#🖤 crash my car | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writingforstraykids · 3 months

Text

I owe you a kiss Pt.4

Pairing: Minchan x femReader (mention of Jisung/Felix)

Word Count: 5903

Summary: Chan arrives at the hospital to be there for his family in person. The news they receive about you aren't what they expected and Minho can't help but blame himself. Your husbands try to navigate their life as you recover.

Warnings/Tags: angst, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, mention of blood, mention of a panic attack, coma, mention of sleeping pills, mention of throwing up (no further descriptions) min feels guilty, anxious!min, soft!chan

A/N: I sure hope you don't hate me as much as last week...🥺🖤

PART THREE | PART FIVE

Chan's heart drops to his stomach as he sees him. Tears stream down his face, and he looks terrified. Truly terrified. There's blood on his shirt, there's blood on the hand he uses to try and wipe away his tears. “Minho, fuck, where are you?”

“Hospital” is all he gets out.

“Why, what…Minho, where's Y/N?” he asks, his stomach tightening in fear at the pained sound that leaves Minho when your name is mentioned. “Min?”

Minho's breathing picks up, and he clutches the fabric of his pants tightly, trying to steady himself. “Someone crashed into our car, I-I swear it wasn't my fault. T-The airbag didn't open a-and-,” he breaks off with a sob. “Channie, there was so much blood,” he whimpers.

“Where's Y/nnie?” he asks, barely audible, blank fear taking over him.

“She's in surgery right now. Channie, they don't know if-” he can't say it, but meeting Chan's terrified eyes, he knows he gets it. “I'm so sorry,” he buries his face in his knees with a heavy sob.

Tears fill his eyes and he hates himself for not being there and able to hold him tight and not let go. “Minnie, baby, I'm sure it's not your fault,” he says gently and gets up, grabbing his suitcase. “Hannah!” he shouts through the house, not caring that his parents already went to bed. He needs to get back home as soon as possible.

Hannah is there in a few seconds, a little shocked by her brother's distraught look. “What's wrong?” she asks worriedly.

“I need to get home right now,” he tells her, and she nods gently. “Min, I'll figure this out, I promise. I'll be there as quickly as I can, okay?” Hannah's worries deepen at the timid answer Minho gives. “I know you have other things to worry about, but please let them check up on you, okay? I wouldn't want you to be hurt and notice too late.”

“Okay, Channie,” he sniffles. “What if she…?”

“Don't think that way,” Chan tells him softly. “Y/nnie’s a fighter, she'll push through. I'll let you know when I'm at the airport.”

Hannah already started packing her brother's suitcase, glancing at him worriedly as he exchanged goodbyes. “You look like shit, what happened?”

“They got into an accident,” he says and already dials another number. “They don't know if Y/N..,” he breaks off, and Hannah pulls him into a tight hug.

“She'll be okay; she always is,” she promises. “Now go call your fancy staff and get your VIP privileges; I'll pack.”

“Thank you,” he nods.

Minho looks up from his chair as the door to the room opens, and Felix slips inside. “What are you -?”

“Chan called and told me you could use someone,” Felix explains. He takes off his jacket and sits down next to him. He offers his hand, and Minho takes it, squeezing it gently. “Any news?”

“No,” he whispers timidly. “Still nothing,” he says. It's an hour ago that he called Chan. Someone checked up on him after cleaning the blood from his face and hands. “I didn't get hurt,” he says, and his face grows pale. “She was unconscious before I could do a thing, hit her head pretty hard. Felix there was so much blood,” he says mindlessly, as if he's giving him the facts on a new comeback.

Felix hums gently and rubs his shoulder. “I stopped by your place and got you some clothes. Maybe go and change, hm?” he suggests, spotting the blood on his shirt.

Minho stands up in a routine move, grabs his clothes, and locks himself in the bathroom. He meets his reflection in the mirror and closes his eyes, shivering softly. Fuck.

Felix glances up as he comes back and nods towards the small sofa in the corner of the room. He sits down there and pulls Minho into a hug. “I'm so sorry, Min.”

“It's not your fault,” Minho says tiredly and relaxes a little in his warm embrace. It's the first time something as shocking as this has happened, and none of his partners are there to hold his hand.

“I know,” Felix nods gently. “But still. You've already had a rough few months with Chan feeling like shit and then leaving.”

“Life is shit sometimes,” Minho shrugs, and his eyes flutter close when Felix starts running his hand through his hair. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course.”

The flight back home has never felt as long as today. Never. About two hours ago he had gotten a message from Minho, short and simple, but it was enough.

Kitten🖤: She'll make it.

Chan quickly makes his way out of the airport and stops at home for ten minutes. Felix had told him to get home first, take a quick shower, and change clothes. None of them knew how long they'd be stuck at the hospital. Chan got into his car after and drove to the hospital, rushing up to your floor as soon as he knew where. Opening the door, he sees Felix sitting on the sofa in the back and gives him a quick wave.

Minho is by your bed, head resting on his arm on the mattress and seems asleep. Dried tear streaks cover his face and Chan's throat tightens at how exhausted he looks even in his sleep. And then there's you, looking as pale as the sheets, your head wrapped up safely. Your hand lies in Minho's, and only your chest moving tells him you're alive. Chan finds himself in Felix's arms before he fully registers the scene and hugs back tightly.

“Hey, mate,” Felix whispers, not wanting to wake Minho up. “I'll leave you to it, yeah? So that you know Minho does blame himself for what happened. We don't know when she'll wake up, but the doctor said she will.”

Chan nods gently before flashing him a tired smile. “Thank you for being here.”

“Obviously,” Felix snorts and gently pats his chest. “Welcome home, I guess.”

A little later, they're alone, and Chan timidly steps closer to Minho, sitting down on the chair next to him. His hand finds his lower back almost naturally and he very gently picks him up into his lap. A soft protesting sound leaves Minho's lips but he's too tired actually to question the action. Minho curls up in his arms, the way he always does, as if deep down he knows it's Chan. Chan makes sure he's comfortable and plants a tiny kiss on his hair, soothingly fondling his head. Only then did it hit him how much he had missed you two.

Minho wakes up later, feeling warm and comfortable. He subconsciously cuddles close before his brain slowly picks up on Chan's so familiar scent and the way his body feels against him, and he sits up straight rapidly. “Channie,” he breathes out, his eyes getting teary.

“Hi, kitten,” he says softly and presses their foreheads together. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he confesses quietly. “I'm sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” he asks gently. “Lee Minho, if you blame yourself for what happened now, I will smack your ass. Not in a good way.”

A weak laugh escapes him, and he gently shoves his chest. “Of course I do. I'd rather get hurt than her.”

“She'd say the same if it were you,” he says and gently rubs his shoulder. “Nevertheless, it's not your fault.”

“Channie?” he whispers timidly. “I really don't believe that and…,” he trails off with a sniffle.

“I'm here now, let it out,” he says softly, and Minho's head drops down in his chest with a broken sound. Chan holds him tight, trying to make him feel as safe and comforted as possible. Minho shuffles into his lap, straddling him and pulling him into a tight hug. They hold onto each other firmly and find comfort in their shared pain for a bit. “I'm so sorry I wasn't there.”

“Don't,” Minho stops him, burying his hand in his hair. “You're here now.”

“I didn't mean what I said in that call,” Chan tells him nevertheless. “I was planning to surprise you for your birthday in two weeks after.”

Minho sniffles softly and squeezes him. “Yeah? So you've been getting better?”

“I have,” Chan nods and kisses his cheek. “It's still not completely, but it's so much better.”

“That's good,” he tells him. “I'm proud of you, Channie.”

“I love you,” Chan says gently. “So so much.”

Minho smiles a little at that and takes a deep breath. He is better. “I love you too, Channie.”

Minho firmly holds Chan's hand as they lean against the wall opposite your room. About twenty minutes ago, the doctor sent them away as you started to tremble. Since then, no one has talked to them. Another doctor shuffled into the room, and Minho could tell Chan was getting anxious from there on.

Chan grows awfully quiet next to him, staring at the floor and seeming like he's far away. Minho is shaking a little, tapping his fingers against his thigh anxiously. Chan soothingly rubs his knuckles and squeezes his hand for the tenth time. “They said she'd be okay, right?” he asks.

Minho glances at him awkwardly. “They said she'd make it…whatever that means for the rest.”

Chan huffs softly and nods, Minho is right. “Am I the only one feeling like throwing up?”

“God no,” Minho laughs weakly. “Have been since the accident.”

Chan glances at him worriedly. “You should've told me.”

He shrugs tiredly and cracks his neck with a soft moan. “I always am when I'm worried. There's nothing you could've done.”

Chan nods and traces his eyes up and down his body. “But you're not dizzy? Are you having a headache? Or anything?”

Minho steps in front of him and takes both of his hands. “I'm okay, physically. They checked everything, I promise,” he tells him softly and Chan pulls him into a hug. He lets him, only then noticing that Chan is shaking himself by now. “Deep breaths, we'll be alright.”

“Okay,” Chan whispers.

“We'll be okay,” Minho repeats himself as if to convince them both.

“Okay,” Chan nods, and Minho pulls back from him as the door opens. Their hands don't part as the doctor leads them to an office nearby and asks them to sit down. Chan looks like he's about to throw up now and Minho is dancing at the edge of a lingering panic attack.

“Mr. Lee, you've asked me to wait for a proper update on your wife's state until your husband arrives,” she starts out, and Chan gently grabs Minho's hand, squeezing it. “I have an update on the condition of your wife and I'm afraid it isn't what you'd like to hear. The impact injured her frontal bone, which punctured her brain. We could fix this with the surgery,” the doctor tells them.

Both of them are smart enough not to be too relieved already. “And besides that?” Minho asks timidly, not having missed that warning before.

She gives him a compassionate smile. “Well, for one there'll probably be the usual aftermaths like nightmares or even fear of sitting in a car again. That isn't everything, though.”

“Stop sweet talking and tell us what we're dealing with, please,” Chan says kindly, heart thumping in his throat.

“Your wife seems to have suffered more trauma than we thought, especially after the surgery. She's in a coma, and we don't know when or if she'll wake-.”

“If?” Minho asks, barely audible, his hand slipping from Chan’s. “But…you said she’d make it.”

She flashes him a compassionate smile. “That’s before her body shut down, she seemed stable before. I’m really sorry.”

“For fucks sake,” he breathes out and slowly pushes himself up from his chair. “You’re saying there’s a chance she’ll never wake up again? What then? You expect me to tell you when to turn it all off?”

“Minho,” Chan speaks up gently and turns in his chair to face him. There’s nothing but blank fear in his eyes, and he looks at the doctor in front of them so desperately it breaks his heart. “It’s not her fault.”

“No shit, Chan!” Minho snaps at him, and Chan’s gaze grows firm.

“Don’t do this. Not here,” he says calmly, and Minho scoffs at him.

“My image as an idol is the last thing I care about right now, Mr. Golden Boy,” he presses out and shakes his head, leaving the room without another word.

Chan sighs heavily and turns back at the doctor, smiling apologetically. “I apologize, he didn’t mean it.”

“I'll be quick,” she assures him kindly. We don't know how soon she'll wake up again. In case she does, someone has to take care of her. I know you're both very busy. Is there anyone else, just in case?”

“Besides a friend of hers not really, no,” Chan says worriedly. “Her family doesn't live exactly close.”

“If she can go back home soon…Mr. Bahng, there's a high chance this will take months, maybe a year, until she fully regains her abilities. We don't know how bad it'll affect her yet, there's a potential for memory loss. I will inform you about eventual treatments and everything when it's time. I'm really sorry and I wish you and your husband the best of luck and strength with this new situation.”

Chan exchanges another few words before quickly rushing outside and trying the closest bathroom as the hallway is empty. Luckily, Minho seemed to have forgotten to lock the door. Minho's on his knees, retching even though there's nothing left. Chan crouches down behind him, gently rubbing his shoulders. “Hey, baby, deep breaths.”

Minho whimpers and falls back against him, sobbing. “Please, please tell me this isn't true. Not our sweet Y/nnie.”

Chan swallows down tears, trying to stay strong for both of them. Minho has been carrying everyone's shit on his shoulders for too long now. It's time he steps up again. “It'll be okay, we'll be okay,” he promises and rocks him gently as Minho allows himself to break down in his arms. “Shh, it's okay, Minnie baby, it's okay, I got you.”

Chan stares at you, deep in thoughts, trying to make sense of the past few hours. The thought of you possibly never waking up again is killing him. He feels guilty for not being there those past months. What if he missed all this time with you? Just because he hadn't been feeling so well? His chest tightens, and he sucks in a sharp breath, subconsciously reaching for Minho next to him. Every word dies in his throat, seeing his husband. Minho stares at the floor, hot tears running down his cheeks and pressing his lips together tightly in an attempt to hold back his sobs. His hair falls into his face, stomach twisting with guilt the longer he thinks about what happened. Chan swallows hard at the sight of his husband, trying not to break down. His shoulders tremble with the impact of his suppressed sobs, and he sniffles softly. Chan gently rubs his back and watches him worriedly as he pushes himself up. He quickly reaches out for him and stares up at him with wide eyes. “Please don't leave,” he whispers, swallowing down his own fear but not fully succeeding. “Please,” he adds, tears brimming his eyes.

Minho looks at him and shakes his head. “I can't breathe in here,” he confesses through tears and shakily holds Chan's hand. “I just wanna go home, please, I’ve been here for hours,” he whimpers.

Chan looks at him quietly before nodding. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees. They're both exhausted and need some sleep. You wouldn't wake up that soon, and they both could use a break. “Okay, I'll drive us home; my car’s outside.”

“For telling you to get yourself together…more or less,” he says and stops at a redlight. “That wasn’t very supportive of me.”

Minho exhales, relieved, and shakily holds onto his hand as Chan gently says his goodbye to you. They leave the hospital in silence, and Chan drives them back home, soothingly rubbing Minho's knee. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Minho asks tiredly, staring at the many buildings passing by.

Minho laughs weakly and rolls his eyes at himself. “It’s okay, you were right. There’s nothing she can do about it right now…Also, I’m sorry for calling you a golden boy.”

“Please, as if I’d take that to heart after those past few months,” he snorts, and Minho smiles at him tiredly.

“I missed you,” he admits and grabs his hand, squeezing it. “It’s good to have you back.”

Chan smiles softly and brings their hands up to his mouth, planting a kiss on his knuckles. “I’m here now, yeah?”

Minho hums quietly in response, and Chan starts driving again.

Back home, Minho stands still for a moment, and Chan watches him worriedly as he starts shaking. Minho sucks in a sharp breath and clutches his chest, bending over with a whimper. “Hey, hey, babe,” he panics a little as Minho sinks to his knees with a groan, curling up and sobbing loudly. “What’s wrong?” he asks, worried that Minho got hurt and just didn’t tell him.

“I'm so sorry,” he whimpers as Chan gets down on the floor next to him. “It's all my fault.”

Chan shakes his head and holds onto him tightly, leaning down. “No, don't say that,” he tells him and helplessly rubs his back. “It's not your fault, baby.” His heart races with how intensely Minho sobs beneath him, and his stomach turns painfully. He has never seen him break down like this in all those many years he has known and then loved him. “Come here, please,” he whispers, tears making their way down his face. Now that they're back home, he can let them flow freely and allow himself to let it out. He heaves him into his lap, and Minho clings onto him firmly, allowing himself a little comfort in his husband's arms. Chan rocks him in his arms, trying to calm his own troubled mind.

“I’m sorry, Channie,” he whimpers and Chan hugs him even tighter in response.

One week later

“Min, baby?” Chan asks, coming back upstairs. “You're ready yet, we gotta-Minho?” he asks worriedly as he spots his husband lying in bed fully dressed. He bites back a sigh and sits down at the edge of the bed. “Min? What's wrong?”

“I don't want to,” he says quietly, seemingly staring right through him.

“What do you mean? We made a promise to stop by every day,” he tries gently.

“I can't go there, okay? Not today,” he shakes his head and subconsciously curls up a little. “I hate hospitals, I hate that she's there, I hate that she's hurt, and there's nothing I can do about it.”

“We should try to be there for her as much as we can, baby,” Chan argues carefully and brushes his hair from his face.

“It’s not like she notices if I’m not there or not,” Minho says.

“The doctor said there’s a chance she can hear us, kitten, remember?” he asks patiently.

“I don’t talk anyway,” he argues weakly.

“Min,” he sighs softly.

“I can't go there, Channie. Please don't make me go there,” he shivers, his eyes brimming with tears. “Please,” he whispers shakily.

Chan crawls into bed and pulls him in close, soothingly running his hand through his hair. “Shh, baby, it's okay.”

“I'm sorry, Channie,” Minho hiccups and buries himself deep into his chest. “I fucked it all up, I'm so sorry.”

“No, Minho, none of that,” he says firmly and shakes his head. “This isn't your fault, none of it.”

“You weren't even there, you don't know that,” he whimpers.

Chan pulls back and cups his face, making him look at him. “I might haven't been there, but I'm here now. I know my husband would do anything to keep that girl of ours safe. I know you would've swapped places in an instant, and I know you'd never put her at risk like that.” His thumbs rub along his cheeks soothingly, and he searches his eyes desperately. “Minho, this isn't your fault, and I’m sure she knows that. She loves you so much, and so do I. Don't blame yourself for something you had no control over.”

“Please don't make me go there again,” he sniffles timidly, eyes wide and filled with guilt.

“I'll go on my own, it's okay, Min,” he assures him and kisses his forehead. “Try and get some rest okay?”

“I keep dreaming about it,” he shakes his head and rubs his face tiredly. “I keep hearing her scream, and then her head hits…Channie, I'm fucked.”

Chan hums gently and rubs soothing circles on his lower back. “If it doesn't get better, we'll get you some help, yeah?” he suggests, and Minho nods tiredly. “For now, I'll give you one of my pills, and you'll be sleeping like a baby.”

“Okay,” he nods gently. Minho gets into some more comfortable clothes again and takes the pill, curling up in his arms. Chan plays with his hair and hums softly, lulling him in with every passing minute. “Love you, Channie hyung.”

“Love you too, Minho baby,” he says softly and kisses his head. Once Minho's actually asleep, he tucks him in and makes sure he's comfortable before he leaves to go and see you. Chan stays with you for a while, talking to himself, telling you about whatever comes to his mind. If he could, he’d stay here all day, but there’s still loads of work to catch up with, and he doesn’t dare leave Minho on his own for too long.

At the company, Chan slowly strolls down the hallway to their practice room and hears the music blasting. He opens the door and finds Felix and Jisung practicing their newest dance. He gives them a tired wave, and Jisung quickly turns off the music.

“Didn’t we agree on you staying home for a few days?” Felix asks him and raises his eyebrows at him.

“It’s suffocating,” he shakes his head, and Jisung glances at him worriedly.

“He’s not getting better, huh?” he asks, and Chan shakes his head.

“I can’t blame him. He was the one driving; I’d blame myself, too. It’s just…today, he simply couldn’t get himself to go to the hospital with me,” Chan tells them quietly and stares at the floor. “I can’t fix this, and it’s driving me insane.”

“Hey,” Jisung says gently. “When you were feeling like shit, neither of them tried to fix you. They held your hand when you needed it and let you go as you needed some space. You can’t fix any of this, just be there for him.”

“I’m trying, Ji, I swear,” Chan huffs, frustrated, tears burning in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have left.”

“And what would have that changed?” Felix asks gently. “The only difference that could’ve been would be you driving. You think Minho would stand here any differently now then?”

“I hurt him,” Chan says and they frown at him softly. “We got into a fight, and Y/nnie took him out for dinner to cheer him up because I’ve been a complete asshole. She texted me, saying how hurt he was and…maybe he would’ve reacted more quickly and-.”

“Chan,” Felix says firmly. “We’ve seen the footage, there was no chance. The other driver was drunk and racing down that street. There’s nothing he could’ve done. If you truly don’t blame him, you can’t blame yourself either. If you’re saying you made him too caught up in his thoughts to prevent the accident, you’re not only blaming yourself here.”

Chan tiredly rubs his face before nodding. “Yeah, okay, sorry.”

“You should get back home and get some rest,” Jisung says softly and pulls him into a tight hug. “There’s no use in staying here and beating yourself up, worrying about Min when you could be with him right now.”

“Yeah, I know,” he nods and squeezes them both tightly. “I’ll just sort a few things out, then I’ll be gone, promise.”

“Alright,” they nod and wave goodbye.

So three hours in total later, Chan gets back home and quietly glances into their bedroom. Minho's still deep asleep, and Chan decides to join him while he works. He sits down on the bed next to him and gently runs his hand through his hair, turning on his laptop. He sighs softly, spotting the fading bruises on his arm and the healing cut right below his hairline. Of course, Minho had been hurt by the impact as well, but the shock and gravity of your situation made him downplay his own injuries. Chan only found out accidentally when they took a bath two days ago to relax a little. “Oh, kitten,” he whispers to himself and shakes his head at him.

Minho wakes up another three hours later, rolling away from him drowsily. His brain feels fuzzy, his vision is foggy, and he needs a moment to comprehend he's awake. He rubs his face with a groan and blinks heavily, trying to stay awake. Turning onto his back, he spots Chan next to him and squints at him. “Why the fuck are they so strong?” he rasps, voice laced heavily with sleep.

“Well, because I need them to sleep,” he chuckles and gently fondles his hair. “You slept alright?”

“Mhm,” he hums sleepily and stretches his body with a low groan. “How's Y/nnie?” he asks timidly.

“No changes yet,” Chan tells him and thoughtfully stares out of the window. “Min?”

“Hm?”

“I think you should take a break,” Chan says, not looking at him.

Minho shoots up and stares at him. “Why?” he asks dangerously low, suddenly fully awake.

“You're exhausted, baby. You deserve a break,” Chan says, glancing at him.

“And it's just that?” Minho asks sharply, and Chan frowns at him. “Not because you think I'm losing it?”

“What? No,” he quickly shakes his head. “I swear it's because you're exhausted, you worked double with me gone.”

“More like triple because you do way too much, but yeah,” he snickers before huffing softly. “Yeah, okay, you're probably right. Can you sort that shit out?”

Chan smiles knowingly. “I already did. You're on break for a month besides group interviews that get recorded or those two live performances we have coming up.”

“Okay,” he nods, agreeing. “That won't stop me from dragging you home from the studio if you stay too long.”

“I’ll be careful,” he promises and squeezes his hand. “You’re okay?”

