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auteurdelabre · 5 months

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A Little Sun pt 1 DieterBravo x f!Reader

rating: 18+ (future chapters)

Pairings: Dieter Bravo x f! Reader (no detailed physical descriptions, no use of y/n)

summary: As a PA to megastar and mega man-child Dieter Bravo you've had your fair share of headaches. Getting accidentally pregnant with his baby however takes the cake, especially when he offers to pay you to be his surrogate. You just weren't expecting to fall in love with him along the way. (plot prompt inspired by 'Daddy Dieter' by @absurdthirst on Ao3 - read their story, its really wonderful!)

warnings/tags: Unplanned Pregnancy, Surrogacy, Family Issues, Sweet!Dieter, Drugs, Alcohol, Getting Drunk, Boss/Employee Relationship,

a/n: I am actively tryin' to make everyone a Dieter Bravo stan. He is slept on in this fandom istg.

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Part 1: First Trimester

"With every newborn baby, a little sun rises." - Irmgard Erath

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Being actor Dieter Bravo's assistant comes with many boons. You get to hob-knob with celebrities, attend galas and parties, get to travel the world and you get paid decently. The downside?

You have to work for Dieter man-child Bravo.

He's an impossibly immature, inconsiderate man who's flakier than your mother's pie dough.

When he isn't being a walking hypocrite who won't eat processed foods but has no problem taking copious amounts of coke, he's making your life a living hell. He loves to party and experiment with whatever drug is in vogue. Too often you're scraping him off a club floor and dragging him home.

One memorable experience was flying by private jet over to Moscow to bring him home for the Academy Awards (which he fucking won because some people have all the luck) after he'd followed some hot Russian male model there and Dieter was convinced he was going to give up his citizenship and stay in Russia forever.

Your mother cannot stand him. She reads about his exploits in the tabloids. She thinks your job is a waste of your talents.

She's not wrong.

But this will all be worth it when you have enough to pay off the mortgage on your family home. As soon as you can your mother can stop working herself into an early grave pulling double shifts at the hospital.

You'll be able to move out into your own place and then you'll be able to finally go back to school and finish your Masters program. The one you had to quit so you could help support your mom after your father unexpectedly died.

You'd been lucky to land the gig with Bravo. Plucked from the group of giggling models who whispered how excited they were to have Dieter Bravo as their boss. You held your resume and reference letters tightly, your mind focused on the salary listed.

When you walked into the office to be interviewed with your long sleeves, high neckline and impressive resume his manager had been intrigued. When she asked what your favorite Dieter Bravo movie was and you had replied "Uh, I don't think I've seen many of his movies" she had given a wry smile and declared you a perfect fit for the job and hired you on the spot.

Dieter had been disappointed. You remember the way his eyes roved over your body in your frumpy clothes and your serious face. He had been looking for fun. You weren't fun.

You were a planner. You were someone who liked doing her job well. And your job was him. Getting him to set on time, organizing his appointments, dropping him with his publicist Diane so she could stop him from saying dumb shit to the tabloids when they cornered him and asked about his ex boyfriend or girlfriend.

You put up with a lot of his shit.

You also listen to a lot of the shit he says. The theories he has about the Hollywood elite, the creative outlets he wants to pursue, the scripts he has to read. You've learned to tune out his really stupid ideas.

The idea of fatherhood comes to Dieter after his latest relationship crashes and burns. In typical Bravo fashion it's a spur of the moment event. A decision with no forethought. He mentions it casually over breakfast as you run through his schedule for the day.

"I'm gonna be a dad."

"Oh yeah? Who's the lucky lady?" you reply drolly, bringing up his schedule on the tablet in your hand.

"Dunno. Haven't decided yet." He leans back in his chair, serene smile on his face.

You keep in the eye roll and go over what he's doing that day. He continues looking dreamily off into the distance, not paying attention.

You assume that this baby thing is similar to the goat therapy sanctuary: an amusing idea that strikes him as fun and that will exit as quickly and quietly as it arrived in his brain.

But a month later Dieter comes home in a foul mood slamming the door to his large home behind him.

"I thought you women wanted commitment!"

You look up from your desk. You've been busy all morning managing his socials. "Huh?"

"You remember my ex? Annika?"

"Yeah."

"We broke up because she wanted kids and I didn't," Dieter says throwing himself dramatically into the chair opposite you. "So I figure she's perfect for this! I went to see her and told her I wanted to settle down and have a baby."

"And what did she say?"

"To leave her dentist's office and never contact her again."

"Wait," you lower your phone. "You went to her dentist's office?"

"That's where her fiancé said she was and I couldn't wait!"

"Her fiancé told you that?"

"Yeah," Dieter groans, not seeing how it was inappropriate. "I'm getting older by the second. I don't wanna be too old to be a dad."

You hold in a sigh, seeing that he's beside himself. Dieter is a successful actor, this is true. But he's just as famous for his hard-partying and wild sex-capades. No woman in her right mind would willingly have a child with such a man.

"If you're that desperate to be a dad then adopt," you say trying to hold in your disdain. You don't think Dieter Bravo should be anywhere near anything to do with a child. And you know he won't be approved for adoption so there's no harm in suggesting it.

"No. I want to pass on my genes."

You give him a raised brow in return. The same genetics that give him his impossibly luscious hair and beautiful brown eyes are also responsible for his love for drugs and spontaneous decision making.

"What did your friend Becky do again?" Dieter asks sitting cross-legged in his chair. "The one who couldn't get pregnant with her husband?"

You're shocked he remembers this tidbit of your life at all. You kind of just assume he's not listening all that closely when you talk about a topic that doesn't directly involve him.

"Surrogacy. She paid someone else to carry her kid."

"Amazing," Dieter says slapping the desk in delight. "That's what I'll do! Obviously I want them to have all my hot characteristics. But I need the ying to my yang so the kid's balanced ya know?"

You don't mention that this is dangerously close to playing with eugenics. Instead you just nod, reading your work phone and then typing in more info onto the tablet.

This is a Bravo phase. It'll pass.

He gets like this about projects that initially interest him, but sooner or later he'll be pulled back into the lure of partying and drugs and easy men and women to warm his bed.

Dieter is watching you, studying you as you work. You've been his assistant for a year and you're good at what you do, despite your personality clashes. He drums his fingers on the desk, eyes narrowing on you.

"I need someone educated."

"Mhmmm." You're really only half listening at this point.

"Where did you go to school again?"

"Stanford."

Dieter nods, bringing a knee to his chest and balancing against it. He reminds you of a bored child.

"Right, that's what I thought," Dieter nods, watching you type quickly away on the keyboard.

You're very good at your job, very organized, very sharp. When he arrives at galas you're always there at his elbow to remind him of everyone's name in a whisper. You've never let him down.

You're good looking, even if you try to hide it under ugly clothes and hair you don't give a second thought to. He tilts back, trying to imagine you pregnant. Would your tits get bigger? The thought is very enticing.

"Cancer or heart disease run in your family?"

