the fact that their helmets and jackets were matching. They both had 118 printed in the middle, and across the bottom both their jackets said Diaz.

Before they got married, (Y/n)'s jacket had said Nash and one of the team had added 'ER' to the end so it read Nasher. That way it was easier to distinguish who was who when the team needed them on a call since Bobby's jacket read his name, not Captain like his helmet did.

But now (Y/n) had her forever name and she smiled at the feel of Eddie's hands on her hips when the moved to the truck.

He helped her up and climbed in after her, following as (Y/n) moved to sit next to the window on the far side. Chimney and Hen followed in after him and Evan climbed in the front to ride shotgun with Bobby. It was as if they were one big family going on a night out together and Evan, being the favourite child, got to sit up front with his dad.

(Y/n) pulled a headset down over her ears and shrank down into Eddie's side, wishing it was someone else who had to endure an uneasy shift with another team. Why did it have to be her?

It's just for one shift. Just one day. It'll go quick… right?

***

Whatever preconceptions (Y/n) had about joining this team for the day, she had been extremely wrong.

They didn't want to push her to the sidelines and make her watch or be a spare part. It was the exact opposite. Instead of pushing her out because she wasn't one of them, they pushed her forwards instead.

They gave her the jobs they didn't want to do or couldn't be bothered to do themselves.

Head through the burning bulding to shut off the electricity mains at the back? (Y/n) was volunteered. Squeezing down an old mine shaft to find a lost child? Captain McCall gave that job to (Y/n) before she had the chance to tell him she had claustraphobia.

Thank God it wasn't a long mine and the child was conscious and easily able to get back out with (Y/n)'s help.

Now someone needed to go up the ladder and get into the seventh floor of an apartment building to get a woman and child out. And that too was (Y/n)'s job.

She had never done so many odd, strange and straining tasks on the same shift in less than five hours.

And the whole team made it clear she wasn't one of them.

It was as if they were just letting her be here with them, letting her enjoy the experience of working with them. She was a child allowed to play amongst the big kids, but they didn't really want her here.

Can I go home yet? Is it eight o'clock yet so Eddie can come get me?

"This way, you're doing great." (Y/n) smiled behind her at the woman she was guiding down the ladder.

She could feel the woman's head pressing into her shoulder and both hands were clutching (Y/n)'s arm through her jacket. She was afraid of heights and the way she clung to (Y/n) was the way (Y/n) would cling to Eddie whenever she was nervous or uneasy.

Reaching behind her, (Y/n) gave the woman's arm a squeeze before she reached her free hand in front of her to keep hold of the woman's little boy. She couldn't have either of them tripping down the ladder and hurting themselves in front of a team that didn't like or appreciate (Y/n). They might try and report her.

"There we go, Thompson will get you down to the ground safely."

The much taller man, Thompson, gave a curt nod and picked up the little boy while he beckoned the mother over to him.

She seemed reluctant to let (Y/n) go but finally obliged so (Y/n) could unbuckle herself from the safety rope connected to the ladder.

"Alright Diaz, Eddison let's go. Move."

(Y/n) looked across at Eddison who was working on reeling the ladder back down so they could sort out. All they had to do now was make sure the fire was completely out and ensure everyone was on their way to the hospital. The Captain had already talked to the building manager and started to sort things out.

Something sparked.

(Y/n) wasn't sure what it was. Whether it was the mechanism that wound the ladder back in or whether a wire came loose and tripped the electrics, (Y/n) didn't know.

But she knew whatever it was had sent sparks flying out in every direction and had Eddison jumping back when a few volts surged through his hands.

"Christ!" He stumbled back, crashing down on his backside with one hand clinging to the ladder to stop himself falling off the top of the truck.

His weight and force barrelled into (Y/n)'s legs and swept them from beneath her faster than she could react. Her arms flailed out at her sides and a scream burst past her lips when she slipped over the side of the truck. It felt like flying for all of a second before the ground was beneath her and her body plummeted down to a forceful stop.

(Y/n)'s arms coiled into her chest and she landed on her left side with such a bang that all the air left her lungs and he saw stars. Black and white dots sparkled before her eyes and everything spun in circles around her head like she was sat on the waltzers with Chris.

Her heartbeat pulsed through her chest that was quaking up and down against the concrete and after a few seconds, a strangled gasp bubbled past her lips as her lungs finally shocked back into rhythm.

"Diaz… jeez, alright let's get you up."

(Y/n) wasn't sure who it was that leered over her. All she knew was that she was in too much pain and shock to want to get up. And when a hand grabbed her wrist and roughly yanked her up to her feet, (Y/n) all but screamed.

She wobbled back and forth, stumbling back three paces until the man in front of her held her by the shoulders with such a tight grip it felt like he was going to squeeze her like a balloon until she popped. He kept hold of her until she was no longer swaying on her feet and her body was finally being held up by her legs that had turned to jelly.

Why did he drag her up? Couldn't he see that the air had been knocked out of her? Why didn't he just let her recover for a few seconds first? Couldn't he have checked her over before he got her up, what if she had broken her leg or her ankle?

Tears burned down (Y/n)'s face like acid rain and she sniffed, drawing in a deep breath as her head clouded over.

She moved her right hand to try and delicately touch her chest, but even her fingertips grazing over her side made her whimper and sent her knees buckling. She had broken her ribs. She could feel it. Her chest was aching and throbbing and (Y/n) was sure if she took her jacket off she would see her ribcage throbbing with her heartbeat.

"You okay Diaz?"

It was Eddison. He climbed down from the truck and waved his hands back and forth to shake out the pins and needles he'd gotten.

"Ribs… ribs b-broken." She wheezed, unable to draw in a proper breath which left her body stumbling back until she slumped against the truck to prop herself up.

"Captain, Diaz got an injury." Eddison was the only one out of the team who didn't seem annoyed or phased by (Y/n) being on their team today. He was the only one who made an effort to talk to her and right now, he was the only one with sorrow in his eyes and concern etched onto his face.

Thompson, who had dragged her to her feet- something (Y/n) knew none of the trained medics on her own team would have done- just huffed and looked her up and down like she was causing a big fuss over nothing.

She had fallen. Her ribs were surely broken or in the very least, fractured. She could barely breathe and she felt like she was going to pass out.

Did no one in this team care if someone got hurt? Did they all have super healing powers like Wolverine? Could they continue with broken bones like it was a sprain? Well (Y/n) wasn't like that. She was human, she was in agony and she felt like she could barely breathe. She needed someone to see if her ribs were broken and help her.

She needed her team. She needed Eddie. He was the only one who (Y/n) would let assess her when she was injured or unwell. She wanted her husband here so he could check her over and see if she was okay.

Panic burst to life in (Y/n)'s chest when Captain McCall stood a few feet in front of her and Eddison.

He looked them both up and down, scrutinising and assessing them while he glared through narrowed eyes. His gaze made (Y/n) feel like a child or a weakling who had done something wrong. She knew if she were back on her own team, they would have been more understanding and forgiving and concerned. And not just because her dad was her Captain. Bobby was fair, he didn't favouritise and he cared greatly when anyone on his team was injured.

"You're clearly up and moving, you'll be fine. Everyone back in the truck, let's go."

Shrugging his shoulders, Eddison lowered his head and gave (Y/n) a sorrowful look before he turned and heaved into the truck, groaning a she did so.

Was that it? She didn't get checked out or assessed or even get the chance to talk to a medic? She was just glared into like the Captain had X-ray vision and deemed fit and capable to work. To Hell with the tears pouring down her face. Who cared that she could barely breathe? What did it matter that she was in mass agony and couldn't stand up straight?

"C- can't I see a medic?" Ragged breaths escaped her lips as she tilted her head back into the truck and looked across at Captain McCall who she felt very uneasy with.

But the way he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes made (Y/n) shiver and she knew undoubtedly that she wasn't going to get any help or compassion from anyone on this team.

"Your hubby isn't here to coddle you today and if you're gonna try and follow my team, Diaz, you need to toughen up. Now all of you, get in the truck. Let's move."

Tremors coursed through (Y/n)'s chest and she bit down on her lip to stop the tears from falling. Why did showing she was in pain mean she was weak or useless or any different? What good would it do to be stoic and pretend she could handle anything when she couldn't? Hiding pain would only prolongue her suffering and make her injuries worse if she didn't get them seen to.

But there was nothing (Y/n) could do. This wasn't her team, they had all made that very clear. No one was going to help her if the Captain thought she was being pretentious.

Her right arm bound around her chest and she leaned forward, coiling over to try and reduce the pain in her chest every time she took a breath. Her body leaned to the left and she used the door to propell herself up into the truck.

She slumped down into the seat next to the window, making herself as small as possible. Shrinking away from the others as they all climbed in and started talking about what they would be eating later on for tea at the station.

(Y/n) wasn't going to be with them for that.

She wasn't staying on this team any longer.

She wanted to go back to the 118; to her home.

Her arms stayed cocooned around her chest that was pulsing and pounding and she leaned her head against the window.

It hurt to keep her eyes open and she tried to focus on the passing scenery rather than look at the four other people in the back of the truck with her who were all staring at her every few seconds.

They thought she was weak. They thought she was being a hypochondriac or making this up. They thought she was weak and she was complaining about a few little bruises. She was one of them. (Y/n) was a firefighter, she had been in a few accidents over the years, she had dealt with broken bones and burns and concussions. And each of them had hurt and blinded her with pain. She knew her ribs were broken and she needed them tending to.

As soon as the truck pulled up in the station, (Y/n) flung the door open and flung herself down. Her arms bound tighter to her chest, her body coiled over and leaned forward and she pushed herself to walk down the station and head towards the locker room.

It was empty. (Y/n) couldn't have been more thankful that no one was in there and that no one else followed her into the room.

She headed over to the single locker on the far right. The spare one with no tape across the top and no name scribbled across. It took a lot of effort to shrug off her jacket and she whimpered, chomping down on her lip to make sure she didn't make a sound.

Ruffling through her bag, (Y/n) found her phone and shuffled backwards. She eased herself down onto the bench, swallowing a groan at the shockwaves that rattled up her chest.

She didn't think before she clicked on her dad's contact and pressed the phone to her ear.

She needed help. She couldn't stay here any longer. She wanted to go home to her family.

"Hey sweetheart, how's it going over there? God, we could of used you're referee skills this morning."

He answered. (Y/n) could of fainted with relief when she heard his voice. They were all at work, it wasn't always easy to answer phone calls when they were on shift. At least something was going right today.

The sound of her dad's voice made a tidal wave of tears flush down (Y/n)'s face. She leaned forward, keeping her right arm pinned to her chest as she clamped her lips together and swallowed down a cry. The last thing she wanted to do was cry down the phone to her dad, but she couldn't seem to help it.

"Dad, c- can you help me?" The way she hiccupped through her words made (Y/n) hang her head and scold herself.

Was she being silly? Was she being a child, asking her dad to help her and come get her? Should she just try to put on a brave face go finish the ret of the shift? Could she even finish this shift with broken ribs? With the way this team was throwing her in the deep end, another call might just finish (Y/n) off, and not in a good way either.

"Help you? Sweetheart what's wrong, where are you?" Concern flooded Bobby's voice as his free hand moved to his hip and frown lines appeared on his face.

Why did his daughter need help? She was with another team, she should be surrounded by people there who were willing and able to help her with whatever situation she was in. Did she not feel comfortable asking them for help? What kind of problem was she having?

Was she even still at the 178 station?

"At the station… I think I- I think I've broke my ribs. Dad it hurts, can I c-come back?"

The sob at the end of her words made Bobby's skin crawl and his lips curled in distaste. He lifted his head and looked through his office window just as Evan and Eddie walked by.

Moving across the room, Bobby slammed his fist down on the window three times until the pair of them looked over at him. "Eddie." He pointed to the door before turning his back to the window, silently telling his son in law to get in the office with him.

"Cap?" Eddie gave a worried look across at Evan before he closed the door behind him and stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets. He stood next to Bobby with an arched brow, his attention focused on the phone in his hand as he tried to listen and work out who was on the other end of the line.

"(Y/n)'s had an accident…" Bobby pulled the phone away from his ear and put in on speakerphone. He held the phone between him and Eddie who was now tense with raised shoulders and snarling lips. "Sweetheart, what's happened? Hasn't Captain McCall gotten someone to take a look at you if they're broken?"

"Broken? What's broken? Baby what's happened?"

Eddie's hands slipped from his pockets and moved to hold his hips as his weight fidgeted from foot to foot. What had (Y/n) broken? What had she been doing on shift to get hurt?

He could feel a cold shiver crawling down his spine when he watched Bobby silently point to his chest. She'd broken her ribs.

"He said I… I should toughen up. I can't stay here, I w-wanna come back, I need to… I need Eddie to take a look." Whether she was at this station or back home at the 118, the only person (Y/n) would want to assess her was her husband.

She would have let one of the medics here take a look but she wouldn't of been happy with them trying to bandage her up. She wanted Eddie. Her personal medic.

"Toughen up- he told you to toughen up? Who the fuck does he think he is?!" Eddie's voice boomed down the line and made (Y/n) shiver and coil in on herself.

She had caused problems now.

She had riled up her dad and her husband. They weren't going to let this go. But she couldn't find the will to care or focus on that anymore. She needed them to come down and get her, she had no way of getting back to her own station house and she couldn't walk or bus it. She needed her family.

"We're gonna come and get you sweetheart, alright? We're coming down right now."

***

Eddie could feel the nerves radiating off of Bobby and multiplying his own as the team climbed down from the truck and stormed through the open doors of the 178 station.

But his anger started to overpower his panic when he looked around and suddenly caught sight of a familiar figure.

If (Y/n) had broken or in the very least, damaged her ribs, why hadn't someone sat her down and tried to take a look at her? Why could Eddie see his wife struggling to stock one of the trucks?

He could see the way she was leaning to the left with her shoulders and upper chest leant forward like she had an oxygen tank weighing down on her shoulders. The pain was evident on her face in the way she closed her eyes and how her cheeks sucked in and her lips pursed when she tried to push something up into the truck.

She shouldn't be moving or lifting anything if she had hurt herself, she needed to sit down and rest.

Reaching to the left, Eddie patted Bobby's arm and pointed towards (Y/n) before he jogged over in her direction.

Eddie could feel Bobby hot on his heels and the rest of the team following swiftly. None of the team were sure why they were here. Evan was under the impression they were here to help with a bigger call out, but Hen and Chimney noticed the way Bobby had gone mute and wasn't focusing on what they were saying. something wasn't right.

"Baby,"

(Y/n) coiled her arms round her chest and snapped her head to the right when a familiar voice caught her attention.

Tears welled up in her eyes when Eddie stormed over to her. She looked around the station, relieved no one in this team were paying any attention or looking in this direction. She didn't want them to know she had called her team for help. (Y/n) wanted to climb back into the 118 truck and head back home before anyone knew she had gone. She wanted to disappear.

Her weight pushed onto her back foot when Eddie barrelled over to her. His hands curled around her arms and he moved her a few feet away from the truck so he could look at her.

"Can we go? Can I come back?"

Her words made Bobby wince. It was almost as if she thought he had sent her here as a punishment and she was begging to come home. This hadn't been done to hurt her. Bobby thought this station would treat her equally and look after her like they looked after all their own. Clearly he had misjudged this station entirely.

"Not until Eddie's checked you over and I've had a word with the Captain."

"Dad, please…" (Y/n) shook her head but she gasped when Eddie moved her arms so she was holding them out at her sides.

She didn't have the will to do anything but stay compliant as Eddie dug his fingers down into her waistband and pulled her shirt from her trousers. Her head tilted back and her lips rolled together tightly as Eddie scrunched up her shirt until it was bunched up just beneath her bra, allowing him a clear view of her chest.

His fingertips were firm but somehow still gentle as they trailed up and down her chest. He pressed down on each rib on her left side, taking note of when and where (Y/n) winced, coiled away from him and how she wheezed and gasped when he applied pressure.

He rubbed his fingertips in circles, pressing down on her ninth and tenth ribs which seemed to act as a button to make (Y/n)'s knees cave and had her body jolting down to the right.

"Three are definitely broken and there's a lot of swelling. She needs an X-ray and an MRI."

Eddie didn't want to take any chances. He needed (Y/n) to have an X-ray to check if the breaks were clean and if she had more than one break in each rib. He could see the way (Y/n) was wheezing and that could be a sign that her ribs were broken inwards towards her lungs. He couldn't take the risk of her getting a collapsed lung or breathing into her chest cavity. They had to be safe.

"Baby what happened?"

"I came off the ladder, Eddison collided with me… I fell off the truck-"

"You fell of the top of the truck? Why the fuck didn't someone take you to the hospital?!"

Eddie's hands moved down and gripped (Y/n)'s hips so fiercely he pulled her off balance. Her hands moved to his shoulders and she leaned forward, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck so she didn't have to look at any of them anymore. She didn't want her family to look at her the same way this team had.

"Get her in the truck; she's coming back with us. Where's McCall?" Bobby's hands clenched into fists at his sides and he turned on his heels and stormed past the truck.

His eyes scanned the station as he headed towards where he presumed the Captain's office would be. But he didn't have to search far before a familiar face came into view. He watched McCall waltz across the station floor, clipboard in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other that Bobby wanted to throw at him to gain his attention.

"McCall." His voice shouted dominance and assertiveness while he stormed over to the shorter captain and stood head to head with him. Looking down with arched brows and upper lip curled in distain.

"Nash, what're you doing here? We already got the replacement you sent across this morning."

"I'm here to take her back because she's got seriously injured on your watch. So tell me why you haven't gotten her seen by a medic or taken her to hospital already?"

"Did she call you?" The way McCall leaned around Bobby to try and look for (Y/n) set off a fire burning within Bobby and it made Eddie take a deep breath, supressing a growl. Of course she called them. She needed help and she had every right to call her family when no one here was looking out for her or taking care of her when she was ill.

(Y/n) trailed her hands down from Eddie's shoulders to curl both her arms tightly around his bicep. She leaned into him, despite the pain it caused in her chest and the lack of breath it caused.