“I know,” he giggles softly. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“You’re a menace, Chan,” he shakes his head. “If you don’t cut back a little, you’ll end up overwhelmed and overworked again in a month.”

Minho’s eyes flicker away from his, and he nods firmly. “Of course I am.”

“Kitten?” he asks softly. “Can you promise me something?”

“Depends,” he squints at him suspiciously.

“I need you to be honest with me. If you’re struggling, feeling lost, or overwhelmed, let me know. No matter where I am, no matter how late it is,” Chan says, and Minho stares at him quietly for a minute. “Minho?”

“I can try,” he whispers and searches his eyes. “No, I will try. I promise. Just…don’t expect too much, you know how I am.”

“Yeah, okay,” Chan nods worriedly, and Minho gently kisses his cheek.

“I’ll be fine, I always am,” he says.

One and a half months later

After skipping that one time, it took him a week to go back to the hospital. After that, he didn’t miss a day, sometimes coming here with Chan and sometimes, when Chan’s schedule didn’t fit, coming on his own. He couldn’t deal with not seeing you and talking to you, even though you never answered.

Minho greets the nurse with a kind smile and nervously clutches the flowers in his hand. “Any news?”

“Not yet, Mr. Lee,” she says gently. “She’s stable, that’s what counts. It isn’t getting any worse. Don’t give up hope.”

Minho nods gently. “I won’t,” he says before excusing himself and stepping into your room. He closes the door quietly behind himself and sighs softly, seeing you. “Hey, Y/nnie,” he says gently and makes his way around the bed, replacing the old flowers with the ones he brought. “Got you some flowers…you would like those,” he says and sits down on the chair next to your bed. For a while he simply watches you, watches your chest rising and falling, your lashes resting against your cheeks. The bandages around your head are gone by now, and he hesitantly reaches out, caressing your cheek. “God, I miss you,” he sighs softly and braces himself on the mattress, taking your hand between his. “It’s so quiet at the house now when Channie’s working. Sometimes, I’m stupid enough to believe you’ll come around the corner every second and ask for cuddles. Or ask if I can make you dinner, I miss cooking with you so much,” he rambles on mindlessly. “You’d be surprised how much has changed since you’re not home. Chan is home before twelve every night, can you believe that? He’s really taking care of himself now, you’d be so proud. Also, he asked me to teach him some things around the kitchen, I think he did it so I wouldn’t get bored. I’m seeing a therapist now…never thought I’d ever need that. Apparently, there’s more stuff in my life I need to work through besides that stupid accident. She’s nice, you’d like her,” he says and trails off for a while. Your face before his eyes gets blurry as his eyes brim with tears and his throat tightens up.

It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to feel like shit about what happened. It’s okay to feel guilty. As long as it doesn’t stop you from moving on with your life and eventually smiling again. He doesn’t know how often he heard those first three sentences in the past few weeks.

Minho inhales shakily and squeezes your hand in his. “I miss you so much, honey. I miss your laugh, I miss acting stupid with you, I miss holding your hand or pulling you close and swaying you through the kitchen. I miss holding you when you’re asleep, and I never thought I’d miss carrying the grocery bags for you this badly. Fuck, I miss your voice and those beautiful eyes looking at me like I deserve all the love you have for me,” he sniffles softly and presses his trembling lips together for a second. “Can you try and wake up soon, Y/nnie honey? I can’t stay strong forever,” he presses out, and his shoulders shake with a suppressed sob. He doesn’t notice the door opening and flinches a little as someone wraps his arms around his waist. Chan’s familiar scent surrounds him, and Minho instinctively leans into his touch. “I’m okay,” he whispers.

“I know,” Chan answers quietly and kisses his cheek. “Some days are just harder than others.”

“Yeah,” Minho sniffles softly and stays in his arms, your hand in his pressed against his face. “You’re early,” he speaks up after a while.

“We finished early,” he nods and mindlessly rubs his side. “Thought I’d stop by and pick you up.”

“Thanks, love,” he says gently. He doesn’t feel safe driving yet, and Chan made sure to pick him up personally whenever he could. Minho pulls back from you with a sniffle, gently resting your hand on the mattress. “No update yet, but they told me it’s a good sign that her state isn’t getting worse.”

“Okay, that’s something,” Chan nods, agreeing, and gets himself a chair, lifting Minho in his lap. “You wanna talk about today?” he asks, gently rubbing his thighs.

“Maybe tomorrow?” he asks, turning in his hold. Chan nods understandingly and squeezes his hand.

“That’s fine,” he says, resting his head on his shoulder. “You know you don’t have to tell me about therapy, but I’m there if you want to.”

“I know,” Minho smiles thankfully and watches you thoughtfully. “I see her every day, and still, I miss her like crazy.”

“Yeah, me too,” Chan nods. “I’m so glad to have you still…I’d go insane on my own.”

“Oh, me too,” he chuckles softly. “You wanna leave? Or can we stay for another bit?”

“We can stay as long as you want to, kitten,” he promises.

One week later

Minho unlocks the front door to your house and drags himself inside. After a quick visit this morning he had been at the company, practicing for an upcoming performance. It’s been two months since you fell into a coma, and according to the doctor, you’re slowly starting to make progress. She told them there was a high chance it wouldn’t take all too long anymore for you to wake up. Minho didn’t care one bit how long it would still take. The fact that you’d wake up again had been everything he needed.

He frowns softly at how quiet the house is. Shouldn’t Chan already be home? Minho slips out of his shoes and calls out for him, getting no answer. “Channie, love?” he asks again, strolling into the living room area. His eyes widen at the sight in front of him, and he covers his mouth in shock. “What the fuck?”

The living room is dark but illuminated by the many strings of light adorning the walls. A huge bouquet of red roses rests beautifully in a vase on top of the sofa table, and the sweet scent of fresh brownies lingers in the air. Minho turns at the sound of the door opening and sees his husband stepping inside with a bottle of wine. “Channie?” he asks softly.

Chan’s eyes widen, spotting him, and his face falls checking his watch. “Hey! You’re home early,” he protests.

“Obviously,” Minho giggles and frowns at him. “What’s all that about? Did I miss something? It’s not our anniversary, right?” he asks worriedly.

Chan puts down the bottle of wine and shakes his head. “I just realized it’s been six long months since I did something nice for you with everything going on. I wanted to surprise you and - no, why are you crying?” he asks softly.

“Sorry,” he giggles through tears. “Happy tears, I swear,” he promises and messily wipes his cheeks.

“Fucker,” he breathes out as his own eyes fill with tears seeing him beaming with joy after all this time.

Minho giggles wetly and closes the distance between them, hugging him so forcefully it makes Chan stumble for a moment. “You’re so sweet.”

Chan smiles brightly and buries his face in his shoulder. “I love you so much, kitten.”

“I love you too,” he whispers and pulls back, beaming at him. They sink into each other’s eyes and Minho can’t help giving in to the invisible string pulling them closer. Their lips meet in a slow, sweet kiss and Minho melts into him, hand buried in his curls.

“I worried this would be too cheesy,” Chan giggles breathlessly as he pulls back for a moment.

“Don’t you ever dare stop being cheesy, yeah?” he whispers.

“Never,” he promises, giggling, and seals the deal with another soft kiss.

PART THREE | PART FIVE

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@atinyniki @kailee08 @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @ontito0icongirls @furiousheartpoetry @bluesiebirdie @scarlet789 @ziipzeepzop-eez @harshaaaaa @lost-in-avoidance

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waynes-multiverse · 2 months

Note

hello ! hope your having a great day, wanted to ask your thoughts (maybe a dirty drabble??) on Soldier Boy or Beau having an s/o that is artistic or draws/paints a lot? �� Currently working on pieces for my uni and in dire need of motivation to get it done😭 anyways i love all your work !!!! 🖤🖤🖤🖤

A/N: What a fun idea! Couldn't resist to write both of 'em, so I hope those two idiots bring you enough motivation 🎨💪😂

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Artist!Reader // Soldier Boy x Artist!Reader

Warnings: +18/NSFW, super light smut, tons of fluff, SB typical behavior, crack

Word Count: 1.1k

Main Masterlist || Dirty Drabbles Masterlist

French Boys

Beau Arlen:

As his car stopped in front of your house, Beau could see the lights still burning brightly in the garage, knowing you were still hard at work.

“Hey,” he greeted you as he stood by the door, watching you with a warm smile.

Your gaze drifted from your canvas to him with a smile before spying the brown paper bag in his hand.

“Brought you something. Figured you were gonna burn the midnight oil and needed some fuel,” he said with a knowing smile.

“You’re a godsend,” you said with a happy sigh and took the bag from him, inhaling the smell of its delicious contents. “I’m sorry I’ve been locked up here so much. It’s just… I’m really nervous about the gallery opening this weekend, and it’s stressing me the fuck out and–,” you rambled before you were stopped by his large palms on your cheeks.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed you, chuckling, and pecked your hairline sweetly. “I get it. You’re gonna do great, alright? Amazing, in fact.”

You let out a deep, calming breath and smiled up at him. How did you deserve such a good man? And where the hell have you found him?

“I love you,” you said and draped your arms around him, crashing your lips against his and entangling him in a searing kiss that showed your gratitude. But as you pulled back, your eyes widened in shock. You clasped your mouth.

“What?” Beau looked at you confused before he caught your gaze locked on his shoulders and saw the red-painted handprints on his jeans jacket.

“I’m so sorry,” you gasped, embarrassed. You’d been working with paint everywhere all day. Of course it was all over you at this point.

To your surprise, though, Beau broke into loud laughter and shook his head at you. “Honey, it’s okay,” he told you before his freckled face was overtaken by a mischievous look. “In fact…”

He leaned over to one of your paint cans and dipped his finger inside a white one before booping your nose. You could feel a wet, cold blob on your tip as you gaped at him.

“You did not just do that.” You were speechless, but his playful laugh was contagious and intoxicating.

“Oh, it’s so on,” you announced and dunked your hand in a shade of blue, splattering it graciously on him.

“Oh yeah? Hope you’re ready ‘cause this means war, darlin’,” he countered with a wide grin, his hands finding green and yellow.

He chased you through the garage until he caged you in his arms, your mouth erupting with giggles until he filled it with kisses. Paint was everywhere, your clothes soaked and his beard and hair sprinkled like a cupcake.

“We’re never gonna get clean again,” you noted through giggles, looking at the beautiful mess in front of you as you brushed your fingers through his locks.

Beau lifted you up on your workbench, your legs locking around his waist. He kissed you deeply, feeling his excitement growing between your thighs.

“Guess we’ll just have to stay dirty then,” he said with a smirk and claimed your lips.

Soldier Boy:

You were curled up on the couch in your apartment, your eyes flickering between the bowl of fruit on the coffee table and your sketch pad in your hands.

Your concentration, however, was broken when a loud thud echoed off the walls and almost shattered the coffee table in a thousand pieces, sending the bowl of fruit flying across the room.

Your eyes lifted from your sketch pad and to your boyfriend in front of you, propped up with one muscular leg on the small table, elbow resting on his thigh with a bulging biceps and a painfully hard cock.

Annoyed, you huffed a sigh but weren’t surprised. You had been working on your assignment all day and wondered when your needy-ass, attention-seeking supe boyfriend would get bored with watching TV and smoking weed in your room.

“Ben, what the hell are you doing?” You looked up at him and saw the broad and proud smirk on his freckled face.

Cocksure didn’t even do him justice.

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Figured I’d give you something better to draw than a fucking boring-ass banana.”

“Uhm… that is so sweet and considerate of you. But I really need to draw fruit this week. That’s the assignment,” you said wryly before pushing him out of the way.

Well, as best as you could. He was a supe after all, but he budged and bent to your movement.

Pursing his lips, he threw his arms up in upset. “Oh, really? And what the fuck is all this shit, huh?”

Dramatically, he tossed one of your art maps on the table and crossed his arms over his broad chest, waiting for an explanation. As you peeked at the scattered sketches of naked men (and women), you knew what this was about.

You rolled your eyes back with a deep sigh. Of course he snooped through your stuff when you left him unsupervised in your room. “Ben, I told you already. We were drawing human models last month.”

“You never fucking said they were naked!” he argued, his deep voice trembling with jealousy and fury. “So, what? You’re just off, drawing cocks all day at that art school of yours?! I won’t fucking allow it, Y/N!”

You stifled a snort and tried to remain calm. He was honestly cute when he was greener than his suit. “Honey, you don’t have to be jealous. You know I love you... and your giant-ass dick.”

Biting the insides of his cheeks, he blushed slightly as he calmed down. “Yeah, well, you fucking better. ‘Sides, I’m not jealous. My cock’s way better than whatever those crooked-ass dicks are. Can’t even see them without a fucking magnifying glass…”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” you feigned your agreement and hid your amused smile, nodding heavily. You stood up from the couch and locked your arms around his broad shoulders. You pulled his lips to yours, kissing him passionately until all his worries faded. His dick twitched between your legs. “You know, sometimes I’m surprised how you don’t explode with that giant ego of yours, welling from every pore.”

“Oh, you want me to explode?” Ben looked challengingly at you, smirking. “I can arrange that. In fact, how about I make you my fucking canvas and splatter my paint all over you, huh?”

“Ben, what–…” You burst into laughter, which was swiftly turned into a giggling shriek of protest as he grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder, carrying you to the bedroom.

What do you guys think? Which mess was harder to clean in the aftermath? 😂💚

TAGS:

Everything Jensen:

@alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @imsapphine @globetrotter28

#dirty drabbles #beau arlen #soldier boy #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #beau arlen smut #soldier boy smut #big sky #the boys

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jakeyt · 3 months

Text

Covet: Chapter 10 (Part 2 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great.

Was.

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home.

Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in.

Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.

At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); angst; depression; feelings of stress and anxiety; feelings of sadness; abandonment issues; allusions to a dark, forgotten childhood; arguing; heart issues addressed (POTs); use of heart monitors; revisited, vivid memories of sex; jealousy; body changes as a result of pregnancy; suuuuper sore boobs; negative self-talk (stretch marks specifically); talk of baby + pregnancy; pregnancy hormones...things get heatedddd; reader and jake are both stubborn + turned on, but can't be together and it's TOUGH; cheating; heavy petting; rubbing of bodies against each other (see: dry humping); hands on boobs oopsies (as usual, PLEASE lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 16.7k+

a/n: hi babes… <3 this is my personal favorite part out of the two… so, let me know how you feel… ;) love u all. busy day! i'm so sorry it's late. plz know i love you all sm <3

s/o to @joshym who is my favorite and the most wonderful encourager and sister in the entire universe. i love you more than i can say. you make life sunny and everything better <3

also, @alwaysonthemend, i love you so incredibly much and i’m so grateful for you and your unwavering support and texts that never fail to make my day <3

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤 (fr, i listen to it nonstop when i write this.... all of the songs are pertinent to the story and aid in telling it - either already or eventually.)

Covet Masterlist

-🌼🌼🌼-

“The covetous man pines in plenty, like Tantalus up to the chin in water, and yet thirsty.”

-Thomas Adams

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 25, 2022

Friendsgiving. A standing, solid tradition since the first Thanksgiving you’d spent as Josh’s friend. It had always been you, Elsie, Josh, Sam, and Daniel.

But this year, you’d be entertaining new people. One you were incredibly grateful for. Jake. And one you weren’t even slightly sure about.

Maya.

She was the last person you wanted to celebrate a holiday all about Thankfulness with. But, you had to. Stupid ass shit that you couldn’t control, so you had to just pretend to be fine with it.

To your benefit, you had a distraction – a fantastic, welcome one in Elsie. Elsie and a morning of grocery shopping.

For Friendsgiving, in a group chat between you two and the rest of the boys, Elsie had insisted that you two be in charge of pies. So, you two were currently wandering the aisles of Walmart with Pinterest up, recipes open to several flavors of pies that Elsie had decided the two of you should make.

And the way to make homemade crust since she refused to use store bought.

“It will be a fun thing to try,” she’d sworn, aggressively pinning a couple to your shared board.

You were the one in charge of grabbing things off the shelves, while she pushed the cart and bossed at you what to grab for each recipe. The makings for apple pie and pumpkin pie already rumbled around in the cart. So, now you were on to the final pies and their ingredients. The few cans of cherry pie filling had just landed in the cart when Elsie decided to confront you about Jake.

“What’s going on between you and Lover Boy?” She asked, trying to sound absentminded in her question, but you knew she was not thinking of it randomly. She’d most definitely waited for a moment to hit you with the question when you were forced to respond.

And, you were. You were currently completely stranded at a Walmart with only her and one car to get you back to the apartment. There was no escaping the question. So, you decided to do what you could and only answer halfway.

“Well, he knows,” you started, grabbing a bag of sugar off the shelf, avoiding her eyes. “And things are going good.”

“What a vague response,” she hummed. “Why don’t you grab a couple cans of blueberry filling and hit me with full honesty.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the can and turned to face her. A blush painted your cheeks that you couldn’t avoid. “I am being honest. He knows and things are good.”

“Yeah, that answer works for a random Joe, but not your sister. I’m not here for the fucking cliff notes.”

“I don’t care what you’re ‘here for’, Elsie,” you grumbled, turning to walk ahead of her toward the flour. “And why didn’t you ask me this yesterday when we had the entire day at Grandma and Grandpa’s?”

“It didn’t really feel like the right time to ask,” she defended, pointing to a particular bag of flour, which you grabbed and put in the cart. “I also didn’t want to stop talking about the ridiculous fangirl experience because that shit was hilarious,” she paused, gasping. “Oh! Speaking of fangirls and the other guys. . . When are you planning on telling Josh? I'm dying to start planning a baby shower and I want him to help me.”

“He didn’t tell you that I told him before my first–?”

“You told him?!” She asked, astonished. The cart squeaked to a halt behind you.

Turning around with a laugh ready at your lips, you gawked at her. “What is wrong with you, Dramatic Ass?”

“Um,” she sharply started, hand on a hip. “My sister and my boyfriend are keeping me in the dark, that’s what’s wrong.”

“Josh is busy and I’m busy,” you responded slowly. “We’re not 'keeping you in the dark'. Also, he just found out a few weeks ago. It’s not like he’s known for–.”

“A few weeks?!”

You swiveled fully around to face her completely. “Els. Josh has never been one to talk about other people and their lives to shoot the breeze. You know this. He wasn’t going to bring it up if it didn’t concern him.”

“Well, it does. It concerns both of us. Aunt and uncle? Hello?”

“It’s also just a giant ass thing that I’m sure he’s still processing,” you argued. “Give him a fucking break.”

“I’m bringing this up to him,” she stubbornly stated, huffing and everything. “I’m going to make him own up to not telling me he knew.”

“You knew and didn’t tell him,” you reminded her.

“That’s different; you didn’t want me to tell him.”

“And what if he thought I didn’t want you guys talking about it at all? He’s very sensitive to stuff of that nature.”

“I don’t know. I’m still asking him,” she firmly stated, continuing to push the cart forward, effectively ending the conversation with her tone.

And, much to your joy, dropping the other part of the conversation as she went on a sassy rant about something Josh had done recently that pissed her off.

It lasted all the way home and you were damn happy. . .

Although, you did have to work a little magic to get her to stop being such an over-thinker and asshole when it came to Josh. You had to give a plentiful amount of examples as to how he was all of these amazing things wrapped in one and not the person her mind was trying to convince her that he was.

She had trauma and abandonment issues, too. . . she just didn't always show them like you.

But. . . it made you pause. Made you think of yourself and Jake. . . . your mind went to the clouds as you thought of your feelings towards him. You were still like this as you helped her carry in groceries, and only snapped out of it when she started bossing you again. Except this time, she was annoyingly giving you jobs around the kitchen to prepare the blessed pies.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Jake had been the main chef for Friendsgiving.

All day, the apartment smelled heavenly thanks to his wondrous cooking. He'd started way early in the morning, and had awoken you with the incredible smells. . . but you had forced yourself to lay in bed rather than going about your morning routine. Truthfully, you really hadn't had to force yourself too much as you heard Maya's voice make unwelcome waves around the apartment through your door. You weren't in the mood for any of it this morning considering last night. Last night, when you'd seen him and Maya. . . . . Yeah, you'd still been in the process of blocking that the fuck out.

So, you'd only caught a little glimpse of him buzzing around the kitchen before Elsie and Josh had shown up. At which point, Elsie had been ready to hit Wally World.

But, now that you were back, you'd noticed that he'd taken charge of a few very important tasks. He'd roasted a giant turkey in the oven, made rolls and mashed potatoes from scratch, and a delicious gravy to accompany all of his dishes. Josh had been in charge of casseroles, and the other two hooligan men had been in charge of drinks and salad (a big bag of lettuce from Walmart with a bottle of Ranch and a plastic container of cherry tomatoes).

Maya had been in charge of nothing, claiming via Jake that she would be helping him. But all day long, she’d just sat around, looking way too stupidly pretty, and watched him cook. Lazy ass.

While you and Elsie slaved away at dessert, thankfully Jake was done with his preparations (save for the turkey that still cooked and created the most appetizing aroma). Meaning that Maya had followed him and wasn’t looming in the background as you made pie.

Which was good because you really did not need her around you any more than she had to be.

As you made pie after pie and sat them on top of the oven to go in once the turkey came out, you filled Elsie in on everything else that had taken place in your life as of late. Told her about the emergency room visit and everything you’d found out at the E.R.; how you’d come up with a solid morning routine to attempt a healthier pregnancy; and any intricate therapy detail that came to mind.

The boys had been sitting in the living room, playing music on a few guitars (Josh, filling up the apartment with old Elvis tunes). Then, opting to talk for the majority of the time.

So, you'd been able to gain precious time with your sister. She had encouraged you and supported you just like you knew she would. She’d also gotten onto you for not taking better care of yourself and not taking prenatal vitamins sooner.

“You fucking idiot,” she laughed, bumping your shoulder with hers as she passed you in the kitchen with the last pie. “No, but really. I’m sorry that you’d been so stressed and overwhelmed to the point of forgetting to do shit like that. I wish I’d lived closer to you for the beginning of it all.”

Your ears perked up at that. “Yeah. . . Me too,” you said slyly, considering options as they filtered through your head. “What would it take for you to move closer? I don’t want to be selfish, I just don’t want to do this without you.”

But, after the words came out of your mouth, you heard just how selfish they sounded. Though, thinking about her being with you for the baby had been something at the back of your mind that you’d been contemplating for weeks. It didn’t mean you needed to drop that fucking bomb on her though. . . The baby wasn’t her thoughtless decision that she needed to change her life for. . . It wasn’t fair to her.