This draws your attention up from your phone which you now lower to the table and fix him with a dark look.

"If you're suggesting what I think you are, you can stop right there."

"Why?" Dieter asks, eyes wide and pleading. "Our baby would be perfect! My looks, your brains!"

"Or your brains and my looks," you scoff, although you don't think you're that bad looking. "Besides, I have no interest in having children."

Especially with you.

You've never understood the appeal of children, especially babies. But if you were to be fooled into thinking that it was a wise venture the last person on the face of the planet you would do so with would be the man seated across from you.

"I'll pay you!"

You lower the cell phone to the desk, trying not to come off too judgmental. He is your boss after all and you need the work.

"You really think you're ready for fatherhood, Dieter?"

He looks affronted. "Of course I am."

"You think doing coke, partying and jetting off to different sets to film all over the world is really the best thing for a child?"

"Lots of actors have kids and-"

"You think a man who relies on his staff to keep him fed and his house clean could really understand the responsibility that comes along with raising a child?" You scoff. "Have you ever even changed a diaper?"

"I wasn't born into this life," Dieter says between clenched teeth. "I know how to make a fucking bed and change a diaper. I've changed diapers before. Remember that Mister Mom reboot I did?"

You do all you can not to burst out laughing at that. He's talking about the "parent boot camp" he and his co-star on the film had to go through in order to play parents convincingly. It included a two-day workshop on diaper changing, bottle feeding and basic child development.

Apparently it had been a little too convincing because after that movie his female co-star had claimed to have no interest in having children ever.

"You think a man who has to have a full time personal assistant and two publicists just to keep his image decent Is the kind of person who should be bringing a child into the world?" You scoff. "You think-"

"I get it!" Dieter erupts, throwing himself from his chair. "You think I'm a piece of shit that should never have children! Thanks. Message received."

You watch him stalk off, a pit in your stomach.

///

Another month rolls by, one marked by strain on your end. Ever since you're heavy chat with Dieter he's been a little colder to you, a little more withdrawn.

At least once a week before his outburst Dieter would insist you stay for dinner to run lines with him. He doesn't do that anymore. Before your fight he'd order your favorite meal from the Pad Thai place nearby and you'd spend a few hours going through the lines with him.

You liked having a front row seat to the Dieter Bravo show because he's a good actor. He likes red wine when he's running lines. He always offers you a glass and you always decline because it's unprofessional to drink on the job.

On those evenings you find it easier to chat with Dieter about life. Those evenings you don't have to worry about getting him to interviews or fetching him coffee.

He asks you about your friends and family and you tell him surface level things. He doesn't know about your mom's long hours and a mortgage you can barely afford. He doesn't need to know.

You never realized how much you enjoyed those nights until they stopped

///

You're in his town car driving with him to a Vanity Fair interview the following month. One where they hook him up to a lie detector. You're very thankful that you're not his publicist on days like this because you can only imagine what they'll be asking him and what his answers will be.

Today will be spent grabbing him coffees and making sure he doesn't pass out in the green room. For his last BuzzFeed interview he'd been so out of it you'd had to pretend he had a dental emergency and cancel at the last second.

"Okay so after this then you're meeting that French director about the Regency piece," you tell him as you check his schedule. It's packed full of things he needs to accomplish.

"Mhmmm."

Dieter has his sunglasses on despite it being overcast today in LA. He's got his black crocs on underneath striped socks and he taps them gently as he stares out the window at the passing LA landscape.

"And then we need to go for your tux fitting for the-"

"I know you think it's a terrible idea," Dieter interrupts sullenly. "But I found someone to have my baby."

You pause what you were about to say, glancing over to him in interest. He's staring at you, sunglasses tipped down his nose so he can fix you with an intense stare.

"She's a model," he tells you like a petulant child. "Stunning. My child will be beautiful."

"Congratulations," you say after a beat. Dieter gives a scoff.

"That's all you have to say?"

"Do you want me to organize a flash mob?" You say with a curl of your lip. "I hope she signed an NDA."

"Of course she did," Dieter sneers. "And since I'm paying her $75,000 for it she won't say a damn thing."

"Well then, good luck," you say with as much enthusiasm as you can muster. "I hope you and your future child are very happy."

"We will be. I'm going to love that kid to death," he tells you ardently. "My kid is never going to go without."

You can see Dieter narrow his eyes before pushing his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. He leans back in his seat, looking sour.

Despite everything you feel a stab of regret go through you. There are plenty of worse people in the world that have children. Because yes, Dieter is immature and yes he has his vices, but you've seen him with his young fans. He's a natural, more at ease with them than the adults who try to get too close for photos.

"I'm genuinely happy for you," you tell him. "Your child will be very lucky to have a father that loves them so much."

It never takes much to thaw the ice from Dieter Bravo. He likes being liked too much. He flashes you his megawatt smile that you return before turning back to his schedule.

"Alright so, after the tux fitting..."

///

You give a sigh, shrugging off your jacket and padding to your kitchen later that evening. Your mom is there, sipping her nightly tea. She looks more tired than you, despite you working a fifteen hour day.

She gives your forehead a kiss, telling you there's leftovers waiting for you in the fridge before brushing the hair from your eyes.

"You're home late."

"Busy day," you yawn, grabbing dinner leftovers from the fridge and nuking them in the microwave. "He had a bunch of meetings, fittings, had to run through his script a few times."

You sit down with your dinner, taking a forkful and eating quickly. You're exhausted and tomorrow will be much of the same. It's always like this around award season.

"Shocked he didn't get you to read him a bedtime story too," your mother scowls. She's never hidden her disdain for Dieter.

You smile, thinking that if Dieter knew a bedtime story was an option he would probably take it. You know he hates being alone.

The ping from your phone draws your attention. You have an alert set to Dieter’s name, just in case you and Diane need to work overtime on a Bravo-related catastrophe. But when you click on the link it goes to a Reddit thread from the Dieter Bravo subreddit. You glance and see its just one of the run-of-the-mill tabloid photos.

Every so often you're caught in them, listed as "Bravo employee". The first time it had happened you'd been mortified by the unflattering photo of you reading out Dieters schedule as he smoked a cigarette, looking off into the distance.

In these photos today much like the others you're on your phone mid-sentence. Dieter is smiling at you, hand holding his coffee by the top. It's fairly innocuous as far as photos go but the comments are anything but.

Do u think he's hooking up with his PA? Look at these photos.

It's called a job people! She has to be with him all the time.

He looks so fucking hot

Gross no.

I think he's hooking up with Luke Evans??

I will now be identifying as a coffee cup

She's literally looking at her phone. How is this anything?

It's giving secret romance look at their body language

Omg his hands are so big.

I bet he's crazy in bed.

They've totally hooked up

He's so into her look at how he's looking at her!

You roll your eyes and try not to laugh out loud. Your mother glances over at you and shakes her head.

"When are you going to quit working for that loser and go back to school?"

Your mom doesn't really understand why you quit school. She would feel like a burden if she did. But every month you pay off more and more of her mortgage, the better and freer you feel. It’ll be a few years more, but you can manage.