"Do your people understand the chain of command? She got knocked down, but she was fine and she got back up. I can't afford to take all my guys down to the emergency room when they get a bruise. My team know how to look after themselves-"

"And my team know if they're hurt, they can rely on me to make sure they're okay. I do not call three broken ribs and extensive swelling as being fine and I sure as Hell don't accept you denying one of my team medical attention because of your uneducated opinion."

"Broken? Come on she was exaggerating."

(Y/n)'s arms coiled to her chest and she took a step towards Hen when Eddie suddenly pulled away from her. She felt Hen's hands move to her arms and she glued herself into her friend, flinching at all of their reactions.

She could see her dad doing his level best to keep his composure, something Eddie was finding very hard to do. While Chimney stuffed his hands into his pockets and shook his head with a grimace. And Evan huffed, nose crinkling as his jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Why don't we break your ribs and see how long you can last on shift?"

"Eddie…"

"Disrespect my wife like that again and you'll be the one needing an X-ray. I don't give a fuck if your helmet says Captain, you sure as Hell don't act like one."

He would start throwing fists if this man or anyone else in this God forsaken station said anything about (Y/n).

She was a damn good firefighter and she had been injured on duty, she didn't deserve to be berated and disrespected like this. She deserved compassion and understanding and to be taken seriously. There was no doubt that she had been hurt badly today and she needed to take time off from work now to recover. She didn't need to be forced to continue working and make herself worse.

(Y/n) shouldn't have to call her family down here to help her and stand up to this team because she was hurt. This wasn't fair on her.

"I'm taking my daughter back to my station, where my team will assess her and take her to the emergency room. You can expect a call from the Chief first thing in the morning when I file a complaint of discrimination and misconduct." Bobby turned to the side and pointed at his team. "Everyone in the truck."

His head snapped back over his shoulder to look back at McCall when he heard a quiet "Your daughter?" echo behind him.

So he truly didn't know. With (Y/n)'s name being changed to Diaz, not many people in the other stations knew she was related to Bobby. Sure, some people knew. Others just knew Bobby had his daughter on his team. But they didn't interact or converse with other stations a lot other than when they met on the job or at big parties.

Bobby hadn't said anything, he never did just in case someone tried to treat (Y/n) any differently or give her a harder time. Clearly, this team had heard she worked with her husband on her team, but they didn't know she was the Captain's daughter.

"Didn't I mention that?" Bobby tossed over his shoulder without looking back as he moved towards the truck.

(Y/n) rolled her lips together and moved her hands to hold Eddie's arm again and pull it into her chest. She felt Hen's hands stay on her shoulders as they walked in a small line towards the truck. She had never been so happy to see the 118 truck, ready to take her back to her proper home, with her family.

It hurt to heave herself up into the truck and she couldn't help but whimper when she slumped down into a seat. But something sweet formed on her lips when Eddie sat down next to her.

She watched him lean over her, pressing his lips to her temple in the process as he grabbed her belt and carefully clipped it round her, trying to be mindful of her chest. Once done, Eddie looped his arm around the back of her shoulders, grazing his fingertips up and down her arm as he tucked her into his chest and smothered his lips against the back of her head.

Once they were all seated and Bobby started the truck, (Y/n) looked around her team. Her family.

She had Hen on her right, Eddie on her left and Chimney and Evan sat in front of her with calming smiles and nothing but comfort and understanding pooling in their eyes.

"I'm sorry you had to come back and get me." She murmured quietly, tilting her head down until her chin tucked into her chest.

She felt so embarrassed. She felt so childish, calling her dad to come and get her and sort things out for her, but it had been (Y/n)'s only choice. She felt like a child being picked up from school when her team came to get her, but she had also never felt safer than when Eddie and her dad turned up and the rest of her team clearly had her back, whether they agreed with her or not.

"You kidding? You think we'd leave you there after what they've just done? You're part of this team, not theirs. We'll look after you." Leaning across, Chimney patted her knee and nodded at her with a comforting smile.

"Nobody is going back to that station- or any other station, for that matter. We stay here with each other."

Bobby's voice was authoritive and firm and not up for debate. He wasn't allowing any more swaps or shift changes. If other stations were low, they would have to deal with it themselves. He wasn't risking the safety of his team to help other stations that clearly didn't appreciate or care about the staff members that came to their station to help.

"What's our motto?"

A soft grin formed on (Y/n)'s lips as she leaned her head on Eddie's shoulder and tucked her face into his neck.

"Who cares?"

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

was I TA for saying I hate Spanish, a gendered language?

so the other day I (25NB, white) was on Twitter, where I'm v active as well as my two best friends who we'll call Tess (25F, black) and Laura (24F, Mexican). we've been friends since we were kids and tbh I rlly appreciate them both.

Laura has offered to help us learn Spanish on a few occasions. I said yes ofc! Tess repeatedly said no bc she considered thats cultural appropriation and she thinks Laura should protect her culture. Tess also berated me because "white people aren't allowed to speak Spanish", but eventually she changed her mind and apologized after Laura said that she loves it when people show interest in her own culture and language, that white Spanish-speakers exist and that a healthy cultural exchange can help people of different cultures understand one another better.

so Tess and I started to learn Spanish with Laura's help as well as Google translator. and that day I searched for "non-binary" and it gave me two translations "no binario" and "no binaria". in other words, in masculine and feminine. I felt invalidated and angry so I tweeted "I hate Spanish so much". Laura was upset by this and replied saying she knows it can be a frustrating language to learn to non-natives but that I shouldn't insult her language. I tried to play it off saying that I don't hate Spanish language, I meant to say I hate the Spanish, the people of Spain. for being colonizers and all that.

this only made Laura angrier because apparently, more than 90% of Mexicans have Spanish blood since the colonizers chose to stay in Mexico. Laura was clearly hurt, she said that she won't hate a part of herself, that she won't hate Spanish people who are alive today, and that one of her online friends is Spanish (Tess and I are her best friends but Laura also has a group of online friends from different Spanish-speaking countries. I know she has a Puerto Rican friend and a Venezuelan one but I didn't know they had a Spanish friend in the group). I apologized and I genuinely meant it. I also admitted I was talking about the language and not the people.

Tess is clearly against me and supports Laura bc she said something like "I guess you can never fully trust white people" and Laura replied "no, white people aren't the problem, white Americans certainly are". I've apologized and I will do so again if I have to. I literally reacted the way I did because I felt invalidated, I don't hate Spanish or Spanish-speakers. I'm scared of losing my two closest friends, I apologized but other than that idk what to do.

was I justified in feeling invalidated? should I have joked about Spanish being a gendered language instead of saying I hate it? and most importantly, AITA?

[cloudwisp]

Domestic life with Wriothesley means you never have to struggle opening jars of any kind ever again. He was genuinely hurt the first time he heard your groans attempting to twist off the stubborn cap containing strawberry jam. He’s wondering why you’re even bothering with something so trivial when you could have asked him for help. He finally steps in the second you reach for a nearby paring knife to force the cap open, and takes the jar from your hand and loosens the lid with ease before handing it back to you. When you adorably pout and quip that you almost had it, a smirk forms at his lips and he gives you a playful look. “I’m sure you almost had it, sweetheart. Don’t hurt yourself.”

Domestic life with Wriothesley means pampering and spoiling the hardworking duke. You don’t think he partakes in leisure baths and only takes routine, quick showers. But you knew it’s something he couldn’t possibly say no to the suggestion, and so he follows you with your hand in his to the bathroom and you both help one another get undressed and dip your toes into the warm waters. He feels like he’s floating as you tell him to just let you take care of him—sweetly washing his hair, taking a bit of soap and sudsing him up, making sure he’s comfortable and perfectly relaxed, all while sharing giddy smiles and soft kisses across each other’s face.

Domestic life with Wriothesley means casual hip squeezes anytime he passes by you. Along with the fleeting kisses to your temple, a soft embrace from behind as he tucks his chin on your shoulder, a cheeky grab of your cute bum to elicit your squeal and giggles. Those little moments are where intimacy is created for you and him, and he loves that he can be openly affectionate with you and have it reciprocated. That absolutely includes well-wishes of you dreaming of only sweet things as he kisses you goodnight, and wakes you with gentle kisses early in the morning before he heads back to the Fortress of Meropide because you insisted it’s not a good morning unless you wake up to him and not an empty bed.

[kika-writes]

So how about Lando shouting at the reader in anger and then feeling bad and making it to up like full on angst to fluff.. u can include Smut but upto you

Warnings: Smut, 18+, if you squint you see fingering, angst, crying, stress.

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - angst is my entire life tbh

“Hi Lando,” you said, walking into the living room as he frowned, waving absent-mindedly as he scrolled through his phone. He didn’t pay attention to anything you did, as you sat down on the sofa next to him, craning to see what was on his phone. “Y/N,” he said, nudging your cheek away. “What are you doing?” you brushed it off. “Work,” he replied curtly. “What work?” you asked - you’d had your own bad days too, you weren’t gonna get hurt by it. “Just work, Y/N,” he rolled his eyes as you raised an eyebrow. 

That was new. Lando with a pissy attitude was new. “Why can’t I see? Got a new girl?” you asked sarcastically. Maybe that was good ar as he scoffed. “Oh please, with how nosy you are, anyone would be better then you!” he snapped, standing up as you opened your mouth, no sound coming out your mouth. “And besides, all you do is go around and stick your nose in everyone’s business, it’s just downright annoying and you’re really fucking ti…” his voice trailed off as he looked at you, gulping at the sight in front of him. 

Your lips were parted with shock, eyes glistening slightly and body shaking. He’d never, ever said anything near as mean as what he just did. “Okay,” you muttered, voice small as you turned around, hurrying out the room. You’d gotten mad at him before, but never to that extent. “Wait, Y/N,” you heard his voice behind you but you ignored it, running up the stairs, tears down your face. 

And then came to questions. The self blame. What if he really he’d been talking to another girl? Would he do that to you? You’d never once considered the fact that your boyfriend, and anyone else, was perfectly capable of cheating. Lando had tried to talk to you numerous times, knocking on the door and trying to plea with you, only to be rejected by your silence, music blaring in your ears. 

Finally, he stopped. Finally, you had peace to debate what to do, or when to leave the damn room. “Y/N,” the door opened, one hour since Lando had tried to talk to you. He hadn’t given up. You looked up. “We need to talk,” he said. You tapped your headphones, showing you couldn’t hear him as he sighed. “Just unplug them,” he gestured, showing what he wanted. You shook your head, turning the volume up purposefully. 

“Y/N!” he groaned, grabbing your phone and slamming the volume down. “What?” you asked, dropping the now silent headphones. “I shouldn’t have said what I said, please listen,” he pleaded, his face full of apology as you sighed, head back and eyes brimming again. “No, doll, please don’t…” he said,d stepping forward to console you. “Don’t, please,” you said, hand pushing his chest away as he inhaled. “You’re right, you have every right to do that,” he said, gulping. 

“It’s just work,” he sighed, “Zak says I’m not doing enough for my seat and I just can’t with all the pressure and I took it out on you,”. You sighed again. “Then you should’ve spoken to me,” you sniffed. “I know,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Princess,” he opened his arms, wrapping them around you as you rested your head on his chest. “You’re pretty,” he said, drawing small circles on the small of your back. “You’re pretty decent yourself,” you mumbled into his stomach as he let out a laugh. 

“Y’know, sex never didn’t help,” you shrugged, eyeing his semi hard joggers from where your hand had rested. He’d never say no to sex. “Apology sex,” he grinned, flipping you onto your back. “Or punishment for you,” you hummed, a small smirk on your face as he scoffed. “Yeah yeah, no thanks,” he scoffed, working his fingers under your panties, rubbing small strokes between your folds. 

“Lando,” you gasped, arching your back slightly. He hummed, acknowledging the sensation. “Pretty when you obey, aren’t you doll?” he asked, dropping his joggers onto the floor. “Not gonna make you wait, pretty,” he said, aligning himself with you. And he was true to his word, pushing into you with a groan. 

As usual, his pace was relentless, hammering into you as you moaned, his name like a chant in your mouth. Your eyes rolled slightly, making him frown. “Stay with me doll,“ he tapped your cheek with his finger as your eyes refocused. “I will,” you whined, hand clawing at his chest as you felt the knot in your stomach. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he said, repeating the same words as he felt himself spill into you, you following with him. Maybe he should get mad at you often. 

A/N - am grinding through these as quick as I cannnn

[gffa]

TALES OF THE EMPIRE wound up being a mixed bag for me, there was a lot I enjoyed but there was a lot that just felt really unfulfilled. Morgan's episodes were very pretty to look at but I couldn't help thinking--the entire time I was watching, even--that Filoni's not great at creating new characters that can carry entire episodes like this, none of this felt particularly necessary or like it was fulfilling a void that I wanted to know more about. It doesn't help that I still think her arc in live action was badly handled, that if she was meant to be a Nightsister from the beginning, her first episode should have dealt with that, instead of springing it on us later, so when filling in the background of her on Dathomir in TOTE, it brings all that up for me again.

Morgan's first episode was so pretty and it was interesting to potentially get more Dathomir lore (even if it's incredibly thin and I felt it was too close to the "we see others suffering in the galaxy, but we don't want to get our own hands dirty by fighting for other people or getting involved in helping others, btw we're morally better for that :)" trope for me personally) but everything on Corvus just felt superfluous to me and I spent time trying to figure out why I felt that way. If they had done her story this way or that way, would I have enjoyed it more? If they had included this or that, would I have thought it more necessary?

And ultimately I just kept coming back to that I don't really care about Morgan Elsbeth enough that I wanted three animated shorts dedicated to her, when I could have had so many other characters get fleshed out better. I appreciated that they were showing two characters on opposite journeys, that Morgan was falling into the dark step by step, while Barriss was slowly clawing her way out of it, but that's about all that I appreciated of Morgan's story (other than the beautiful animation).

But I'm not sure I feel like Morgan's motivations were all that well planned out. It's clear that she's looking for revenge and trying to find a new family at the same time, but it's not really clear why she's working with the Empire or how she thinks this leads her to her goals. Grievous is the one who murdered her village, how does working with the Empire (as the Separatists were folded into the Empire, too) achieve that goal? Who or what is her revenge focused on? Is it that she just wants the whole galaxy to burn, because if her village burned, so should everyone else? I feel like that's probably what they were going for, but that it could have been more coherently written.

Barriss' episodes hit a lot harder, where I'm glad that she at least got an arc, but I feel like it just missed so many marks, like why even have Vader there, I'm all for gratuitous Anakin cameos, he's my trash can man and I'm always excited to see him, but absolutely nothing was done with him, despite that he was looking Barriss right in the face there. Not even a moment of showing the audience, "Oh, his soul is so far into the dark of fear, hate, and rage that he doesn't even care about her anymore." Just nothing there, like there was no connection at all. How do you go to the lengths of putting Vader in a scene with Barriss and then treat it like there's no history between her and Anakin??? So completely unsatisfying!

And then it's another series where other guest appearances would have made sense--Barriss has a whole unfinished story with Ahsoka and you don't include her here? I'm as tired of Filoni putting Ahsoka in everything as anyone else, but here it would have made sense and would have brought that relationship full circle on-screen, Barriss' betrayal of her and her clawing her way back to the light after all the trauma and hurt, there's so much she and Ahsoka would have between them. And then nothing.

Or Barriss' relationship with Luminara, TCW never really got into how that must have felt for Luminara, to have her student betray the Jedi so profoundly, for her to fall to the dark, there's such a well of potential there and it's just entirely ignored. She mentions Luminara once and it was a lovely mention, but there's no sense of resolution or completion to that arc.

I did enjoy her story with Lyn and I try not to compare what the show wanted to do with what I wanted the show to do, but I couldn't help it. During all those scenes, all I could think was that this could have been so much more powerful and complete if it had focus on Barriss' established relationships and characters I already care about, because a new random Inquisitor is just not going to hold the same weight for me as my pre-investment in Ahsoka and Luminara. (On the other hand, with the way they butchered Luminara in the last season of TCW, maybe I dodged a bullet!)

For all that negativity, though, I really loved that Barriss found herself in being a healer again, that she found the light again. That's all I've wanted for my girl!!!! (That and put a headdress on her, ffs.) I legitimately took in a hard breath when she said, "Then you have one more Jedi to deal with." because Barriss is still working through too much to fully come back to clarity re: the Jedi at that point , but when it really came down to it, when she really saw what the dark side really was, part of her still was a Jedi. And the way she spoke of her time as a Jedi, once she had a clearer, lighter head again, was sweet, I was so surprised that we got that much from her, but I'm so glad because, if nothing else, Barriss herself deserves to be in the light again.

The way she was settled into her own skin by the time she confronted Lyn on the icy planet, the way she genuinely wanted to help her, but wouldn't let her hurt innocent children, the way she could sidestep Lyn's predictable moves and could stop the blade with just a hand held out, she found her path and what she wanted to do, and oh it was so lovely to see Barriss finding herself again. I loved so much that her unshakable compassion did reach Lyn, it was such a satisfying arc for Barriss to reach that place after all the people she'd hurt. I loved so much that Barriss getting back to this place does a lot to remind us that her foundation is a compassionate one, even if she was lost to the dark for awhile.

I just wish that there had been acknowledgement of those she hurt, the people that died because of her, the betrayal she stabbed people in the back with, rather than just "sees the dark side is bad, walks away, finds the light again", which goes back to that this feels like a generic story that's mostly impactful because I'm filling in the gaps myself because I already know Barriss as a character, rather than that it continues the story that was previously told about her.

At the end of the day, I enjoyed it and I recognize that I'm being a little unfair in how I'm saying I wanted this, this, and this, rather than digesting what the show itself wanted to do, but when you're crafting two stories that are specifically about showing us the journey of two characters that originate elsewhere, you're drawing on the stories from those other origins--except TOTE decided to only halfway do that. There's a lot to love in these shorts, the animation was incredible, the voice work was incredible, Barriss' emotional journey was incredible and I'm so thankful that they even gave her any kind of compassionate resolution. But the specter of how much the shorts ignored hangs over it too heavily for me to say that they were anywhere near what they could have been imo.

[munariplans]

forty, love | natasha romanoff

synopsis: winning was everything, and losing was a sin. unfortunately, you were on a losing streak, and natasha loved winning.

natasha romanoff x tennis player! reader

word count: 4.9k words

a/n: inspired by that one scene from challengers.

read part 2

masterlist

“slice forehand.”

thwock. 