“I’m sorry, Els,” you slapped a hand to your forehead, shutting your eyes to avoid any further self-induced embarrassment. “I didn’t even think about that before it slipped out. You don’t have to change any—.”

“Well,” she started, coming close to you and removing your hand from your head. As she held your hand in hers, she continued speaking. You opened your eyes to her. “That was actually my thing that I was waiting to tell you. . .,” she paused, trailing off. A slow smile lit up her features as her eyes brightened. “I put in a request for an office job attached to the company I work through. An office job for a branch of the company - based here in New York. . . Told them I didn’t want to travel any longer and that I’d appreciate something steadier as life changes. . .”

Your ears filled with excited static. “What?!” You gasped, eyes lifting with hope. “What did they say?!”

“Well, a few people talked to a few people, and the director of the program I’m in gave his permission and then recommendation to that part of the company,” she rushed out. “So, in a few months, I’ll finish out my contract for this job and be living here full time for the new one.”

There was almost no time between the moment she’d said the words and the moment you’d leapt from your spot in the kitchen to give her the tightest hug you could muster.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Jake’s POV

She looked fucking gorgeous today. Everyday, in fact. But for the past couple of days, all I could think about was how thankful I was to have her in my life. Tis the season. No matter what, I was very thankful for her. . . For so many reasons.

Though, the most prominent reason in my mind at the moment was how thankful I was to her for carrying our baby. So selfless and motherly and lovely. . .

So, I couldn’t help stealing repeated glances at her. I just hoped I wasn’t being too obvious. She was always beautiful, stunning—actual perfection walking—but the fact that our baby was in her belly just made matters much worse for me. She glowed in a way that she never had before. . . Drew my eye to her in a way that couldn’t be stopped.

It was wrong for me to look at her like this. I was in a serious relationship with someone else. . . I definitely shouldn’t have been eyeing her the way I was through the open layout, into the kitchen from my spot in the armchair. And especially not while I had my arm wrapped around my extremely hot girlfriend, and her nice fuckin' ass sitting halfway on my lap.

And, really. . . y/n had effectively broken—no, shattered—my heart all of those months ago in the kitchen. She shouldn't have drawn my eye to her the way she did after what she'd said. But, I really couldn't hold that against her any longer. It didn't matter as much as it once had. . . not anymore.

But, we weren’t meant to be. Honestly, I wasn't sure if I wanted us to be. . . It seemed too difficult for the two of us to manage. And, I had Maya. . . Mayamayamaya.

I would've been lying, though, if I said she wasn’t the most incredibly created human being. She was sculpted by the gods. . . Meticulously made to ruin me. When she really shouldn't. Fuck.

And now that she held my baby. . . The way her tummy rounded out more than usual, under her sweater—that shit left me completely speechless.

The way she held pregnancy was unparalleled to every other woman that had ever done it before. She was ethereal. And as great as Maya's ass was, there was truly no comparing it to the way y/n's ass looked in those leggings I’d seen her wear no less than a million times before. . . And just like every time before, I wanted to walk up behind her and feel the curve of it. Rip them the fuck down and bend her - dammit. I was so fuckin’ weak for her.

But anytime I felt Maya move against my arm, or lap, or smelled her perfume wave off of her with an action, I was reminded of how completely wrong it was for me to be checking y/n out. It was wrong how I couldn’t get her out of my head—all the time, she was there. Even in the most intimate moments with Maya, she kept creeping the fuck into my thoughts.

But, truly, it just happened. Couldn't control it.

And, even when I got up to check on the turkey once more, I couldn’t help my reaction when I passed her. When I'd accidentally brushed past her on her way out, the way my heart pounded in my chest as our bodies touched for a millisecond. She smelled so sweet—just like a damned sugar cookie. And the way she’d passed so delicately against me. Her top half had pressed against me for a stolen moment in time, her eyes catching mine as her precious bump skimmed my waist.

And her breasts. Felt those, too.

My chest tightened and my dick twitched—it was almost too much. The air was stolen from my lungs.

We were so close for those few seconds.

“Sorry,” she hushed, her eyes flicking up to look at me. A small smile was sitting on her lips, more out of embarrassment than anything. Her cheeks were the prettiest pink under my gaze.

But she wasn’t the one to be embarrassed. I was the only one who should have been embarrassed — for how I was instantly a teenage boy again, just because of a little brush from her body.

“Don’t be,” I mouthed, like we were sharing a secret. My lips lifted to reassure her and my eyes lit up with an emotion I couldn’t explain if I tried.

Her face softened at my expression, and then she was gone.

And once I’d gotten the turkey out of the oven, I was mostly back to normal. I’d forced myself to think about sad images of roadkill enough to ruin the mood I’d set in my head.

After breathing a few deep breaths, I called out that dinner was ready and all I could do was hope for the best for the rest of the day.

End of Jake’s POV

-🌼🌼🌼-

Thanksgiving carried on from when lunch started at two in the afternoon, to the evening, and saw your friend group (and Maya) sitting around the living room.

You were all bouncing back and forth with the Roku remote. Rotating around your semi-circle, every person took a turn choosing a YouTube video to cast.

It had turned into a sort of game of who could play a song that meant something to someone else in the room. Jake had just had the remote, right before Elsie, and had played a song for Josh. It had been some song from Seussical The Musical, to which Josh had sung along to every word. He’d even gone so far as to get up to do a little performance of the song.

“That’s exactly how it went,” Josh had chuckled heartily, the sound starting deep and lilting at the end. He dropped his arms from an obviously rehearsed dance routine, the song ending on a final high note. “I swear to God.”

“Oh, Joshua,” Sam’s eyes bugged as he looked at Jake with a laugh, who shared the moment of humor with him. “Trust me. We remember. Every single high school theatre production,” Sammy shook, as if reliving a traumatic memory. "All of it is seared into my poor, poor brain."

"Samuel, shut the fuck-," Josh started, before getting interrupted by his twin.

“Day in and day fucking out, Josh. That’s how often we heard those songs at home— for the months leading up to that damn musical,” Jake raised a thick brow. It made your tummy do somersaults - he was so handsome. “And I was lucky enough to hear it from backstage as crew. . . Every single rehearsal.”

“Yeah, you really fucking hated those songs,” Josh noted with a bubbling laugh, sitting back down next to Elsie, his arm falling around her shoulders. “Why would you make yourself suffer through that again?”

“Just playing the game,” Jake shrugged, rolling his eyes with a smile. He handed the remote over to Elsie, who sat on the couch, next to where he sat on the floor, in front of the couch. “But goddamn if I don’t ever hear it again, it will still be too soon.”

Sam agreed with a toast, raising his beer bottle as Jake lifted his. They nodded at each other from across the room. And you stared on, getting distracted by the woman who sat on the couch, criss-cross-applesauce, behind him, braiding his hair.

Fuck that bitch, you thought hotly— ridiculously.

Admittedly, it took too far too long to look away from her pop-up salon. But you eventually did, and watched the screen as Elsie started typing something into the search bar.

You knew better than to feel jealous of her. But, you couldn’t help eyeing her from your place, as you snuggled into the armchair with your favorite fluffy blanket covering you. Just wanted to let the chair swallow you, so you nestled deeper and closed your eyes to imagine it.

“This is one of y/n’s favorites,” Elsie said, the pre-video ad starting on the television. “The first time she watched this, her life changed. The perfect mix of her love for classic rock and soul music.”

Instantly, you knew exactly which song she was talking about. And when the video started, your heart expanded in your chest, making everything feel fuzzy and light. Everything felt okay.

Change the World. . . . the Unplugged version. Eric Clapton and Babyface. . . . so many memories.

“This is our childhood,” you said, voice thick with emotion. The amount of tears you cried on a weekly basis was nothing short of humiliating. The baby hormones were vicious in their attack.

“I can’t tell you how many times we heard this as kids,” Elsie affirmed, looking over at Josh.

“Grandpa is a strangely huge fan of Babyface,” you giggled, throat loosening a little as the laughter bubbled from your chest. “This Unplugged vinyl played on a loop for a period of time.”

“It was that year we bought it for him for Christmas,” Elsie added, agreeing. She was watching the screen with tears in her eyes, too. “But you ended up loving it so much,” she looked over to where you sat. “That the next Christmas you got your own vinyl of it. From yours truly. You're welcome." She winked, blowing a little kiss your way.

“I do take partial blame for the constant looping on the living room record player,” you smiled, winking at her.

She winked back. “Yeah, you and Grandpa had equal hand in his Unplugged record warping on this song.”

You grinned, sticking your tongue out at her as she did the same. When Eric Clapton started singing, you gave the screen your full attention. The sound of this song only brought back the happiest memories. Even before hearing Babyface’s cover, it was a family favorite. It was a song that made you feel whole.

It was the one song your Grandpa loved to sing to you. . . Before this version had ever come to your family’s attention. He'd sing it in those soft moments that felt like glowing rays of sun hitting your skin on a hazy summer evening.

But when your Grandpa had heard the Unplugged cover on the radio, the Earth had shifted for him. . . And even though it didn’t top your Grandpa singing it, the cover featuring Clapton held a special place in your heart with how often you’d heard it bouncing off the walls of the living room. It played so often that you associated it with some of your best days. . .

You'd still been innocent enough, still, to enjoy the world through a rose-tinted lens. And, far enough away from the trauma with your Mom that life had felt new. Ironically, the cover of the song had come around when your world was finally feeling like it had changed. It had been an intricately timed re-release of the lullaby your Grandfather had once poured over you as you’d drift to sleep on both restful and restless nights. The song felt safe – sort of like your Grandmother’s cooking felt for you.

“You know, it’s funny,” Josh’s voice cut through your drifting thoughts. You kept watching the two men on screen, but tuned in to your best friend’s dialogue. “Jake loved this version, too. When YouTube came around, he would watch this version back to back, trying to memorize the way Babyface and Eric complimented each other on their guitars. He always wanted–.”

“To play both parts and record them on top of each other," Jake finished, watching the screen intently. You’d let your eyes wander from the screen momentarily to see his expression after hearing Josh’s story. He still looked utterly invested; just like you imagined he had looked as a kid re-watching it over and over again on YouTube. “It’s not really an intricate piece. . . I just found it at a time when I wanted to try everything I could on guitar. I knew how to play better than most 14 year olds, yes, but I still didn’t know half as much as I do now,” he explained, never looking away from the musicians.

You saw movement at his waist, and when you looked down to observe, he seemed to be playing a guitar part in the air. And you knew if he picked up the instrument right now, he’d match one of the men in time. Whichever one he was currently studying - you couldn’t tell.

“I don’t know why I never recorded myself playing both parts. Synced them over each other,” Jake mused, still playing in the air. “I used Garage Band like it was an addictive fucking drug–.”

“You can say that again,” Sam inserted, acting annoyed but still grinning so wide all the same.

“But I just forgot about it, I guess,” the older, long-haired brother continued, as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “I’m getting the urge to do it again now – it’s coming back strong,” he chuckled, looking down at his fingers with a brow raised–just like he’d do if he was actually playing.

It was fucking hot to watch him play so intently with nothing there to support him. Only his mind, full of the memorized chords from years ago. And to a song that meant so much to you.

“I’m sure the guys at the studio would let you do it with their recording equipment,” Danny offered, also watching the famed musicians with intrigue, glancing over at Jake.

Jake sucked in a breath, dropping his air guitar before leaning back against Maya, closing his eyes and sighing with one particular scratch of her nails against his scalp as she tugged out the french braid to start another.

Gag. You could vomit at the sight of their mushy-gushy behavior.

Your hand floated to your stomach to remind yourself of one thing you had that she didn’t.

“Nah,” Jake sighed, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling. “I feel like it has to be done without the expensive stuff. It has to be recorded in a way that baby Jake would have recorded it. . . I just–,” He wrinkled a brow, releasing a grumble under his breath.

There was something he was concerned about. . .

And, as he sat back up to watch the men finish out the song, Maya made a little huffing noise, crossing her arms over her impressive chest. But, in all of her perfection, she covered the noise with a small smile and a shake of her head. Just seemed to be joking with her little bratty act.

Oh, how cute and funny.

She’d looked over at Sammy, who’d made a little sound at Jake’s words. You followed the line of sight.

“What’s the deal, brother?” Sammy questioned, leaning forward to emphasize his care for Jake.

“I just don’t have the time to do a little side project like that–can’t even think about prioritizing it,” he replied, combing a hand through his hair, untangling anything that resembled a braid. Maya did outwardly pout at that. She whined his name and said something about her hard work. You couldn’t help the tiny smirk that lifted your lips at the scene. You tried your best to hide it, and just focused on the screen again. “And even calling it a project sounds silly with everything else going on in life right now.”

Before you could feel too guilty for the situation under your palm that added to everything going on in his life, Josh spoke up with a giant gasp.

“Baby Jake!” The curly-headed twin exclaimed. You all looked in his direction, equally confused with knitted brows. “That’s just it; record it like you would have back then with the intention that it’s for your baby. Something fun to do. But. . . You’ll prioritize the time if it’s for the baby. If you look at it that way, it won’t seem silly at all," he wiped his palms, arm back over Elsie as he finished with jazz hands. "Ta-da!"

As the song concluded and the next ad started (an ad for baby diapers, of all things), Maya was urgently pushing Jake out of the way, claiming she needed to pee. And as she passed between your line of sight and Jake’s, you realized you were zoning out on him when your eyes met his, just as she rounded the couch.

He gave you a small smile, his eyes staying on yours, floating down to where your belly hid under your blanket, and then back to your face when he responded to Josh’s idea.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good plan, Josh,” he said, gaze never once leaving yours.

The fire that rose from the pit of your tummy, all the way to your cheeks was not a new feeling with Jake, but for some reason. . . this time, it felt unlike any time ever before.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Everyone had stayed, having decided to lounge on couches for the night to sleep. They were all in equally deep slumbers (save for Maya, most likely still completely awake and waiting for Jake in his bed).

You’d all stayed up until the wee hours of the morning–much later than you had in a long time. The only way you’d been able to make it, the tiny cat naps you’d dozed in and out of. As you’d done that, everyone else had continued on with their little YouTube game.

Now, here you were, completely exhausted, practically dragging yourself to bed, ready to sleep. Just barely managed to wash your face before Jake had hopped into the bathroom, right after you, to brush his teeth.

But before you could make it inside your room, he passed by behind you. You weren’t even looking. You’d just smelled his heavenly cologne, a favorite scent of yours (and the baby’s, apparently) flood the space around you. You knew he wasn’t actually drenched in the smell of sandalwood and vanilla, but your baby-powered-super-senses could’ve convinced you otherwise. He smelled delicious and you could easily drown in him.

Though, instead of focusing on that, you let yourself act on something that was threatening to leave your lips. No matter how hard you tried to stop it, your tired brain wouldn’t let the words halt.

“Please don’t stop pursuing your dream or any other thing just because of everything that’s happening with me and the baby,” you rushed out, peeking up through your lashes for a moment before locking eyes with your hand on the knob of your door. “I don’t want you to ever feel like this is taking up too much space in your life or causing any unnecessary stress. You can back out whenever you want if you feel like that’s what you need and I won’t be upset with you for—.”

“No,” Jake responded, soft and stern, moving to stand in front of you. You had no choice but to look up at him, he was standing so close to you. His eyes bore into yours. “I’m not going to back out. I couldn’t do that–wouldn’t ever do that. I want this. I promise. It’s everything else, I think, that’s stressful. The baby is something I get to look forward to,” he reassured, his voice wavering just enough to worry you.

But you didn’t let it get to you. Tiredness prevailed above any doubtful emotion you could’ve mustered. You could only sleepily nod your head at his words.

“The baby inspires me even more to make it all happen,” he rasped in a velvety tone, assuring you. After, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. Your sleepy eyes slowly followed the motion. You wished it was you. “Everything else is still exciting, too. . . But it’s a lot and it gets me thinking about how different everything is about to be. It’s scary. But– it’s. . . the baby makes it all seem brighter. Better. I’m not just doing it for me anymore. Not even for my brothers. It’s for my baby,” his full lips spread into a loose, close-mouthed grin. “Our baby.”

Your tummy flip-flopped and all you wanted to do at that moment was kiss him. You felt the slightest inkling that he wanted the same, with the way he’d brought his body in front of you, closer than he needed to. But. . . you blamed it all on tiredness. There was no way you could trust yourself to make actual, coherent assumptions. You were getting carried away, and even though you wondered of the possibility that he could want it, you cut off the idea.

Tired or not, you knew one thing. He didn’t want you. He had a girlfriend. A real relationship with a woman much more beautiful than you. So, before you could get trapped in his big, beautiful brown eyes any longer, you decided to bid him goodnight.

Though, just as you’d opened your door to go into your room, he stopped you. “Hey, real quick,” he cleared his throat. You looked up at him, confused at the sudden stop. “Maya–um,” he shook his head, brows furrowed as he messed with his bottom lip. “She told me that she wanted me to help however I possibly could. She wants me to be attentive and helpful in any way I can be.”

He was right there - a step away. His breath, fanning over your face. You could smell the mint of his toothpaste. “Obviously with limits,” his voice lowered a bit as his eyes peered down at you.

What was that supposed to mean? Surely he didn’t mean. . . But, you responded the only way you could think to.

“Obviously. . .,” you trailed off, raising a brow out of complete confusion for the conversation’s direction. “I wouldn’t want you to cross any sort of boundary. You’re in a relationship with her. Not me.”

“Yeah. She’s my girlfriend,” he replied, voice rasping on a hitched breath. His body felt as though it was wrapped around yours in an act of protection. He’d brought his hand up, above your heads, as his body curved in towards you. After a pause, he continued. “But I don’t want to make any boundaries with the baby ever. Not at all. I want to be present. From now until always.”

Suddenly, the moment was gone for you. There was no way he’d ever meant it as anything more. All he’d meant was you needed to remember there were boundaries. This was all about the baby. It was selfish to ever think any different.

You knew better than to believe any different than that. Your thoughts got out of hand so damn easily these days. Why did you let them wander so far when you fucking knew better?

You backed up, your back touching the doorframe behind you. He scrunched his brows, but you weren’t sure why he was acting confused. It was late. You were definitely imagining things. He was just tired, too. . . that was all.

“So. . .,” he cleared his throat. “Just let me know however I can help with the baby. Please.”

“Okay,” you whispered with a quiet nod of your head.

“Okay,” he muttered with a gentle, distant grin. He nodded his head as well. And right before he opened the door to his room, his words barely touched the air as he told you goodnight.

-🌼🌼🌼-

November 28, 2022

Covid. Gia had Covid.

Your heart broke for her having to deal with that absolutely terrible illness. And your nerves were climbing up the wall at not being able to see her. She wasn’t so bad that you couldn’t email her if you had questions or needed advice. But, you also knew better than to bother someone who was sick with something like Covid.

So, you were spending the time that you would have been gearing up to go to Gia’s office, on this chilly autumn day, pacing back and forth in your living room. Cuticles thin from chewing and perspiration accumulated at your hairline and under your arms, you weren’t sure what to do.

The idea of losing time on healing before the baby arrived was stressful to say the very least. You didn’t want to be any less of a mother than your baby deserved. He or she deserved a mentally stable mom. . . and in order to get there, you required several hours on Gia’s couch.

All that could wave through your one-track mind was how terrible you felt for being so stressed about your healing while Gia was so sick. She was the one who needed to get healthy sooner rather than later.

You tried to remember the words Gia had put at the tail end of the email she had sent. She’d put in a few words that reminded you how well she knew you.

Don’t stress too much about the session being cancelled. :) Things happen and we have plenty of time, y/n.

Those words, typed specifically to assure you. Except, you’d worked yourself up too much for it to work very well after you’d read the title line of her email. Just a few, simple words: Out Sick – Sorry!

If even Gia’s words weren’t helping to calm your nerves, you weren’t sure how you were going to make it through to the next appointment.

After an hour of feeling unsure about literally everything, you decided the only way you were going to make it was by doing some other form of self care. And the first thing that came to your mind was food. Food always sounded good these days (nausea taking a backseat thanks to your meds and second trimester), and it would help you feel better while also supporting the baby’s health in the womb.

But it took you no time to get sad because you didn’t know what kind of food you wanted. . .

You’d resolved to just not being able to win at life for the day when you heard the front door jingle on the other side with the sound of a key unlocking.

Jake was home. Fuck. He was home to take you to therapy and you hadn’t even thought to text him and tell him– shit. Instead of doing what he would have rather been doing, he’d made a useless trip home.

It didn’t take him long at all to notice you sulking next to the window, face-palming next to the it, where you’d been people watching minutes ago, from your vantage point a few stories up.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, concerned, as he came right up beside you. “What’s going on?”

Whenever you looked up from having your eyes pressed into your hand, you refocused your eyes on his worried ones. “I don’t have counseling today,” you sullenly stated. And rather than going into any more details, you just apologized. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. There was no point in you coming home.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he calmly reassured. Again, you found his line of sight. His eyes felt like the sweetest reassurance. “You look like you could use someone to talk to.”

“Don’t waste your time on me,” you waved him off, scrunching your brows in an effort to seem nonchalant. “Just go back to doing what you were doing.”

“Well, I don’t have any plans because I was planning on being with you all night,” he laughed just a bit, under his breath. He flicked at the tip of his nose with a pointer finger.

“All night?” Your stomach swirled at the thought, but you also felt incredible guilt at stealing that time from him. “God, I’m so sorry, Jake.”

“Please don’t be.” It was his turn to wave you off while shaking his head. He swept a hand through his hair. “I’m glad I was here– glad that I am here.”

You didn’t really know what to say. There wasn’t anything you two could do that wouldn’t get completely awkward after a while. Right? It was only four o’clock and he planned on spending the rest of the evening with you? What were you going to–?

“What do you want to do?” He asked, adjusting his jacket over his shoulders. “Wanna stay here? Order in? Go out and do something?”

Going out sounded like a date. . . and that felt wrong to do. But you also absolutely despised the idea of staying inside of the apartment to wallow for a second longer. . . .

And it didn’t take you very long to realize you were still wanting food, hunger starting to feel like empty weight in your rounded tummy.

“Food?”

“Food,” he agreed with a grin, winking at you before turning around, effectively making your brain turn to complete mush as you grabbed your own jacket and followed him out the door.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The night was one of the best you’d had in a while.

He’d taken you to get Panera. Weird, yes, but their tomato basil soup had been calling your name the second it’d come to mind, as you'd searched places to eat.