"Soon," you tell your mother with a small smile. “Soon.”

///

"Fuck I hate these things," Dieter says in the back of a limo a few weeks later. You're all headed to a film and theatre awards show.

"Since when?"

"Since I have to present an award and I'm sober."

“You are?”

This surprises you. Rarely has Dieter Bravo ever been sober during awards season. Even the year he won his Oscar he'd been flying high before his name was even engraved on the statuette.

You go to grab your second phone, wanting to check something about scheduling when you realize your purse is back at Dieters. Fuck. You'll have to stop there on your way back tonight.

"You look nice," he tells you offhandedly as he tugs at his bow tie. He usually sees you in jeans and a t-shirt. Tonight your hair is sleek, your makeup glamorous and your dress feminine and lacy.

"Yeah well I heard Robert Pattinson will be there tonight," you say with a small smile. "Gonna shoot my shot."

Dieter rolls his eyes dramatically at this before his publicist Diane draws his attention to some talking points.

"You need to return the watch before you hit up the after parties," she says, motioning to his wrist where he wears a diamond encrusted timepiece from Cartier.

"Aye aye captain."

When the limo pulls up to the red carpet surrounded on both sides by groups of screaming fans you see Dieter swallow.

He loves a lot about acting, but this? The rabid fans, the constant screaming of his name? It stresses him out. He's told you this many times before.

Despite your irritation with Dieter most days, there is a part of you that genuinely enjoys his company. He's creative and funny and blunt in a way that you appreciate.

"You've got this Bravo," you tell him, squeezing his hand reassuringly before pulling back. He smiles at you, slipping on his sunglasses and taking a deep breath.

You and Diane exit out the left side doors as Dieter exits out the right onto the red carpet. Screams at ear -splitting volumes begin the second his boot hits the carpet.

"I LOVE YOU DIETER!'

"OMG ITS HIM!"

"He's so hot!"

"Do you think he's gonna do something weird?"

"DIETER SIGN MY BOOBS!"

Dieter waves and smiles, ignoring the more bizarre requests. His publicist warned him if he is serious about having a kid he needs to work on his image. You wonder how long this will last.

"Dieter Bravo have my baby!" One woman of about fifty shouts holding a hand towards him in desperation. Dieter waves at her and she looks as if she might faint.

"There you go," you whisper to his back as he moves to the next photographer. "If the model doesn't work out at least you have options."

He smirks at you before going to pose for the litany of flash bulbs and photographers.

Inside the auditorium you and Diane guide Dieter behind the stage. He's paired up to present with an up and coming actress who makes moon eyes up at him. Her name is Mia Rowe and she's as gorgeous in real life as she is talented.

"Hi Mr. Bravo," she says batting her eyes up at him.

"Hi beautiful," Dieter purrs. You hold in an eye roll, sure to take note of this woman. Odds are you'll be calling her a cab from Dieter's place later this evening.

"Bravo! I was hoping you'd be here!"

A tall blonde man with perfect teeth walks over, dressed in a form fitting tux. It makes Dieters bright pink checkered tux look cartoonish, but that's kinda what you liked about it.

Corey Brigham, the UK's answer to what would happen if you created the most handsome yet unlike-able person on the planet. He and Dieter go way back, both big in the party and drug scene.

"Was hoping you'd be here," Corey says with a wink, tapping his breast pocket. "I was just heading to the bathroom if you'd care to join."

"I'm not uh, doing that tonight," Dieter says to his friend. "Just sticking to booze."

You overhear this, surprised. You wonder if this is to do with his desire for fatherhood. If so you're a little impressed. Mia looks up at Dieter with a curious expression. As if she's impressed as well, or perhaps that she's surprised Dieter isn't what she expected.

The alcohol is flowing backstage and since you're a lightweight it takes very little to have you giggling behind your hand.

You never drink at these things, but once Dieter is done presenting your off for the night. You can enjoy yourself a little bit, especially when the booze is high end and free.

When Dieter presents the award with Mia you're very proud to see him sticking to his lines and being professional.

"Fuck, I have to go," Diane announces to you midway through the show, clutching her cellphone. "My kids in the hospital, the nanny just texted."

"Oh my gosh," your hand goes to hers. "Is everything okay?"

"He's had an allergic reaction," Diane says, her eyes wet. "I'm supposed to make sure Dieter returns the watch-"

"Go!" You insist, pushing her gently. "I'll make sure he returns it."

"I couldn't-"

"Go!"

Diane shoots you a grateful smile before tucking herself when you to her purse and making a mad dash for the exit. You watch from behind the curtain as the awards ceremony starts.

You decline further drinks after the midpoint, but you're still more than a little tipsy when you walk over to wrangle Dieter at the end of the show. He usually loves to hit up the after parties and you need to make sure he returns the Cartier watch before he goes.

You tap him on his broad shoulder, interrupting what seems to be a very intense (flirtatious) conversation with a redhead with the best pair of fake tits you've ever seen.

He turns irritated at first but his face quickly blooms into amusement as you stare up at him wavering slightly on your feet.

"Well, well, well," Dieter says smugly. "Miss Professional is drunk."

"I am not!" You insist, trying as hard as you can to keep the slur from your voice. "I'm just... I just had a little."

"You're slurring."

"Am not."

"Sure," Dieter laughs. "I bet you can't even walk in a straight line."

You immediately put one foot in front of the other, making a straight line from one side of the hallway floor to the other. You shoot him a victorious smile as he claps.

"My mistake," he drawls. "You’re obviously sober. I must have just overlooked that you always walk around with your eyes half open."

The redhead, irritated at being ignored gives a small sigh through her nose before bidding Dieter a sharp goodbye. You watch her walk off and grimace.

"Well you just cost me a date for the after party," Dieter laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulders and walking towards the entrance where photographers have gathered.

"Don't do that," you grumble. "Someone'll take a photo and get the wrong idea."

Dieter straightens immediately, but the amusement is still there in his features.

"So I guess you're gonna have to be my date," he teases, knowing full well how much you hate parties and that you'd never be invited in.

"Yeah right," you sneer. "I'd rather slide down a banister of razors into a pool of lemon juice."

"Guess I'll just have to find someone to keep me company then," Dieter says before winking at you. "I'll be at the Chateau Marmont if you change your mind."

He's out the door and in his limo before you remember why you needed to talk to him.

The fucking watch!

Cartier will have a fit if it's not returned this evening and Diane will be so disappointed in you on top of a very stressful night for her.

You have to run about three blocks in your heels to find a taxi to drive you. Traffic is majorly backed up thanks to the award ceremony and it takes you over an hour to get to Chateau Marmont.

At first the front desk won't let you past the entryway even when you tell them who you work for. You collapse onto a chair and try in vain to call Dieter. Not shockingly he doesn't pick up.

It's not until Mia Rowe arrives amidst screaming paparazzi and sees you near tears that she takes your hand and cites that you're with her. You thank her profusely and make a mental note to see every one of her movies in theaters for the rest of your life.