“inside-out forehand.”

another thwock.

“move to the volley. hurry. your feet aren’t keeping up.”

despite the insult, the thwock lands. the ball bounces and hits right where you want it to hit. the singular drop of sweat that dripped onto the ground between your feet is not wasted, as you look up to your performance coach across the net, unamused sneer hidden behind his thick moustache. 

“not fast enough?” you quipped. 

he sighed, shaking his head. “don’t get ahead of yourself. you’re still number 2 in the state. if you want a shot at beating the princeton team, you’re still going to have to move much faster than that.”

you wiped the beads of sweat on your forehead, fixing the slightly loose hair tie, before nodding understandingly. still, you weren’t too happy at his latest onslaught of insults this past session. “you could have at least given me credit for the dropshot earlier when you came in. it was perfect.”

“perfect shots don’t get you the win. defeating your opponent does.”

he signalled that practice was over for the day, and you walked off court at the same time as he did to gather your things. the woman watching from the stands stood at that moment, and began her descent down to meet you in the locker room. 

natasha romanoff walked up behind you as you changed, the sudden feeling of her hands on your bare skin a welcomed intrusion, as you sighed into her touch. she let herself have her hands full for a minute, roaming over your muscles until she was satisfied, before settling them on the edge of your shoulders, massaging the tight knots out of them. you were still so tense.

she pressed her lips lovingly on a scar, waiting for you to finish panting at the feeling of where her hands had been. “you were great out there today.”

“coach said otherwise.”

“mm,” she let you put on your shirt, turning you around to kiss you after, “you were fighting him back just as hard. are you okay?”

you zipped up your bag then, taking a moment to avoid her question, before, “do you think i’m like what he says? what they all say…?”

natasha motioned for you to continue. “that i’m all bark, no bite, now? that i’ve lost my mojo?”

“baby–”

“–because you can tell me straight up. i can take it. you’re my girlfriend, you can tell me, i can take it.” the room had suddenly gotten tense, a stark drop to your composure that you had managed to hide so well on the court. in the locker rooms, you were angry again. you had been angry for a while now. 

“losing a few matches isn’t going to hurt your record, baby. you’re this college’s star player, you know this.”

“but losing four matches in a row is going to shatter my ego. my confidence. you of all people should know this!”

you had backed away from natasha, eyebrows raised, posture standoffish. she hated this. she hated seeing you like this. as bad as it was to say, she hated seeing you lose. it was the worst part of yourself that you let her see, when you lost. but what was she, as a partner, if not to stand by you through your career, your ups and down? she should be sharing your pain, taking some burden off of your shoulders, at the very least. 

“just last week, i let it go to break point, and i still fucking lost!” you had raised your fist at this point, nearly punching it at the steel frames of the lockers, when you reminded yourself of just the complications that could arise from shattered knuckles. your coach would never let this go. but still, the gesture was there, and the fire in your eyes remained all too dangerous. 

suddenly, you were pressed against the lockers, the weight of natasha’s body engulfing yours, as her arms came to hold you tight against herself. you were forced to embrace her back, despite your slight protests and pleas, but she was having none of it. she had wrapped you up in her tight, strong embrace, and her hands were finding themselves to bring your face towards hers, eyes boring into your own. 

“nat–”

“–last week, last week, you were against a professional, baby. a nearly retired one at that, but she was fighting for wins at the australian open not too long ago. she’s been doing this longer than you have even started learning how to hit the ball. don’t be so hard on yourself, will you? nobody, nobody else, could have gotten to where you were with her. break point is a feat in itself.”

you didn’t look convinced. but she didn’t need you to look convinced; she needed you to listen. “do you understand? you need to look at things from a different perspective, from my perspective. not your coach’s, not your teammates, certainly not that player’s fucking groupies, who were gloating about your loss all the way out of the stadium. you need to believe in yourself, as i have always believed in you. and you can’t keep going on like this. do you understand me?”

natasha’s eyes never departed from yours, her gaze firm. her hands were shaking, a little unsure of your reaction, because as far as she knew, you didn’t look like you were going to back down from a fight. either with yourself or her, she didn’t know. she certainly hoped it was at least the latter.

but then, your gaze cast downwards, you nodded ashamedly. sighing into the air, you pressed your face into the crook of her neck for a moment, the height advantage letting you lift her up, and she cooed as she let you gather yourself. 

“i understand.”

she patted the back of your head. like a mother would a petulant, but repenting child. “good. now let’s go get dinner, then a massage for your shoulders. then back to the gym first thing tomorrow morning.”

– 

natasha watched you push around your vegetables for nearly half of dinner. she knew the campus meal tickets didn’t exactly provide for five-star dishes, but she had never seen you so down like this before. it was almost as if you had become a ghost of yourself. 

“steve’s birthday is coming up soon.” she decided to change the topic, and hopefully, get your mind off of tennis for a minute. 

you gave a nonchalant grunt, finally stabbing the piece of broccoli. she steadied herself. “should we get him the pair of boots he’s always wanted? i figured we could pull in wanda and clint too, if we want to get him a bigger gift.”

your eyes were still unfocused. it was as if she wasn’t there at all. “baby.”

you looked up, half-expecting natasha to be pissed. but she only gave you a small smile. “steve’s birthday?”

“we can get him the boots. i don’t mind paying for them. but i don’t think i’m going to his party.”

“why not? your match on that day ends in the afternoon.”

“yeah, but i think i’m going to be pretty tired.” not to mention if i lose.

natasha decided not to argue with you on it. she knew enough how touchy the subject of your career already was. instead, she jabbed the last piece of corn with her fork, and gestured for your mouth to open. 

the both of you left shortly after. 

– 

in a friendly match the next weekend with the neighbouring college, you were faced up against the top ranking player once more. being a finals round, you had imagined that the crowd would be roaring with applause for how far you’d come, but when the sets began to balance after your first few strong starts and the heat of the afternoon sun began beating on everyone’s backs, the crowd dwindled out one by one from boredom and, to you at least, the possible disappointment of you losing. 

it was only expected, from a disenchanted champion. the college’s once pride and joy, the one who was once regarded as a candidate with potential to win grand slams. unfortunately, people only really like you when you win. 

but natasha stayed. and so did her friends, and your friends that she had managed to force to stay. you had gestured that they could leave if they wanted to, during the breaks, but they were afraid to even nod, or make a move, lest they wanted to be subjected to natasha’s ferocity, sitting behind them. it was almost humiliating that they stayed only because your girlfriend was forcing them to, you thought. 

thwock. a missed shot from your end.

another thwock. “out!”

by your last mistake, the crowd had only left natasha, steve, and some die-hard groupies of yours that were slowly losing hope too. so when the final set was determined by your failure to execute a passing shot, and subsequently touching the net, the roars from the other side seemed almost mocking. you had lost. 

natasha rushed down to the locker rooms again, only this time, your friends followed, and the absolute mortification that you felt, along with the pure anger and frustration of losing, overpowered any remaining sense of decency you had left. 

the moment you spotted her coming in, then the company behind her, you almost felt like the first time the instinct to shatter your racket came to you. 

“out! all of you, out!” you had screamed, not caring to be decent even to your teammates. 

“come on, we just wanted–”

“–i don’t care, out! you’ve just come in here to humiliate me, haven’t you? gloating how i could lose, even in a friendly! how shit of a player i am, now!”

the people behind natasha grumbled, but one by one shuffled out. it was better to tell you about how unfair you were being another day, not when emotions were running so high. natasha was thankful they understood. but it didn’t make what you did any less unfair.

she sat beside you as you kept your head down. “that wasn’t very nice.”

“losing isn’t very nice.”

“they meant well, baby.”

“no, they don’t.”

“how many times do i have–”

“–a ton, okay, natasha?” you looked up, slamming your drink between the both of you. “a ton of times, you have to remind me. that my friends love me, that they’re here to support me. but how the fuck am i supposed to believe that when i don’t even have anything for them to support me for?”

“your friends don’t just love you because you’re good at tennis, my love. i don’t love you just because you’re good at tennis. this is ridiculous! i can’t believe we are arguing over this, i can’t believe you think of yourself so lowly like this.”

natasha was met with a deafening silence the moment she finished her last words, her chest heaving up and down from her own disappointment. the rest of the players had filtered out, upon hearing your argument, leaving only you and her there. like always. 

your hand rubbed over your face resignedly, hands covering the beautiful eyes natasha loved loves staring into. she wanted to reach out, to pull your hands away from yourself, to even get you to answer her, to let her know that you at least believed you were better than this. but she was afraid of the answer she was going to get. 

then, she heard a sniffle, and a small, choked sob afterwards. and that was it. 

you were up standing the next second, and slinging your racket bag over your shoulder. “i’m going to the gym. i know you have class after this. don’t wait up.”

she was left there alone, the dismay and disappointment of it all weighing down on her, the moment the doors to the locker room were slammed. 

– 

i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have lashed out on you like that, i apologised to my friends, now i want to apologise to you. i love you, i’m sorry. the words didn’t seem enough. the guilt that accumulated and eventually avalanched into your heart was almost insurmountable, after the incident with  natasha. you weren’t even sure you were worthy of being forgiven, you thought as you sat in your car later that night, still angry at her, but making sure that she was safe in the short walk home from her class to her dorm. 

which was why you found yourself in the florist off campus a few days later, asking the employee what flowers best represented i’m sorry for being such a terrible girlfriend, and which flowers were most likely going to help you be forgiven. the white and blue carnations reminded you of the colours in natasha’s room. 

“how much is it?” you asked, to which the cashier then showed you the till. you cursed internally, not even knowing flowers were so expensive nowadays.

checking the contents of your wallet for a minute, you cursed even louder at yourself at the emptiness that greeted you. losing matches meant losing money, that was for sure, and it wasn’t a secret that you were mostly funding your life with prize money won from big matches in the state, with college at least funded with the athlete’s scholarship. yet another reason why i can’t keep doing this, you thought.

it was between dinner for the next few days and gas for your car, and the flowers. fuck it, skipping dinners once in a while wouldn’t hurt, and you could walk from place to place. 

you handed over your card, and began the walk to natasha’s dorm. 

when she received you, natasha noticed you looked almost like a kicked puppy, none of the anger or smugness you carried with you on and off the court. no, with her, you were soft, and vulnerable, and all-too pitiful for her love. she knows the power she has over you. she never had to worry. 

so she brought you in, allowed you to apologise, to beg at her feet, and for her mercy and forgiveness. she allowed you to worship her, taking her to her bed and whispering how much you messed up to her skin, how much you loved her when you were making her see stars, how much you thought you would hurt yourself if she ever left you when she was chanting your name over and over again, begging you to let her come undone.

– 

steve’s birthday rolled around, and natasha was once again seated in the front row for you. she never missed your matches. 

you thought she should have missed this one, when the match reached a break point and you lost again. when you had gotten so frustrated, so furious, over a careless choke that you had, that you received a punishment for smashing your racket into bits as the opponent screamed in celebration. 

she came down to sit with you in the locker room after, but it was in silence. there was nothing to say, and nothing to be said. there were tears streaming down your face, dripping onto the floor. your vision was obscured by the tears, and you would have lost yourself if not for the hand that was holding your own, firm, steadfast. somewhere along the line, she was kissing you, then slowly pushing for you to get up, and bringing you to her dorm. you didn’t really remember anything more after that, busy curling into a ball and crying yourself to sleep afterwards.

when she woke you again to accompany her to steve’s party, you felt almost bad that the ringing in your ears hadn’t gone away, and so had your misery from the match earlier. but natasha needed a ride, and you weren’t going to let her drive back later if she had been drinking for the night. 

– 

you encouraged natasha to mingle around at the party, and to not worry about you, as you stuck around your few friends for a bit. she was unsure, but you were firm, and soon enough, she too had disappeared into the crowd.

your eyes never left her after you found her again, though, leaning back into a pillar as your friend sam went on and on about his own matches so far. you didn’t have the heart, or energy, to tell him that tennis was the last thing you wanted to talk about right then. 

she was by the birthday boy, his arm slung around her waist as the both of them guzzled down cups and cups of spiked punch. their circle was closely-knit, you had always known this, but somehow, the lingering touches, and his hand slowly travelling up and down her back, was ticking you off this time. you had almost half a mind to ask steve what he thought he was doing, but you knew natasha would get embarrassed, and upset. you knew you already made her upset enough today. 

but then, sam quipped, “they’ve been awfully close lately, haven’t they?”

he must have forgotten he was talking to natasha’s girlfriend, of all people, as he continued, “steve’s on a winning streak recently. on track to become valedictorian, potentially getting drafted by the top teams next season, it’s only a matter of time before he wants someone by his side to share it with too, huh?”

“...right.”

“you know how natasha likes winners,” he hit your elbow playfully, breath reeking of alcohol and other illegal substances, “she just loves the game. i bet that’s how you got her to fall for you too.”

“not my good looks, or horrible attitude to anything outside of tennis?” you tore your eyes away from natasha for a moment to glare at sam. he chuckled. 

“i’m just saying, better to keep your girl by your side, future federer.” he disappeared shortly after, and when you found natasha again, she was laughing and putting her head on steve’s shoulder. 

instead of feeling angry this time, you were dejected, and a little bit ashamed. of course. natasha liked winners. and you certainly weren’t one anymore. 

you bit back a harsh breath, and went outside to get some fresh air when steve stole a glance at her that was far too intimate to be one of merely friends. you should have known. if she wasn’t winning with you, she was winning with someone else, somewhere else. 

that night, for the first time in your career, and relationship, you thought about retiring.

– 

but when the competition season rolled around, and the WTAs approaching, you had managed to pull yourself up in the rankings enough to secure a spot at a challengers’ round to hopefully beat princeton and start a domino effect that could lead you to participating in a grand slam. 

natasha was walking beside you, struggling to keep up as she checked your schedule haphazardly. “the princeton girl, she’s on the other side of the roster. i doubt the two of you would be playing each other unless she reaches the finals too. which…at this point…”

you didn’t want to know if she meant that you wouldn’t stand a chance of reaching the finals, or that the princeton champion would be knocked out early. you were afraid you knew the answer. 

steve had dropped her off at the stadium when you went outside to pick her up, his smug smile as he waved her goodbye, and his eyes following yours, making you want to reach over inside the car and beating him with your racket. you had to arrive earlier to discuss strategy with your coaches, and while you were more than willing to pay for natasha’s ride in, she had mentioned that steve would be dropping her off. she sounded almost excited, so you dropped the topic and went back to your practice. like you have been doing for the past few months. 

turns out it wasn’t so hard to succeed, and win matches, when you were more or less resigned to your fate that nobody was ever going to expect anything more of you from your streak of losses all those matches ago, and you had effectively lost the love of your life to some football player who kept winning, and winning. 

you were at a challenger’s round this time, so you didn't need to worry. you won, and won, and won a little bit more. 

–

thwock. right over the net. the opponent misses and falls to her knees.

a serve that would have made williams roar in awe. thwock.

last one. the set was done if you landed this one. thwock. 

the ball landed inside the court, right by the opponent’s feet. and you advanced to the finals. 

you remembered natasha rushing down, not even waiting until you entered the locker room. she was running, running, and jumping into your arms, kissing you like her life depended on it. you spun her around, giving her a smug smile, trying to hide a bleeding heart that knew she too, was surprised that you ever stood a chance of winning. 

the crowd roared behind you. people were liking you again. but you had never felt worse. 

–

it turned out that the princeton champion had advanced to the finals, and would be playing against you, after all. there was no surprise for her, but certainly a surprise for you, as the newscasters and fans had aptly put, a grand shocker. they had all thought you had seen your glory days over. 

natasha caught you watching the latest telecast from the hotel’s television, gaze zeroed in on the anchor who was comparing your statistics over the last few games. almost perfect scores. leaving opponents with loves in sets. behind her, were the students of your college, decked out in the colour of the university and your face and initials printed on their shirts, caps, flags. all of it. they had never looked more proud. the college had even rolled out a banner in your name, in lieu of the upcoming finals. you knew natasha enjoyed all of it more than you did. 

when it came to the broadcast from princeton, the college’s president had come to give a special interview. he mentioned that he never doubted his champion from the start, unlike what your college had to go through with you. you found yourself wanting to spit at the television. 

but from behind, the sound of running water from the shower had stopped, and she had come out, in a robe and her wet hair in a towel. she saw the glazed look in your eyes, and promptly picked up the remote to shut the programme off. 

she settled into the spot beside you, nuzzling into your comfort. she had to pull your own arms off of the couch to wrap around her. you thought she must have known. she couldn’t be so stupid. she knew that you knew about her, and what she had always liked. 

but then you remembered, beyond the resentment, and grief, of the past few months, of just what she had been through with you. when you lost your very first match in college, natasha had been your friend, still. she was dating the captain of the basketball team, you remembered, but she had gone with you afterwards to walk the long way home, encouraging you and telling you that it would get better. it always would. you only half-believed her.

but then, you won. and won, and won, and won. by the tenth streak of winning, natasha had broken up with said boyfriend, and began hanging around your dorm, the tennis courts, even the cafeterias more often. she went where you went, showed up to most of your games, was the loudest one in the crowd when you secured sets. she would wait for you after your mini celebratory sessions with your teammates, and fans, and friends, all for a moment alone with you. then, she would bring you out for drinks, for dinners, sometimes the occasional walk down memory lane to her dorm. she was kind, she made you laugh, and you were on a streak. so what was there stopping you? 

you fell for her just as easily as you fell in love with winning.

to your surprise, she stuck around when you lost a few matches along the way, never letting it phase her, or you. to everyone else’s surprise, she stuck around when you twisted your ankle in your second year of playing. she had left a pattern in her wake, you see, of leaving all of her past lovers when the going got tough, or when they had simply stopped winning. it was inevitable, you thought. but no, not this time. when you fell to your knees during that tournament, screaming in agony as your ankle felt like it was folding in on itself, she was there. she was right beside the medical officer, holding you up as he inspected the injury, face looking even more panicked than yours as they wheeled you off to the hospital. 

she was there, as they wheeled you in for surgery, and wheeled you out to recover. she never left, even when the doctors told you it would take months to recover, let alone get back to playing on your level. she helped you recover, was the driving force in your physical therapy success, even became the sole reason that you returned to playing so quickly after your injury. you hadn’t wanted to disappoint her, much less lose her at all. you were too afraid of the possibility of her becoming someone else’s because of your failure in your sport.

natasha stayed through your losing streak. she never got mad, or lost her patience, with you. it had been three years now, with her. she had never lasted in a relationship so long, so had you. she had talked about getting married before, right after college, to which you had entertained, but still never gotten the full grasp of. how could she talk about marrying you, with such a reputation that preceded her? what if you had lost, would she have run off before the altar?

what if you lost tomorrow? you looked at her again, this time, and she was on her phone. she was texting your friends to make sure they came for your match tomorrow. you felt horrible.