And after sitting across from each other and just talking about his budding career and your classes, at Panera Bread. . . he'd told you he wanted to take you somewhere special. And, just as the sun was setting, you’d pulled up to a Barnes & Noble on your side of Brooklyn.

“Tell me why you’re stressed,” he’d said, putting his car in park.

A used, four-door (hard top, thankfully) Jeep. An all-black, mid-thousands model. After riding around in it all evening, you’d noticed it rode really well. It was just slightly strange that he had a car. He hadn’t had one when you’d been. . .

You cleared your throat, back on the subject at hand. “I never said I was stressed,” you stated, feeling ready to combat the truth. For whatever stupid reason.

“You didn’t have to say it,” he breathed deeply through his nose, turning down the classic rock station he’d been playing. “I know you.”

Deciding it wasn’t worth a debate (because it was the truth–you had been very stressed earlier), you sighed; running a hand through your loose, natural waves, you responded. “Well, I’m just. . . this therapy is for me, yes, sure. But it really is mostly for the baby,” you explained. He sighed and you placed the hand you’d combed through your hair on your rounded bump, covered by your favorite oversized sweatshirt. “And having one session lost that I can’t be working on getting healed for the baby stressed me the fuck out. Still kind of is,” you admitted, glancing out of the small, rectangular windshield. “I just want to be completely better by the time the baby is here.”

“What are you most worried about?” He softly pondered, prompting you to talk through it.

“That I’ll be just like my mom and project my hurt onto my baby,” you said wetly, swallowing the thickness in your throat. “I have so much in me that I don’t understand and it scares me how much I don’t remember – can’t remember,” you blinked to allow the new tear to make its way down your cheek before quickly reaching to wipe it away. “And it scares the shit out of me. It makes me. . . this terrible person to other people. I need to understand all of me, so my baby gets the best parts of me.” Sniffling, you swiped at your cheeks to rid yourself of the few more tears that cascaded down your cheeks. “And I don’t even remember the last time I saw those best parts. . . . so if I can’t see,” you huffed, your eyes finally piercing his, which stayed on you, intently listening “H-how is my child going to see them?”

Jake hummed, rubbed his chin. He never took his deep-set, amber-brown irises from yours. “It’s funny,” he started, a little grin ghosting over his lips as he spoke, “I’m seeing those best parts of you right now. I see those 'best parts of you' quite often.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you unzipped and reached into your belt bag for your heart monitor phone, willing it to not go off. There were butterflies wreaking havoc in your tummy. Naturally, your hands found their way to your tummy. His eyes followed that particular movement.

“How do you–?” You sniffed, shaking your head, zipping your bag back after a moment. “How do you see those things? I haven’t seen them since before you came into my li–- for a long time. And never consistently. . .,” you rambled, eyebrows drawn together, thumbs rubbing circles over the tight bump. “I’ve always been a bit of a wild card with my emotions. And finding out more of what I'd done from Elsie. . . I'm just way too similar to my–.”

“Do you think she was as self aware as you are?”

“I don’t know,” you answered, honestly. You would go with no, but. . . “I don’t know her well enough to make that judgment.”

“Okay,” he nodded, sticking his bottom lip out. A grin found its way to his plush lips, looking so kissable in the cramped space of the car. You leaned further into the door so as to not tempt yourself of anything. He continued, “Well, I would say she probably wasn’t. Or else you wouldn’t be wracked with so much significant trauma. She wouldn’t have left you hanging with so much to deal with. . . she would have been there for you. Helped you because she would've wanted to help herself. Would've been self aware enough for that,” he emphasized. “Parents say stupid shit. They do stupid shit. They’re humans. What matters is how they ultimately react.”

“But I react so brashly, Jake,” you argued, needing to be heard. “What happens if I do that to our–?”

“You won’t. I know you won’t,” he consoled you, his eyes so earnest as he conveyed the words. “You struggle with saying stupid shit. I do, too. So does everyone. You’ll figure out how to handle situations better, but it won’t be as hard as you think,” he shook his head, taking the keys from the ignition. “Not for you. You are determined. And you’re not this monster you’ve made up in your head.”

“Well, –,” you started, interrupting him, only to be cut off.

“And your best parts are too many to name right now,” he surmised, winking at you once more. You rubbed wider, nervous circles on your tummy. “But one of my favorites is your determination to help others. The way you care for others. And if a mother has those qualities,” he pointed a finger at your tummy, and trailed the finger up to point at your face. “She will be one helluva fantastic mother. I’m glad our baby will have you.”

“Thank you,” you replied after the words had actually cracked the surface of your mental warfare. No voice appeared to combat what he’d said, so you let them sink, all the way down into your brain to truly consider for later. You didn’t fight them. . . which you viewed as progress. “Thank you so much. I–I needed to hear those things. And you were the perfect person to hear them from,” you blushed, crinkling your nose with the words. A smile settled on your lips, eyes drying. “Because I know you’re going to be the best daddy to this baby. I’ve known it for a long time. . . So, it means a lot that you think the same. Seriously.”

“Of course I think so,” he smiled, glancing once more at your tummy. “And the way you're always holding our baby. . . you love her so, so much. You’re already so intentional about loving her.”

“Her?” You asked aloud, wondering why he’d chosen that gender. Your hands held tighter to your tummy at the assumption. “Why girl?”

He hummed, looking out the windshield, past your head, with a wide grin. “It just feels right,” he concluded, before motioning at the windshield, nodding towards it. “Look.”

You did as he said, turning to see a mother and son (presumably) traipsing up to the store, just past the nearest cart corral. The little boy was skipping, and the mother was watching her like the entire world started and stopped with the child. The sky was bluer because he was around. You felt that.

“The way you’re watching them says enough, honey,” he concurred. There was that nickname again. . . Honey. Your heart skipped a beat at the term. “I see it all over you. You’re going to mess up. Parents do. My parents did a lot and I still think they’ve been the best parents.” When he gave a small, breathy laugh, you looked his way. He rubbed a finger over his bottom lip. “But what good parents do after they mess up is– they have humility and apologize. They show integrity to their child. You do that. Already. For me.”

Sitting across from him in the still air of the Jeep, you let your eyes bounce back and forth between his. His smell, warm, sweet, and woodsy, was enveloping every sense of your body, in the taut air of the vehicle. His breathing laced with yours, your heaving chest kept up with the rhythm of his. He was steadier than you. . . he seemed fine.

You felt anything but. Your emotions were going haywire at everything he’d just said. The man he was to you. . . he was too good to be true.

But, instead of letting yourself get sad that he wasn't yours, you looked at the store behind you and cleared your throat. It opened up your mind and the air in the car. He blinked a few times, tilting his head slightly, watching you.

“Wondering why we’re here?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I thought– let’s get out,” he said, pausing the conversation to unload from the Jeep. You followed his lead, taking the tall step as gracefully as you could to get down and out. The slip almost happened–but didn’t. Thank god.

Joining him at the back of the car, you waited for him to lead the way and continue. You wrapped your jacket tighter around your body, over the sweatshirt. There was a bite in the air that hadn’t been there before. Jake tightened his jacket, too, tucking his hands in the pockets of it. “I brought us here because I knew you were stressed. I knew it probably had to do with the baby,” he started, looking down at you. You felt his stare, looking up to meet it. “So I thought maybe coming here to get some books to study and prepare would help you feel more at peace about whatever was on your mind,” he drew in a breath before blowing it out into the cold, dry air. “And now that I know it had to do with preparedness, this was kind of–.”

“Perfect,” you finished, nudging him with your shoulder.

He looked down for a second, his eyes read an unknown emotion before he kept on. “I know you probably have a lot of books already, but–.”

“There’s no such thing as too many,” you replied, leading the way through the automatic doors.

“Precisely,” he agreed, coming to a stop as soon as the two of you had entered. Raising a brow, he looked down at you before throwing a thumb over to the in-store coffee house. “Want something?”

“You don’t even have to ask,” you responded with a light smile, walking toward the smell of comforting coffee and cakes.

-🌼🌼🌼-

He’d footed the bill the whole night. . . including the surplus of books from Barnes & Noble. It had been a hefty bill, but he’d refused to let you pay. He had convinced you it was part of co-parenting – sharing purchases. And this was one of his first purchases to make for the baby.

“This was a good idea,” you mentioned at the end of the evening, juggling your one bag of books that you’d insisted Jake let you carry (the lightest one, after compromise) as you led the way up the stairs of your complex. “Focusing on other ways we can prepare for the baby, rather than worrying about what we can’t control.”

“I have a decent idea every now and then,” he chuckled, out of breath as he handled the bulk.

Once you made it to the door, you unlocked it for the two of you.

And, for a moment, it felt so domestic.

It felt like a dream you shouldn’t dream. Arriving home after a big shopping run, walking through the door together as you laughed at the heaviness of bags and discussed a few of the books you’d chosen.

And as you made your way through the door finally, it broke your heart to see the night go. He wasn’t necessarily acting ready to end it, but the impending ending made your stomach turn. You wanted this for longer.

He was going on and on about all of the things he’d researched as of late concerning babies and pregnancy and everything in between. You decided on grabbing a Canada Dry from the fridge, letting him sort the books on the counter into categories as he kept conversation easily.

Every now and then, you offered a small response to show you were listening, but otherwise, you let him talk. You loved listening to him talk about all of this.

It made your heart feel ten times bigger. Though, as you took a sip of your ginger ale, watching him sort the books, your heart began to sink instead.

You couldn’t help how much you adored his desire to learn about all things ‘baby’. He was already so good at his job as dad.

The way you’d felt all night–so peaceful with him. . . you knew it was good for you. He was literally your mental safe place (you hadn’t told him that though. Absolutely not). But. . . you knew it couldn’t go past the feeling of good friendship. Co-parenthood.

The unfortunate part, though, was that you really felt unable to stop the way you were feeling for him. It felt new and familiar all at once.

Though, you knew you couldn’t let yourself feel that way. You shouldn’t.

But with the way his eyes lit up when you looked up at him again, after staring at your feet in your whirlwind of contemplation, you knew you were doomed.

There was no stopping the way that you felt about him.

-🌼🌼🌼-

One morning at the very end of November, you woke up with a cold. A terrible one. The same cold that every other person in your classes was seeming to come down with. Theo had been gone with it all week, and you saw him more frequently than not to study. You’d decided on one or two days a week after class. There were also the few people who sat around you in class, who’d come down with it.

So, it was due time for you.

Normally, you would have tried to make it through the day. But, you’d done enough reading to learn that coming down with a serious infection like the flu or Covid could lead to a baby’s fetal development getting stunted. So, you played it safe and decided to stay home until you felt better.

You had called in to work that morning. And just after that, you’d emailed the professor you had that day to let him know. Everyone you had spoken to was understanding, luckily, which helped you to sleep very peacefully. You only hoped that the extra sleep wasn’t just helpful to you, but also–mostly–to the baby.

Sleeping off the sick seemed the best option. You hadn’t really had the mental energy that morning to look into safe medicine to take for colds during pregnancy. So, sleeping it was.

Your colds were always intense–all of your sicknesses were. When you got sick, it never failed to knock you on your ass. So instead of stressing over it all that morning, you’d chosen sleep as the easier route.

You had been hoping that you’d wake up from a long nap feeling refreshed and better. . .but. . . you were not so lucky.

When your eyes fluttered open for the second time that day to find what was left of the evening sun peeking through your curtains, you officially knew it was time to figure something out. Your eyes were burning–hurt to open. There was an ache settled firmly in every bone in your body–weren’t sure if you were cold or hot. . .

You were definitely sick. More than a cold. No two ways about it.

When you turned to your bedside table for a drink from your Stanley, you found your bedside table had a couple new additions since you’d fallen asleep. There was a brand new Stanley sitting next to your old one. One you’d eyed for a few minutes online a week or so ago, and then decided against due to the monstrously obnoxious size. . .

You’d talked to Jake about it after he’d noticed your pensive face looking at your phone screen for longer than necessary. . . And now, there it sat on your white, wooden night stand. A 64 ounce, rose quartz Stanley, in all of its glory.

And leaning against it and next to it were a concoction of helpful remedies with a couple of sticky notes to explain each of their benefits. The handwriting gave him away. Jake. In his scrawl, he detailed what to take and when, which ones you could take together. He’d even written out the link to a website talking about pregnancy-safe cold meds. There was also a fruit punch Gatorade. When you reached out, it was still cold. He’d been in recently.

Moving on from the drink and meds, you glanced at the Stanley and saw it had a sticky sitting underneath it, waiting to be read.

Plenty of water will help you and the baby stay healthy. It was worth it

It had perfect timing and came in the mail today of all days

:) –Jake

The note effectively had your head spinning from something other than sickness. . .his kind gesture, making your stomach do soft flips. Your hand floated to touch your tummy at the idea of him doing so sweet for you (and for the baby–his baby).

After reading his advice on what to take, you went ahead and took some Tylenol for your headache and body aches, then used a nasal spray to help loosen up whatever drainage you could. The Vicks rub he’d left had been a welcome solvent on your chest, temples, and under your nose.

But, it didn’t take long for your stomach to start rumbling, so you took that as your sign to find something that would ease the scratch in your throat and warm you up.

You went out to the kitchen for food, holding your brand new Stanley, taking several healthy sips of the iced water from it. When you bent down to pour food in Stevie’s dish, you realized there was already kibble in there. . . that Jake undoubtedly left for her.

You were sure your heart monitor was picking up all kinds of strange palpitations at his gestures.

Around the time you’d noticed Stevie’s food, you went to text him to tell him thank you. Only to find he’d sent a text about twenty minutes ago saying he’d left for the night. And while it made your heart sink, you knew you had no right to feel sad about it. . . especially when he’d done so much to help you before you’d even woken from your nap.

To add emphasis to that thought, you noticed at just the right time that he’d also left a couple Panera soups waiting on the counter for you. God. . . he was wonderful. You read the note he’d left with the two little sealed containers.

Soup is the best when you’re sick :)

–Jake

Your body was already hurting a little less after you’d heated and almost instantly downed one of the delicious soups. A warm shower sounded more than tempting, so you didn’t waste time throwing away your trash and making your way to grab the shower steamer pods he’d left for you on your bedside table (they were a pregnancy-safe brand, he’d assured on a sticky, which made you softly smile).

After placing them in the heating shower to begin dissolving the comforting notes of lavender and rose, you padded back to the kitchen for your new Stanley when you noticed something on the counter.

In an arranged group on the counter sat a few books you'd bought the other night. You recognized them. They sat with a notebook, stickies, and pens. Two of the books were closed, stacked, and tabbed with stickies–all bright pinks, greens, and blues.

Though, there was one more, face up and open, as if he’d had to leave unplanned and hadn’t had time to shut it. There was a pad of stickies sitting atop the page it was opened to. A pen was on top of the pad, which, when you walked closer, realized there was plenty of Jake’s scrawl already written on it. The page had a heading that read:

Props and pillows and sleep, oh my!

And he’d written the following on his sticky, which lay upon the page:

–Look into pregnancy pillows for y/n

–Be patient!!

–Do what you can to help her find the right set up for sleep or rest

–Adhere to her sleep schedules (no loud sounds or bright lights when she’s asleep, etc)

–She needs sufficient rest (has healthy outcomes for her and the baby)

You went to look at the cover of the book, but before you could look at it, you stopped yourself. For some reason, it felt like an invasion of his privacy. Even though he’d left it open on the counter, these were his notes, not yours.

But just before you could walk any further to the bathroom and ignore his notes, the book stacked on top of the other had a note stuck to the top of it. And, written in bold, black sharpie, were the words Remember: Do WHATEVER you can to help y/n – it’s for the BABY!

The words it’s for the baby being written with finality at the end of the statement reminded you that chances were, all of this was not really for you. . . definitely not. You didn’t deserve that from him. No, whatever was for you was done for the ultimate benefit of the baby.

All of everything he did was for the baby. All of the words of reassurance. The trip to the bookstore. Panera. The meds tonight. Taking you to counseling. . . ev-ery-thing.

And that was fine. . .

So why was a tear drawn to your eye as you sped away from the book that sat on top of the counter? And why had you felt the need to go back to your room on the way to the shower, to get the Stanley cup you’d bought yourself? Why did the thought of using the one Jake bought for you make your stomach feel all tangled and weird?

Because he doesn’t care about you, a voice nagged, reminding you. It was a familiar voice, filtering in from the dark tresses of your mind. He doesn’t care about you. This is for the baby. So if you feel like it’s for you, know it’s not. Let him help the baby. Don’t be selfish. The baby matters most.

You couldn’t help but agree with the voice. The baby did matter most. Not you.

So, you resolutely chose to wait out the calming scent of the steamer, until it all pooled down the drain. Stepping in when the scent was gone seemed the only option, as the way the shower calmed you was only for your benefit and not necessarily the baby’s.

Yes, it sounded fucked up and foolish in your head. But you were trying to navigate these thoughts the best you fucking could and you were grasping for something that made sense. But all you were doing was making no sense.

God, what the fuck, y/n?

And, stupidly, for whatever fucking selfish reason (because you knew for sure you were selfish–evidence proved that), you found yourself hiccuping on tears that hurt your already-aching body, under the lukewarm spray of the shower.

He didn't truly care about you. Not really. It was all for the baby.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Once your mind was lucid after your little cold-sickness stint, you noticed stretch marks had started showing up. One by one, they’d started becoming stark and apparent and made you feel gross.

The creams and oils you’d ordered seemed to help the slightest bit with the new darkness of the few tiger stripe-like lines. They truly looked heinous against your otherwise unmarred skin. You’d felt insecurities really begin to kick in after you’d cried in the shower on the first day out of three of your sickness.

During the latter three days of your cold (or whatever the hell it was), you’d sulked and avoided Jake’s help in whatever way you could. You wanted his help with the baby. Only with the baby. But the baby wasn’t there yet.

So, you didn’t need his help. He didn’t need to care about you. Only the baby. It was common sense. And it would be fine.

But it still made you feel oddly unwanted. The feeling didn’t matter.

But, for you, with your utterly complicated past, feeling unwanted came hurtling towards you, without any sign of stopping.

Since you were a child, feeling unwanted in your mother’s grimy home, a whole range of other negative emotions accompanied that familiar feeling. Most call it depression. Your oldest friend.

And, it had officially lit up for this new stage of your life. Why enjoy things for too long? It wasn’t worth it. Right?

So, the way your skin was beginning to scar due to growth you absolutely couldn’t control. . . it just set misery aflame in your amped-up insecurities and dispirit.

On the first night of December, the depressive thoughts persisted. You stood with your big sleep t-shirt tucked up under your heavy-ass boobs as you lathered your tummy up with the last oil in your new, nightly anti-stretch mark routine. As you did so, tears pooled in your eyes at the sight of yourself.

And, seemingly out of nowhere, your thoughts picked up on a different train. . . something you hadn’t really taken time to be super upset about yet. The thought slipped in amongst the rest of your woes.

It was the thought of being a single mother.

And while it didn’t matter and wasn’t completely true, because Jake would be there, you’d still be doing it on your own in a sense. You would be on your own. The two of you definitely weren’t together. He wouldn’t be there with you. He would just be there, doing his own thing for the baby, with Maya by his side. (Nausea crept up at her name alone. Gag.)

You were going to be a single mother. Just like your own moth–. No. You locked eyes with yourself in the mirror, momentarily stopping the massaging of your belly.

I will not let my mind go there, you asserted silently, staring daggers through your reflection. I am not her. I am not. I can’t be. I won’t be. What would Gia say? What would Jake say?

Amidst your crying and sorrowful thoughts, the knock on the door of the bathroom kind of spooked you. And, in the depths of your despair, you couldn’t really care fucking less who saw you right now. That was just how pitiful you felt.

“Come in,” you said, sniffing and trying to cover the sound of tears in your voice by swallowing them.

When the door began opening, you had to scoot over a little to let Jake in. You knew it was him. He’d been home all night with you, while Maya was busy doing whatever the hell she needed to do for her job.

He’d spent a couple hours catching up on New Girl with you and it had been nice. Except, anytime you thought about how it wasn’t really for your benefit and rather him just being your friend for the baby. . . It just wasn't the same.

“You okay?” He carefully pondered, coming to stand slightly behind you in the mirror.

But, as soon as he appeared next to you and saw your current state of dress, his eyes went immediately to your bare tummy. He stayed trained on the bump that continued to grow, day by day. Still not huge, but definitely not small.

Insecurities were instantly blossoming at his stare. He was not looking away for anything, lost in a trance. He was probably in shock at just how big your belly had gotten, compared to the last time he’d seen you like this. Chances were, he was repulsed by what he saw.

You effectively decided the stretch marks had been tended to enough for the night. You went to pull your Pratt shirt over the exposed skin. But to your surprise, his hand was shooting out, around your body, just as quick, to stop you before you could pull it down too far.

He definitely succeeded in stopping you, holding your wrist. You were in shock – skin flaming at his touch . . .felt it everywhere.

“I want to see,” he requested, sort of breathless. What? He wanted to–? “You look–this is–.”

“Ugly? Fat? Disgust–?”

“Beautiful,” he firmly stated, his eyes finally locking with yours in the mirror at the word. “This is beautiful. You are beautiful.”

His hand still held your hand over shirt, not daring to touch your belly. You couldn’t move to make the position change. The fact that he’d just called you beautiful was like a lightning bolt to your entire nervous system.

“I’m not–,” you shook your head, at a loss for words. You did not fully agree with him. Was it beautiful that you were holding the baby? Was the baby beautiful inside? Yes. But were you loving your body these days? Absolutely not. “The stretch marks. . . I’m so fucking big. . .”

“You aren’t,” he suddenly dropped his hand, and you were missing his touch as soon as it was gone. He went to lean against the bathroom counter, facing you. His eyes bounced between your belly and your eyes, settling on your irises as he continued. “You are not any of the things you called yourself. I don’t think any of those things when I see you. . . I don’t even understand how you could–,” he shook his head, blinking once before finding your eyes. “I just see a woman who is special to me. A beautiful woman who is carrying my baby.”

Carrying my baby.

Those words. . . they did something to you. Your palms were sweaty as you held tighter to your shirt, rolled under your boobs.

“The baby is beautiful,” you concurred. And surprisingly, you didn’t trip over your words. “But I am–.”

“You are beautiful. I am talking about you right now,” he stated, with no room for disagreement in his tone. “Don’t discount that. Please.”

“Are you just saying these things because I’m carrying your baby?”

Where did that come from? Shit. Nothing like baring your most vulnerable feelings to the very person you feel most vulnerable in front of. . .