She's walks with you into the bustling party before releasing your hand and wishing you good luck. It doesn't take long to find Dieter in the crowd, you simply have to go to where there's the most noise.

He's in the middle of the group regaling them with one of his stories about the horrors of filming cliff beasts 5. He's got his arm around a young, very good looking Latin man you think is a singer. You watch as Dieter breaks off from what he was saying to kiss the young man thoroughly, tongues dueling as the music pulse around you.

Shit that's hot.

You don’t often see Dieter in the throes of passion but you’ve walked in on Dieter with his fair share of men and women waking up after a rowdy party or two. Seeing him here though with the club music like a heartbeat in your abdomen and his full mouth pressed to the handsome man’s makes you feel… something.

The two break apart and Dieter is about to say something more to the group when his eyes land on you.

"You made it!" Dieter slurs happily when you make your way towards him. "Take a shot!"

The crowd around him cheers as he produces a shot glass for you. Everyone is either coked out of their minds or massively drunk. It makes you jealous that your job has no glamour whatsoever.

"Here! Take a shot!" Dieter insists. "It's called the Bravo because uh... I forgot. But it’s good!"

You stumble over to him, not wanting to draw too much attention to the million dollar piece he's currently wearing on his wrist. Your mouth goes to his earlobe, lower lip catching the cool metal of his earring and the young man at his left shoots daggers at you.

"Dieter no, I need to return the-"

"The watch, I know," Dieter says with a smirk, his whisky tainted breath huffing along your cheeks. "I knew you'd have to come here to get it."

That asshole.

"You think I have nothing better to do than chase you all over this fucking city?" you shout, barely heard over the thrumming music.

Dieter just looks down at you amused and drunk. "Oh loosen up. I'll give you the watch."

"Good." You hold out your hand which he promptly places a shot glass into.

"As soon as you have a drink with me."

"I can't-"

You want to deny him this, to just get the watch and go to Cartier. But you're still tipsy and you're at a Hollywood after party and wait-

"Is that Robert Pattinson?" You croak pointing to a handsome figure entering the room. Dieter squints over before nodding and smiling crookedly.

"Twilight himself."

Holy shit.

"Okay," you say, smoothing your hair back. "One drink."

///

You're both absolutely obliterated by the time you head to Dieters limo and you're not sure who is worse.

You think you must be decently in control of your faculties because at least you remember to tell the limo to stop at Cartier where a very angry employee is waiting.

"So sorry," you slur at him as you pass him the watch in its box over the counter sheepishly. He makes you sign something before you clamor back into the limo next to Dieter who is drinking straight out of a whisky bottle.

He offers you the bottle and you take a sip. Just to be polite.

Then another sip to be extra polite.

"Robert Pattinson was so nice," you tell Dieter for the third time since you left the party. "And so handsome."

"He's not that handsome," Dieter says, sounding like he's underwater. "Where d'you live?"

"Over there," you say pointing in the general direction of your house. Dieter nods, telling the impossibly patient driver to go left.

"Wait my keys are at your house," you slur, eyes only half open. "How m'I gonna get in my house?"

"You need your keys," Dieter says loudly. "Less'go! My house!"

You're both barely able to walk when you come back to Dieter's place, dropped off by his limo. Like two chums you wrap your arms around each other's shoulders and trudge up his steps.

He drops his keys twice before opening the door with a groan.

"I hate wearing this stuff," he complains, pulling at the bow tie. You want to tell him that he looks nice but your mouth doesn't seem to be keeping up with your brain.

Dieter pulls off his bowtie, letting it drop to the floor. You do the same with your shoes, hating how they feel after hours on end.

"Want a drink?"

"Yes!"

"Me too!"

You both look at each other, waiting for the other person to pour the drink before collapsing into giggles. When you finally stop Dieter trips over to his bar and pours two shots of expensive vodka, spilling all over the bar top. You clink glasses and throw the shots back.

In habit Dieter turns the sprawling television on. The first thing that pops up is the discovery Channel and a documentary on giraffes. You both make a cooing sound when the camera pans to an unsteady baby giraffe just starting to walk.

"Awww I love baby animals," you say feeling oddly emotional at the tiny creature.

"I want one so bad," Dieter hiccups beside you.

"A giraffe?"

"No a baby-baby," Dieter pouts. "Want to give it everything I didn't have as a kid."

You've never really understood why Dieter wanted a baby until recently and in this moment you find his reasoning to be impossibly sweet.

"That's so nice!" You enthuse, finding it hard not to shout. The liquor is soaring through your veins. "You're so nice!"

Dieter smiles crookedly at you. "You think so?"

"Yeah!"

"Then why are you so mad at me all the time?" Dieter sways on his feet. "I'm so nice to you."

"You are not," you say plainly. "You're obnoxious. You do drugs so often you forget you have obligations. So then I have to babysit you so you don't get sued. You make my job stressful!"

"Oh."

Dieters head pitches forward and you can see that his eyes are closed. You've hurt him. That makes your drunken brain panic.

"But you're also really nice," you slur, gripping him by the forearm and shaking. "'Member you got me that really nice painting for my birthday?"

Dieter nods. The painting in question is of a beautiful woman overlooking the sea from behind, her stance filled with determination and her hair drifting in the breeze. It's as beautiful as it is vibrant and you'd been shocked when it arrived on your doorstep the morning of your birthday. Diane had mailed it, you recognized her handwriting.

Your mom had been amazed at it when you brought it in and opened it, citing that you needed to hang it somewhere you could look at it all day. So you had, hanging it on the wall opposite your bed. It's the first and last thing you look at every day. The woman in the portrait

"That was so nice!" You pause as your fuzzy brain tries to recall. "Did I ever thank you for that?"

"You gave me a thank you card and then told me to get ready for my BuzzFeed interview," Dieter shrugs, but that's your answer right there. He pours you both another shot of vodka which you both drink quickly.

"I have it hung up in my house," you tell him honestly. "It's in my room. I look at it every day. It's so beautiful. And nice of you!"

Nice is the only adjective that your addled brain can come up with tonight. Dieter smiles at you, a sweet little smile that has you smiling back at him. But then his handsome face crumples.

"If I'm so nice why does no one want to make a baby with me? Why do I have to pay that model?"

"I dunno," you answer honestly because right now in your drunken haze you don't really get why Dieter is single. He's handsome, rich and talented. Sure he likes cocaine and partying but there are worse things, surely!

"I know why," he says in a sad rasp. "S'cuz I'm unlovable."

"That's not true," you interject with a gasp before throwing your arms around his neck. "You're wonderful!"

You've never embraced Dieter before in all the time you've worked for him. The most you've ever done is gripped his hand in yours as you guided him through a bustling club to get to an interview he was late for or squeezed his hand like in the limo.

He's warm and he smells really good like expensive cologne. He'd dressed up well for the party tonight and you can't help but nuzzle your nose into his neck. You're both so drunk you lean against each other, not noticing when Dieter's nose glides along your neck as well.