“nat.”

she looked up. “yes?”

“tell me it doesn’t matter.” 

natasha sat up this time, her hand holding yours. she looked confused. “what doesn’t matter?” “whether i win or lose tomorrow.”

her face remained unchanged for a moment, but at the quiver of your lip, and the coldness in your hands, she broke her composure. she shook her head slowly, gaze steely. “no.”

“why not?” it was your turn to harden the look on your face. “why won’t you tell me at least that?”

“because,” she bit the inside of her cheek, “you’re the professional. you’ll tell me whether it matters or not.”

you sat up as well. “i just want to know that you’ll love me…no matter what…whether i win or lose tomorrow.”

natasha’s eyes suddenly couldn’t meet yours. she looked down, at your shirt, then away, but never back at you. you pleaded, “natasha, please.”

“no,” she remained firm, “no. i won’t tell you that, because i know you’ll beat her. you’ll win tomorrow. and you’ll go to the grand slams, you’ll be the best tennis player that’s ever played in them, and you’re going to win. every. single. one. of. them.”

“and what if i don’t? not even the grand slams, not even tomorrow? what if i come in second again, after all this time?” 

you were growing desperate, and she was growing distant. you suddenly thought that you would have done anything, absolutely anything then, for her to tell you what you wanted to hear. to tell you that she would love you no matter if you won or lost.

natasha watched as you dropped to your knees in front of her, eyes already teary. your hands scrambled to hold her shirt, her waist, any part of her. she held them back, but to stop you from reaching further. then, she held your face again, but this time, it was you that was begging for her. you looked downright pitiful.

she wiped the stray tear off your cheek. she knew what she was going to say would either make or destroy you. “i’ll tell you this instead.”

“please.”

“baby, if you lose the match tomorrow, i’m leaving you. for good.”

– 

thwock. thwock. thwock. 

princeton parried, the ball is sent to the line. you return it with ease. princeton flicks back, you work twice as hard to send it over.

your moves were clean, cleaner than ever before, aided by a brain filled with rage and a heart filled with fear. 

princeton served, out. you served, in. the advantage stood, and the crowd stood to cheer. princeton hit back, you hit harder. it was a game both colleges hadn’t seen in decades. there were talks of both of you dominating the grand slams, even possibly working together, even being the next best duo to ever hit the sport. 

break point. the ball whizzes. and finally…after all the pain, the fear, the lost matches and the weight of the world on your shoulders, it was over. 

you weren’t quick enough. princeton won. 

a/n: i just love pathetic, pitiful characters who are down so bad for natasha romanoff, is that so wrong?

[hoseoksluna]

VAPOR, pt I. | jjk ft. myg

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x steam!oc

genre: smut, a hint of angst

word count: 10.6k

summary: yoongi never promised his healing time would be easy and when he hurts you enough that you need your other "boyfriend", jungkook is quick to rescue you.

pinterest board: blur | playlist: car playlist

warnings: mentions of a sex toy, jungkook is upset and angry at his hyung, public sex, dirty talk, sexual tension and frustration, praise kink, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), bruising, cum swallowing, going behind someone's back........

note: HI MY LOVES—MY STEAM DRABBLE IS HERE AND I'VE NEVER BEEN MORE EXCITED TO POST SOMETHING, OH MY GOSH. OKAY, before i say anything else, i would like to put a disclaimer here: even though all my characters are fictional, they are still human in this world, which means they fuck up, which means they're not perfect whatsoever and never will be. i would like to really put an emphasis on that before you read and if i receive any vulgar and rude asks about this, i assure you that i will not respond to them. OKAY ALL SERIOUSNESS ASIDE—this was fucking AMAZING TO WRITE and i already CANNOT WAIT to start writing another part, this time with yoongi included. i promise to make everything right and—SPOILER—this couple WILL get a happy ending, so don't worry, my loves. ENJOY READING. SPAM MY INBOX. I LOVE YOU.

There’s a mango-scented candle rustling in a bag, resting on the passenger seat, and Jungkook is driving very carefully so as to not knock it over and possibly break it. For a moment, one that reemerges in his headspace as he keeps his foot light on the pedal, he wonders if he should buckle a seatbelt around it and ensure its safety that way, his fear of ruining his surprise for you causing his brain to come up with the strangest of ideas—in the name of the love he carries for you. 

Is it love, though? 

Jungkook furrows his brows, that thought seizing his sternum enough that he has to turn his music down and let some fresh air in through the window so he doesn’t crash his fucking car. Icy sweat stings his spine, his stomach churning and without sparing a second longer, his eyes take after the sadness of the weather outside his vehicle. His vision blurs and he rubs his eye, one at a time, to focus on the road.

A red light blinks at him and suddenly, there’s fury that he feels deep within chest. 

Conceivably because slowing down means he has to face the onrush of emotions sloshing in him. Has to hear the rain not just outside, but inside, too. Has to feel the prick of those raindrops along his waterline. The heft of those clouds outside and inside his clavicles as well, tightening and tightening. 

Jungkook sighs, drumming his fingers upon his steering wheel, trying to distract himself from it all. From the invading question that absorbs his body like the vapor rising across the night-clothed street—when did he get so emotional? 

Unfortunately, he knows the answer right away.

You’ve been sad. On your own. 

It’s been a few weeks since all three of you made a deal to stick together. Yoongi has been brave, his good mood clutching him for a lot longer than Jungkook sadly estimated. You’ve spent these past two Fridays and weekends together, out and about, rolling in bed, rolling in Yoongi’s apartment. It was all fun and games until the boss reached a dead end. Somehow. Jungkook still doesn’t know what it was that Yoongi actually saw—what was that one particular thing that caused him to spiral. 

To relapse. 

And you didn’t tell him until it was too late. 

Perhaps, you did tell him—nonverbally, that is. You stopped adding your signed messages whenever he was texting with Yoongi during the week and even those alone stopped coming in as the days went on. There was something wrong and he knew it. His intuition only proved to be right when another weekend showed its face and it contained no undertone of you. And no suggestion of Yoongi either. 

Silence. Dead silence. 

And it wasn’t until Jungkook got an incoming call from an unknown number half an hour ago that he realized the gravity of the situation. 

It was you who called him up, sobbing into the phone, having stolen his number from Yoongi’s device. As difficult as it was to understand what happened, Jungkook tied all the strings of information you gave him between your broken breaths and blubbering: Yoongi hasn’t spoken to you all day and took a shower alone, the latter being the most devastating of the two. 

He felt bad for you, terribly bad for you—but simultaneously, he was upset with you. 

Still is. 

It’s one of the reasons why he’s driving up to Yoongi’s apartment. With a mango-scented candle and a puffed-up bag of cheese balls. He doesn’t want to think what the other reasons are, not when he’s staring down his gift for you, clicking his tongue at last and reaching over for the seatbelt and sliding it into its buckle. Just in time for the traffic light to turn green.

Now, now he’s speeding down the road, turning up the volume of his car playlist. A slow song by the Arctic Monkeys is playing and it’s a movie—the set of circumstances that are happening in the present. The rain, the tightness in his chest, the but faint adrenaline of the momentum. What is he really doing? 

It feels as though he’s following a script, however his eyes haven’t skimmed down the entire thing. He doesn’t know how this is going to end. Hell, he doesn’t even know if he’s doing the right thing because he’s planning on staying outside of his hyung’s apartment. Like hell he’s going inside when his sweetheart—

Jungkook purses his lips. Moves the shift stick. Kills the engine. Closes his eyes. 

His heart thumps. Turbulently. It stirs worry in him. What if he’s going to die? 

This is the first time he’s left in the hands of the unknown. He’s always had the sixth sense of knowing tactness like the back of his hand, although this time he doesn’t know shit. Doesn’t know if he’s breaking his best friend’s trust. Doesn’t know what’s going to happen once he sees you, possibly wearing one of your nighttime robes. The last time you touched him was the last time he had his release. His hand doesn’t feel as good as yours does—and his orgasm isn’t as fulfilling as when it’s shared with you. He’s brimming with frustration, with anger so vast that he could explode and he knows it’s unfair to be mad at Yoongi, when he himself said it wasn’t going to be easy, that it was going to take a lot of work. But Jungkook can’t help his feelings. Can’t help to see you. 

Only you. 

Broken, tear-stained, when it should be blush painting your cheeks red from all the love and happiness your own boyfriend should give you as it’s his duty. Something he’s responsible for. Something he should put above himself. 

“Drunken monologues, confused because it's not like I'm falling in love, I just want you to do me no good and you look like you could,” Alex Turner sings and Jungkook’s chin quivers, his heart gaining tempo, his perturbation rising—owing to the violence of that muscle, owing to the state of your feelings. 

He wonders if you’re still crying. 

He’s outside of Yoongi’s apartment. Didn’t even realize it, mind too fucked up, too full of you. 

Grabbing his phone, he sends you a text. 

I’m here. Come outside 

A reply pings right away. 

SWEETHEART: ? 

SWEETHEART: it’s raining 

He’s halfway typing his response that he doesn’t want to go inside, but he decides against it. Doesn’t want to make it worse for you. If you knew of the dark corners of his mind that don’t particularly like Yoongi at the moment, you wouldn’t look at him with those pretty eyes of yours as you always do. 

He can’t afford that. 

I have an umbrella

As his thumb hovers above his phone, waiting for your reply, he can almost hear your sigh. Can feel your breath on his clammy palm as he rubs it on his pants in effort to rid himself of the nerves crawling in his veins. The breath he was favored enough to hold in his grasp the last time he had you to himself—clamping your mouth shut as he spanked your clit for being so beautifully responsive to his touch, rubbing it until your eyes whisked back while Yoongi slept beside you, unaware. 

It’s engraved in his brain. It plays on loop before sleep overtakes him at night and it’s his first thought in the morning once consciousness reminds him that you’re not his. 

SWEETHEART: is it cold outside?

He figures you’re asking the question in order to decide whether you should change or not. It seems as though warm pajamas don’t exist in your world, for the beginning of September is in the process of blooming. It nudges his anger; provokes it enough to fill it with a lethal dose of a yearning to buy you the warmest pair of pants he could find. He clenches his fist, thumb quick to type a response. 

Wear something that covers your legs or stay home. 

The same thumb shakes at the expression of his firmness, his anger disturbed, wholly—wholly disturbed. If you come out wearing your little shorts—

A reply pings again. 

SWEETHEART: ok ill change

And another one right away. 

SWEETHEART: ill text u when i come down

That’s a good girl. 

He almost types it right then and there, but something within, despite the slowly calming storm of his feelings, despite his cock tightening in his pants at the swift image of your bare legs, at the lingering perception of you being a good girl and listening to him, drags his thumb to his emojis. A sudden renewal of his sixth sense, and he doesn’t understand how it’s happened as it dawns on him, makes him realize that’s not exactly what you need right now. You didn’t call him for a fuck. 

You called him for emotional support. 

👍🏻

And like the good girl you are, you merely take five minutes. Stay true to your words, text him as you’re coming down and Jungkook grabs his umbrella from the backseat. Doesn’t forget to unbuckle the seatbelt in the passenger seat. Saves himself from the embarrassment. 

The trees sway in his direction, inviting him in, once he takes two steps at the time, coming up the stairs. He watches them through the clear roundness of his shield, beckoning him closer. The rain pelts against it, but softly this time. Merciful as it knows you’re about to emerge from the ocean of such unfathomable sadness. It doesn’t wish to frighten you, rather it desires to soothe your escaping, make it less harrowing. Even the wind that whips at him stills as soon as you open the door, bathed in light. 

And Jungkook is struck with the notion that he wants to do the same. 

You’re wearing flared leggings. Gray. With sneakers of the same color and a white top that hugs your waist, that seems way smaller than the last time he touched it. He gets a glimpse of it, and it unnerves him, as you lift your hand to curl a strand of your hair behind your ear because otherwise your body is shrouded in a flannel that’s too big for you. Too robust for you and your particular liking of tight, little clothes. 

He doesn’t want to know who that garment belongs to. Doesn’t even want to come close to unfolding that thought, to even let it get a taste of his burning blood. Because there’s another matter at hand. 

You’ve lost weight. 

And he’s going to kill his hyung for it. 

You step out and it’s an instinct, the way his arm draws closer to you so you don’t get touched by the rain, even if it means the raindrops get to trace the back of his head and the nape of his neck. Yet even that invigorating, tender liquid doesn’t cool the scorching lividness that takes place beneath his skin, beneath his bones. But then you touch his hand, left to left, drag it away and hide yourself in his chest. Everything changes when you do that. 

Jungkook explodes. Silently. Gently. His chin quivers again and he doesn’t care that you can hear the tremor of his heart as you lay your ear against it. Doesn’t care that his grip might hurt you as he hugs you back, thinking he could wrap his arm twice around your much different waist. And he takes you like this. Back to his car. He doesn’t even feel the wetness pooling in his waterline, leading you as you walk backwards. And you laugh, you laugh softly while he inhales your mango scent that has somehow even crept up to your scalp, and he doesn’t believe it’s that easy. 

It can’t be that easy to make you feel better. 

He opens the door for you, a façade of nothingness plastered on his face as he tries his hardest to remain stoic so you wouldn’t see the turmoil churning within every perimeter of his body. And it’s an instinct, too, the way he catches your little purse when it slips off your shoulder, even though he doesn’t see it, too busy devouring your gaze—afraid, awfully afraid that tonight might be the last time he sees your pretty eyes, considering the contempt he’s now showing his hyung. 

If Yoongi finds out about this, it’s over. 

His life is over, too. 

Anger, frustration, sadness, love—how is he able to feel all of those emotions at once? You purse your lips, your weary eyes skip his features all the way to his mouth, stopping at his lip ring and the question rises again in his brain. 

Is it love? 

The rain falls harder. And so does he, unfortunately. 

“I got you something. It’s right there.” He tips his chin to the passenger seat without taking his gaze off of your busy eyes. They’re still looking at his mouth, watching every word come out. He finds it so endearing that there’s nothing more he wants to do than grab your cheeks and kiss you for it. Maybe his frustration would loosen a little bit if he did it. “Don’t sit on it.” 

It’s that addition to his previous sentence that causes you to flick those pretty irises of yours up to his. And he studies it as the double meaning uncoils in your brain, even though it was by accident that it tumbled out of his mouth. The weariness in your orbs parts like clouds upon the heavens, though no sunshine spills through them. There’s still a lingering blankness, something unknown, something foreign. Then, the tiniest of smiles curls your mouth and it jolts through him, his heart thudding harder—to the point that even more profound discomfort settles in. 

“Did you get me a dildo? I could use one right now.” 

The perplex that seizes him almost causes his legs to give out. And he can’t help it, the way his eyes roll back and his hand, with your purse hanging from his forearm, runs down his face. Jungkook wants to get drenched in the rain—maybe if the raindrops put out the sudden fire licking at his every nerve ending, maybe then he’ll come to understand how you manage to be in the mood when your state of mind can’t possibly let you have dirty thoughts. 

His cock tightens again and he calls you by your name, firmly. He can’t have this. Not right now. He needs to be sensible. You need it. “Get in the car.” 

You listen, but your smile falters. Grabbing your bag from his forearm, you turn around, bending over to wrap your fist around the bag on the passenger seat. Jungkook doesn’t mean to look at your delicious round cheeks and once he discovers that they’re hidden under that layer of the hideous flannel, he sighs a breath of relief. He can’t look at you that way. Averts his gaze, immediately. 

As soon as you’re seated, he clicks the door shut. Considers letting the rain have him. Did he make a mistake, being firm with you? 

Inside his car, his favorite song is mellowly playing. In the mere few seconds, you’ve managed to suffuse the entire atmosphere with your mango scent and Jungkook inhales it. It takes him into a whole different world, one filled with eternal sunlight as the song portrays it. He finds himself in a country of spring that has been briskly rained upon and now is being softly seared with those shafts of light and speckles of heat, the details of your beauty. 

“For the love of my life, she's got glow on her face…” the singer sings and the lyrics plod into his mind. Jungkook wishes the description applied to you at this very moment like it had before, like it had every single time he stole a glance at you. He misses your glow and your glitter and it pierces his unstable heart that he finds no traces of those particles of shimmer on your cheekbones and eyelids as you’re rummaging through the bag, not even on your cupid’s bow as you gasp, gently, discovering he bought you your favorite things. 

You’re looking at him with such smothered joy and it would relieve his feelings if he didn’t feel such guilt, if he didn’t feel as though he was a crumbling pillar, a failure undeserving of your time. 

You take the candle into your small hands. Such a stark contrast—his heart aches at the sight of it. You pop the lid open, sniff the aroma and your mouth rounds in a terribly, terribly cute manner. Jungkook is glad for the lack of light in the space of his car, which hides his growing manhood. He props an elbow on the door and pinches his nose, trying to regain his composure— 

“It’s mango-scented,” you say in disbelief, pouting and Jungkook can’t breathe. “And cheese balls, are you kidding me?” You open the bag right away, plopping the treat into your mouth. He’s surprised you eat just one—it doesn’t feel right. “Thank you. Honestly. Thank you.” You cradle it into your chest and Jungkook has to look away. 

What has Yoongi done to you that you react this way to such silly things? He needs to ask, but he fears your answer. And what’s worse, he fears what he’ll do to him once you tell him. 

“What did you tell him?” He needs to get away from this place, but it has to correlate with your plan, if there even is any. If not, he’ll handle it. Figure something out. 

You take a sharp breath, loading your gifts back into the bag, keeping it nice and safe on your lap. Then, you lick your lips and look at him with an intention that causes his heart to jump right there onto the wonderfully clothed flesh of your thighs. “I told him I was going home.” 