“No,” he said without pause. He sounded sure. “You have always been beautiful. It’s just. . . enhanced now. I can’t. . .it’s hard to explain.”

You wanted to ask him to try to explain it but you didn’t.

All of a sudden, you felt confident to ask more.

“You don’t just think so because of the baby? Do you just care about me because of the baby?”

Jesus. There it was.

“We’ve gone over this,” he sighed, rubbing circles against his temple. He didn’t keep on with the action, instead stuffing his hands in his pockets as he found your eyes with his.

“I know, but I just. . . I feel like I don’t matter. I mean, I really don’t right now do I?" You sarcastically laughed, eyes watering. "All I’m good for is being the big, fat incubator who hates her body and has ugly fucking stretch marks because my belly won’t slow the fuck–.”

“It’s good that it won’t slow down,” he reassured, amber-brown irises smiling with his lopsided grin. “It means the baby’s healthy and growing.”

“But you do think I’m an incubator,” you stubbornly persisted. “Didn’t say anything to argue that.” Your tone unnecessarily snipped with your next words, “Jake, you just want to help the baby. I know this. So just wait until the baby’s here. Don’t worry about me or making me feel better if you just want to help the–.”

“Where are you getting this from?”

You stared at each other for a few moments. . . . He gave you a look that told you he could see you.

“My mind is a really twisty place,” you huffed a humorless laugh, rubbing your own temples now. “It never shuts the fuck up,” you paused–didn’t want to say anything about the sticky note on the book that had spurred the thoughts. The same thoughts you’d voiced the night you’d told him. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve already been insecure about all of this shit. It’s just–.”

“I don’t view you as an incubator,” he insisted, crossing his arms, strong fingers wrapping around stronger biceps. “I view you as a brave fucking woman who is being selfless as hell. You’re growing a fucking human, y/n,” he said, grin widening. You felt your lips lift, too. He continued, “And I can’t help but be amazed by that alone every. single. day. And while that is beautiful, yes - I won’t say it isn’t because it is,” he unwaveringly asserted.

“But. . . it’s more,” he kept on. “You’ve been this woman-the one in front of me - for a long ass time–before I ever knew you. Though, since I’ve known you, I’ve had the privilege of seeing this woman. I knew your heart right off the bat–since the day Josh told me about this girl who was letting a man she didn’t know move into her fucking home. Just because she cared about the situation. Didn't even know me," He raised a brow, lips quirking as yours did the same. “You’re selfless and–,” he paused.

His eyes shut briefly before opening to yours. Except this time. . . they were wet with emotion. Yours were, too. Your heart was pounding and you felt warm with a blush, from your chest to your face.

“And kind. So thoughtful when you don’t need to be. You care a whole fuckin’ lot for others and sometimes it gets you in trouble because you get in your head and it hurts you,” he said, brows dipped with a shake of his head. “But the fact that your heart is the way it is in spite of everything you’ve been through–I can’t even imagine, y/n. All of that and so much fucking more makes you beautiful,” he tucked his hair behind his ears before they went back into his pockets. “So, no, it’s not just because of the baby. It’s just one more thing that makes you beautiful.”

You were utterly speechless, and you couldn’t stop the wetness in your own eyes, a tear trickling down your own cheek. . . How could he even begin to say all of those things about you when you’d been so terrible to him? Always made assumptions?

You weren’t sure how much time passed when you finally swallowed down your own tears and found the most simple words you could mutter. “Thanks, Jake,” you whispered.

“Don’t thank me,” he winked. It clicked with you that you could faintly hear your heart monitor phone going off in your room. It was alerting you of unusual heart activity. No fucking wonder - with the poetry the man had just spoken. He heard it, too, apparently, brows wrinkling. “What is that sound that’s been going off for the last few–?”

“My heart monitor phone. My heart is beating really fucking hard in my chest right now and the monitor picked up on the palpitations,” you blushed, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear as you finally pulled your shirt down. “I’m not used to hearing people say things like that about me. It just catches me off guard when you–,” you coughed, blinking as you located some sense. “When anyone says sweet things like that to me.”

Then, you were back in time. Yet again. On the living room floor. That day it'd rained. . . a quiet, gray morning. He'd said things so like what he'd said just now. The same day those Aretha Franklin songs had sealed a place in your heart. Well– both of your hearts, apparently. . . according to Jake at the bar.

A comfortable silence had crept over the two of you that morning, he’d so obviously been watching you– admiring you–not to be mistaken for anything else as you'd laid atop him.

His next words confirmed it.

“Even in the grayness of this morning, you shine so bright,” he said, almost absentmindedly. “You fucking glow, y/n. You’re just brilliant.”

All you’d been able to utter was a measly, “Thank you.” The sound of tears in your throat, behind your response, had surprised you.

“Has no one ever told you?” Jake had pondered, his warm chest breathing steadily and comfortably beneath you.

You’d explained how Josh and Elsie were kind to you, but. . . “hearing you say something like that. . .,” you’d emphasized to him. “Those words. . . It just feels good. I don’t know,” you’d shaken your head, a tear falling to meet his tanned chest. “And no one has ever said those exact words to me, no.”

“You are all of that and more, my lo—,” he’d cleared his throat, stopping himself from saying a word your heart was now longing so badly to hear. “You are so many things wrapped in one, y/n. So many fantastic things.”

“Stop,” you’d sniffed, more tears falling onto his chest. “You don’t have to say things like that. I promise I’ll still want to have sex with you if you don’t,” you’d laughed, wiping your leftover tears. The words had sounded funny (true, but still funny) as they’d left your mouth.

“I want to tell you those things,” he’d said, firm in his response. “You deserve to hear those good things. Sex or not.”

And tonight had proven that he truly meant that statement. No sex, and still. . . .

But . . . goddamn. The sex.

With that thought in mind, you couldn’t help but watch the sway of his ass in his tight black jeans as you followed out of the bathroom behind him. You bit your lip after bidding him goodnight– only able to think of how fucking badly you missed the sex.

“I fucking love you,” he'd once told you - on the very night that had gotten you in this predicament. “And god, do I love fucking you. . .”

Not that word. . . Where had it come from just now?!

Love. Love. Love. Love. You hardly ever thought of him saying it to you–tried not to because it hurt and you knew it wasn’t true anymore.

But when he’d said those sweet things about you being beautiful just now. . . apparently, your mind couldn't help but chant the word . . .and the sound of him saying it to you. Why?! He was just being kind.

It was so hard wanting him and not being able to have him. . . Not like you ever actually had him - but before you fucked everything up with your stupid, hurtful words.

And, god, did you still want him.

You couldn’t have him like that – all of the reasons were plain as day. But. . . at least you still had the memories. The wonderful memories. But being pregnant made the memories so much worse. . . because one little thought of how he felt inside of you had you actually throbbing for him.

As soon as you got to your bed, you were reaching into your bedside table for your favorite little vibrating instrument. The thought of that morning. . . the idea of having your breasts pushed against his bare chest again as he told you things just like he did tonight. . . You knew it wouldn’t take long for you to be unraveling.

Before long, you were feeling all of the tremors you craved from Jake’s mouth, from the little toy held just right against your quivering bundle of nerves. And in less than five minutes, you were shuddering, body tensing and releasing as you breathily moaned his name into your pillow.

-🌼🌼🌼-

December 4, 2022

Your week ended with a particularly exhausting day at the Black and Gold.

Inventory had come out of nowhere. And, with Josh busy with his new career, it was mostly on you to prepare for it.

The two other girls who worked with you couldn’t give two shits and it showed when you’d shown up for a shift after theirs. Nothing was ever prepared in the evenings or the following mornings if they were in charge—and inventory week was no exception.

In fact, it was glaringly more obvious when it was such an important week as inventory week.

And having to do all of that after your few solid days of feeling like complete and utter crap and while being pregnant? It had been one of the longest days you’d had in your whole life (dramatic? Maybe. But whatever.).

And to top it all off, you’d come home to the apartment being very warm to accommodate the cooler weather outside.

For normal people, it probably felt nice to come into the warmth. And, most likely, it would’ve felt great to you before your pregnancy.

It was just too damn hot in the apartment tonight. You’d wanted to come home and take a warm shower to wash off the day and relax your sore muscles, but the temperature of the place had you throwing that idea away real quick.

So instead, you hurriedly went about feeding Stevie before rushing to your bedroom to dig out the box fan stuffed at the top of your closet. You’d bought it the summer the A/C had let out on you and your sister, and had kept it handy ever since for fear of it happening again.

And at this exact moment, it felt just as hot to you as it did that summer the A/C quit working.

The fan was plugged in and blowing at full blast, towards the bed, in no time. It was sitting on top of your vanity seat, pointing right at your side of the bed. The speed at which you’d gotten it situated was astounding. And your sheets were cool and crisp and tempting you to climb into them when you pulled your covers down.

But you couldn’t climb in yet with the way your bladder was squeezing and hurting with how badly you needed to pee. You’d put it off at the B&G, ready to get home. And then you’d come home to an uncomfortably steamy apartment.

Before heading to the bathroom, you stripped completely of your tight bra (thank you, God), your stuffy sweater and your leggings. Then, changed into a thin pair of pajama shorts and the first camisole you could find in your chest of drawers. And thankfully the thin strapped shirt had no built-in bra to constrict you.

You’d welcomed Stevie into your room, her soft purrs and shaggy fur rubbing against your ankles as you promised her of your soon arrival back.

Finally, after peeing and washing your face, you were ready to lay right in front of that fan.

You stopped by the kitchen to quickly grab a Stanley from the counter– to find nothing. No Stanley. Neither of them.

Shit.

Slapping your forehead, you remembered almost instantly where they still sat on the counter at the Black and Gold. Both of them. Your rush to leave and rest from your long day had prompted you to forget a couple of your most prized possessions.

Without your go-to water tumbler, you felt naked. And even more thirsty.

Your day had been long and hard and now you were paying for it. Ugh.

When you scanned the kitchen for a quick alternative, your eyes immediately landed on the case of waters that Jake had recently bought for rehearsals only. You didn’t give two shits. You were bound to steal one to satiate your thirst.

The one problem was. . .

It was sitting atop the fridge. Out of your reach. And with the few inches Jake had on you, he’d stacked it up there so it would be out of the way. You remembered him saying those exact words as you eyed the package now. Hated those words.

Because not only was it out of the way, it was out of your reach. Out of your reach when you were dying of thirst and needed a drink of water. Stat.

Without thinking of risking anything, you went to grab a table chair quickly and quietly.

You had to be quiet because Jake was home and you did not want to wake him. Not when you were in cavewoman mode. . . and especially not with the way your tits and ass were flashing in your current choice of clothing. Or with the ugly heart monitor that was attached to your chest.

So, as carefully as possible, you sat the chair next to the side of the fridge with the waters and climbed on top of the seat to grab the case of Pure Life. Briefly, you worried about handling a heavy object while pregnant, but put it to the side when you realized pregnant women all over America handled water cases like this. You were fine.

In the lapse of time it took you to contemplate holding the waters, and getting it off the counter, you misplaced the package on the counter top. And right as you silently stepped off the chair, the waters came crashing down onto the floor of the kitchen. The harsh sound of plastic smashing against the ground, filled with several heavy bottles of water, seemed to linger in the air around you as you stood there. One foot still on the chair, one off ready to go.

Not able to change the fact that it crashed onto the ground, you just stood there and stared at the offensive case of water for a moment and cursed it for its loudness. But before you could silently wish harm for too long, you were bending to pick it up.

Once it had been safely placed back on the counter with careful hands, you glanced towards Jake’s room. No movement or sound from it. He probably hadn’t heard — deep in sleep.

And then. . . Your pregnant brain was sparking to life.

There was a fucking Brita in the fridge. Filled to the brim with ice cold water, versus the room temperature water in the case. You’d just filled it this morning before class. And ice cold water sounded so much more appealing than lukewarm. . .

If only you’d remembered before that you had the filtered water waiting in the pitcher. . . There wouldn’t have been a giant crash to possibly wake your roommate.

Putting all of the irritation out of your mind, you went to grab a glass quickly from the cabinet, then hastily pried the pitcher from the refrigerator. With nervous hands, you poured until the glass was literally overflowing.

“Shit!” You whispered at the mess, anxious to be rid of this situation. Tired and thirsty and still feeling warm even in your cami and shorts, your ears rushed with white noise.

This was not ending up like you’d planned.

The pitcher had safely found its spot back in the fridge and you were finally taking a drink from your (overfilled) glass, when you decided to multitask and grab a few paper towels to clean up the counter.

But when they wouldn’t rip off the roll, you yanked too hard. And that resulted in the water you were still drinking, to spill. It dripped down your chin, down your top mostly, and into the top of your shorts. Sensory overload was doing what it did best, overwhelming you—making you lose grip and had the glass falling from your hand and to the ground.

That shatter was much worse than the water case falling, the shards thankfully large, but the few sparkling pieces of glass had you shushing Stevie away when she approached with curiosity.

And if Stevie was approaching, then surely someone else had heard—

“Y/n, what’s going on?” Jake hushed, his voice close behind you, sounding like it was coming from the entryway of the kitchen.

You stilled. Of course he'd woken up. You’d made a fuck ton of noise. Real nice.

You turned on your heel, just the slightest bit, to peek over your shoulder at him. And with the luck you’d already had with the night, the action made you effectively slip from the bit of water that had made its way under your foot.

Falling, more like—and not using the counter to catch yourself like a sane person—towards the hard ground and glass, bump—baby— first—fuckfuckfu—.

Jake’s arms immediately wrapped around you, effectively stopping your fall. He hugged you tightly to him. One arm wrapped fully around your stomach, hand secured to your side, firmly in place. And the other hand— gripping your breast. . . fully.

He had you wrapped up in him, ass pulled into his crotch to keep you steady.

And ho-ly fuck.

Your nipple hardened instantly at the feeling of him holding your chest. You’d been waiting to feel his hand hold your sore breasts. . . And your assumption had been correct. His touch eased the pain in them, felt deliciously good—his touch didn’t hurt them like everyone else seemed to do on contact.

But then he began moving his hands away.

No.

“I’m sorry— I-I didn’t mean to—.”

“Stay.”

The word just slipped out as you grabbed hold of his hand, keeping it secured where he’d initially placed it, carefully situating his fingers over your nipple for the sensation you longed for.

And when you did, he squeezed the flesh through your thin shirt. His other hand gripped your hip, exposed just a bit by your shirt – the way his fingers held you there made you fearful that he’d leave marks.

You fucking hoped so.

And fuck, if he didn’t like it, too. You could feel it against your ass.

The way he continued to massage his other hand on your chest, wrapping his fingers securely around your breast, feeling it, told you so, too. The impulsive urge to pull down the top of your shirt and give him full access was becoming more and more appealing by the second.

But you didn’t do it. Didn’t want to do too much and scare him away.

You just let his arm come to rest where he apparently wanted it to, fully over the other breast. He comfortably situated his arm, rubbed a purposeful thumb over your sensitive nipple.

“Jake,” you whispered. Couldn’t help it. He elicited this feeling. “Please.”

With your words, he pressed his front harder against your ass. God, you could feel the shape of him.

Letting the moment take over, you decided to let your body lean into his, rested against him and pushed your ass purposefully into his hardening dick. The breath he sucked in was not lost on you, and you craved hearing it again, so you repeated the action against him.

His hand tightened around your breast, and he began massaging it as he used his grip to pull you even closer to him. His thumb moved to rub tight circles around your taut nipple. It felt so good. . . your head fell back against his shoulder, sucking in your own breath between your teeth. The way he gently kneaded the flesh in his strong grip had electricity shooting through your chest, all the way down to your toes.

Your heart was going crazy, beating frantically, barely letting up with its assault against your chest. The feeling of him against you was enough to make you lose your breath with the way your heart was clenching in your chest, all the way up to your throat.

And then you heard a familiar, faint beeping from your bedroom.

The blessed heart monitor phone. Tracking when your heart rate would increase. The stupid phone didn’t need to tell you that it was beating hard right now. And so what if you fainted? You would do it in Jake’s arms. No better place to be.

All you knew was that you were elated that it was still in your room – and quiet enough to the average ear that it hopefully didn’t break the air of want between you and this man you wanted so. badly.

Jake hadn’t heard it - or didn't care to stop if he had, that much seemed to be clear.

He angled his hips, pressing so cozily into your backside. You could feel all of him – moving in slow circles, while still pressed tightly to your ass. That continued on for a while until he nudged himself, right in the middle of your ass. You felt him pulsing. Tucked into you, making your core throb even more for him.

Your nerves were on fire, and when he began rolling his hips, thrusting into your ass. . . you released the tiniest moan. It was such a small sound that you briefly thought you’d imagined it. But then the hand that had been holding your hip came to wrap around your throat briefly, and then up to your mouth.

His breath came in hot waves against your ear, his voice gravelly with need. “It’s late. We shouldn’t make noise like that. It’s too late.”

After making his point known, his hand moved to sweep some hair over one shoulder, leaving your neck exposed for him to breathe hotly against. . . and then lick. Your breath hitched at the sensation of his wet tongue, making loose circles against your hot, sweating flesh.

“You still taste so good,” he moaned with the words, ever so quietly. “You always will–but it’s like you taste sweeter than before. I can’t even–.

But he never finished what he was saying, choosing instead to press sloppy kisses against your skin. His lips and his tongue, moving together to suck gently.

Fuck! What had gotten into–?

Your body relaxed into him all on its own, moving near enough to him that you felt like one.

Your ass ground against him, pressing so close. He kept with his motions as he angled his lips to hover above your bare shoulder, breath hot on your skin.

Though, his kisses stopped. But, he still released puffs of overexerted breaths, over your skin, wet from his mouth. It made your toes curl and your eyes fall closed. He didn’t give your neck any more attention as he used his position to lean up and look over the front of your body, effectively pulling you even closer to him.

“God,” he breathed, his breath hitting from exposed shoulder, onto your collar bones. Your motions continued, but just a little slower to keep him where he was, not wanting to somehow push him away. You felt him, throbbing steadily against your ass. “You’re soaked.”

You have no idea, you silently, hotly responded, moving to rub your thighs together.

But you remembered your predicament. What he was talking about. Your clothes were completely soaked through. There had been so much water. He was talking about your clothes.

“I spilled my water,” you breathed back, so quiet.

“I can see that. Y/n– fuck,” he rutted against your ass, his hand moving to the bottom of your full breast to hold it in a steady grip. You realized he was moving his hand to see the entire breast, your straining nipples through the soaked white fabric. “Your tits. . . they’re so fucking– Goddammit.”

“Sore,” you moaned back, your body arching in need against the hardness in his loose pajama pants. “Heavy.”

“God, I’m sor–,” he went to move his hand again. And you once again brought your hand up to stop him.

“No, Jake,” you held his hand in a tight grip, rubbing your thumb over the back of it. “Feels good.”

“Yeah?” He questioned, raspy and needy.

Then, he was suddenly letting go of your chest to move your strap to do what you so desperately wanted.

Once it was draped over your shoulder, he moved a hand slowly over your sternum, into the front of your shirt. When he grazed his fingers over your oversensitive nipple, you whined, knees buckling. And, finally, he pulled your breast out to touch the air.

And just before he could hold it with the hand that was readily going to grasp it. . . his bedroom door was creaking open.

“Jakey?” Maya’s voice rang through the apartment. “You okay?”

Of course she was here. Why wouldn’t she be?

You hadn’t heard the tell-tale sign of anyone taking steps towards the kitchen from the slightly creaky hallway, but you still decided you needed to get the fuck away from Jake. He was not yours.

You pulled away harshly and quickly, turning around all as you went to pull up your tank.

When you fully turned around, he was standing stock-still, watching your every move with your top, not letting his eyes fall away from your breasts. Your hard nipples. You felt the blush spread across your entire chest.

Then he bit his lip, your entire body heating at the motion, before he was responding.

You moved forward to hold his cheek, trying to wake him from the daze he was in. Your words barely hit the air, you were so quiet. “Jake, go back to your room. I’ll clean this up so she doesn’t–.”

“I’m good, babe,” he called back to her in a low tone, still honing in on your eyes. Your brows dipped, confused. He looked to the fridge, his hand coming to hold your bicep, keeping you there. Why was he not getting his ass back to his room? “Y/n’s asleep and I really don’t want to wake her,” he lied, eyes still glued to something to your left.

She could walk in and see he was lying! Why was he being so fucking careless?

“Just go back to bed,” he continued, leaving no room for argument or worry. “I dropped something when I was getting up to get some water.”

“Okay,” she responded, not using the same near-whispering tone as him. “Just don’t be long, baby.”

“I won’t,” he simply said, amber-brown irises, tracing back to yours in the dim lighting of the kitchen, highlighted by the moon, shining in through the kitchen window. Full moon. Anything can happen.

And what was happening was wrong.

When you heard his bedroom door click closed and a little squeak from the bed to indicate someone had placed weight on it, you pulled away from him, his arm slowly dropping back to his side. The eyes that stared back at yours had a question behind them, but you didn’t give him time to ask it.

“Jake,” your tone clipped and quiet. You didn’t want to break the ridiculous cover he’d mindlessly created. “Why the fuck did you lie like that?”

“I didn’t want her to come in here,” he cut back, his inflection reflecting the same hot energy as yours. “If she would’ve known we were both in here, she would have come looking. I don’t need that,” he insisted. “And neither do you. Especially with your tits on full fucking display like that.”

You glanced down, after he’d motioned momentarily at your chest. And, his words rang true when you realized your entire fucking nipple and areola was visible through the material. Even in the darkness of night, you could tell as much. Your arms flew up to snugly cover them, flinching at the way it felt like sharp needles were pressing into your chest momentarily.

When you peered down to where you saw his hand moving, you realized he was palming himself through his pants. You felt yourself release, the slightest bit in your panties.

Your hands tightened closer to your chest, doing the opposite of what you wanted in that moment–you wanted to bring your shirt down over yourself and let him finish on your waiting ches–.

Suddenly the pressure against you was too much and your arms were falling from their place across your breasts. Thus, standing there, on full display. Right fucking there for stupid ass Maya to walk in at any moment.

Honestly, you were the stupid ass. And it seemed like Jake was, too.

Maya was the innocent one in all of this.

“Go wait in your room for me,” he whispered heatedly, his words piercing your heart at the anxious energy floating through your veins. “I’ll clean this up. And then I’ll be—.”

“But–,” you brought your arms up to your chest again, covering yourself. It was a brainless move to flash your chest like that. You didn’t want to tempt him in any way. “This is my mess just–.”