"I think it's true," he whispers softly.

You feel impossibly sad for your boss because Dieter is so nice! The painting! You wish you'd been kinder to him. Wish you'd thanked him properly.

But wait, maybe you can?

"Dieter! I'll make a baby with you!"

You can hear Dieter's heartbeat pickup under your ear pressed against his chest.

"Really?" Dieter says, swaying. "That's what I was trying to ask before but you were so mad remember? You're always so mad at me!"

"I wasn't!" You reply sulkily, pulling back from him. You don't like being told that. You cross your arms, irritably.

"Yeah you get this lil' line between your brows when you get mad at me," Dieter says, clumsily pulling off his jacket and dropping it on the ground. "It's so cute and oh- yeah just like that!"

He's pointing at your frowning face.

"I wasn't mad," you insist, feeling the need to defend yourself. "I was just..."

You trail off as Dieter grabs you by the hips and pulls them to his. He looks down at you through his thick lashes.

"You're really pretty," he tells you through a whisky-laced hiccup. "I always thought so but I couldn't tell you."

"How come?"

"You're intimidating."

You giggle because you've never seen his face this close up and his mouth is so pouty. His eyelashes are so long you've never noticed.

"You're pretty too."

He kisses you then, his full mouth warm against yours. You kiss him back, making little whimpers when he licks into your welcome mouth.

"You kiss good!" You tell him in shock when you eventually pull back.

He smiles broadly, proud of himself. You can see the dimple in his cheek poke out. You decide that this is as good a time as any to get started. Your hands go to his belt.

"Let's make the baby now."

"Okay."

///

When you wake up the next morning hung-over and still dressed in Dieter Bravo's bed you don't automatically assume the worst. His arms are around you and he's snoring against your neck and if you weren't feeling so wretched you might have enjoyed how his warm body felt wrapped around yours.

It's not until you pad to the bathroom and begin to retch in his fancy toilet that you realize your panties are gone.

Having heard the noise Dieter stumbles into the bathroom, shocked to see his normally composed assistant kneeling over his porcelain toilet.

He leaves a few moments as you continue emptying your stomachs of its contents. When he returns he's holding two cups of what look like a disgusting green concoction. You take one from him, leaning against the counter.

"Do you remember anything?"

"Uh, I remember dropping the watch at Cartier," you say before dropping your mouth under the sink to swish some water into your dry mouth before spitting. "I remember we came here to get my keys I think? That's when it all gets blurry."

"Did we see giraffes?" Dieter asks, blinking through puffy eyes. "I feel like I remember giraffes."

You groan at your aching head before you remember your missing underwear. You glance to see Dieter is wearing his ratty green bathrobe cinched at the waist and from what you can see nothing underneath. His bulge is prominent under his bathrobe, you can't help but notice.

Dieter is staring at you, looking concerned.

"Last night... Did we?" He makes a circle with his thumb and pointer finger before making thrusting motions into it with his free forefinger.

"I...I don't remember," you croak, eyes blinking against the light streaming in from his bathroom window. You sip the green drink slowly, surprised that it doesn't taste as disgusting as it looks.

"Me neither."

"I need a Plan B just in case," you murmur, splashing cold water on your face. "You have a lot of guests stay the night... Any chance you have a box lying around?"

When he doesn't answer right away you glance over your shoulder to see Dieter has a funny look on his face. He's staring at you, blinking.

"What?"

"What if you are pregnant?" He asks quietly. "Would you consider keeping it?"

You laugh out loud. "Of course not!"

"Not even if I paid you?" Dieter asks, his voice hinting at desperation. "I'll pay you double - no, triple what I was going to pay the model surrogate."

You're about to loudly deny this request when you remember what he was offering that model: $75,000. Triple that is over $200,000. Yeah your life will be hell for nine months but then you'll be able to start a new one debt free. Your mom will be able to retire. You'll be able to go back to school.

And it's not like you ever wanted kids in the first place so you wouldn't even get attached. All that money for an inconvenience. A blip.

You can see the hunger in Dieter's eyes, the desperation, the deep need.

He does feel an aching need for this. Because drugs are awesome, making movies is fun, the money is amazing but with no one to share it with he feels lost. It feels pointless. He's fucked his way through the Hollywood elite: men and women alike. It's boring.

He tried making a real go of it with Annika but he'd fumbled it poorly and now she hated him and moved on. She was with her old co-worker and she was happy.

In truth Dieter is terrified that he cannot make another person happy. But a miniature version of himself? He could do that.

"Three hundred thousand," you say, not thinking he'll accept it.

"Deal."

Fuck why didn't I go higher?

Dieter sees you thinking, his mouth hitching into an excited grin. "So it's yes?"

"IF I agreed to the higher price point you'd be willing to honor the agreement if I got pregnant?" You venture. "The same one you were giving to that model? The one about covering all medical expenses and taking over sole custody and all that?"

"Yes."

"And I'd get the money when?"

"As soon as the baby is born. Just like the contract states."

"And the baby would never know I was its mother?"

"Never."

You pause, blinking rapidly. This all sounds too good to be true. And in all honesty, if Dieter takes this baby and forgets it on a park bench, that's none of your business or your responsibility. As far as you're concerned, this baby is a job. A very well-paying job.

"Okay fine," you say with a shaking breath. "I'll have your baby, Bravo."

///

You can't be pregnant from one night of drunken sex you both can't remember, right? Surely not. People try months if not years to get pregnant. Just look at Becky! Plus, you're not even sure you even had sex! Sure you'd woken up feeling a bit weird, but that could have been because you were waking up next to your boss.

You're thankful your mom works erratic hours at the hospital and didn't notice your late arrival this morning. You spend most of that day pacing around your house, doing laundry but mostly just feeling fuzzy. Not hung-over fuzzy (although that's part of it). It's an overwhelmed fuzzy that makes your head feel like cotton.

Your day feels impossibly long and short all at once. You want it to hurry up so you can go to bed but at the same time you want it to stretch ad finitum because you dread seeing Dieter tomorrow.

You'd left in such a rush that morning, not taking him up on his offer of breakfast. You needed to get away from him and that bed and that house. Needed to think about your next steps.

When you mom arrives home later that night you've made dinner that you both eat in front of the TV. Your mom chooses some bad hallmark romance movie that makes you want to throw a brick through the screen.

As you sit there bored your mind can't help but begin drifting back to Dieter and that night. You wonder what the sex was like if you actually did it. Was he tender? No, you think he'd be like a jackhammer. Despite his reputation for marathon sessions you think they Dieter would be a selfish lover.

"Mom what was it like being pregnant with me?"

Your mom raises her head curiously from her palm braced against the couch arm.

"Why do you ask honey?"

"I dunno, I guess after Becky did that whole surrogate thing it made me wonder why people go through it," you lie. "It seems like so much effort for so little pay off."

"You think you were little pay off?" You mom asks with a sleepy smile. "I disagree."

"I think kids are really hard," you smile back. "And I don't really get it."