Home. Since the moment he knew of your existence, your home has been the place wherever Yoongi resided. It never mattered where. Jungkook grips the steering wheel, knuckles white. “Where do you live?” 

You tell him your address. He knows that from this day on, he’ll never, ever forget it. He starts the engine, wondering in the meantime about the ordinariest things of your life. Do you live there during the week and spend your weekends at Yoongi’s apartment? Or has he completely overtaken your life that you spend every hour of it in his presence? He wants to know. And he wants to get some food in that slim tummy of yours. “Do you have any food there? When was the last time you were there?” 

It’s you who looks away now, staring ahead, playing with your fingers while the rest are still wrapped around the bag. “I don’t live there anymore. Haven’t been there in months.” 

Jungkook bites his lip. Too, too many questions are hovering in his brain—he barely has the capacity to think about them, let alone hurl them at you. “What did he say when you told him you were going home?” 

You snivel and his heart on your thighs twitches in pain. He has to grip the steering wheel harder in order not to jump out of this car and kick down Yoongi’s door. 

“Nothing.” 

Jungkook puts the car in drive, wordlessly, seething inside. He’ll invent another plan while yours will remain its prototype. Will keep you safe.

Safe, fed and tearless. 

The drive is quiet, save for the euphonious melodies emitting through his never-ending playlist. The rain has become less severe, soft in nature, only adding to the background noise—adding to the process of your mollification that he’s overseeing. He’s put a stop to the questions. Has figured you have enough of them, for the only reason you decided to lie to your own boyfriend and go behind his back was because you needed to get out of his clutches. 

A decision he approves of. 

The quietness has helped him regain his composure fully, set some things straight in his brain as the anger in him slowly dissipated. Space is good, for both his hyung and you and he’s proud of you for allowing yourself to get to this point that you walked away. Yoongi, evidently, has returned to his hermit tendencies and Jungkook knows very well that it’s something that he needs in his healing time. It’s who he is; who he always has been. He didn’t push him away too many times for him to be possibly wrong about this and while the information he gained from you that Yoongi changed his ways shattered Jungkook’s heart and glued it back together, he knew, somehow, deep within him, that it was just an effort. For you. 

He didn’t think it was a façade because Yoongi is certainly not a phony person. 

He did it for you. Tried his hardest. And succeeded. With your help, he’s sure—which makes it all the more beautiful—but Yoongi is still Yoongi. 

Someone who deals with things on his own. 

And although the distance he needs hurts other people, he doesn’t mean it. Jungkook knows this just as well, despite the fact what he truly thinks is that Yoongi should try harder. 

For you. 

He needs to tell you this. Needs you to know. But he doesn’t think you’re ready to hear it just yet, which is okay. The plan is constructed, he’s here for you and he will make you feel better. He will caress your heart and make your belly full. Will make you forget for a little while before he gently brings you back to reality. 

You deserve this. After everything you’ve been through. Because of him. Because of Yoongi. 

And because of this, he no longer feels guilty that he has you to himself without Yoongi knowing. Even if that means he risks his brotherhood, even if that means he risks his affection for you seeing the light of day. 

You’re more important. 

It’s this thought that gets interrupted by a sudden ring of your phone. You jump, zipping your purse open and Jungkook keeps his eyes on the road. He doesn’t really want to see the kind of picture you have Yoongi saved under. He has to keep his feelings intact. Remain calm. 

Your breath shakes. “He’s video calling me.” 

Sparks of electricity nip at his fingertips. A surge of adrenaline, the threatening, false notion that he’s doing the wrong thing. Jungkook almost smirks. It’s so fucking thrilling to him. 

He lets you decide on your own what to do, but you grow unsure, nerves burdening you. He feels that heft and it’s quick to sober him up. 

“Should I get out of this car? Say I’m taking a walk?” you ask, your pretty, pretty eyes wide, your pupils so tiny. Jungkook wants to take your hand in his, take your fear that makes you think these silly thoughts and crush it. 

He’s here. He’s going to take care of this. Of you. 

“Let it ring.” 

You look back down at your phone, lip between your teeth, but Jungkook keeps his eyes on you, the red of the stoplight pervading you with the danger of your girlish freedom. And it does ring two more times before Yoongi gives up. 

Good. 

You have the right to need to distance yourself just as much as he does. Give him the same silent treatment like he did to you.

There’s a smug smirk plastered on his face when he catches you putting your phone back into your purse before the light turns green. He speeds down the road, driving with just one hand, ready to unfold his plan. 

One he’s already shared with you. 

He’s taking you to the mall. 

His hand itches to take yours as you walk beside him. Strangers stare you down, but you keep your attention on the myriads of shops lining the side of the promenade. He doesn’t understand how it’s possible that there’s so many people wasting their Thursday at such a place like this. At this hour, especially. It kind of makes him regret that he took you here, despite the fact the sole purpose of it was to feed you until you were full. The lights are too bright, children are screaming and running around and it’s giving him a headache, but one look at you changes his mind in an instant. The glow he missed has found its way back to your cheeks and there’s a glint to your eyes that he hasn’t seen in a long while. The paleness is gone and he’s not really ignorant to the way a bush of roses begins to bloom in his chest at the realization. 

You stop dead in your tracks all of a sudden. Your little purse slips off of your shoulder. As attentive as he always is, he slides it back up, a smile tugging his mouth to the side. He thinks it’s just so damn cute. And the fact you don’t pay any attention to it as well. Probably used to it. 

Red posters of sale adorn the storefront that has caught your eye. Jungkook is unfamiliar with it, but you seem to be completely enthralled by it. 

“Where do you wanna eat?” he provokes. Already knows what restaurant you’ll be feasting at, obviously, but poking you is a matter of enjoyment for him. “There’s so many food courts to choose from.” 

You look at him and clutch your stomach, as if the mere mention of food made you hungry. A faint, faded light flashes across that glint in your irises before it dwindles away and Jungkook is ready to throw you over his shoulder and push people off of his path to get you there right now. 

“Can we… go here first?” you ask, hesitatingly, grabbing a hold of his elbow, but he feels as though you’re squeezing his heart, wringing it out of all that liquid emotion that he swallowed down earlier in the car. Your touch is warm, like the pond water kissed by the sun back at his cabin, seeping into his skin and languidly streaming through his body. 

It’s automatic, primal and right, the way he clasps his other hand across your fingers wrapped around his bicep and the way your body draws closer to his. It should be normal to do this when he’s seen you bare—when he’s seen you feral, needy and disappear into your pleasure, one he’s the creator of. Why does it feel so thrilling? So dangerous? 

You can meander through as many stores as you want. And he tells you that, or at least tries to, as he smiles at you, softly, and nods his head, letting you lead him inside the shop that has so vehemently caught your attention. 

A trillion styles of jeans, tiny tops, skirts and shorts of the same size, Jungkook understands your fascination as he takes it all in. And he’s pleasantly surprised when you indulge him as you fondle every material of every clothing you like, telling him how pretty you find it. You’re not timid to show him your disappointment either, wrinkling your nose, when the fabric is too frail or too expensive for the price, muttering vulgarities directed to capitalism and leading him away. 

It isn’t until your sight stumbles upon a rack of dresses that your breath, audibly, hitches in your throat. And you unlink your arm from his, going straight for your seemingly new obsession. 

A red dress. A sheer fabric, more like. With roses sewn in, a split in the middle, one strap covering only a part of the hanger. It’s the only piece of clothing you actually take into both of your hands, putting it against your body, as if to see what it would look like on you. Fuck if he knows what you’re doing—all he knows is that his throat is dry, the image of you wearing something like this making him a living, breathing corpse. 

Jungkook clenches his fists. Even more so when you disappointingly click your tongue upon seeing the price tag, putting it back where you found it. The thought of you not having that dress causing his heart to lodge, tightly and disturbingly, in the shriveled walls of his throat. 

Not happening. Not under his watch. 

That dress was made for you. 

Jungkook licks his lips. Doesn’t stop the words from spilling out. “Why don’t you try it on?”

You give him a look as if he was a mad man. And he is. That he certainly is. “Please, this costs more than I can afford. I’d only go home crying if I tried it on and had to put it back.”

He stifles a laugh at how ridiculous you sound. Picks up the price tag. Less than two hundred thousand wons. It wouldn’t even make a dent in his bank account. 

He grabs the hanger. Hands it to you. “Go try it on, sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes. Don’t look amused at all. Your brows knit ever so adorably and the corners of your mouth curl downwards, arms crossing over your chest. Oh, he’s going to wipe that expression off of your face. Paint it in pretty, pretty colors. “No, thanks. I think I cried enough today. Let’s go.” 

You walk past him, but Jungkook stops you. Grabs your arm. Calls your name, firmly. “I’m not gonna repeat myself.” 

You huff. “Is there something wrong with your ears?” Your brows quirk and he thinks he died again. Might melt into a putty. Just for you. 

He smirks, showing his teeth. “It’s no issue for me,” he says, speaking of money, taking your hand in his and enveloping your fingers around the hanger. “So be good and try on this dress for me. Off you go.” 

Jungkook turns you around and, with his palms on your shoulders, he leads you towards the dressing rooms, not stopping until he finds one that’s unoccupied. You huff and puff again, but he gently pushes you inside. And when you open your mouth to say something, he drags the curtain to the side. A laughter bubbles in his chest. 

“You’re not buying this for me.” 

Jungkook shakes his head. “Strip.” 

There’s no witty remark, no exhales of your exasperated breaths, only the obnoxious music blasting through the speakers and he assumes that you gave in to him. A tendril of proudness, not of his actions but for you and your good behavior, swims in the hot bloodstream of his veins and it’s now, now that he’s almost alone and you’re out of view, save for your feet clad in pink socks under the curtain, that he perceives that he’s coated in sweat. The disorder of his colorful, all kinds of feelings has turned him so numb that he doesn’t even feel grounded in his body. He needs a strong sip of alcohol. And a good meal. 

He begins to flutter the sides of his leather jacket, just to alleviate himself of how hot he feels, when he hears you gasp, your footsies shuffling on the carpeted floor. He takes a step towards the dressing room, a trembling hand reaching for the curtain and stopping there—a spasm of nerves zaps his abdomen, spreading iciness to the tips of his fingers. He knows what he’s about to see will make him a dead man for the third time this evening and because of that, he takes a deep, soundless breath, closing his eyes for a mere second before his hand pulls the curtain away. 

Nothing, absolutely nothing could have prepared him for the sight before him. 

And nothing is what you’re wearing underneath the dress. 

Abruptly, there’s no music. There’s no gasps emitting out of that marvelous mouth of yours. And the film in front of his eyes is in slow motion, accompanied by the winged fuckers going equally mad inside his stomach. You’re twirling. From side to side. Patting down the material tight against your slender body. A grin on your face, one that he’s last seen during that time joy rested in you, bathes you in a glow that he longed to see. The glint, the light in your eyes takes on a whole new intensity and it shoots embers into his bare hands, burning him ferociously and curtly—just for him to find that he likes it and that he wants more. You turn around, facing him, and you swathe him with that flaring, almost raging light. It’s the sole thing he senses amidst the numbness of his headspace. 

Except for one thing. 

The ruffle of the sorry excuse for a rose beneath the singular strap of the dress is but an inch above your stiffened nipple while the other, just as excited, is left bare for his eyes—as if the principle of being exposed like that awakened your body. But it’s the vast, stitched red buds of that flower across your small waist, stomach, mound and the apex of your thighs that brings his attention to this other thing that he’s aware of. 

He’s hard for you. 

This image of you will perpetually haunt his dreams. Your little, carmine rose tattoos as if lining your skin, mainly. His throat swallows, dryly. 

Jungkook cups himself in an effort to hide his arousal and his bafflement from your stark, astonishing beauty. He thinks you’re unquestionably otherworldly, so far beyond his reach and his league that it aches. As much as the apprehension that if you wore anything else in this fucking dressing room, he’d fall to his knees just the same.

And then you speak and somehow you bring sharpness back into his reality. 

“The socks go well with the dress, don’t you think?” 

Jungkook glances at your feet and what he sees makes him pinch his eyes and let out a rumble of laughter. There’s a fucking Pikachu on your socks, grinning up at him, mocking him for getting hard for you for the third time. 

He can’t look back up and be a witness to the magnificence of your body. If he allows himself to do so, he will combust. Bring the whole building down—

A set of footsteps sound behind him and, with a racing heart, Jungkook steps inside the dressing room, shrouding you with his body without touching you, pulling the curtain shut. You startle, backing away until your spine leans against the mirror and there’s no space, none whatsoever, for him to run from you because when he turns back around, it’s your eyes he meets first. Nose to nose, breath to breath. 

When did they start making dressing rooms so fucking small? 

His breath picks up speed. He wants to pretend he doesn’t see the thick veil of your feminine carnality shunning out the light in your irises, because he can’t afford this, not when you’re sad, not when you need a friend, not when he needs to be stable for you. But the more you look at him, the more you draw him in and he has very little strength to fight against it. 

Averting his gaze, he props a hand on the wall beside your mirror. Notices your clothes, untidy, sprawled on the bench. Finds no traces of you taking off your underwear, which means only one thing.

His heart nearly skips a beat. 

“Where’s your underwear?”

Your grin forms into a smirk and you latch both of your hands onto the sides of his jacket. Danger mingles into that carnality in your eyes and Jungkook knows, right at this instant, that he’s fucked. “Didn’t take any.” 

His cock hardens even more in his hand. A brief flashback of the way he ripped your panties off at his cabin when you disobeyed him fills his mind, and he grows weak. It’s still a private pleasure of his, one that he likes recollecting, no matter the events that took place after. And the whole escapade has caused him to form a certain attachment to your underwear—or lack thereof. Knowing you didn’t take any on your first, secret night out with him suffuses him with delectation, one that intertwines with a rising question in him. 

Did you choose not to wear it for the sake of the old time or did you choose not to wear it because you’re expecting something from him? 

He yearns to know. Needs to. 

“Why?” 

Your fists bunch up his T-shirt underneath the jacket, tip of the tongue darting out to lick across your top lip. Your eyes follow the way you squeeze the fabric and Jungkook catches your long lashes quivering at your discovery of his quite prominent problem. A blush scatters along your nose and cheekbones and he doesn’t have to look down to know that his hand scarcely conceals his imprint. He’s grown harder for you in this close proximity and, peculiarly, light pervades him now that you know about his arousal, even though he doesn’t expect you, nor demand from you, to do anything about it. 

“Oh, you know.” Palms flat, you drift them down his stomach. Jungkook stiffens, a forest burned by you. “It would only get in the way.” 

He sucks in a breath, pressing his other hand beside your head, caging you in, his cock in full clothed glory for you. His head spins, but paradoxically, he feels himself gaining strength, as if you managed to rejuvenate him by laying out your cards on the table in such a filthy, electrifying manner. 

“Get in the way of what?”

You mirror him, sucking in a breath of your own. “Get in the way of you fucking my brains out?” 

A quirk of his brow. A twitch of his cock. He can’t breathe—you’ve taken all of the remaining oxygen in his lungs when you sucked in that breath and uttered those dirty, dirty words. How are you capable of this? What has Yoongi done to you? Jungkook drags his teeth up his bottom lip, although it attenuates close to nothing. His arousal only blossoms, the bush of roses in his gut thickening, so akin to your little, feigned tattoos. He yearns to feel them under his palm. 

A dead man, for the fourth time. 

His knees might give out. His hands are clammy.

Though his mouth acts on its own. “Have you forgotten what I’m capable of doing?” 

He watches the flashback swim past your irises and it connects to your mouth, expanding it into a coy smile. “I guess I have.” 

Bad, bad girl. It’s you who’s fucking his brains out, trembling like a little leaf, longing for his touch, calling out for his hands. He feels them buzz, interwoven with your senses and your desires. Even if you didn’t move an inch, if you remained still as a sculpture, his hands would still know you want them and it drives him to the peak of insanity—enough for him to consider taking you right here and there, in all seriousness. In spite of the fact he still has a mind of his own and is aware that he shouldn’t. For Yoongi’s sake, yes—but mostly for your sake. 

The tips of his fingers tingle with the craving to rip that flimsy fabric off of you and make you remember what he did to you, even though you fully remember. Something about that fills him with an onrush of vigorous energy, one that needs a release. It whispers, most intensely, its plea for it within his skin. 

“Do I really need to remind you?” Jungkook asks, playing your little game after all, digits clenched into fists on either side of your head. You nod, briefly, seemingly becoming smaller in his captivity, hands drifting lower, rooting by his hips. He’s surprised he’s letting you touch him like this, but then he’d let you do anything you want. He sweeps a glance at your form, just once, before he bores his gaze back into yours. It did something to you and he draws closer, senses you squeezing your thighs together. Such a cute, bad girl. “It would be a pity to rip this dress off of you. What would they think, hm? If you walked out of this dressing room and had to explain to them what happened?” 

Jungkook drags a finger down your neck and at the first physical contact, you release a breath that wafts over him, deepens his heat. He traces the line of your strap until he reaches the frilly bud of the rose and tugs at it, just once. 

He’s about to continue taunting you, but you catch him off guard. 

“I dunno, I’d tell them I wanted you to do it. That I needed the reminder,” you whisper and your low tone of voice curls unfathomably somewhere within his gut, forcing him to double over. You hook your fingers around his belt loops and Jungkook brims with gladness that he didn’t wear a belt. “What was it that you did to me?” 

He nearly, nearly rolls his eyes back. The effect you have on him—he craves to bunch your hair in his fist, teach you a lesson regarding what you’re doing to him. 

And he just might. Take full responsibility while he’s at it. 

Two responses swirl on his tongue, however. 

One to scold you for provoking him in public, but he knows it would stall the aroused energy and back it away into a corner. The other to keep going and drive you to his level of insanity. 

It’s a crossroad and he’s standing in the middle, a man in charge, his morals questioned and at absolute fucking risk. His blood pumps at full speed and sweat lines his forehead. He’s on the verge of bursting. Time and tension presses against him and with all that energy and strength pulsating in him, it’s scarcely the one he needs to put a stop to this all. It all leads into a far different direction, leading him away from the clearness of his morals. 

Fuck. 

Then, your chest lifts in desperate staccatos and that’s it for him. That’s the breaking point. 