“Y/n,” he all but spit in your direction with the harshness in his whisper. “I don’t want you falling and hurting yourself on the water or glass. Please.”

Good point.

So, you decided you’d do as you were told, though not without the last word.

“Fine,” you practically growled, stepping over water, his hand reaching out to you, trying to balance over a puddle pooled at your feet. You grabbed his hand, one arm covered your heaving chest, as you made your way over the mess, and finished your thought. “But don’t come to my room. Go back to bed. I don’t want Maya to–.”

“I don’t care right now–,” he cut you off, but you didn’t let him continue before interjecting.

“You will in the morning, Jacob,” you bit back, making fiery eye contact, crossing your arms. The hiss you released at the feeling of both arms covering yourself again was embarrassing. So, you tried to play it off. “You will. Just don’t make the mistake of coming to see me ton–.”

“It wouldn’t be a mist–.”

“Jake. Yes it would,” you insisted with a tense whisper, taking one step towards him, not taking your eyes from his once. “I’m not going to have you ruin what you have with her just to make a fucking mistake with me.”

Throughout the span of that small conversation, you saw his eyes go through every possible wave of emotion. His beautiful, deep set eyes had started wide with excitement, to now being filled with white hot frustration. He was mad.

The last emotion made its way straight to the pit of your tummy and to your panties as you felt them draw even wetter. Damn. You’d take any sex with Jake right now, but angry sex? Dammit if that didn’t get you–.

No, y/n. Stop it.

“Do you not want this? Why were you—just minutes ago if you don’t–?”

“I never said I didn’t want it.” You flat-out said, without a second thought. Why even lie when you’d just exposed yourself with whatever you’d just done with him? To him?

The two of you stood there, watching each other with flushed cheeks, hot breaths, and equally heaving chests.

God, you would not be able to hold onto your momentary flash of integrity if you didn’t finish your thought and leave him.

“We just can’t do it. It wouldn’t be right,” you sniffed. Shit. Your throat was tightening, eyes collecting tears. “I don’t want to be the reason you leave a woman–the woman you love,” you choked, foolishly, on the emotion that quickly made its way from your throat to your eyes. “I just want you to be happy.”

His own expression matched yours, his eyes pooled with tears of dejection. There were once more a couple moments, filled with silence.

Silence, aside from your deep breathing, and wrought with an energy you couldn’t place. You had to get away from him.

“Just go to bed. I won’t fucking bother you,” he said, swallowing thickly. He then spoke your words from earlier. “And let me clean this up.”

Again, you sniffled, but nodded, looking down, to cover it with a barely there 'goodnight'.

He didn’t say anything else, just went about his business in the kitchen to put things back together, turning his back on you altogether.

Suffice to say, you cried for a good chunk of time as you laid in bed, after changing into a big t-shirt.

Cried big, fat, somber tears.

The crying had even lasted long enough, keeping you up to hear the bed creak much more than necessary when Jake got back to his bedroom. . . The sound of soft, pleasured moans from both of them, accompanying the groans of the bed as they moved on top of it.

Lucky fucking you.

The bed that used to be yours when that room was yours. . . The acts being made against it that made you want to punch something - someone. Someone with long, black hair and a too-sweet expression.

Like a child, you growled and used a spare pillow to cover your ears until you couldn’t hear anything through the plush filling of the pillow.

You also tried to distract yourself with TikToks, but you couldn’t focus on your feed filled with BabyTok. It just made you sad and wistful as you thought of your day of book shopping with Jake. . .

About 30 minutes later, you figured the coast was clear. It had occurred to you after lying there, doing aimless shit, that you were still very thirsty. . . your tongue felt like cardboard in your mouth.

When you opened the door to go to the kitchen, though, you found a tumbler that didn’t belong to you, waiting for you. And when you picked it up, you realized exactly who it belonged to. . . the words told you as much.

Merry Christmas, Jacob Thomas!

Love you,

Mom

The Cricut-vinyl lettering was placed carefully across the front of the black off-brand Yeti. What you found when you looked through the clear lid was a cup full of water. Iced water.

The crying that ensued as you closed the door and placed the cup on your nightstand was no surprise to you. The sweet action made your heart thrum with unbridled admiration for him.

You hated how things were now. . . how simply interacting with him the way you had was a mistake. When you compared it to the way things had been before the fateful day in the kitchen, it made your stomach sink and your eyes well with more tears.

Then there had been what you’d heard through the walls. . . it made you want to fucking vomit. But. . .you’d brought it on yourself. No question about it.

Aaand, more of the damn tears. . .

After taking a few healthy swigs from the cup, you felt sleep find you without warning. Your eyes were beginning to close on their own.

And, as you faded into a well-earned sleep, the only solace you found that night was the smooth bump of your tummy, which your hands held protectively–longingly–as you wandered to sleep.

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: hmmmmm what do you think will follow that night in the kitchen?????

Change the World from Friendsgiving :)

ty for being the best readers in the world and pleaseee never hesitate to send in your wonderful thoughts! love youuuu <3

& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)

Taglist:

@joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssoloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend

@aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @sacredtheslay, @alienobsever, @hollyco, @age0fwagner, @raceb14, @stardustcatcher, @styles-canvas, @ladywhimsymoon, @earthgrlsreasy, @peaceloveunitygvf

@torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee, @starshine-gvf, @itsafullmoon, @gvfmarge, @creadliz98, @mackalah, @lek-gvf, @carlyfleet, @profitofthedune, @mefiorini, @welllauragvf, @highway-tuna, @dont-go-home-without-me, @sarah-gvf01, @polemicandcontent, @ageofbajabule, @texas-bbq-pringles

(i think i figured out the tags limit! woooohoooo!! boo, tumblr. you're not getting me down today lmao)

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake fic #my fics #covet #i am so DAMN excited for what's coming

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nicoline1998enilocin · 8 months

Note

Ok. Hear me out on this one. How about a Sebastian stan fic where he is on set [Pam and Tommy] and reader comes in to pick him up after filming but they end up have car sex. Say they've been dating or engaged for a while?? Idk this idea just popped into my head last night 😆 lol.

Inked with desire

Pairing | Fiancé!Sebastian Stan x Fiancée!Female!Reader

Word count | ~ 800 words

Summary | You're picking up Sebastian from the set of Pam and Tommy to go to a dinner reservation, ready to celebrate your 7th anniversary together. Plans change, however, when he sees you, and he needs you right then and there.

Warning(s) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. RPF, use of pet names (Babe, Daddy), age gap (Sebastian is in his early 40s, Reader is in her early 30s), smut (unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), Daddy kink, light dirty talk).

A/N | Thank you for this request; it has actually left me speechless. This is honestly one of my favorite roles he's played, and I can never get enough of looking at him like this! I hope you enjoy the route I took with this 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💚

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics | 18+ banner is made by yours truly

Main Masterlist | Sebastian Stan Masterlist

Sebastian recently started filming for the series 'Pam and Tommy,' even though you've seen photos of him in tattoos, you're about to see him entirely in character for the first time today.

You're getting yourself ready for dinner with him since it's your 7th anniversary today, and you've bought a red velvet dress just for this occasion and to make him go a little crazy, too. He loves seeing you in red, so you're playing into that perfectly with this risky number.

The dress is paired with black heels, subtle make-up, hair in loose curls around your shoulders, and the handbag Sebastian gifted you for your anniversary to finish the look.

When Sebastian texts you that filming is done, you're driving over to the film set, though you won't get far after he's spotted you because you're both lusting after one another when you arrive on the set.

''E-Excuse me, do you happen to know where Sebastian is?'' you ask a woman walking from the set, and she happily points you toward his trailer, where he's getting ready for dinner.

You knock a few times, and Sebastian tells you to come in, so you open the door and walk up the few steps, careful not to fall in your heels.

''Is this a good time? I can wait outside-'' you say, but you don't finish the sentence when you see Sebastian looking at you, his jaw slack as he takes in your outfit.

He shakes his head as he snaps out of it and almost forgets to introduce you to his co-star, Lily.

''I'm sorry, Y/N, this is Lily. Lily, this is my amazing fiancée Y/N,'' he says as you stretch out a hand and happily shake her hand, saying how nice it is to meet her finally.

''You look amazing as Pam, and I can't wait to see the result once it finally comes out,'' you tell her, and Sebastian not so discreetly pulls you into his side, his hand laying on your ass, barely covered by your dress.

''I should go. It was lovely to meet you, and I can't wait to see you around again,'' Lily says before saying goodbye to Sebastian. As soon as the door shuts behind her, he's all over you. His hands touch you everywhere, pawing at every inch of your body, his lips taste your skin as if it's the first time he's ever tasted you.

''S-Seb, we have to go to dinner,'' you say, and he knows you're right, but it's so damn hard to behave himself when you look like this.

He changes into his dinner outfit, and the two of you head out to your car, conveniently placed in a darker bit of the parking lot, though that wasn't planned when you arrived. Now, however, you'll be thrilled that you did.

''Can't wait to fuck you, Babe, need you right fucking now,'' Sebastian growls before pushing you against the door of your car, his lips crashing onto yours and his hands wandering to open the door.

Once he found the handle, he let you go and turned you around so he could climb into the backseat, letting you crawl on top of him just the way he liked. You pull the door shut behind you, and Sebastian has already made quick work of his pants.

''Need you so bad, Daddy, need you to fuck my brains out,'' you say with a whining voice, and Sebastian pulls up your dress, revealing the fact that you went, in fact, without panties this evening, and he only gets more turned on by it.

''I'm ready for you, Daddy, please,'' you beg softly, and Sebastian is so hard it hurts, so he quickly lines up with your entrance, a deep groan leaving his chest when you sink in a smooth motion, desperate to be filled by him.

A broken moan leaves your body as you adjust to his size, and he pulls you forward to kiss you deeply, his tongue finding its way into your mouth instantly.

When you start rolling your hips, he grabs hold of your ass and starts thrusting up into you rapidly, broken moans and groans leaving your bodies as you chase both your highs simultaneously.

''D-Daddy! 'm cumming!'' you say as he hits your sweet spot just right, and you're falling apart around him, squeezing the life out of him as you cum, followed by him soon after.

You collapse on top of him as you're both regaining your strength.

''How about we skip dinner and go straight home? I want to make you fall apart on my fingers, tongue, and cock for the rest of the night, and I can't wait any longer than I have to,'' Sebastian whispers in your ear, and you nod, wanting precisely that.

''Yes, Daddy. Please.''

#sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female!reader #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan #seb stan #seb stan fanfic #seb stan fanfiction #seb stan fluff #seb stan smut #seb stan x reader #seb stan x female!reader #seb stan x female reader

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glimmerlofsea · 11 days

Note

Hey it's me again. I was wondering if you could do a billy hargrove imagin. The reader and Billy "hate" each other and end up having to share a bed. The rest is up to you.

Thank youuuu 🖤

HIII!!! your request is very interesting!! And I will put the song 'Shameless' as the vibe of this fanfic, thank you for requesting it and I hope this meets your expectations and you like it! And I apologize for the delay. 💚😕

Billy Hargrove x Reader

MASTERLIST

SPARK OF HATE

Warning : Just a few harsh words maybe? fluffy, and there's some making out session... BUT NOT TOOO MUCH ;D

WC; 3,4k

#TALKISSA; As in the request above! :d and relatedly, since I'm a perfectionist and detailed writer (which kinda sad) so the story is too long, sorry if it's boring :(, I really hope it's not. Thank you for requesting!

Such a relationship is very complicated to explain. He hates you, you hate him more. Well, he hates you for no apparent reason, but the reason you hate him? Just look at that sly, arrogant, disgusting smile every day in the school hallway, it makes you want to vomit every time.

Jessica, your friend always assures you that the spark of hatred is just wishful thinking to hide your feelings of mutual liking. You couldn't hold back your laughter when you heard that, you, like Billy? Pft, you'd rather die.

"Oh, come on, Y/N! You think we didn't see the tension that was there when you look at each other?" Jess complained while you were putting your textbook into your bag.

You ignored her, "Someone should give him some advice."

Jess chuckled, "You think he'll care about that little advice of yours?"

You slammed your locker, and turned your position 90 degrees towards Jess, "Are you on his side or me?"

Jess groaned, "God, not this again. Every time I hear this it's like choosing a side in war you know?"

You grinned and brought your face closer to Jess', "This is war, Jess. Get used to it."

"You're just annoyed because he took your Physics Queen's throne, right?"

You started walking down the hall followed by Jess, "That's the most important thing. He can't just come in and take my throne!"

"Oh, please, you're not the only one who is good at Physics." Jess' cigar, you look at her, she immediately closes her mouth tightly, afraid you will scold her, but no, you nod in agreement.

"Yeah. You're right, but that doesn't mean I can let a Billy fucking Hargrove take my title!" You whined as you tied your hair in a ponytail.

"I heard you mentioning my name, Princess."

You groaned, knowing who the voice was, when you wanted to turn around you felt your scrunchie slipping from your hair, making your hair flow freely and fly in the wind. Billy Hargrove took it,

"Give it back." You warn.

"Or what?" He replied with a grin.

Oh, this is what was meant when Jess said there was 'tension' between you two.

You still stared at him intently, he chuckled, "God, just admit you're attracted to me, Y/L/N, there's nothing to be ashamed about."

You took your scrunchie and started to put your hair back in a ponytail, “Go back to sleep and you'll see it happen, Hargrove.”

When you turned around, Jess was gone, sneaky girl, she left you because you saw her following Trevor, her crush from middle school. You laugh in disbelief,

"That girl," you whispered, annoyed.

For the past few days, your car has been confiscated by your parents. You caused trouble in Hawkins by accidentally crashing your car into one of the trees that was being felled. It costs a lot of money and you are not left to drive.

"Lost your ride?" Teasing Billy from behind,

You gave him your middle finger without looking at him and walked away. Today you had to walk a few more deserted blocks because you lost your ride.

It was sad how your relationship with Billy ended like that, because you had to see him every week because Max—his little sister hired you as her Physics tutor. It makes you happy to be able to show off your abilities in that subject when teaching Max at her house, which means Billy can clearly see this, even though he himself is very good at Physics, but Max doesn't believe him? What else could upset him?

The day you are going to tutor Max arrives, you immediately leave, 'walking' to get to her house, you knock on the door, expecting Max to immediately open the door but she doesn't. That's her shitty brother.

He flashed his usual grin, making you wrinkle your nose and groan, "Max's here?"

"Why are you looking after her anyway?"

"I'm her tutor, remember?" You flip your hair, "Since I'm the smartest in Physics. She trusts me enough for that."

Sometimes Billy feels that Max only hired you as her fake tutor to make him feel useless as a brother, but he doesn't care, she's quite a bother for Billy, and he's a little grateful that Max hired you as her tutor, apart from being able to see you often but Billy calmed down because that little piece of shit wouldn't bother him.

Billy chuckled at your words, he turned his head back a little but still locked his gaze on you, looking at you from top to bottom who was wearing a small skirt that reached your thighs and the rest was covered by knee length socks.

"Max, your little friend is here!" he shouted.

Hearing no answer made Billy look back completely, annoyed that he had to take his eyes off you, he left you to check on Max.

Soon after that the door opened completely, "Max isn't here." He said, he sounded panicked but tried not to show it to you.

You frowned, "What?" Max never goes to the Arcade without taking you, she usually takes you if she wanted you to show her around Hawkins, but not this time.

"You can go." Billy said as if he was being pushed by something.

You sighed, you knew Max wasn't your little sister and just your friend, but at least you showed concern, right? Nah, you are really worried. In addition, Billy's expression was frowning all the way down, unlike usual when he showed all his firm facial muscles.

"Do you want me... To, um— To help you look after her?" Your words are stuttering.

"That little shit is probably in the Arcade, I don't care."

Billy was about to close the door but you held him back and shook your head, “she's not, you know that, Billy. Don't hide your fears, I insist, I know where we'll go to find her.”

Billy had time to think about it.

You raised your eyebrows to reassure him, he rolled his eyes and opened the door wide, "Okay."

You guys use his blue Camaro car, you roll into the Arcade first, then drive to Lucas' house, one of the kids Max's age who has been friends with her recently, Max talks about him a lot, so you think maybe she's at Sinclair's house. But the results were nil.

The longer you look, the air gets colder in Hawkins. Billy gives you his jacket, even though you were already wearing a furry sweater with colorful patterns, but he still forces you to wear his jacket, you don't have a problem with that. It's just... Why suddenly?

"Fuck that bitch, I have a date, dammit." Billy said cursing Max but in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

Date? For some reason your ears heat up and your whole face heats up.

You cleared your throat and adjusted your sitting position to be comfortable, "Date?" You asked in a small voice.

"Yeah, with Penny, that girl has a nice ass. I could take her virginity right now if I didn't have to look for that load." Billy explain in the midst of his laughter.

You looked up at him and wrinkled your nose in an ugly way, “Gross, Hargrove.”

Billy chuckled and glanced at you briefly, "What? Wish that was you?"

You looked at him, your mouth wanted to say yes, yes to asking you out, but if you say that, you would be a cheap girl like the girl Billy had slept with several times in Hawkins. You don't want to be one of them.

"I'd rather eat Mrs. Hills' dessert." You said which made Billy chuckle, "That's the worst."

You smiled, "I know right? Jess once told me, she accidentally filled Mrs. Hills' dessert, she almost threw it up right then and there if Mrs. Hills didn't look at her. AH! And have you ever seen Mr. Pill who wears pants incorrectly? His panties keep showing when he walks down the hall!"

Girl, you talk a lot.

"And are you—"

Then you realize you are like a talking machine that can never stop talking. What's more, you talk a lot in front of people you should ignore because they are your enemies.

"-Sorry." You said looking back towards the street,

Billy smiled, you could even feel it without looking at him, there was no answer from him but you felt a hand land on your thigh, giving you goosebumps all over your body, he stroked it slowly,

"It's okay, go on. I love hearing your voice, Princess." His words made you look at him again, he locked them, looking alternately at you and the road, "If I'm being honest, it calmed me, even if it was a little loud to the ears."

You chuckled, “Now, keep your eyes on the road.”

"Yes ma'am."

Long story short, you go to the Wheeler house, Billy uses his charm to seduce the housewife, and he doesn't let you get out of the car to see the action. It irritates you, he thinks you're jealous, but you try to argued it, and it only ends up being him who keeps teasing you, making you just stay silent on the way to the Byers house. He continues to stroke your thigh, if your voice makes him calm, then his caressing your thigh makes you calm.

Oh, what is this? What is this feeling? You will continue to avoid it even though your heart cannot lie. Jess seemed right, the feeling was starting to rise in you. But it's just nonsense if it's only felt by you.

As soon as you arrived at the Byers house you watched a small fight between Steve Harrington and Billy, in between their fight you noticed Max peeking out of the window, she gave a signal for you to close your mouth. But it was too late, you already saw Steve lying there on the ground, and Billy have gone to the front door, you help Steve to stand up,

"You're Y/N, right? Why are you with that jerk?" Steve asked as he stood up, helped by you.

You shrugged your shoulders, "I don't know."

You heard a loud stomping from inside, making you run to the source of the sound leaving Steve there, you heard lots of screams from the kids there, including Max.

You walked over to Max, "Are you okay?"

Max nodded quickly, "Lucas, Y/N!"

You saw Billy grabbing Lucas roughly by the collar and cornering him into the kitchen cupboard, Steve was about to step forward but you held him back, "No harm."

Steve chuckled, "Yeah, but did you see he hurt the kid?"

Steve was about to pick up his pace again but you got ahead of him, grabbing Billy's shoulder, "Max's here, let's go."

"Let him go." You said, moving forward to stand next to Lucas,

Billy glanced at you briefly before looking at Lucas again, "This is the last time I see you with her, Sinclair."

Billy let go of Lucas roughly, you made sure Lucas was okay, "Are you okay?"

Lucas nodded.

You thought it was over, no more violence, but it wasn't, it was over quickly, Billy beating Steve mercilessly, Max screaming his name over and over, as did you too, "Hargrove!"

He didn't stop hitting Steve, making the jolt of his hand push you back and make your forehead scrape against the edge of the cupboard.

Max tackled his brother and inserted a syringe which made Billy fall on the floor.

You held your forehead and groaned, then saw Billy who didn't have enough strength or energy to stand up.

Max walked over to you, "I can't explain in more detail, but I have to go with them. In Billy's car. Mind if you look after him, Y/N?"

You looked at Billy then looked at Max again, you shook your head, "Not at all."

"Thank you."

With that, Max and his friends went to who knows where they were going, you helped them carry the battered Steve to the car, you felt guilty for the guy.

You went back inside and brought Billy's heavy body to rest on the edge of the couch, you used Byers' house phone to call Jess. Tell her to pick you up at the Byers residence.

You landed yourself next to Billy, saw that his head was still swinging, you saw that his shirt was still half-buttoned, you decided to button the shirt all the way, and put his jacket back on him. You took a clean towel from the one you took to clean the blood from his nose.

You felt a hand holding your hand, making you stop what you were doing before, with dim eyes, Billy opened his eyes.

Feeling the awkwardness of the eye contact you smiled slightly, "Um, hi?"

You didn't imagine his next move would be him leaning forward to kiss you, right on the lips. Oh, how you hated him, you should have pushed him away and slapped him for harassing you, but no, you kissed him back.

'The Kiss' started to heat up when Billy started to pull you to sit on his lap, but you didn't want this, you didn't want to. You just... Don't want to. You pulled back your face, while he seemed to feel unsatisfied,

"What—"

Billy stopped you by moving to your jawline, tracing it, “Don't talk. Hell, don't even try.”

He started tracing your neck, oh, this time your whole body was really hot, "It's been a secret for a long time that I really want you."

"Need you more than I want to." It's almost like a whisper in your ear.

The door opened with a bang, making you change your position to sit back on the floor, Billy chuckled,

“Shut up,” you told him.

Jess stood silently in front of the door, you really hoped she didn't see it.

"Hi." You said.

Jess immediately rushed over to you, "What the hell?! I thought you were in danger!" Seeing her reaction it seemed like you were quick enough to get away from Billy's lap.

You smiled and stood up, "Who said that? I told you I just needed to be picked up, and thank you for coming. I love you."

Jess rolled her eyes and looked down, seeing Billy who was still half conscious, "and what did you do with him?"

You widened your eyes, "It's a long story. Just take us back, please?"

Jess looked at you again, repeating it not at your face but your forehead, she grabbed your wound making you groan, "Did you do this, asshole?!" Jess asked Billy.

Billy blurted out, "Huh?"