"Well you've said you're not having kids so I don't think you need to worry about it," your mom says kindly.

You know as an only child there's a lot of pressure on you to have kids. You know your mom is aching to be a grandparent, especially after your dad's death.

But she's never pressured you. When you told her you had no intention of having kids even if you found the greatest spouse she had simply hugged you and said she respected your choice.

But you don't miss how she eagerly listens to stories about Becky's babies or asks to see photos. You don't miss how her eyes linger in the baby section at Wal-Mart. You don't miss the way she smiles at the trick or treat-ers that crowd your doorway on Halloween.

"I felt wonderful being pregnant," she says suddenly. "Loved every second. Felt like a fertile goddess."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

A ping sounds on your phone and a headline from a tabloid catches your eyes as you swipe up.

Dieter Bravo signs on for period piece alongside Hollywood darling Mia Rowe.

"Oh good he booked it," you murmur to yourself. He'd been beside himself working on his British accent, desperate to land this role that would take him from goofy villain to serious, romantic leading man.

"What was that honey?" Your mom asks, now slumped over sleepily on the couch.

"Just Dieter stuff," you explain. "I have an alert set to his name."

She grunts a reply before turning back to the television.

You read the rest of the article delighted that his co-star is Mia Rowe. That's amazing news! You love her! You only hope he can keep it in his pants long enough to keep production from falling apart. You can't help but smile as you send him a text.

[10:44pm] Congrats! I just heard about the Regency drama. You must be so excited! 🎉

You rest your phone in your lap before second guessing and placing it on the couch arm next to you. You look at your stomach, amazed that you of all people could potentially be carrying life.

[10:44pm] D: I am thank u. Do u feel pregnant?

You roll your eyes so hard you're convinced you can see your brain. Is he fucking serious? Does he really not have any clue about how pregnancy works? Is he not aware that Google is free?

[10:45pm] I won't know for weeks.

[10:45pm] D: I thought women knew early?? That's what Magda says.

Magda is his ancient housekeeper. A woman who has worked for Dieter since he hit it big. She does a terrible job keeping his house tidy but there's no way he'll ever fire her.

You turn your phone off irritated. You'd been trying to be kind and supportive and he managed to overlook it entirely.

You watch your mother fall asleep on the couch, her head tilted in her hand. And for a fleeting moment you do hope that you're pregnant. You want to give this woman everything.

$300,000 would change both of your lives and it seems insane that Dieter won't even miss that amount from his bank account. It'll be a drop in the ocean for him. It makes you feel prickly and resentful by the time his next text message comes through.

[11:02pm] D: Are ur breasts tender?

[11:02pm] Fuck off.

///

Living in the fantasy of having all that money had been fun. But a large part of you hadn't really believed that you'd be pregnant.

So when the two pink lines show up on the pregnancy test that Dieter has bought you three weeks later, you shake your head and take another one.

"Well?"

Dieters muffled voice calls to you through the bathroom door. He's been sitting outside the door leaning against it for the last ten minutes.

"Gimme a second!" You bark out over your shoulder.

You take another test.

And another one.

Pregnant.

Yep. You're fucking pregnant.

You are carrying Dieter Bravo's child in you at this very second.

You pull up your t-shirt, standing and looking in the mirrors reflection. Your stomach looks exactly the same. Nothing has changed.

And yet everything has changed.

Dieter is waiting for you outside his office bathroom pacing back and forth. When he sees your wide eyes his own go owlish in his face.

You swallow before thrusting the three tests into his hands. He looks at all three, delight blooming over his face.

He falls to his knees, raising his hands in victory over his head before bellowing.

"We're having a fucking baby!"

///

After a multitude of tests by Dieter's private doctor the next week, the confirmation comes through.

You're six weeks along.

Dieter jumps on the couch, shouting excitedly as the news is announced. You simply sit stiffly in your chair as the doctor smiles at you and offers you congratulations.

"It's still early," he warns you both and that causes Dieter to stop jumping on furniture.

There's a lot of paperwork to go over that following week. Dieter has brought in his lawyer and on top of the additional NDA there's also a mountain of certain clauses, exceptions etc. Dieter offers to pay for a lawyer for you but you deny him.

You take the paperwork to a cheap lawyer in town who gives it back a week later citing that "it's thorough but fair."

No one besides you, Dieter, his manager Mark and his publicist Diane can know. Diane is handling the roll out of the birth nine months from now, laying the groundwork for a successful launch.

She talks about your future child like a product or commodity. It makes both you and Dieter wince.

"No hard drugs Dieter, I'm serious," Diane warns him over coffee in his living room. She's got a checklist to go through with him and you.

"I've been off 'em for weeks," he assures her. "Just stickin' to weed."

"No big parties, no orgies," she says checking notes off her phone. "No ridiculous ranting on the red carpet."

"Fine." Dieter nods although you can see that he's going to miss those. He's always enjoyed the attention that goes along with a good party... Or a good orgy... Or rant.

"And you," Diane says turning to face you seated beside Dieter in his living room. "Obviously you signed an NDA so if people ask, you got pregnant from a one night stand and due to religious reasons you're keeping the pregnancy and giving the kid up for adoption."

Partially accurate.

"Won't it look kinda suspicious for his PA to be pregnant and then him suddenly have a baby?" you ask, suddenly concerned.

"You won't be his PA after this conversation," Diane informs you. "It would be a massive conflict of interest."

You feel your heart lurch. "Wait, I'm fired?"

"Not at all," Diane explains patiently. "You're on paid leave. You'll be given your weekly paychecks as usual."

The thought of nine months stuck at home for your mother to fret over (or worse once she finds out the dad is Dieter) makes you wince. Dieter squirms in his seat next to you, scratching absently at his ankle. A trait he does when he's agitated.

You've been his PA the longest he's ever maintained one. Usually he sleeps with them or burdens them into quitting. He feels safe with you, you're good at your job and you make him feel stable. Plus you’re carrying his fucking child. He doesn’t want you gone.

"No," Dieter finally insists, his voice strong. "I need her. I'm going to film in Ireland and I need her with me."

"Dieter-"

"She can wear baggy clothes when she starts to show," he reasons. "And when she gets too big she can do office work."

"Dieter-"

"No negotiating," Dieter insists. "I want her to work for me as long as she wants to." He turns to you at this point, brow raised. "Only if you do."

You smile brightly at him. "I do."

"So do I."

"Great," Diane says rolling her eyes. "I now pronounce you both totally fucked."

///

When you finally hand your completed contract over to Dieter and his lawyers that following week his smile is so wide you think that his face will split.

Immediately his broad hand goes to rest against your belly, eyes wide with anticipation.

"Hello little thing, I'm your daddy," he tells your stomach.

"Okay rule one," you tell him, pushing him off of you with a look of disgust. "No touching me without permission. I am not going to be one of those pregnant women that let strangers touch her belly."

"We're not strangers," Dieter pouts.

"Besides all your touching right now is my stomach fat," you say flatly. "The baby is the size of a poppy seed."