No way out. 

Only way in. 

For you. 

Jungkook wets his lips. “How well can you keep a secret?” 

In the same trembling staccatos, you exhale in relief and he’s ready to give you everything. Absolutely fucking everything. “I’m the best in the game.” 

A flash of light in his being. He’s immensely pleased with your answer, growing hotter and hotter. He inches closer to you, flush to your body, lips by your ear. Feels your little nubs pressing against his upper abdominal muscles. Craves to sink his teeth into the delicious flesh of your ear. “You can’t tell anyone about this,” he starts, mimicking your low tone, speaking of the evident elephant in the room, hoping you catch onto it. “And if they ask, you have to come up with something else. Can you do that?” 

He pulls away a tiny bit, just to study your reaction. Your hold tightens on his belt loops while your mouth parts and your head nods in agreement, ever so needy but patient for his next move. He wants to lick you all over just for that, reward you until you lose your voice. 

“You teased me with your words, with your little bratty mouth, and even though you listened well when I told you to lick your finger for me, you disobeyed me when I instructed you to not wear panties at my place,” he starts, lips mouthing your ear and he feels the need of your body to stabilize at the memory. Offering you his own, he presses closer to you until he pins you against the mirror, until both pairs of lungs sync in movement, his fingers skimming, barely, over the sides of your hips. Though something resistant takes place in the middle of that entwinement. Something that gives his mouth the aftertaste of copper. “And when I found out, I ripped them off of you. Fingered you so fast you came in seconds and made a mess on my hand. And then…” he pauses, an inkling regarding how to get rid of his uneasiness plaguing his mind. “Then I made you apologize and you did. You did it so sweetly that I made you come so many times until you lost count,” he alters the memory, concluding the reminder finding the aftertaste rapidly increasing, transmitting down to his heart, burdening it with a heavy load that he doesn’t know the contents of. 

“Can you show me what you did? I think I might remember better if you do.” 

He almost sinks to his knees, but the resistance, the coppery aftertaste in his mouth immobilizes him, keeps him glued on his spot and his hands begin to tremble. An image of Yoongi blazes in the back of his mind and, fleetingly, Jungkook sees a swift movement, a memory of getting hit. If his hyung is in as bad a mental state as he is, it’s inevitable that history will repeat itself. You haven’t received his blessing. Neither has he. 

But at this very moment, he thinks knuckles to his cheek will simulate the act of a kiss. 

Secrets are secrets and he’s weak.

Awfully, awfully weak. 

“Is this what you want me to do?” he asks, looking you dead in the eye, lifting his chin, hoping you see his frailty—hoping you see that he’s hanging by the thread. “Finger you in this dressing room until you ruin that pretty dress?” 

A smile. “Well, you didn’t get me a dildo, so your fingers will have to do.” 

A sharp inhale of breath. “What about this cock, huh? You don’t want it?” 

You drag a finger along his jean-clad length, barely touching him. Jungkook twitches all over. 

“It’s too big for me, you know I can’t take it.” 

A deep chuckle. He’ll ruin his jeans himself. “If my mind serves me well, you’ve always taken it well. Came around it a lot of times.” 

You whine. This, this is your breaking point and all of Jungkook’s muscles tighten at the recognition. He’s gonna give it to you. Say fuck it to it all—his life was damned the moment he set his eyes on you. Knew he was going to die prematurely. Thinks dying in Yoongi’s hands is quite merciful. It’s his best friend after all. 

“Please, Jungkook, I—”

He grabs your waist, tightly. His thumbs touch and his stomach drops. “You what?” He’s going to make you say it, he doesn’t care. He needs it. He craves it. 

A mewl, one that coils around his length. “I’m so wet. I need you. Please, do something. Anything. Let’s get out of here.” 

He turns you around and because you didn’t expect it, you gasp—loudly. Angels must be by his side, for your sounds get instantly swallowed by the blasting music. You can be as loud as you want, as he wants and he makes a mental note to remind you that when the time asks for it. 

His fingers gather the flimsy fabric, bunching it at your waist. In the sharp light, shining down at you most perfectly, he has a splendid view of your drenched thighs and swollen clit. He presses you against him, needs you to feel how hard you made him, how rock solid his cock is at the sight of your mouth-watering filthiness. He needs you in his mouth, he needs you. 

“Where?” Jungkook asks, staring you down in the mirror, brows furrowed, head tipped to yours, lips in a tight line, parting with every hardened exhale. “Where do you need me? Show me.” 

You moan, ever so softly and he can’t help but grind against your ass, fingertips making dents in the flesh of your waist. You take your hand and drift it down to your sweet little cunt and Jungkook holds his breath. You rub your center, your adorable lips wrapping around your small fingers and you show him the thick sheen of your arousal, glistening in the light. Just like you did the first time he set his eyes on you, even though the paradisiacal sight wasn’t meant for him. 

Now it is—and he’s nearly about to weep in joy. Such spiritual experience, swathed with gratitude and mercy, healing him through and through. This is for him. You’re willingly giving it to him. He never thought he was ever deserving of it, but now in your hands, at your service, it feels too good to be true. His eyes wet, his arousal taking a new form, becoming something bigger, more profound, something that will change him, cling to him for the rest of his life. 

“Here. I want your fingers.” 

He takes your palm in his, planning something with it. “Just my fingers?” 

You lean your head back against his chest. “All of you, please, please.” 

At your service. 

Jungkook wraps his lips around your fingers, sucking your dew, swallowing it, needing more. You grow more desperate, watching him in the mirror, and your little index finger grazes his lip ring, smiling sweetly, pleased with yourself. He coos at the sight, but then you turn around, pressing yourself against him, your cunt against his thigh, his cock against your tummy, and you grab the back of his neck and pull him in, harshly, for a kiss. 

You eat his mouth. He’s barely able to reciprocate your hungry kisses, the roll of your tongue, your moans at your own taste and he decides he will simply slow you down. 

Reaching behind you, his fingers tease your entrance. In response, you lift your ass for him, arching your spine as much as you can. He knows that if he were to pull away, he’d see your juices in the mirror, in the stark light, but your starvation and your craving tastes too good and he physically can’t. 

Gathering your slick, he drags his fingers past your parted lips towards your clit and you swirl your hips for him, outrunning him—making the tip of his digit give you the circles you want. He groans into your mouth, out of breath and it isn’t until he rubs your bud rapidly, with deep pressure, and you moan so loud that it alerts him enough to pull away. 

The music did not, in fact, swallow that sound. 

Jungkook clamps your mouth shut.

Without stopping his movement. Watches your eyes roll back. And he’s greedy, unfortunately so. 

Turning you around, he props your leg on the bench and he looks at your pretty cunt. Swollen red clit, like your feigned tattoos, parted lips, dripping hole and equally soaked folds, glistening in the direct light. He swears, can’t help it, fondling your femininity, all four of his fingers gliding with ease, back and forth, everywhere. Down to your other hole, to your inner thighs, back up to your seashell, to your mound and lower tummy. He cakes you with your arousal, one he’s the creator of, bunching your dress higher until he’s holding you right underneath your breasts that spill over his forearm. So full and perky—he’s unhinged. Utterly, utterly unhinged. 

He wants to smear your slick over those clothed nipples as well. 

Fuck. 

Jungkook rubs your clit again, with the same speed as before. Your eyes lid, but keep the eye contact in the mirror, ravaging him through and through. He submits to it, even though he has the upper hand, even though he has the capability to make those eyes go cross. And they do—when he sinks his fingers inside of you, middle and ring, stuffing you full. Your walls suck him in so hard that he almost loses his footing, squeezing you so hard against him that he’s sure he will leave bruises on your tender skin. He silently promises he will kiss them later. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He lifts your leg, hoists it up in the air and begins to fuck you speedily, fingers curling in your spot every once in a while. He doesn’t want to make you come fast, but then time is pressing against him and he knows the mall will be closing soon. He still has to fill that belly. Would prefer if you came around his cock. “My fingers fucking your needy little princess parts, hm?” 

You moan his name and Jungkook shushes you in your ear, rewarding you regardless by abusing your clit with circles, alternating between those and swiftly fucking you in your tight hole. 

“I’m gonna come, Jungkook, I’m gonna come.” 

He withdraws his fingers. All of them—even those wrapped around your leg. You sway on your feet, heady, panting, and he stabilizes you with a hand on your arm. He smirks at you in the mirror, fingers in his mouth and you give him a dirty look. 

Before you can tell him off, he explains himself. “You’re coming around my cock, I don’t give a fuck, sweetheart.” 

His words wipe your face off of that scowl and you smile at him. A sunshine personified. Jungkook chuckles, pushing you against the mirror with his hand on your sternum and getting on his knees. 

He places your leg on his shoulder. “Hold your dress for me.” 

You listen right away, ever so eager. One hand clutches the hem, the other sneaks to his hair. Jungkook likes it so much that he doesn’t waste a second and envelops his mouth around your little clit. 

Just briefly. He has your dew to drink. 

He swipes his tongue along your slit. Over and over, until his sweat drips in pearls down his temples and he makes new bruises on the sides of your hips. Even goes one step further and fucks you with his tongue, letting out short little breaths and soft moans against you, gone feral by your taste and your fleshiness. He takes your lips in his mouth, plays with them with his tongue. Pulls away, stares lovingly at them and spits on your clit, sucking it inside his mouth and rubbing his face in your dripping juices, licking up everything you’re giving to him. 

And when your knee gives out, he catches you in time, standing to his feet. Doesn’t kiss you. Is selfish. Wants your taste perpetually on his tongue. Your eyes sink to his wet chin and you lick your lips, a feral look on your own gracing your features. You resemble a horny little animal, one that he craves to own and make his. But he can’t burden his heart with that thought. Doesn’t have the strength for it, not when he’s still hanging by the thread. 

“How do you want my cock?” he asks, his own eyes lidded, darkness consuming him. “Like this or from behind? You decide. I’m giving it to you. It’s yours.” 

You’re left speechless. He taps your cheek, gently, to make you talk. If you don’t, it will be his ruination and he will die. At your Pikachu-clad feet. A sweet, sweet death. Ideal. 

“I—I can’t take it from behind.” A deer in the headlights, terribly cute. 

He chuckles, caressing your hair. “But you have.” He grins, but it’s an answer for him. He’ll take you from behind in the safe confines of your home. “Like this, then. It’s more than perfect, sweetheart.” He kisses you, deeply, but he doesn’t give you his tongue. His heart expands, his affection crawling all around the kiss. He wonders if you can feel it. 

Pulling away, he unbuttons his pants and takes out his length. He’s soaked his underwear, but he doesn’t mind. His arousal drips down and he rubs it along his tip to make it as painless for you as he can when he enters you. 

And once he does, your eyes roll back and you break into whines, ones that fuck with his brain. Your leg is wrapped around his torso, but he joins the other one, holding you by your splendid little cheeks. Like his fingers, you suck him in, even though he hasn’t given you all of it yet. He’s already losing it. Doesn’t know what’s going to happen to him once he’s balls deep. He won’t last. He physically can’t. 

Jungkook bites your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. “You want all of it?” 

You tug at his hair. “Yes, all of you.” 

At your fucking service. 

He sinks deeper into you, hissing, furrowing his brows, sweat dripping down every perimeter of his body. Your mouth latches onto his neck and he’s gone. Even more so, when you graze your teeth upon his skin before you suck it—like he sucked your lip. He fucks you hard for it, making you let go of his neck and moan against the column. It pleases him so much that he does it again, a warm pressure coiling in his lower belly. It creates a cacophonous sound, your body colliding into the mirror and it mingles, beautifully, with the music playing. As well as the squeaky noises of your slick gliding along his cock every time he draws out. 

“Who do you belong to tonight, huh?” Jungkook rasps, filling you balls-deep just like you wanted, driving into you slowly until his pelvis kisses yours. “You can be as loud as you want, sweetheart. Nobody’s gonna hear you but me.” 

Rapid, whiny moans. He mimics their speed while maintaining eye contact with you and he groans when your eyes go unfocused, mouth parted. You’re just as gone as him. He pecks you for it, so terribly pleased. His orgasm inches closer, enveloping him with even deeper, thicker darkness. 

“To you, Daddy,” you cry out and because you called him by the title, he maneuvers you. Hoists you higher on his cock, with your legs now dangling from his forearms. And like this, he drags you up and down his length, his own moans breaking at the feeling of you tightening around him. He’s gonna come now and it’s your fault. 

“No, sweetheart, you can’t call me that when we’re here,” he scolds, shaking his head, brushing his lips against yours. “I can’t ruin you the way I’d like. They’d kick us out.” He kisses you, slowing down his tempo, stalling his orgasm. “Now apologize or you’re not coming.” 

“I’m so sorry. I won’t call you that in—in public.” 

A rewarding kiss to your neck. A hard stroke. One that blankets his vision with colorful stars. “Good girl,” he praises, looks down at you and kisses you without breaking the stare. “Now you need to be the best girl and come around my cock. I can’t fill you up—you didn’t wear your panties. I’d ruin your leggings for everyone to see.” You cry out again, the idea dizzying your mind as much as his and you tug at his hair, scratching your fingernails down his neck, touching him all over. “Can you do that for me? Can you come for me and not make a mess like the last time, hm?” 

He pounds into you, the strokes so hard that the sound of skin slapping turns disturbing and he holds his orgasm for your sake, all of his muscles clenched, stars dancing across his vision, pecking your features. And that’s it for you. 

You come so hard around him—and you are the bestest girl in the world because you manage to keep your eyes on him throughout the entirety of the wave of your orgasm washing over you, licking up at your body. Mouth parted, his name slipping past, a deep tinge of red, deeper than your dress, flushing your cheeks, eyes dazed, so gone, so fucked out, dark and alluring, so akin to his.

His bestest girl. His sweetheart. 

He needs to pull away. He needs to come. 

“Sweetheart, I know you’re tired but I need you to take off your dress and get on your knees.” 

You do it so quickly, without talking back, that even his own flush finds its way to his cheeks, his heart growing even larger and hotter, winged fuckers zapping his stomach. He fucks his fist in your face, loving the way you’re watching what he’s doing for a little while with a lingering hunger before you flick your eyes to his, beckoning his orgasm out of him. 

“Good girl,” he whispers, muscles straining, movement quickening. White clothes the colorful stars, the warmth in his stomach on the very brink of exploding. “Open your mouth.” 

And he paints your mouth in the same shade of white. You’re so good that you wrap your lips around him, sucking him softly, making popping sounds that prolong his orgasm and he grasps your hair in his fist, gently, despite the violence of his release. He’s not just giving you his cum; he’s giving you all of his affection and when you swallow and smile at him in such a kind, beautiful manner, it wets his eyes in a way that he can’t explain. 

He helps you get on your feet and you worsen his state of emotions. Like earlier, you fold into his form, hugging him skin to skin, squeezing him so hard that he stops breathing altogether. And when you begin to weep and smear his chest with your precious tears, he weeps with you. 

Never in his life before has he experienced such embrace, such love unraveling in the form of tears and quiet sobs. And he doesn’t want to absolve this again. With you, it’s perfect. And right now, he could die with the utmost certainty that you’re both crying for the same reason. 

Love unable to be real, to be fulfilled. 

He senses it. Senses it in the way he cradles your head and wipes your tears away. In the way your lips wrap around his, kissing him as if this was the very last time. You don’t have to say a word. He knows. And it’s enough. 

Jungkook dresses you. Runs his fingers through your hair in effort to fix it and make it look as nice as it did before he ruined it. And his eyes drench again when you zip him up in the meantime. No one has ever done that for him. 

The warmth in his heart heightens. He doesn’t understand how it’s possible. 

Taking your hand, purse and your dress, he leads you to check out. Pays for it. Carries the bag. Pretends you’re his; pretends his duties are nonexistent and his morals have different colors—just for this night. Doesn’t let go of your hand, even as he orders a good bowl of soup for you and himself, even as you sit down together and wait for your food. Even as you look at him deep in thought. 

“You saved me,” you unravel, a soft, tender, drowsy mien gracing your face and his heart thuds against his ribcage, gratitude surrounding it, eyes wetting again. “Thank you. And for the dress. I’ll only wear it for you.” 

The thuds halt. And it’s the only thing that does—a tear rolls down his cheek and he can’t truly believe he’s baring his feelings like that for you, in front of you. He feels as though he was dreaming and he fears he’s going to stir to awakening any moment now. 

A waiter brings your food. None of you pay him any kind of attention, though you don’t forget to say your thank you’s. 

Jungkook opens his mouth to say something, despite the fact no words rise on his tongue, but something interrupts him. 

His phone rings. 

And it’s none other than his hyung himself. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[katsukikitten]

Mentions of children and a baby, fluffy and then angst. MDNI

Katsuki wakes up to the sound of laughter, soft giggling before two small bodies crawl into the oversized bed.

"Daddy!" They whisper, or what they call a whisper, having not learned the subtleness of it yet. More of a hushed yell of his title as little hands slap across his bare skin, "Daddy wake up!"

He scoops them to him, pressing them against his scarred chest with a grunt before his eyes flutter open, by the sun alone he can tell it's barely seven am. A glance at his clock confirms it and the kids squeal from how he squeezes them to him. He's barely gotten an hour and a half of sleep and when he glances over his shoulder he sees that you're still in bed, he wonders if it was a late night for you too. You were texting him late last night although that was normal for you, Katsuki still wonders if the newest edition to the family was the cause of your unrest.

Katsuki thinks he can pin his twin boys to him and lull them to sleep for another hour or so, he's done it before but their giggles say otherwise.

"Grandma is comin today to see sissy!" Their hushed yell too loud for Katsuki's liking, at least while you and baby try to sleep. Little hands pressing at his chest and setting off little popping explosions that earn them a fatherly glare although Katsuki was sure yours was sharper than his somehow.

It's befitting that he'd have two little hellions just like himself, a "double curse" his ma has teased about your whole pregnancy but she quietly whispered to Katsuki after she first met the twins, "You were easy to raise."

And the youngest Bakugou, his baby girl, took after you. All of her features a carbon copy of you just as his boys were the spitting image of him.

"We wanna tell her we helped with breakfast!" They're pushing again, although this time without their explosions after the warning glare from their father.