You put a hand on Jess's shoulder, "No, I'm fine, just a little scratched."

You showed your sparkling sparkling eyes, "Can we just go?"

Jess narrowed her eyes, "Yeah, yeah, but Trevor is in the car, problem with that?"

"No! Absolutely not."

You grabbed Billy's hand to put around your neck, he was so heavy you couldn't lie, making Jess stand beside him to help you support him.

"I love it, like a double date, right?" Billy asked you, still rambling.

"Shut up."

"What did he say?" Jess asked, you kept your head steady, "Nothing! You heard wrong, Jess."

Jess kept looking at you, suspicious of you, but she felt like you would never be able to hide anything from her, so she looked away again.

Trevor and Jess were in the front seat, you felt bad for ruining their date, meanwhile Billy continued to cling onto you, not wanting to pull his head from your shoulder.

"I don't want to go home." He whispered which only you could hear since the music was playing in Jess's car.

"I'll be completely beaten by him if I come home without Maxine."

You know this. Max once told you that her stepfather was abusive to Billy, and Billy took it out on Max when he was in a bad mood, either scolding her loudly, or holding her hand tightly.

"We can sleep over at Jess' house if you want." You said.

Billy started to pull his head from your shoulder and looked at you, “Can we?”

You grinned, "Jess, can we stay at your house?"

Jess looked at you, "What is this? An impromptu sleepover?" Jess smiled, "YES, yes. You up, Hargrove?"

Billy just smiled fakely at Jess, Jess chuckled, "I told you there was some tension between—"

You glared at Jess, “Zip it.”

Not long after that, when you arrived at Jess' house, she and Trevor went on their next dating session. What kind of 'sleepover' would it be if she just left you like that?

You were wearing Jess' pajamas, looking at Billy who was asleep on Mr. Dunphy a.k.a Jess' beloved father, you decided to sleep in your best friend's room. That's a shame, because you'd love to talk about something unexpected at the Byers house.

If he could tell the truth, it was the most restful sleep Billy had ever experienced without the sound of his father cursing, without the repeated incidents of his father beating him, just the peace he had been longing for. But it didn't last long when he heard a loud bang on the wall from the direction of the room.

He woke up and groaned, took the golf club that was at the end of the wall in Jess' house and walked towards the room that had the source of the sound, not an animal, not the wind, and of surely not a ghost, but you.

You continued to bang your head gently against the wall, trying to walk, while rambling, "...I told you, there's no tension or whatever you said."

It looks like you are trying to talk to someone through your unconscious.

Billy put his golf club down and blocked the contact of your forehead with the wall, “You okay?” he asked. But he noticed your eyes were closed tightly, he had heard of this, sleepwalking or whatever the term was.

"Let's get you back to sleep, yeah?" Billy said then grabbed your hand to lead you back to the bed.

You were still rambling, "...I don't like him! What?" You whined, making Billy really confused, was this normal?

"I like him... A little. I hate to admit it."

Your words began to attract his attention, he landed you very carefully on the mattress and the blanket you used before to lock you inside again,

When Billy wanted to leave you, you woke up and pulled his hand so he fell beside you, you comforted your position on his chest, "I can't sleep without you,"

Billy didn't say anything, or precisely can't say anything.

"Jess." You continued, Billy thought you must still be half conscious because you thought he was your best friend.

It wasn't the way Billy expected to share a bed with you, but when you started wrapping your arms around his body he felt a feeling he had never felt. Comfort, and someone to say that everything will be okay. His mother had done that, but her words did not reflect what she did to Billy because she left him and did not try to take him back from his psychopath father. And in your arms? Different.

Billy was lost in his thoughts for a moment, but he started to close his eyes again and again and went back to sleep with you, holding you in his arms so that you also felt safe and definitely not sleepwalking again so as not to hurt yourself. He noticed the small wound on your forehead due to his carelessness, and he would make sure his emotions wouldn't hurt you again.

"I'll get my title back from him." You rambled again, Billy, who hadn't completely closed his eyes, just chuckled, knowing that you were talking about him.

Jess and Trevor have just returned from their long 'trip' which apparently took the whole day, Jess comes back and called your name, but there is no answer, making her walk towards your room and get—

"WHAT THE FUCK!" She shouted hysterically, Trevor, who heard his new girlfriend's screams, immediately ran into the room, "What's wrong?!"

It turns out that what Jess saw was you sleeping comfy in the crook of Billy's neck and Billy pressing his chin into your hair.

Billy groaned at Jess' loud scream, but you didn't move an inch, still lost in your beautiful dream. Billy noticed Jess and Trevor were both slamming their jaw together, he squeaked, "We didn't do anything, now shut it, she's still asleep."

Jess leaned closer to the bed, "Why not?! I noticed something sparking between you and definitely more than 'hating' each other." Jess shouted but in a whisper.

You snored, making Jess hide under the bed and pulling Trevor to hide with her, but you didn't wake up, just adjusted your position so you were comfortable.

Billy tap down on the side of the bed and slowly signaled to Jess and Trevor that it was safe, Jess and Trevor started to come back out and stand up as before.

"What did you mean by what you said earlier?" Billy asked Jess.

"Ask her out, dumbass. Don't argue, you like her, she likes you. Now go on a date so we can actually double-date." Jess said.

Trevor tossed the blanket that hiding Billy and yourself inside, “Good luck, man.”

As soon as Jess and Trevor were out, Billy smiled to himself like an idiot, you like him? Something he really couldn't have expected.

Not to mention that you are still clinging to him and don't want to let him go in your sleep, making him feel like he is your safest place, and he will continue to make sure that you are safe in his watch. Mark my words, he will definitely take you on a date. But what will your reaction be when you find out that you cling into him all the time? And share a bed with him? He couldn't wait to see and witness it.

Author Note : I'm sorry if there are some typos because I didn't have time to check it a few times since I was already feeling bad about being behind on this story for a week. I'm sorry, hope you like it! @patrickbatemanswife1987 (´✪ω✪`)♡

#spotify #fanfic #fanfiction #dacre montgomery #fluff #billy hargrove #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove imagine #billy x reader #x reader #dacre montgomery x yn #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x reader #billy x you #billy hargrove x you #stranger things #max mayfield #steve harrington #lucas sinclair

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chrisevansonly · 8 months

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𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐨

ʚsocial media au

ʚdaniel ricciardo x female reader

ʚthere is nothing daniel loves more than watching you shine bright

ʚnot requested just a little something i wanted to do! faceclaim is taylor russell my literal love🤍

yninstagram

liked by danielricciardo, vogue, kellypique and 371,000 others

paris fashion week (month) are you ready?

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loewe we’re so ready for you!

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username mother

username she never EVER misses

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>yninstagram 😘😘

vogue stunning as always!

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>yninstagram see you soon😌

username i would go to battle for y/n

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danielricciardo

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our day summed up in two photos, no explanation

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username Y/N IS SO SQUISH

username it’s the way they both look at each other for me

maxverstappen1 tone it down mate, those looks are for me only

>danielricciardo well i was thinking of you in this moment

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username y/n will fight you max be afraid

>yninstgram what they said😌

yninstagram i love our crazy days danny��

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louisvuitton she is the moment

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danielricciardo a work of art

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>yninstagram love you honey🥰

francisca.cgomes um hello

>yninstagram hi gorgeous 😉

>pierregasly 🤨

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i was her plus 1 but she’s the main event and my everything, so damn proud of you baby

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username CARS ARE CRASHING, PEOPLE ARE CRYING

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#rueswrites #ruesanswers #ruesanons<3 #ruesasks #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo smau #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x fem!reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x girlfriend reader #daniel ricciardo x wife reader #daniel ricciardo fluff #formula 1 smau #formula 1 masterlist #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #f1 smau

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mrs-snape5984 · 2 months

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“Take my mind and take my pain…”

“Like an empty bottle takes the rain. And heal, heal, heal….” (“Heal” by Tom Odell)

Nighttime is my favourite time of the day. Being surrounded by this natural darkness and silence (not in the way, in which I have to “mute” the world all day long by shutting the blinds and wearing noise cancelling headphones to avoid being overstimulated) makes me feel…safe. Almost content.

In some nights, I’m even strong enough to leave my room, so I can sit outside on my balcony, enjoying a fresh breeze on my face. The world is silent, there’s no car on the streets and all I see, is the Moselle glistening in the moonlight in front of me. Finally feeling human again…

During the phases of my crashes, I can’t even step outside to my balcony. Sometimes I’m desperate enough to crawl outside, when my legs are refusing to do their goddamn job even with the help of my cane! In these moments, I’m glad to be alone…without any witnesses to my humiliation.

Last night was a lost night. I passed out…again. It scares me to hell that these moments are happening more often nowadays. All I know, is that I sat down on my bed…crying from exhaustion and pain. And hours later, when I’m coming back to consciousness, I’m still in the same sitting position. There are proofs in my room, that my children must have been here…proofs like a drawing lying next to me on my bed…a plushie sitting on my coffee table, watching over me. And I know that my kids will tell me, that I didn’t wake up…no matter what they tried to do.

Yesterday a friend of mine wanted to visit me in order to enjoy a cup of tea with me in the darkness of my room. I was so excited to see her…to have someone here for a little while…to feel less lonely for a moment. My body ached so badly and my exhaustion felt like a truck, who was parking on me…so I passed out whilst I was waiting for my friend to come over. When I came back to senses, there were several text messages and several calls from her. She was upset, that I didn’t hear the doorbell, both of my phones and her knocking on the door. So, after a while, she left…and all what’s left for me is a feeling of being a total failure…a pathetic shadow of myself.

There’s still no cure for ME/CFS…and no one knows, if there’d ever be one. All I can do, is trying different things, and yet…nothing helped me. With each new crash I’m falling deeper into the void of darkness and despair. Each new crash takes its toll on me…takes a piece of me away! I’m so afraid of losing myself completely!

When I commissioned my friend @sleepybradipo for this meaningful piece of art, I begged him to make the trust between Severus and Julia - but also their despair - palpable. They’re searching for a way to heal Jules…to cure her body and her soul. Maybe the answer lies in the Dark Arts…who knows? These lovers will try anything possible in order to save her…just like I wished to be saved.

Ivano, when I got the idea for this project, I just knew, that you would be the best artist to make my dream come true. Your tender style makes my heart swell with so much love and gratitude. I adore your work and the dedication to all these marvellous details in this artwork…it’s everything, I hoped to see, when I described my idea to you. Thank you for helping me to soothe my troubled heart and mind with your beautiful art and your kind words. I’m beyond grateful that I met you here, my friend. You’re truly a blessing to me. Thank you for everything. 🥹

Oh, and please take my apologies for this chaotically worded post. My disease seems to rob the next piece of me by stealing my ability to create vivid images with my phrases (I already mentioned that in my last post).

I’m sharing my nocturnal view with you. Feel free to enjoy the Moselle at night.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

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sxturdaysun · 3 months

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work radio played superman by taylor swift which meant i just had to Kyouhei Yearn for a solid 4 minutes and 34 seconds in front of customers

#which is VERY funny all things considered #(things being. all my other recent thoughts.)#like. lmao. lol even. do y'all hear the sound of shit being smashed? perhaps with a big hammer?#anyway. i always forget to tell you i love you i loved you from the very first day i'm lovestruck and lookin out the window etc etc <3 #♡ — text #🖤 crash my car

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monsterrae1 · 8 months

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It was a only a kiss (how did it end up like this)

Just a silly ficlet based on this anon that @housewifebuck got 🖤

1.8k | Read on Ao3

One of the first things that Maddie had ever taught him when she taught him how to drive was the importance of wearing his seatbelt. Buck had been 16 years old and he had been traumatized by his sister showing him pictures of accidents where people weren’t wearing their seatbelts. Ever since, Buck would quickly put it on as soon as he was seated in any car.

When he was a probie he would always use the belts in the engine, until he realized that he was the only one doing it, and that it usually made him lag a few seconds behind everyone else, so he quickly stopped doing it. That had been years ago, and he didn’t think about it much now, it wasn’t that big of a deal, he had told himself then that he was saving lives and that meant he could be a little reckless with his own.

And, except for the bombing incident - that Buck would argue didn’t count - none of them had ever gotten hurt because they didn’t wear their seatbelts in the engine, so it wasn’t something that they’d ever talk about. It wasn’t that important.

Of all the accidents that Maddie had shown Buck all those years ago none of them had come near as bad as this one was.

It was a normal day, they were heading to a call and chatter around the engine was flowing, everyone was teasing Chim since he had been a little bit of a groomzilla with some arrangements for his wedding, Buck was sitting in his usual seat across from Eddie, Buck’s knees fitted in between Eddie’s, everyone was laughing at Chim’s expense when the truck came to a sudden stop.

In an universe where both Buck and Eddie had been wearing their seatbelts, nothing would’ve happened, Buck might’ve gotten his breath knocked out of him from the force he was pushed forwards, but nothing more than a bruise would’ve appeared on his skin.

Sadly, in this universe, Buck wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.

There were groans heard all over the cabin, Hen had fallen into the floor, and next to her Ravi had hit his head on Chim’s knee. Luckily for Buck and Eddie, they were all distracted dealing with their own pain to notice the position in which they had landed.

It was a very compromising position. The impulse had thrown Buck forward, making him slide to his knees right between Eddie’s legs, while the bounce back had made Eddie fall forward just as Buck was looking up to make sure that his friend was okay. If you’d ask him now, he wouldn’t be able to tell you how it was exactly that it happened, at least not the initial kiss.

Because as soon as Buck looked up, Eddie fell forward and their lips crashed, quite literally, together. The initial kiss was actually a little painful, Buck was sure he tasted a little blood from where his lip was trapped between Eddie’s and his teeth, both him and Eddie were just staring at each other with their eyes wide open in shock, and their lips still pressed together.

Then, Buck saw as Eddie’s eyelids shut close, and then the pressure from his lips was no longer painful, but more of a soft pressure, it took Buck a second to figure out that Eddie was actually kissing him now, his lips had moved to mold into Buck’s perfectly, and now they were begging Buck’s to wake up and kiss him back.

Which he did, for a second, before the groaning and complaining of their coworkers was loud enough to break them out of the spell they had fallen to; by the time Hen turned to them to ask them if they were okay, they were avoiding each other’s eyes, and blushing.

“Yeah, yeah we’re good” Eddie said quickly.

Buck groaned as he got up and sat back in his seat, “Yeah, say that to my knees” he mumbled, and then looked at the poor state of his uniform, completely covered in dirt, the place where he had landed on was a little scrapped but not enough to be noticeable enough that he’d have to get new slacks, so there was at least that.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, Buck looked up to him, and found him frowning at Buck’s slacks, “They look rough”

“How come you’re completely clean?” Chim asked Eddie, who shrugged in reply and said:

“Well, I mostly landed on Buck? I didn’t really landed on the floor a all”

“Of course you did”

“Sorry everyone,” Bobby said from the front, “Anyone hurt?”

Everyone replied that they were okay, and soon after they were on their way again, rushing off to save lives.

Buck should’ve stopped thinking about the kiss, he should’ve focus on the emergency in front of him and the people needing their help, but all that he could think about was the soft press of Eddie’s lips on his, and how Eddie could’ve pulled away much much sooner than he did, but instead he had decided to kiss Buck, and turned Buck’s world completely upside down.

It wasn’t like Buck hadn’t thought about it before, he’d had one or two dreams about being with Eddie through the years, but Buck had always thought it was just his brain latching to his very attractive best friend while he was going through a very long dry spell, but he had never actually wanted to do any of those things - Or maybe the thought had crossed his mind a long time ago, but he squashed it right down, telling himself that whatever feelings he might have, weren’t worth the risk of losing Eddie.

“Hey,” Eddie’s voice broke him out of his thoughts, he nearly jumped when one of his hands landed on Buck’s hip, but he soon relaxed into the touch, the same he always did when Eddie touched him, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Buck assured him, taking a deep breath, “Just, oh, a lot in my mind”

Eddie smiled at him and nodded, “I can imagine what about” Buck considered his blush was answer enough “Maybe, huh, we can talk about it? Over lunch? After work?”

Buck stared at Eddie, he also had a nice blush lighting up his face, his eyes were gleaming, while he was smiling shyly, a smile that wasn’t all the way there, like he couldn’t fully smile until Buck agreed to go on a date with him.

Eddie had just asked him out on a date.

They had kissed not even two hours ago, and now Eddie was asking him on a date looking adorably nervous and Buck wanted to say yes, to a date, to forever, no anything that Eddie had to offer, and oh. Oh.Oh fuck.

“How long have I been in love with you?” He blurred out instead of saying yes to Eddie’s question.

Eddie blinked owlishly at him, before tilting his head, and finally letting that beautiful smile of his spread over his face.

“Well, I’m hoping as long as I have been in love with you, which is to say a few years now”

“Yeah?” Buck was sure that his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

“Yeah, Buck”

“Okay,” he smiled, “We should talk about, uh, everything I guess, over lunch, a lunch date, you and me”

Eddie rolled his eyes and squeezed Buck’s hip before letting go and turning around to put away the equipment they had used during the call.

“It’s a date!” He called over his shoulder, and Buck had to try very very hard to not giggle like a schoolgirl.

The rest of the shift was tortuously slow, not necessarily because there wasn’t any calls, overall it was a very normal shift; but every time they sat across each other in the engine and their knees brushed together Buck felt himself blush, and when they had down time at the station, Eddie kept himself close to Buck.

The rest of the crew seemed to notice that something had shifted, but no one said anything, at most Hen kept raising her eyebrows at how close Buck and Eddie seemed to be, Buck tried to ignore her knowing looks but the blush in his cheeks might’ve given him away.

By the time the shift ended, Buck couldn’t wait to get out of the station and get to his date with Eddie. His first date with Eddie.

“Ready to head out?” Eddie asked him.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go, want me to drive?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking something low key? Like that sandwich place you really like?”

“Ok, yeah, that sounds perfect”

They stared at each other for a little bit too long, Buck still couldn’t believe that he was going on a date with Eddie, and for the look in Eddie’s face, he was also still processing.

“Okay, let’s go” Eddie said, breaking their trance.

They were halfway through the parking lot when Buck felt Eddie’s hand reach out for his and tangled their fingers together.

They had their second kiss against the jeep, Eddie pushed Buck against it, cradled his head in his hands and then kissed him slowly. This was what their first kiss should’ve been like, not an accidental bump, but Buck couldn’t bring himself to hate it or regret it, since it had led them to finally cross the line and get here.

“Maybe we can skip lunch?” Buck suggested, Eddie chuckled and kissed him again.

“Nope, I’m taking you out on a date, c’mon, we can make out after”

Buck laughed, but finally got into the truck. Their first date felt like any other outing they had done before, the staff wasn’t surprised that they had walked in holding hands or that they couldn’t seem to stop making heart eyes at each other, it made Buck wonder if they had all just assumed they had been together the entire time.

By the time they were done with their food, they wordlessly agreed to go back to Eddie’s house to maybe catch a nap before they needed to go pick up Chris from school, Buck noticed just truly how mixed together their lives already were, how Eddie’s house was already filled with Buck’s stuff, he even had two drawers full of his clothes.

“You okay?” Eddie asked him, when he noticed he had gone quiet while he picked up a t-shirt and some shorts.

“Yeah, just, why hadn’t we gotten together sooner?”

Eddie laughed, “Buck, you didn’t know you were in love with me until we accidentally kissed and I asked you out”

Buck blushed, “Yeah well, you knew, why didn’t you do anything?”

Eddie shook his head, “We weren’t ready, I don’t think, we got here when he needed to,” he shrugged, “that’s all that matters”

Buck kissed him, and couldn’t help but agree with him, he might’ve been a little slow on the update, but at least they had gotten here.

#the entire thing is posted here too #my fics #buddie #buddie ficlet #accidental kissing #just a silly thing sitting on my drafts since monday

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nickfowlerrr · 1 year

Text

keeping secrets - chapter six

series masterlist / chapter seven

keeping secrets writing playlist

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader (dark!soulmate au)

warnings: 18+ only. mention of light injury. angst. smut. if i’m missing something important pls let me know!

words: 5.7k

notes: things are happening 🫣🫣🫣 enjoy the sweetness while you can lol. please let me know what you think about this chapter! there’s so much more to come. thank you in advance for reading! as always, feedback and reblogs are welcome and so appreciated! 🖤

You let the warm water beat down on you as you stood under the steady stream. Vaguely you were aware you were going to take up all the hot water, but if he really wanted a warm shower, Bucky could wait until morning. He wasn’t the one who’d nearly had their nose broken tonight.

When Bucky had pulled up to the safe house, you made your way straight from the car to the bathroom without a word. You made sure you got the dried blood off your skin and then allowed yourself to sulk as the steam of the shower overtook you.

You didn’t shut the water off until the air became nearly unbreathable. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you soon realized you had neglected to bring a change of clothes with you into the bathroom. You silently cursed yourself before drying off as much as you could.

Rewrapping the towel around you as securely as you could, you cracked the door open to see if Bucky was anywhere around. The door to the bedroom was closed, so you counted yourself lucky as you walked out to the living room without feeling so cautious.

You were leaving water prints in your wake with each step down the hallway, but you didn’t really care. As you spotted your duffle still where you’d left it on the couch, you nearly stopped in your tracks as you recognized Bucky sitting on the couch with a tablet in hand.

You straightened your posture and grabbed more securely the towel around you before you continued forward. His back was to you as you approached and when you rounded the couch to get to your bag, you kept your eyes everywhere but on him.

Your avoidance didn’t stop him from looking at you, though. You felt the weight of his gaze as you moved as quickly as possible to grab your things, practically scurrying away as you refused to meet his eye.

“Bedroom’s yours tonight. I already grabbed my stuff,” he said after you, keeping his eyes on his tablet, willing himself to not turn around to watch you go.

You paused in your retreat only momentarily, debating on whether or not to offer a thank you before you thought better of it and made your way to the room to dress.

Half an hour later you were in your pajamas and if it wasn’t for your stomach growling or the throbbing in your face, you would have happily crashed out.

Instead you got up and walked to the kitchen.

You found Bucky already at the cabinet, eyeing its contents, so you walked to the rickety old fridge instead. You grabbed a cold water and took a drink before holding the bottle to your cheek. The cold felt nice against the soreness. You closed your eyes as you let your head rest against the door of the fridge. You could have fallen asleep right then and there.

Bucky watched you intently from across the way. He knew it’d be better to not say anything, to keep to himself and avoid any more needless interactions with you.

It’d certainly be easier, or so he told himself.