Dieter looks amazed. "How do you know that?"

You show him the app you've downloaded to your phone to track everything from fetal development to dietary suggestions. It's called BabiEDucate.

"You can make an account too," you tell him. "Parents can link up and access the same files."

Dieter is already downloading it before the sentence leaves your mouth. Parents. He's going to be a parent. He's going to be a dad! He's fucking giddy.

"I'll make sure I update it with everything," you promise. "Photos, cravings. It'll keep you involved even when you're working."

"Oh right," Dieter says, deflating. In all his excitement he'd forgotten the film. Several months of filming a period piece over in Ireland. "You're still coming right?"

"I'm still your PA aren't I?" you say bringing out the schedule. Ireland is only a few weeks away and you wonder if you'll be showing.

The nice thing about being a nobody in the world of celebrity is that no one will think it's strange if you suddenly start to show. You're Dieter's PA, not his friend or co-star. Your pregnancy won't be fodder for tabloid headlines or the rumor mill.

"When we're in public I'm still your employee," you remind him. "So no talking to my stomach or talking about the pregnancy."

Dieter looks thoughtful before snapping his fingers, inspired.

"We'll have a code word! How about... Broccoli."

"No."

"Lube?"

"Dieter-"

"Bubble? that's even a fun word to say!"

"Fine," you say with an eye roll. "Bubble it is."

///

By the end of your second month you feel like absolute shit. Morning sickness has hit you bad. Your mom is usually out of the house before you in the mornings but she catches you hovering over the toilet one morning and you have to pass it off as food poisoning.

You're thankful that filming will take you over to Ireland for a few months. That's a few months that you can put off telling her that you're carrying your boss's child.

Dieter has been as annoying as he is helpful in that regard. When you're with him at his place or driving to an event he's his usual self. Well, except all he wants to do is talk about the baby. But at least he does his job and can be redirected.

When you're not with him though? It's another story.

[2:06pm] D: you didn't upload to the app today. 🍼🍼🍼

[2:07pm] Too busy puking.

[2:07pm] D: I saw an article that says ginger tea helps.

[2:08pm] 👍

When you come out of the bathroom wiping at your washed mouth an hour later you're surprised to hear knocking.

You open it to find Dieter standing at your door with a cardboard box.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, eyes blown wide. "It's my day off and you're supposed to be at a promo photoshoot for-."

"I know," Dieter interrupts before placing the package into your arms. You glance inside to see heaps of ginger products: tea, honey, biscuits, candies.

"What’s all this?"

"For your morning sickness," he says glancing down at your stomach as if he's expecting you to have magically popped since he saw you yesterday. He's disappointed that you still look the same.

He gives you a quick smile and wave as he heads back down your driveway towards the waiting cab.

"Don't forget to update the app!'

#dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo #dieter x reader #pedro pascal dieter #The Bubble #pedro pascal smut #Pedro Pascal #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #eventual smut #romance #love #pregnancy

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buddiebeginz · 1 day

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/buddiebeginz/752112763763097600

So do we take this as confirmation that it’s not happening since they once again shut it down.

No, for me this is an even bigger confirmation that Buddie is in the plans we just need to be patient. I firmly believe that they wouldn't have even gone down the route with making Buck bi especially not how his bi awakening happened in 704 if there was never any intention of making Buddie happen. It centered very heavily around Eddie.

Some might argue well maybe Tim wanted to make it happen but then changed his mind and or someone behind the scenes stopped it. I think it's likely that the network didn't want both Buck and Eddie coming out in such a short season. They also probably wanted to wait and see how the ratings went after making a major change to a newly acquired show. I also think it's likely that Tim wanted to wait and tell Eddie's story when he had more episodes to do it in. Buck's coming out was told as a relatively simple and happy story. I don't think Eddie's is going to be the same. We're probably going to see Eddie struggle and it's going to be harder for him to accept who he is than it was for Buck. Telling that kind of story properly does need more time.

Also like I talked about in this post, I think Tim wanted to do his artsy Vertigo story with the whole Kim/Shannon thing. So it wasn't just that the network paused it I think Tim had other ideas for this season and he chose to focus on that.

The other thing you need to remember is that if Buddie was really off the table for good they would have lessened the amount of time they had them on screen together and I'm positive more effort would have been put into B/T. This season was already very crunched for time so there was definitely episodes were they didn't need to include Buddie but they did.

Look at ep 707 with the Buddie and Chris scene (when Eddie drops Chris off so he can go on the date with Kim) where Buck compliments Eddie's cologne. Even all the way into episodes 709 and 710 where they had plenty of time to lessen Buddie and add in more B/T if that's the direction they wanted things to go leading into s8. But they didn't.

In fact in 709 we had Buck apparently ditching T*mmy to go talk to Eddie after seeing Kim at the fire station. There was very little of T*mmy even in that episode and the short scene we got between him and Buck T*mmy was being kind of snippy with him. There was also the shot where when Buck got his award the camera pans to Eddie not T*mmy. This had to be a delebrite choice because even the DP Joaquin Sedillo liked a tweet about it.

Then Buddie were together most of 7x10 and were a real family unit. Both in dealing with everything with Chris and also with sitting by Bobby's bedside together. This is incredibly important with it being the season finale because 911 has always used the final episodes of every season as a preview of where things are likely headed.

We did get that date scene with T*mmy in 7x10 but the message there was what it's been all season and that's T*mmy doesn't really get who Buck is. If T*mmy was being set up to be this important person in Buck's life he would have been at the hospital with Buck or at the least had an emotional conversation with him about all he'd been dealing with. Instead we saw Buck trying to be vulnerable and T*mmy turning it into a joke.

I am more sure now than I've ever been that Buddie is a when not an if. We just can't let that other part of fandom get to us or over think if we see things Tim posts on FB or Lou posts with his cameos.

Not sure if you were around in fandom years ago but Taylor stuck around for two seasons and she's gone now. T*mmy will be soon enough too. The best person for Buck is Eddie and the best person for Eddie is Buck. No matter who else they bring into the show they'll never be able to compete with the chemistry and history that Buddie have. Tim and ABC know this and they also know the popularity that Buddie have. They know the amount of attention and praise they'll get when Buddie finally does happen. They're not going to pass that up.

#buddie #911 buddie #911!#buddie s7 #911 7x10 #ask #anon

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go-see-a-starwar · 7 months

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Today’s installment of “I watch Hayden Christensen’s filmography and tell you how pretty he is in it” is Awake (2007).

Hayden is Clay Beresford Jr, heir to a billion dollar fortune who’s struggling to escape the shadow of his deceased businessman father. His heart is torn between his loving but overprotective mother and his beautiful girlfriend Sam, who he’s scared his mother will not approve of. Oh and that heart? It’s weak and he needs a transplant. But when the anesthesia for his heart surgery fails to fully put him under he discovers a sinister plot.

How pretty is he in it?

Ridiculously gorgeous, a damn dream. None of those billionaire romance books on Kindle Unlimited can compare.