"You'll wake yer mother and yer sister." He grunts, but presses kisses to their faces that they giggle about, "Wait in the kitchen for me yea? But do not touch that stove."

"Okay daddy!" Their "whispers" lost and a full on yell before their eyes widen from their mistake, Katsuki and the boys holding their breath only for the baby to coo and you to let out a sleepy "Hmm?'

Katsuki knows that you can still fall asleep, that you'd have risen if you were more awake so that he could sleep but he's up now and he doesn't mind. He's glad the boys have listened to him that yes, momma is a super woman but that daddy can help them too.

And Katsuki cannot say he isn't proud that the boys love to cook with him.

After the coast is clear he sends them on their way with a playful swat to their butts that they giggle about, always rough housing those two. Encouraged of course by Bakugou but when it comes to the baby their hands shake with a little nervousness asking for gloves because they know their quirk could hurt their baby sister and that they are not in control of their gift yet.

Katsuki rises enough to sit on the side of the bed in nothing but his boxers, chest and half of his face scarred from a tale long ago that his kids beg for the story but he never tells. Not yet anyway. Rubbing his large palms across his handsome features, bromine eyes softened to candied apples thanks to his family. Ash blonde stubble looking more grey and crows feet next to his shining eyes.

He yawns, hears his boys giggle as they try to get the usual stuff for pancakes. One helping the other to climb the counter in order to reach the pancake mix and they're good boys. They don't touch the stove while they wait.

Katsuki rises fully now, grabbing a shirt from the clean hamper and sliding it on. Coming over to your side of the bed to look at you. Sleeping soundly and when he spies the bags under your eyes being kissed by your long lashes, he's more than thankful the boys woke him up instead. He leans over, kisses your temple softly, runs his hand feather light over your arm before his cooing baby girl. Talking to herself softly as she stares up at the ceiling, arms moving here and there but nothing too excitable.

And then she sees her father and her face lights up, pure joy just like when she sees her mom. Not fully Katsuki knows this but maybe it's even better to know that his baby girl still knows that these blurry shapes are him. Her cooing and babble louder now, excited as she reaches up for him and he gives a big smile pulling her up to press her into his arms.

"Good morning sweetheart." He coos back, a kiss to her wispy hairline. Softly shutting the door as he takes her to her room, passing by his boys and shutting the door to each. You insisted they should have separate rooms that you didn't want the twins to feel like one person and although they both had "sleep overs" often, they loved their own space as well.

"Boys you'll have to pick up yer rooms a bit before grams gets here." He says to them as he walks down the hall after baby girl has a fresh diaper and outfit, at least for now.

"Even though she doesn't go in there."

"Yea grams never sees our room unless we show her!'

"Mmhmm even though she doesn't go in there. It's still nice to have a straightened room ain't it?" Katsuki looks to them as they play in the water more than they wash their hands.

The morning is easy somehow and Katsuki is so so thankful he waited as long as he did to have kids. He's much more mellow now, can do more of the gentle parenting shit the baby books talked about. And yes his mother yelled at him often and he knows his ma loves him, he just doesn't want that for his kids. And yea he does yell sometimes, gets frustrated or blows up, they're two six year olds with big ass feelings and little bodies.

But he always apologizes

You taught him that and if you couldn't collect yourself either you always pointed out it isn't kind to yell, apologized and explained your own big feelings. Plus when you had the right partner parenting could be easy, it could be a lot of fucking fun. At least that's what Bakugou has always thought.

He supports you and he listened to his Ma the first time when Mitsuki said you weren't going to ask for help and that Katsuki needed to step up. So he'd take turns before you become exhausted and burned out, he split chores or took on more when you couldn't. And as always you did the same for him.

Now is just one of those weird times where you both are exhausted and trying your best to work with the schedule you have but Katsuki thinks you need a little more rest than him even if you've been home. Even if you can send the boys to grams or your own parents or to their cousins house for a sleepover, you still deserve rest because at the end of the day no matter how much he could step up kids will always want their moms first.

"Katsuki." You call gently from the hall as the boys bounce around while a TV show plays on low, their giggling hushed while Katsuki "spoils" the baby and keeps her held to him.

"Ah did we wake ya?"

"MOM WE HELPED WITH PANCAKES!" They scream excitedly, rushing to their half asleep mom to cling to your legs. Chattering away about how they helped with everything even dishes. How yours is in the microwave and how daddy said he'd heat them up. You respond, brushing your hands over their little skulls, pushing down their hair and they hum on.

"You came home late, you should have woken me up." You say softly, barely enough time to get ready before Mitsuki was due here in less than twenty minutes.

"Haaah? And let you hog all this to yerself?" He gestures to the living room where it looks as if a bomb went off, toys, stuffed animals and blankets scattered about that you and Katsuki would have to sing the clean up song just to have it all put away. Mostly anyway, it'd all come out again as they showed their grams and gramps their collection.

You laugh loudly, god damn does he love that sound. Loves that it echoes in his own chest enough to make him smirk or chuckle. Watches you come closer to kiss the babies forehead from over the back of the couch before kissing him on the lips.

The boys of course erupt in a chorus of EWS before they're getting a look from you both. This was definitely still a lightly teasing household.

"Go get ready. The number one hero can handle this." He leans up for another kiss that you give him of course, your once sharp claws now rounded to soft nails scratch at his scruff.

"Kay."

You're out of the shower and dressed without a second to spare, the doorbell rings. The boys wait impatiently to see if it's okay to answer the door, hopping up and down because they were never allowed to swing it open even if they were expecting someone. When Katsuki confirms on the door bell camera it's his mother, he rises to stand at the door to open it.

Sunlight bleeds in, obstructs the view of his mother for a moment

And then Katsuki wakes up.

His alarm blaring from his bedside table making his heart race with adrenaline, his palm poised and ready. Glowing a deep orange as he collects himself a moment. Growling as he smashes another phone turning to stare at the ceiling. He dares not reach out to your side of the bed even though he knows what he'll find.

Still, his curious, masochist palms reach out to find cool sheets. Sheets on your side of the bed that haven't been warmed for over two years, why would they?

No giggling laughter can be heard in the home, no cooing little girl he can greet with a smile after a hard ass night at work because the four of you made it worth it over and over again.

No visit from his ma on his rare few days off because there was no laughter, no cooing, and there may never be.

There never was because you left him two years ago. Left his sheets cool, the house he bought for his future family frigid in your absence no matter how high he turned up the heat or let the sun bleed into his home.

He couldn't even call it a home, homes were warm, joyful, this?

Well this was just another roof over his head, a bed to sleep in, a fridge to hold milk for his protein shakes.

Nothing for bacon and eggs or pancakes. Nothing for formula in the little bottles that were set out on the grass looking drying rack he'd tell his sons not to play with.

Katsuki rises enough to sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing his handsome features with big palms. Fingers lingering over scars from a tale long ago but with no sons to beg for the story.

He hardly has the strength to rise from the bed as he comes to terms that all it ever was and all that his two sons and daughter that he saw so vividly, ever will be

Was a dream.

[adoregojo]

∑ foolish fondness ➛ reo.m

reo was definitely, absolutely, entirely, not jealous.

not when you called this guy ‘cute' 一sure he clenched his fist into an aggressive ball shade, but nothing crazy. not when you dubbed him as you 'bodyguard’一as if reo can't secure you a whole army to watch over you like hawks 24/7. 

and definitely not when you called that ‘mister x’ handsome.

Maybe his looks were enough to kill an entire generation, but no, he wasn't jealous.

to be accurate, he was burning alive.

yet reo forced himself to smile, despite the flames eating him to bits, it was all worth it for you. swallowing the lump that was clogging his throat, trying so desperately to not let out a piercing cry when you keep up on ranting about him when he一your boyfriend, was right there!

“he seems fun to be around, I guess.” uttering ever so bitterly, the words left stains of venom on his tongue.

“very, I also feel safe anywhere near him.” you went off giggling, while reo was on the edge of letting the earth swell him down, because witnessing hell freeze over with everyone dancing flamenco would've been something he could cope with more than hearing you say that another man was making you feel safe一and no. he wasn't being dramatic, at all.

“He even scared a bunch of creeps off my back yesterday, isn't he just the best?”

that's all? well, reo could easily ban them from 12 countries. ‘mister x’ has to get his games up.

He also has a large backyard, but that's for another story.

“Sure he is. ‘mister x’ seems like the most interesting guy to ever exist.” he spat out, hands shaking deep in his pockets. At this rate, he thinks he's all ready to cease a running train with one hand. 

“just because you refuse to acknowledge his name doesn't mean you can call him ‘mister x’, it's mr fuji.” you pointed out, as if reo had offended you with his misspelling. oh now you were defending him? just marry once and for all一please don't. 

“Anyway, I gotta meet him for lunchtime. you wanna tag along?” 

to be bland, reo was infuriated. he wanted to be mad at you, but oh一how could he when you looked so happy? with the most enthusiastic smile and he swore he could define preciousness underneath it alone. Unlike him, you never liked to swim between a myriad of people, always drawing a line when it came to your own personal space. so it's safe to say that reo, aside from being your boyfriend, was the first one to be this adjacent, the one that tackled your personal space wholly. then he wouldn't have to worry about sharing you一all for him to love and cherish. 

even if it hurts seeing someone mimicking his steps to your warmth, where he wanted to be the one and only there. Even if it meant wounding himself, reo didn't have the strength to stand up against your glee for his own gluttony of your attention. 

“of course,” reo would utter undertone, concealing what he had of dreads with a tight smile.

and yet, reo can feel your glances of doubt on him. He wasn't trying hard enough to hide his grimace when the first thing you snatched was a warped up raw meat, was he taking reo’s spot of being the first one on your mind?一and seriously, raw meat? what kind of epoch did this man colonize? when cannibalism was normalized?一 Still, he acted nonchalant. including two warped up sandwiches and just paid with his lips pressed on to a thin line. 

Even when the grip on the card was unyielding to the point he might just twist it if it wasn't for your hand to pat him up on the arm一he found himself easing up. just a little. and maybe his heart skipping a beat for the shortest time possible.

halfway walking, reo had to fight the urge to turn around and take a step back. Perhaps cry himself to sleep while he's at it. although, he found it in himself to straighten up. walk by your side with a stiffened shoulders and a heavy heart.

and when you two stopped, a nearby ditch, he figured that you two were in the place一the place his greatest nemesis of all time settled in. 

unwittingly, he asks, “Can he fight?”

“what?”

“I asked, can he fight?”

you shot him a look, tilting your head to the side in confusion. “You can say his name, y’know?” 

“only if he won.” 

you had to palm your mouth, suffocating your laughter. your boyfriend narrows his eyes at you, “what? you think I'd lose?” reo ranted, now you had both hands to stifle your chortle. and he could feel neck crimson sheepishly to a shade of red, whatever it was embarrassment or pure bashfulness under the tune of your laugh.

“Since when were you after someone's blood?” you managed to let out, wiping your fake tears. leaving reo to wonder how you directed to shone like clockwork一 glistening a smile he’d go to war for一dammit, this wasn't the time to act like his usual lovelorn self. 

“I am not. but if he wanted to dig a hole for himself, I'd be the last thing he'd see.” 

and before you could make out a witty response, a low bark echoes throughout the ditch. deliberate steps of an old dog come to view一if reo may guess, it was a Newfoundland dog breed. 

he sees you leaping up to the senile dog as if he was your longtime aibou. ruffling the feather black fur, the animal leaning lazily against your affection. reo almost awed at the sight.

“reo, this is mr fuji. mr fuji, this reo. my boyfriend.”

reo blinks. 

“it's.. a dog?” he slips out, ever so hesitant.

“not just any dog, the cutest, most handsome dog in the world.” 

Suddenly, he's able to breathe again. He felt like the world's burden just lifted off his chest. He inactively watched as you unfold the raw meat and fed the aged dog. giving it a gentle pat in his head before standing back up to your boyfriend’s side. 

“So it was a dog all along.” he acknowledged once again, a relief chuckle came from him as a soothing spring’s breeze. 

by his side, you lean onto him till your arms are touching, reo could feel your warmth against him一or maybe that was just his body heating unintentionally. “Is that why you were jealous earlier?” you asked, sloping your head to the side as you observed him. his face painted in the slightest hints of red. 

“I wasn't.” he tried objecting, tipping his head to the opposite direction of you. 

“you were.”

“woof.”

“see? even mr fuji agrees.” 

you knew he was a terrible liar when he was around you, it's always his cheekbones, ears and neck betraying him to unfold the chaste truth. with you squeezing the flesh of his arm gently, eyes keening on him. you were so unfair, you can't pull the ultimatum cunning he cannot find it in his heart to turn a blind eye on.

“So what if I was? Is it bad that I ache to be the only person you could consider?” 

there it was, it was a mythical pull一with all his three spies flushing out. “you know that's almost impossible, right?” 

“ the only man then.”

“go easy.”

“fine, the only man that'll get eulogized by you.”

“only if it's mutual.”

“trust, it has been biased for a while now.”

with that, you take his hands in yours. weaving farewells to mr fuji, with reo just side-eyed him while muttering something along the lines ‘geezer’ leaving you to question if it was your own mirages playing tricks on you. dog or not, reo will still count him as his rival of all time.

yet when you tend towards him, interlocking your hands as you walk side by side. from the corner of his lilac hues, he could tone your affluent reddish skin when tucking a lost lock of your hair behind your ear. his knuckles would linger on your cheekbones to flavor the warmth till you had to force him away.

reo would observe you for a while before saying, “I won.” circulating to the world, and to himself. with the stupidest, lovesick smile glued to his lips. you ought to kick his leg slightly, while he would let out a long, fake whine. asking you to kiss it better.

and you would, despite the grimacing peers around you two. it was hard to tell the one who fell harder.

[aestheteangel]

Surpriiiiiiiiise 💝

solar return chart observations🧩😛🥰💙:

moon in 6th house : more sensitive when people talk about and criticize them. It’s advised Take care of your health during this time. Too moody. can struggle with appetite mood swings.

Taurus rising/ Jupiter or Venus in 1st / Pisces/cancer/Sagittarius rising : can indicate gaining weight this year.

cancer mercury : can bring past memories/ events. The individual will think of the past too much this year and everything will remind them of it. can go back to something from the past wether it was a person or even a place they used to stay in in the past, such as an old school, house or any as such, and will stay in for a while.

If the wheel of fortune conjuct your north node this year, it means there’s a blessed bright future ahead of you, could the next year be better than this one, never theless the last months of this year could be better also. 💗

but if your wheel of fortune conjuct your sun this year, consider yourself lucky cause you will have to deal with “lucky girl/boy syndrome “ everything will just seem perfect, right time, at the right place with the right person. 💗

The occurrence of mars in the third house. Especially if it is in a fire sign. It may indicate that the person is more likely to engage in arguments and verbal altercations, and their “ tongue “ may be sharp and hurtful

Moon trine the twelfth. This is the be year in which you attract things you desire because of your high ability this year to attract.

Moon in the twelfth or in Pisces gives you a strong ability to imagine. The best time for writing gives you a high aesthetic sense by describing sensations and feelings.

Solar return moon square Venus. This year, you will have a review of your view of relationships and whether they benefit you in the first place, but it may give you a desire to get into many relationships.

Moon aspect Pluto, a lot of travels bf and exploring new things

Traveling/ new romance

Ruler of the ninth, twelfth/fourth/third , in 5th

A combination of planets in the ninth (especially if it is Jupiter/Sun/Mars/Rahu/Uranus/Pluto)

Ruler of the ninth/fourth/twelfth century AD, falling on the ninth of the year

Solar return

Aries rising : cutting hair; Owning a car

Gemini rising : Changes in social status, such as marriage, mingling with society, prominence (fame), or building projects.

One of the most powerful signs of travel..

Twelfth natal chart falls in

Fourth solar return

Fourth natal chart if it falls in

twelfth solar return

Among the indicators of marriage in the annual chart 💍 ...

-The presence of the moon in the wedges of the chart

-Positive Venus aspects to Saturn

-Venus is in the ascendant and in conjunction with the ruler of the ascendant

-The conjunction of the wheel of fortune with ruler of 7th

-Capricorn Venus , degree 20-21

-Juno in conjunction with the sun or moon

-aspects between the house 3,7,9

Moon in the sixth house of the year indicates that this year will be difficult in terms of completing daily tasks due to the presence of the moon in the sixth. The sixth house pulls the planet’s energy in a negative and tiring way. Here we see the large number of routine burdens accumulating on you and you feel a feeling of lack of accomplishment no matter what you do.

Moon In Gemini, it gives fluency in the tongue and gives you a desire to take initiatives, and if you have old relationships, you will revive them and always be the first to initiate.

Moon in a negative aspect with Neptune an indication of many white lies. Be careful not to manipulate anyone. Do not forget karma!

Sun- saturn aspect solar gives you a desire to change yourself and you try to enter self-development courses because the hexagon connection indicates attempt.

When Mercury/Uranus/Jupiter is present in the annual chart or transiting the Gregorian calendar in...

In homes: 9/12/6/3 Great opportunity for travel

Or work and study in another city and house 9/12

They symbolize scholarship, emigration, or foreign travel for a long period of one month or more and dealing

With a foreign environment, if you see opportunities, take advantage 👌🏻

Scorpio rising

In solar return :

Exhausting yourself, straining your soul... and paying a huge price for comfort

Either the stage of searching for a lifeline is like searching for a needle in a haystack.

-

Stay well, Scorpio ascendants in the annual year.. It's okay, this time will pass..

The presence of Uranus in your first house indicates the presence of sudden thoughts on an unplanned day, month, and time. As if a light came on out of nowhere. It is a sign that carries a start towards a desire that was born of the moment.

This aforementioned matter will continue with you throughout the year. In changing your appearance, modifying your appearance, registering in a club, performing an operation, or something related to your appearance. Sudden thoughts follow thoughts. In one of my years, Uranus was in my first house, and without planning, I got braces, and this is an example.

When solar Leo rising , regardless of the energy that will accompany the person throughout the year. From new and diverse interests, from a love of appearing on the scene, an irresistible desire for public appearance, and the necessary boldness and confidence that they will possess in an unusual and exceeding manner. Their fame, wide acceptance, and great popularity.