Though when he saw the twitch of your cheek and yet another wince take over your face, he couldn’t stop himself. You obviously needed an ice pack and some pain pills and if you weren’t gonna get it for yourself, well, someone had to.

He left the room to get some things and came back to be met with you looking through cans of food where he had just been standing. He walked over to you, he could tell you felt him behind you but you kept your eyes forward, pretending to be enraptured by the selection of canned food before you.

He reached out his hand, touching your arm as you stilled at the contact. Bucky gently turned you to face him and was surprised when you let him without more than just a questioning brow. He took your hand then and dropped the pills into your palm.

“Sit,” he instructed.

You looked at him a moment before slowly walking to the small table and taking a seat. You eyed the pills he’d handed you and offered a small “thanks” before you swallowed them down with a drink of your water.

His attention was unexpected, but…nice. You weren’t sure you liked it, though. It wasn’t necessary.

The cracking of an ice pack had you turning to face him once again as he presented it to you.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” you said as you denied the pack.

“Your face says otherwise,” he argued as he urged the ice pack to you again.

“Look, if I wanted one, I would’ve grabbed one, okay? Thanks,” you said, bordering on brutish.

He moved toward you with a roll of his eyes, attempting to touch the pack to your cheek. “Stop acting stupid-,” he started before you quickly cut him off.

“Stop acting like you care,” you said harshly, standing from your seat and taking a step back from him, the scraping of the chair along the floor in your rushed movements loud and disruptive. You took a breath, gathering your bearings as you stood there, eyes trained on the floor. “I just, I don’t want the ice pack, okay?” you spoke quietly, sounding almost defeated. You didn’t want to get into this right now, and you especially didn’t want to get into this with him.

You felt guilty.

You deserved that punch.

You deserved this pain and discomfort.

In fact, it was the least you deserved.

You didn’t register him approaching again until he was nearly right in front of you.

Bucky himself wasn’t even sure why he had gotten closer, it wasn’t even a thought as he took the steps toward you, just something he needed to do.

You were stood across from each other, close but not close enough. A feeling that made you want to hide yourself away from him, knowing that though he probably felt much the same, he wouldn’t do or say a thing about it. You had just been about to turn and head straight for the bedroom until his words broke the discomfort.

“I know it hurts,” he spoke softly after the moment of mounting tension.

“Yeah, well,” you shrugged, trying to find the right thing to say, not wanting to make your masochistic choice obvious to him, “I’ll live.”

His eyes were burning into you as he watched you. You only met his gaze for a second before you let your eyes flit away, scared of what he’d be able to see.

“Just sit down,” he said, finally looking away. The annoyance in his voice was clear as he spoke.

You watched him go back to the cabinet and grab two cans of something. Your stomach was in a flurry for more than one reason.

“Mission reports are almost done,” he informed you as he emptied the contents of the cans into the pot on the stove.

“Oh,” you breathed, having almost forgotten about them yourself, “good.”

“So the event was just a cover for Sergey’s funeral?” Bucky asked, apparently needing clarification on the details.

“Yeah. Like we knew, they weren’t at all prepared for a change in leadership. They’re still weak, vulnerable. They didn’t want anyone outside the organization knowing he’d passed until they had a new boss,”

“Which should have been Ar-”

“Yup,” you answered, cutting him off before he could get Artem’s name out completely.

He turned, eyeing you at your abrasiveness. You felt him watch for you a second before he turned back to the stove as you fiddled with your hands at the table.

“You think he really left?” he asked, an edge to his voice he couldn’t hide if he’d wanted to.

You took a moment before you answered, “I hope so. But I don’t know.”

You heard him chortle under his breath at your answer, making you cock your head at his response.

“Seems like there’s a lot you don’t know when it comes to him, huh,” his meaning provoking you into a quick response.

“Mission’s over. And even if it wasn’t, it’d still be none of your fucking business,” you said, wanting to end all talk of Artem.

Bucky scoffed with a shake of his head but let it go.

He walked over with two bowls, putting one down in front of you before he surprised you and took a seat at the table.

You were sure he’d leave you to your own devices once the food was done.

You bit your tongue as you measured your breaths and played with your food as the steam rose from the bowl.

“I’m sorry,” you began, almost a whisper as you spoke, “I-”

“It’s fine,” Bucky cut you off, not offering anything more as he ate his food.

You looked at him before you looked back to your bowl, taking a bite of your own.

The silence between you grew as you sat, eating quietly until you spoke up again.

“Do you know what time we’re cleared to take off tomorrow?”

“Haven’t been cleared yet. Stark said to check in the morning, but we probably won’t be able to leave until sundown.”

Your eyes rounded at the new information. Another day here? You weren’t sure you could take it.

“When did he say that?”

“An hour or so ago.”

“And you’re just telling me now?”

“You’re just now asking,”

“Doesn’t seem like something I should have to ask for an update on,” you argued.

Bucky’s spoon clattered against his bowl as he picked his head up to look at you, exasperated.

There was a palpable silence as you looked at one another.

“So we’re here for at least another full day.

Alone..

You still don’t wanna talk about this?” you broached. Bucky sniffed before clicking his tongue, avoiding your eye now.

“Nothing to talk about,” he responded as he stood from his seat, taking his bowl to the sink and leaving without another word.

A sardonic titter left your lips unbidden.

You sat there, feeling like an idiot once again for even daring to bring it up.

That familiar sinking in your gut was back and you felt sick. And stupid. Pathetic.

Fuck, and now that throbbing in your face was back, accompanied by a throbbing in your head. If you assessed all of your feelings any deeper, you’d be able to identify the stinging in your heart, too.

You stood up and left your bowl where it was, you could clean it in the morning - god knows you’d have the time.

You went to the bathroom to brush your teeth quickly before you planned on crawling into bed and staying there until you were cleared to head home tomorrow.

You rubbed at your eyes threatening to water and refused to cry because of him again.

You were in and out in five minutes. As you opened the bathroom door, you were met with Bucky leaning against the wall, his bag in hand as he waited for his turn.

You staggered a step as his presence caught you off guard. You stared at him a second, sure your eyes were wide and glossy. You wanted to say something, but you weren’t sure what the right words were. He stared back before he eyed the empty bathroom behind you, clearing his throat as he stood up straight.

You stepped out of his way as he moved past you to walk in and then you just stood there a moment as you tried to think of what you wanted to say.

The sound of the door closing behind him broke you out of your stupor as you blinked and you slowly walked to the bedroom.

You sat on the bed, mind still trying to formulate how you wanted to approach him and what exactly you felt you needed to say.

Minutes passed. You heard the rushing of water through the old pipes - on and then off again after some time.

You still weren’t sure what to say. But you needed to say something.

You got up and softly walked back over to the bathroom, building some kind of nerve as you got closer and closer to the door until it suddenly opened and froze you in your path.

Your eyes met a shirtless Bucky with his sweats sitting quite low on his hips.

He raised a brow at you, “Have you just been standing out here the whole time?” he questioned.

You swallowed the lump in your throat before you shook your head and stood up straighter.

Your mouth opened and closed before you took a deep breath and met his eye once again. You couldn’t pretend you didn’t see the look of stress on his face as he watched you, a flurry of what you thought might be impatience was growing as he waited for you to finally speak.

You didn’t have the words right in your mind, so when you spoke, you really just blurted out the only thing you had straight.

“We’re soulmates.”

It was a fact that you were stating. You watched him as you took a breath before continuing on, still not exactly sure what you were saying, but you trusted you’d catch up to your mouth eventually.

“We are soulmates. I know you know that. And I- I know you don’t care,” you took a breath before you swallowed hard, “but I..just, uh, I needed to say it. Out loud. To hear it. Because honestly,” you tittered, “it was kind of starting to make me feel a bit crazy, the way we just keep.. Burying it. Pretending it’s not real.. or true, or…” you shook your head, clearing your nerves and thinking, feeling more clearly now as you gazed into the blue tempests Bucky’s eyes held. Not so much anger, but a storm was raging nonetheless. That didn’t stop you, though. If anything it helped you realize what it was you truly needed to say to him right now. “It’s not just gonna go away, you know. And I get it, you’ve made it clear that you don’t want this, you don’t want me, so, whatever.. But I just - I needed to say it and acknowledge it. And you can go back to ignoring my existence after this but can you just.. Please, can you just acknowledge it?”

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, just staring at each other, but it couldn’t have been more than a second or two. He looked almost pained as he watched you, conflicted.

You waited with baited breath for him to say something, anything.

You weren’t sure why you did it, but you took a small step toward him - some unconscious need to be closer you didn’t even truly recognize until he took a step closer to you. And then another step, and another until you were backed up against the wall of the hallway as he stood before you. You noted your change of breathing as you watched his chest moving up and down, nearly in sync with yours.

Slowly, you lifted your eyes to his. You were entirely unsure of what was happening, but at the same time, you knew exactly what you were feeling. And you were sure he felt it, too.

Your eyes fell to his lips as he somehow got even closer to you, your bodies pressed against one another now. His right hand came up to your face, gently holding your cheek as he stared down at you, his lips parting as he leaned down slowly before he tilted your face up just a touch, allowing his lips to brush along yours, feather light, but electric as your skin prickled and you let your eyelids flutter shut.

His hold on your face tightened just a bit and you winced at the pressure on your bruise.

“Sorry,” he breathed as he lightened his touch, his forehead pressing to yours. You shook your head and raised your hands to hold his face in turn, not wanting him to back away. Not wanting this to end.

You were unclear on how exactly you got here, but it felt right. It felt good.

You pulled him to you and pressed your lips to his, kissing him softly, smiling at the minty taste of him as he pressed his tongue to your lips. You obliged him, parting your lips and allowing him access to your mouth as he took his time savoring you, his body pressing closer still as you were flush to the wall behind you.

His left hand fell to your waist before he gripped your hip and brought you closer to him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you deepened the kiss, so caught up in the dizzying feeling of his lips on yours, you almost didn’t register the moment he lifted you off your feet, his large hands under your thick thighs, bringing your legs around his waist as he proceeded to walk with you down the hall and into the open bedroom.

There wasn’t much thinking anymore, both of you moving out of pure instinct, running on your desire and longing for one another.

Bucky laid you gently on the bed after breaking the kiss and allowing you to get in a much needed breath.

He pulled his sweats down and rid himself of his underwear while your heated stare stayed on him.

When he met your eyes again, you were amazed at how darkened his gaze was. Unadulterated lust swirling in the torrent blues of his stare, your throat went dry at the sight of him.

He got onto the bed, his movements measured as he crawled on top of you, no words exchanged as you laid further down on the mattress the closer he got. Only the sounds of your breathing and the soft squeaking of the bed could be heard in the quiet of the cabin.

As Bucky’s face was mere inches away from yours, you startled at the feeling of him pulling your shorts down, your hands flying to stop him.

“Wait,” you rushed out as his eyes flicked to yours, his brows furrowed in concern at your sudden change in demeanor. “I just, uhm,” you took a breath, “it’s - it’s been.. A while,” you spoke softly, trying not to let the embarrassment you were feeling slip through your words - though you knew you’d failed as Bucky’s gaze softened, relief flashing over his features as he let his forehead drop to yours. He took your lips in his again as he kissed you gently.

“We’ll go slow,” he assured you as you melted under him. “I’ll take care of you,” he breathed the promise on your lips.

You nodded and let his hands go. Your eyes fell shut as his touch lingered from your hips down your thighs as he pulled your shorts off. You lifted your hips to help him before you sat up a bit, considering yourself a moment before deciding to remove your tank top. Then slowly undoing your bra.

You relaxed back down, now completely bare to each other and were caught off guard by Bucky lowering his head to your tummy, crawling down your body, his lips lingering from down your waist, along your stomach and then on your hip as you sighed, reveling in his affection. He worked his way closer and closer to your sex as you watched him intently until a shuddered gasp left you when his lips brushed over your sensitive clit.

You reached for a pillow to push under you - the urge to lax into the bed not stronger than your desire to watch Bucky as he explored you with his tongue.

You were captivated by his attention, you couldn’t tear your eyes away. The sight of his head between your legs, his strong hold on your thighs tightening with every twitch you gave as his tongue delved between your folds, drinking you in.

Your breathing was ragged as Bucky worked you over torturously slow now, taking his time before he slowly eased one thick finger into your wet and waiting hole - pumping the digit in and out of you as his tongue flicked over your clit incessantly. When he inserted another finger, you let out a sharp moan at the unexpected stretch as he worked you open for him.

The moment his icy blue eyes flicked up to meet your heady gaze, you nearly whimpered at the intensity - not of just his stare, but of everything he was putting you through, everything he was making you feel.

Despite how quick of a turn the night had taken, none of it felt rushed. Bucky really was taking his time with you, noticing every twitch of your thigh under his touch, each time your velvety walls tightened around his fingers, every moan and cry that fell from your perfect lips like an angel’s song to him.

He didn’t ever want to stop hearing those noises. And when he saw the look of pure blissed out pleasure on your face as you watched him take you apart, in that moment he wanted nothing more than to make sure you were always this taken care of.

He’d give you anything you asked for so long as it’d keep you this happy.

This is what you deserved. Pleasure and happiness and complete devotion - and he wanted to be the one to give it to you.

This is what he wanted.

You.

Bucky’s metal hand tightened around your thigh, desperate to feel as much of you as he could while he lost himself in the little heaven he’d found between your legs, your full attention on him and him alone.

Your back arched off the bed as you chased his touch, wanting more, wanting him closer. Breathy mewls leaving you as the salacious sounds of Bucky’s fingers pumping in and out of you meshed with the wet sounds of his mouth on your sex.

A tentative hand reached for his hair, your fingers threading through the damp strands before you tightened your hold a bit, gripping his hair as you urged him on.

You weren’t expecting the deep growl that emanated from him, sending chills through you - the vibrations along your cunt coaxing a whimpered moan from your throat as your eyes screwed shut. You tugged at his hair again before raking your nails along his scalp lightly, stroking his hair as he removed his fingers from you and readjusted his hold on either thigh, pulling you closer to him, delving ever deeper with his skilled tongue before moving to fuck you gently again with his hand. You were close, so fucking close.

Bucky’s tongue was firm against your clit, massaging it as he moved his fingers inside you rhythmically. Another pathetic mewl fell from you as you took a strangled breath, you couldn’t hold it back any longer, not that he wanted you to. Your toes curled as your legs shook from the orgasm that overtook you as you held Bucky closer, his name falling like a prayer from your lips as he refused to let up, your walls clenching down on his fingers as he worked you through the intensity of your climax.

Your thighs threatened to close around his head, but his strong arms kept you open to him as he lapped up everything you had to offer him before he slowly pulled himself off of you.

Your breathing was still quickened as you tried to come down from the high he’d given you, half lidded eyes looking on as he licked his wet, plump lips, his chin glistening with your juices as his large hands smoothed up your plush thighs. The corners of his lips upturned in a smile as he noted the way your body reacted to his touch, and then saw the look of satisfaction mingled with anticipation for more on your pretty face as you watched him.

His head fell to your chest as he crawled up your body, trailing kisses along your skin, up the column of your neck and across your cheek, gently, before he pressed his lips to yours. You moaned at the taste of yourself still on his tongue as you wound your fingers in his hair and pulled him down on top of you fully.

You could feel the length of him against you, hot and hard.

Bucky looked at you a moment, his lips soft and parted as he breathed a little harder, his eyes heavy as he gently took your face in his hands, his thumbs tracing over your skin before he leaned in and kissed you - deeper than he’d kissed you before, less restraint as your teeth clicked against one another’s, your tongue swirling around his before he pulled away.

His forehead pressed against yours as he took a breath, “You okay?” he asked softly as he let his hands fall and trail down your body.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “yes, yeah, I-,” you shook your head lightly, “you’re…amazing.”

Bucky breathed a laugh, smiling as he nodded before placing a kiss on your lips, “Good.”

His head was nuzzled in your neck where he left kiss after kiss along your skin while you wrapped your legs around him, your fingers playing in his hair as you sighed at the slight respite.

“Bucky,” you moaned breathily.

Your pussy ached as you felt his cock twitch against you at the sound of his name falling from your lips.

He kissed down your neck and along your chest as his hands fondled your breasts, your nipples hardening under his touch. He took one into his mouth as he sucked on you, the stirring in your cunt growing tenfold under his attention, his hand squeezing your breast before he did the same to the other.

Bucky buried his face between your tits, his hands full as he kneaded them, lightly nipping and sucking, leaving kisses all over your chest as you whined and moaned beneath him, your fingers gripping his hair and emboldening him as you both got lost in the heat of your desire. He wanted to touch you, to feel every inch of your perfect body, to kiss every bit of you he possibly could. But he was getting too ahead of himself. Slow. He needed to go slow.

He pulled away from you, holding himself above you as he panted. “Fuck,” he breathed on an exhale as he gazed down at you. You just looked at one another for a moment, nothing to be said, but so much being told.

“You’re beautiful,” he praised softly, the sincerity in his voice causing your heart to ache as you carded your fingers through his hair.

“I need you,” you nearly whispered as you held his eye, his understanding evident.

His gaze wasn’t so icy now - in fact, it was warm as he caressed you, his touch cool on your heated skin.

Bucky reached between you, gripping his cock as he lined himself up to your slick entrance. He was looking into your eyes as he guided himself into you. Your lips parted on an “o” as he stretched you out. He was a lot to take, but having been prepped, your pussy wet and wanting, the burn soon fading into something more pleasurable as he pushed further into you with a groan.

You lost yourself in his heavy gaze, his eyes were dark with need, but you could see the tenderness in the way he looked at you, too. You could feel it in his touch and you were like puddy in his hands.

When he was fully seated inside you, your warm walls tight around his thick shaft, Bucky began rocking into you at a slow and sensual pace, his heavy breaths and moans in your ear as he fucked you - deep strokes, making sure you felt every inch of him.

Your eyes shut as you took a stuttered breath - the feeling of him inside you overwhelming. You felt his lips press against your temple as he rubbed your hip soothingly.

Everything felt so surreal. You’d never imagined Bucky’d be so soft, so gentle. All of his focus was on you and you’d never be able to describe how perfect it felt being seen by him, being loved by him.

In your wildest dreams, you could have never imagined a soulmate connection to be this deep, this strong. You weren’t sure how you handled it before, either of you. Because this, this is impossible to deny. You moved perfectly together, you fit perfectly together. You just made sense.

Everything made sense now.

You hands were on Bucky’s back, urging him closer as he picked up his pace a bit, the sweet noises emanating from him only turning you on more as your pussy clenched around him - a moan of his name met with a pained groan in turn.

You hiked your leg around his waist as he leaned further into you, his weight on you making you feel warm - safe and comforted beneath his strong body as you gave yourself to him and he gave his all to you.

His grip on your thigh as he held you open for him only added to your delight.

As Bucky leaned over you, you pulled him down and crashed your lips into his. When he pulled away, he didn’t go far, his lips just barely apart from yours as you breathed in each other’s air. Your eyes were locked on his as he sent the bed frame thumping against the wall with his every thrust, the sound of his hips slapping against yours filling the air as you held onto one another.

He kissed you again and you felt yourself edging closer and closer to your next climax, that coil in your lower belly tightening as Bucky’s cock was hitting just the right spots, over and over again making you whimper as you began to plead with him.

“Right there, Bucky,” you praised as your eyes screwed shut. “Oh, fuck,” the curse was a mere whisper under your breath.

“Does it feel good, sweetheart?” his voice husky through his tight throat.

“Yes,” you eked out, “yes, feels so good. You feel so good,” you cried. “I’m so close, Bucky, I’m gonna come, please, please,” you started to beg as the feeling of him began to be too much for you to handle. You felt like you were on the verge of combustion.

“I know, baby, I know,” he hushed you before his lips collided with yours, your cries muffled against his lips as he brought his hand to your clit, swirling tight circles over your bud, leading you to shatter beneath him in mere seconds.

Bucky’s forehead pressed to yours as you felt a stray tear slip from your eye, the orgasm intense and seemingly never ending as he worked you through it.

“Doin’ so good, doll. Feel fuckin’ perfect around me, baby. You’re so goddamn perfect,” his voice strained as he cooed at you. “And you’re mine. Aren’t you?” he prompted.

You nodded your head at him desperately, “‘M yours, Bucky. I’m yours,” you insisted, your voice straining but earnest.

He was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, soft reassurances spilling from his lips as he continued fucking you.

Soon he was a mess of grunts and moans he couldn’t hold back any longer as your walls gripped his cock tightly. “Fuck,” he choked out.

You watched as his face screwed up in pleasure as he let out a cry of his own, his orgasm ripping through him while he emptied himself inside of you, his hold on you tight as ever as he thrust into you once, twice more - holding himself against you for a moment before carefully pulling out.

Your leg slipped down as he gently let you go, his breathing harder than your own as he started to come down.

He rolled off of you as he caught his breath before he turned his head to look at you. You were already staring over at him longingly when he met your eye. You shared a delicate, almost shy smile before he pulled you into him easily, his arms wrapping around you as you nuzzled into him.

Feeling his spend between your thighs, you realized you should probably clean up before you fell asleep, pulling away from him as he looked at you questioningly.

“Bathroom,” you said softly with a kiss to his cheek as you got up.

It occurred to you as you cleaned yourself off that you and Bucky still needed to talk about everything. You honestly felt on top of the world right now, you couldn’t remember a time when you’d felt so content, so complete. And that was all Bucky. In this moment, you felt truly happy. You smiled softly at yourself in the mirror, lifting a hand to touch your cheek where you still felt Bucky’s touch.

The conversation may be a little heavy, you knew that, but you’d both be better for it. As you reentered the bedroom, though, you found Bucky already under the covers, soft snores escaping him as he slept. You scoffed lightly at the sight of him, shaking your head as you approached the bed to crawl in on the other side.

You couldn’t really blame him for passing out so quickly, you were exhausted, too.

Your talk could wait until tomorrow, you conceded. As good as things felt right now, you knew you’d feel even better once you had everything hashed out with Bucky, and you were both finally on the same page with the same understanding.

As you settled in the bed, Bucky’s metal arm reached out for you, pulling you back into him as you laughed softly at his sleepy need for you. You cuddled into him under the blankets. Peacefulness was never a feeling you experienced often, always so fleeting to you, but right here as you laid in Bucky’s arms, it was the perfect word to describe how you felt.

This was good. No, this was perfect. How could you ever want for more when you had all of this love, when you felt this whole - this happy.

You let yourself relax into Bucky as your eyes fluttered shut.

No way it could get better than this.

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