However, I find that the Leo is closely linked to the emergence of a new, exciting and special emotional relationship. The Leo sign in the year is not free of romantic relationships for you, and the ignition of the romantic and emotional side in your yearly horoscope that bears the Leo horoscope.

If you have solar mars conjunction sun in the 12th house, you are preparing to discover enemies that you thought were family or friends, and often hostility that is spiritual harm or deep pain, but you are sure to emerge from it stronger spiritually.

The best year in my life was in the Ascendant of Sagittarius, and Sagittarius is my second home in AD. Oh God, I can’t tell you how I was focused on my success and studies. I had a lot of freedom, I made many friends, and I was very social, and the friendships I made in the Ascendant of Sagittarius are still with me ❤️

A year in which the ruler of your fourth house is on the 9th could be a year in which you travel or move abroad.( I have this next year so if i actually moved I’ll let you know)

When Mercury is in conjunction with the midheaven, you may have to travel for work.

I have also found this to be true when the yearly ruler is with the midheaven in the ninth house.💗💗

The presence of ascendant in the sign of ‫scorpio‬ or the presence of‫ Pluto ‬in your first house. They are two sites that touch the self in a detailed way. Through these two connotations, there is a transition from something to something new. As if it was bidding farewell to an old version and receiving a new version. It indicates that there is an intense change that you will live with and on these basis you will begin to receive the new version of you, the good or bad of which depends on your reception of it.💗

When you have a year in which you have a close ascendant or Pluto in your first house, this story will begin to happen to you. A story of your change and change, and it will be a year that supports change. It supports transition, supports modification, whatever the situation may be, whether in your appearance or outside. Try to embrace the changes and make them positive for you.💗

love u 💟..

[of-many-fandomss]

Right Where You Left Me- Day 1

Series Masterlist

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

warnings: mentions of heartbreak and breakups

summary: you and charles had ended things months ago. the only problem was that you were yet to tell your families, the ones that had been waiting for your wedding day since you were both barely four years old. cue a family gathering and it was time to pretend to still be that happy couple they all knew you to be

word count: 2.4k

a/n: i decided to turn this into a series :)

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Barely three minutes in and you already wanted nothing more than for the floor to open up and swallow you whole. Barely three minutes in and you were already itching to tear your arm out of his. Barely three minutes in and you had no idea how you were going to possibly survive an entire week like this.

The smile that you had plastered on your face was strained and clearly forced and your features were beginning to hurt with the amount of strength it took to merely muster up the amount of strength it took to parade around with the masked look of happiness.

In reality, you hadn’t seen a happy version of yourself in two months.

It took more willpower than necessary in order for you to glance to the man whose arm was looped through yours.

Pretending that everything was fine seemed to come easier to him- thanks to years of pr training, you would guess- but after knowing the man for the entirety of your life, you could see the flicker of pain- and no doubt disgust- that he was internally feeling with having you by his side.

Without really meaning to, you found yourself studying the side of Charles’s face for the first time in two months as he spoke kindly to your aunt, a trained look of relaxation upon his features too good to be true.

The man didn’t so much as glance your way- though he could no doubt feel your stare- as he continued chatting in a conversation that you had long since tuned out of, not caring enough to hear what your gossipy aunt had to say about the venue or the people that were already in attendance.

It wasn’t until movement caught your attention from the corner of your eyes that you finally tore your gaze away from Charles just in time to watch your aunt bid the two of you a farewell before making a beeline for the open bar.

A silence stretched in her absence as the two of you stood in the middle of the bright and heavily decorated room, arms still woven together despite the fact that it couldn’t feel like you were farther apart.

Flowers were covering every surface and a pile of gifts were already beginning to accumulate on the center table in celebration of Charles’s cousin's wedding.

Sara had this date set for over seven months, so you couldn’t exactly use the argument that it had been sprung on you- but it also happened to slip your mind in the midst of all of the chaos that accompanied the last few months.

What you had never expected when a notification popped up on your phone from your calendar as a reminder of the wedding, was that another notification would pop up shortly after. A text message from Charles.

Until that point, you thought that he had surely blocked your number, opting to cut off every tie to you that he had. But perhaps he had done what you had, sat in front of your phone for hours after that terrible night, finger hovering over the block button, but not a single part of you being able to actually go through with it.

The message informed you in the shortest way possible that it would be for the best to go to the wedding together. Together. A word that hadn’t described the two of you in two months.

At first, your eyebrows had furrowed and a mixture of anger and utter sorrow rose from inside of you at the mere audacity of him to suggest such a thing, but as if he could read your mind, another text came through shortly after explaining that it would probably be for the best considering both of your families would be in attendance.

And just like that, the emotions had simmered out inside of you when you realized he was right.

For your families had known that the two of you had loved each other long before you two had.

Your grandparents had been best friends, then your parents, and then the two of you when you were born.

To them, it was the biggest miracle on earth when the two of you shyly admitted your feelings for one another at the mere age of sixteen, having supposedly danced around them for years.

It was hard to say who was more excited about the young, blossoming relationship, you two- or your families.

You and Charles had been best friends all of your lives, and even continued to be after you had begun dating, and life was looking like nothing but rainbows and sunshine. From Charles’s formula one career taking off, to you graduating university and starting a business of your own- all whilst supporting and loving each other wholeheartedly- everything was pointing towards the happily ever after the two of you had always dreamed of together.

That is, until it all came crashing down one fateful night. The night that had started as romantic and happy as could be, but came crashing down and ended in two broken hearts.

After you two broke up and went your separate ways, neither of you seemed to have it in you to tell either of your families, the people that were more supportive of your relationship then anyone. So, the two of you kept it to yourself and your closest friends that you knew wouldn’t tell anyone.

When Leclerc’s fans began questioning your wearabouts- the paddock's most beloved WAG- Charles would put on a tight smile and reply in the simplest way possible that you were busy with work and would no doubt turn up eventually.

A lie he told through his teeth.

At first, you had hesitated, knowing how awkward and hard it would be to pretend to be happy with Charles once more. As if everything was normal and there was nothing wrong.

But then you thought about it, and you really did like Sara. You didn’t want to ruin her big day by creating drama between your families and having the only thing they’re talking about be the two of you. That would be unfair to her on many levels.

So, you would just have to suck it up for a whole week while the festivities unraveled. During that, you would keep yourself as far from Charles as possible whilst still putting up the illusion of being the lovesick couple your families knew you to be.

Then, after it, you would figure out how to tell them all that you had broken up. And then, you would never have to see Charles Leclerc ever again and he would never have to see you.

It was awkward, the two of you just standing in the center of the room, though nobody so much as glanced at you a second time, not thinking much of it.

Gently, you slipped your arm from his hold, missing the way his eyes shot to you as soon as you did, you being too busy focusing on your shoes, “I’m going to get something to eat,” You muttered quietly.

It was the first thing either of you had so much as muttered to each other.

When you had both arrived at the venue for the welcoming party, you had wordlessly taken one another's arm in the parking lot and strode into the building. He had barely allowed his gaze to settle on you, and you had no doubt that he was too disgusted to even bother.

What you didn’t expect as you began weaving through the crowded room, was to feel his presence still behind you, wordlessly following like a lost puppy. It was something that he did so often when the two of you had been together that it felt almost natural.

Whenever you were in public and you needed to go somewhere- whether it be to the bar to get another drink, or to the cash register to check out at the grocery store- he would follow behind without complaint. You used to tease him for it constantly, calling him a puppy dog.

But he had taken it all in stride, simply smiling down softly at you before attaching his lips to yours and whispering that he couldn’t bear to be away from you if he could help it.

Over the years of you two dating- even before you weren’t- it wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to always be attached at the hip. With his racing career, it meant that he was almost always away for long intervals of time. So when you actually had time together, you both tried to make the most of it.

By the time you reached the food table, you were still yet to look at him as you silently began piling snacks onto a paper plate.

Your gaze only lifted by the sound of your name falling out of someone's lips, and you glanced up just in time to see Arthur bounding your way, a wide, boyish grin resting upon his features and his arms out wide.

Silently, and almost like second nature, Charles carefully took your plate out of your hands and held onto it as his younger brother wrapped you up into a tight hug, which you gladly returned, the first hint of a real smile peeking out from your features.

“It’s good to see you too, Arthur.” You teased lightly as you pulled away slightly, getting a good look at the boy.

“My god, I’ve missed you.” The boy threw his head back and groaned when he pulled away, “My brother over here’s been so moody without you the last few times I’ve visited his races.”

Your eyes quickly darted to Charles at his brother's words, but the man kept his own gaze trained on the boy.

You forced a smile, “Well, I have been really busy with work.”

“Or so I’ve been told.” Arthur was grinning widely and he threw you a wink before jabbing his brother in the stomach with his elbow, “I must say, I thought the next time I would be at one of these things was for your wedding.” He was only teasing- harmlessly, at that- and you both knew it, but it didn’t stop either one of you from immediately tensing up.

“Arthur,” Charles warned, his voice low and his features hard.

The brunette boy held his hands up in surrender, eyes slightly wide, “It was only a joke, mate.” Though his voice was still light, brief hesitation flickered through his gaze. He glanced back to you with a smile, “I’ll leave you two to it, then. Have a lovely time.”

With that, he slipped away just as quickly as he appeared, but that didn’t stop your body from staying tense. Your posture rigid and your eyes trained on the spot that he had been standing in.

A gentle nudge to your side snapped you out of your thoughts to Charles gently trying to give you your plate back, his eyes focused anywhere but you.

Anger flared up inside of you suddenly, and you didn’t take the plate. Instead, letting out a loud scoff and maneuvering around him, storming out of the room as quickly as you could.

Thankfully, everyone seemed to still be too preoccupied in greeting one another to notice.

You could sense Charles behind you once more as you slipped into an empty side room, crossing your arms over your stomach and squeezing your eyes shut briefly with your back to him.

He was silent, waiting for you to speak first, leaning up against a nearby counter, his eyes scanning over you.

Finally, you turned to him, “What are we doing here, Charles?” A long sigh left your lips as you lifted a hand to run through your hair, fingers weaving through until you could pull slightly at the roots in agitation.

The brunette man standing across from you was tense. His shoulder muscles were locked and his jaw was set tightly while his arms were crossed over his chest, “What do you want me to say?” The softness of his tone didn’t match his rigid appearance in the slightest.

A humorless laugh left your lips as you spun on your heels, shaking your head, “I want you to tell me that we’re through with this. With the lies.” Your gaze cut to him once more, face dropping the mocking smile, “We broke up two months ago, Charles. And yet here we are, pretending to still be together at your cousin's wedding.”

Leclerc pushed himself off of the counter he had been tensely leaning against, eyes hard as he stalked closer and closer until he was towering over you. Despite the intimidation of his movements, you didn’t so much as bat an eye, staring up at him with daggers of your own.

“This isn’t a good time to tell them,” He spoke lowly, “It’s Sara’s wedding and we don’t want to take the attention away from her happy day. Not to mention the fact that it would kill our families if we told them.”

Your families. Your families that had been friends since long before the two of you were born. Since your grandfathers were kids.

They would take the breakup almost harder than you did in the beginning. Almost.

A slight scoff escaped your lips, “It’s never a good time.” You reminded him, referring to the multiple occasions the two of you had already had this discussion, “So, what? Do we just keep pretending to be dating? What’s next, a fake marriage? Will the charade continue until I’m walking down the aisle and we’re both bound to this unhappy life forever?”

Something flashed across Charles’s expression as he took a quick, recoiling step backwards.

It was a low blow, and you knew it. And yet, you couldn’t seem to care.

You waited silently for a moment, eyes dancing across the man’s features as he just stared back at you, having already cleared his face of whatever emotions had managed to escape his hold.

“Whatever,” You turned and began making your way out of the room, “But I hope you know that this isn’t gonna be able to go on for much longer. We can barely stand to be in the same room as each other, let alone act as if everything’s okay.”

And it was only the first day out of six that you had to be trapped in this lie.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Taglist: @vicurious28 @janeholt3 @youre-on-your-ownkid @amberpanda99 @theseerbetweenus

[ssparksflyy]

i saw requests open and i ran here 🏃🏻‍♀️

i really want to see percy x daughter of hera reader from your writing, because i really enjoy your fics!! u da best ���🎀

loveee uuu 🫶🏻

ask and thou shall receive ༉‧₊˚.

percy jackson dating hcs 𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚

pairing: percy jackson x daughter of hera!reader warning(s): none !! an: UR SO SWEET ILYTTTTTTT

i just KNOW dating a daughter of hera would have percy twirling his hair and giggling

he thinks he's set for life

and he is. there's no escape.

'you and i go from one kiss to getting married' for reallllllll

you make him feel so giddy there's really no explanation for it

if there's one thing that percy wants, it's a happy future

i don't think he cares about where he is or what he's doing, as long as he's havin fun and happy

and the fact that you're the daughter of the goddess who practically symbolizes what's known as the "perfect" life like ??

he just feels so lucky

you're also really excited to see what the future may hold for you two :))

it's something you guys talk about quite often actually

you can talk about it comfortably and casually as if it's any other thing

"oh, and i was thinking, if we do get an apartment, we should try growing some of those window still plants"

"ooooh, for sure! what about getting some of those sun catcher stickers too?"

↑ that moon-flower thingy that percy got from calypso did not make it to the mini garden... he gave it to one of the demeter kids after you started dating cause there's only one girl he wants in his life, why would he want to keep something that another goddess girl gave to him ??

he's so loyal bye

at least now he is

cause you best believe when he was flirty-flirty with rachel you freaked out

you knew about the countless affairs zeus had and how your mother was forced to sit through it and act as if it didn't bother her, and you hated that

so seeing the guy you have a crush on flirting with another girl when you thought he might've had feelings for you too?? HURT.

obviously he didn't know that at the time (we all know he's oblivious when it comes to love okay) but it was casually brought up one time

you were like 'remember when you were flirting with rachel?? yea that sent me into a down spiral i wanted to cry anytime i saw you lol'

and he was just like '?? when i was flirting??? i was?? why didn't you tell me????? hello????? we should talk about this !!!!!!!'

since then he's made it his mission to never accidentally do something stupid like that ever again so you'd never have to feel that way

but technically the next time it happened it wasn't even his fault so

pre-kidnapping, you actually had a pretty good relationship with her mother

hera would be caring towards her demigod children, she'd want to actually try and be involved in their lives as much as she can

it's not like you were having brunch together every sunday but like, she'd try and stop by cabin 2 every few months or so to catch up with you and see how you were doing

even though she already knows everything, she likes to have a conversation :)

but she's only allowed to stay for a bit cause she's got places to be, people to see, and zeus is a little bitch who can't handle being away from the wife he doesn't care about for more than 20 minutes

(was that canon or did i get that from lore olympus in 2021 ... i think it was canon .... i don't remember honestly)

while percy was missing, your relationship with her just... wasnt there.

the gods were cut off from communicating and your prayers weren't working, so you weren't really anything

but then when jason came into the picture, shit hit fan

first of all - zeus had ANOTHER KID ??

second of all - HE WAS ROMAN ??

third of all - hes being sent on a quest to SAVE YOUR MOM ??

fourth of all - WHERE IS PERCY ????

everything was crazy

you begged to go on that quest. you wanted to know what was happening, you wanted to know if your mom was okay and what was going on with her, but most of all you wanted to find percy

but chiron nor annabeth would let you go, claiming that you weren't in the 'right state' for a quest (you really werent)

not going only managed to stress you out more and caused you to worry ten times more

annabeth would hug you and grover would play something on his pipes to help calm you down some days :((

when jason got back from his quest, even more shit hit the fan cause

YOUR MOM KIDNAPPED YOUR BOYFRIEND AND YOUR (not actually adopted but adopted) BROTHER AND SWAPPED THEIR PLACES, WIPED THEIR MEMORY, AND DIPPED ????

this is what they call female rage

betrayal beyond all others

cause you trusted your mom- hell, she was your mom. and she took away the person in your life who made you happiest?? and for what reason????

after that you didn't even live in cabin two anymore

you couldn't bring yourself to do it. as much as you hated zeus, you moved into cabin one with jason for a while

who you obviously became best friends with

when you finally reunited with percy, he was there to comfort you and hold you close while you talked to him about your mom :((

hes always been such a good listener but those times is when you appreciated it most

percy could care less if he got in trouble with coach hedge for staying over in your room at night, he did it anyway !!

he knew how stressed you were, even with him being back

so like some nights he'd put on a movie and try to distract you from your chaotic lives

he knows the best way to distract you is by talking about your future, and he does just that

"i was thinkin, what about celeste for a girl?"

as much as you love talking about your future, talking about having kids always manages gets you a little nervous

you feel your face get hot and you start stuttering a bit anytime it comes up

"i-i like it, its pr-pretty"

percy just smiles and continues painting your nails

which he's not very good at doing by the way, but at least youre not stressed anymore !!

honestly i feel like you guys would get married pretty young

i wanna say when youre like 23-ish

he keeps the proposal kind of chill but also makes sure its not boring either

it'd be after a date, on a weekend where youre vacationing in montauk ♡♡

he takes you on a stroll along the shore in the afternoon, when the sun is setting and it looks really pretty

leads you back to the house, where there's an arch set up decorated in flowers, theres some petals and candles on the floor

practically gives you a whole speech about how youve changed his life for the better and how he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, taking care of you and making you happy everyday, officially :((

you obviously say no

just kiddingggggggg

the proposal itself is a little basic (hey its kind of hard to be original and classy nowadays) but percy's words are what make it so special and memorable :(

he hid a camera among the flowers that caught everything cause he knew you would want to look back at it, but also wanted to be alone while he did it

he gets you a gift after your wedding, a gold locket necklace (in the shape of a heart of course) with a picture of you two at your wedding laughing together on one side, and your anniversary engraved on the other ♡♡

makes sure to get you flowers at least once every month !!

oh and you do end up making that window still garden in your apartment :))

it turns into a real garden once you move into a house together !!

honestly, how many kids you have (or if you even have them) is completely up to you

cause i dont wanna be like 'you had three kids. their names were phoebe bridgers, lucy dacus, and julien baker.'

but percy is a girl AND boy dad

mainly girl dad though

he just seems like the type of dad that you come home to seeing him squeezed into a dress, covered in makeup, and wearing a tiara okay

hes so husband i love him