Does he get drenched at some point? A classic Hayden in a Tub scene happens in the first five minutes and what a drenching it is. 4💦 out of 5

How’s the movie itself: If you have any familiarity with hospitals and cardiology, the medical scenes will likely make you go “wow that’s not how it works at all.” But if you can manage to suspend your disbelief regarding the medical stuff and focus on the suspense and drama of the plot it’s a decent psychological thriller. It’s also very beautifully shot with a ridiculously good-looking cast.

Is the RottenTomato rating unfairly low?: it’s sits at 23% and I feel it should be at least double that, it has a solid cast that give good performances all around and a very intriguing premise.

Surprise Star Wars!: Hayden playing a character with mommy issues and having a secret, somewhat forbidden love affair is a little familiar. A more tangible Star Wars tie is Awake writer and director Joby Harold would go on to be a head writer for the Obi Wan Kenobi series, aka Hayden’s triumphant return to Star Wars (Hayden thanked Joby specifically in his Saturn award acceptance speech).

In Short: The fascinating (if not entirely plausible) premise and overall beautiful look (and cast) makes this one of Hayden’s better films. And if nothing else it contains great inspo for your modern AU Anakin/Star Wars fics. (also has a couple adorable Hayden bloopers)

#hayden christensen #clay beresford #jessica alba #awake (2007)#awake #while the medical plots not realistic there is some medical ickiness so TW for the squeamish #gsasw reviews hayden movies #not sw

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rocknrollbabe14 · 6 months

Text

Sad Eyes (Doctor!Joe x Nurse!Reader) Part One

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Warnings: cursing, mention of medical procedures and illnesses, one-bed trope, a lot of unprotected sex (be smart folks), oral sex (female receiving), creampie, ex-lovers--if I forgot anything let me know.

**I have been working on this for a long time. I started with the present day and will be working my way back through their past, switching between the past and present-day as you'll soon learn their past (and present-day) is and will become very complicated!**

***Also special thanks to @josephs-quinns for making my header! I love you!***

Also inspired by the song I linked above.

It was hard to focus on checking the charts at the end of your shift, one of the vital steps of preparing for the next shift to come on. You kept hearing chattering about how Dr. Joseph Quinn, your ex-fiancé had been asked to speak in Boston for the John Hopkins award ceremony about his continued research of curing type 1 diabetes in children and even being nominated for the Lasker Award, which granted, was a huge deal. Especially for your hospital.

In a surprising twist of fate, you all had ended up in the same facility, working together. Once again. At the end of the day, you all made a great team but it was hard to be in the same room with him. You were one of the charge nurses. Lately, you had been working the night shift since you were so short, and waking Dr. Quinn up was like waking the devil up some nights. All your co-workers dreaded calling, leaving the unwanted task to you. You didn’t mind—any chance to get under his skin was fun for you.

And you’d only call if it was warranted. For instance, the child was not getting better regardless of your interventions. The ones you could do without the doctor’s orders. You knew what he liked, what he preferred for his patients. If the child continued to decline, you’d call. He’d come in, sulking as usual. He wouldn’t greet you. It pissed you off, but as long as the patient was taken care of, there wasn’t much you could say. Before leaving, he’d give you orders in a monotone before either leaving as fast as he came or sticking around to see if the child improved, charting his interventions.

He was a good doctor—a great doctor when it came to interacting with children, talking to them in a soft voice, and explaining things on their level. He’d make them laugh, and make small talk about their favorite toys. You hated to watch him interact with children because it made you want to forget how he wronged you. It made your ovaries hurt, reminding you at one point that could have been in your future. It pained you slightly, making you look away before continuing your work.

“Hey Y/N.”, a fellow nurse, Rachel got your attention.

“Please tell me a child is not crashing.”, you groaned, barely looking up from your paperwork.

“No—Dr. Quinn is asking to speak to you.”

You sighed, rubbing your face. “Where is he?”

“Doctor’s dictation.”

You nodded, getting up from your chair. He was here unusually early this morning. However, he was a morning person. He’d go for runs before work, coming home to take a quick shower. You remembered it well. Some mornings, he’d wake you up before his shower and it would end in sex. There was something about him being all sweaty and warm, his cologne from the night before mixed with the musk of his natural pheromones.

You knocked on the door easily.

“Come in.”

You opened it easily, closing your eyes and preparing for the tongue-lashing. “What did I do this—?”

“Nothing.”, he responded easily, getting up and closing the door back. “I have a proposition for you.”

“And what’s that?”, you crossed your arms, trying to refrain from rolling your eyes.

He smiled that charming smile, the one that he knew made you weak in the knees. “Well, I’m up for the Lasker Award. And I’ve been asked to speak at John Hopkins about my ongoing research regarding curing type one diabetes in children.”

“The whole hospital knows that.”, you groaned, grabbing the door knob.

You were clearly not in the mood to put up with this tom-foolery.

“But I need a plus one.”, he eyed you, putting his hand over yours.

You glared at him. “And you don’t have someone you could call? A charming, handsome doctor with money?”

“It would be a good team-building experience for us.”

“Did you finally get reprimanded for your behavior?”

You moved your hand from the doorknob, crossing your arms, and deciding to finally hear him out.

He laughed easily, brushing through his curls. “I just know there’s been a lot of tension between us. And I want to try and make it better.”

Was he serious? Where was the Joseph that had been here for weeks? You felt the slight tension in the air, pondering this idea.

“The hospital’s going to pay for everything. This won’t go against your paid time off.”

“Separate hotel rooms?”

He nodded. Were you really about to give in and do this? Part of you began to think you’re psycho and the other half was debating the free food, free room, and a small break from the mundane work of being a nurse. But you truly loved working with kids even if the doctor you had to deal with was your ex and an ass at times.

“Fine. When are we leaving?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

He nodded. “Go home and pack. Our flight boards at nine in the morning. Also, pack some dresses. One for the awards. Some for dinner.”

You nodded, giving him a confused look. “Okay.”

“Be at the airport at eight?”

“Yeah, see you then. Goodnight—well good morning, Dr. Quinn.”

“Joe.”

“Dr. Quinn.”, you looked back at him as you opened the door, closing it gently behind you.

All the nurses were waiting for you to start huddle. Trying to gain your footing was hard, especially after being riddled with the suggestions Joe had. You weren’t used to him being nice anymore. Lately, he had been an asshole. Especially when he had been on a date a month ago, you had to call and interrupt because one of the children was crashing and fast. He came right in, suit and all. You explained everything that had happened, keeping good notes and keeping up with the child’s vitals.

He decided to intubate on the floor, sending the child straight to the ICU. You helped with the intubation, giving him the medicine and supplies he needed. You both worked together like a well-oiled machine contrary to popular belief. He did at least tell you that you had made the right call even if you knew that already. He said his date was out in the car as if he was trying to make you jealous. It may have worked slightly, but you didn’t let him know that.

After giving a report to the dayshift charge nurse, you went home. You stripped out of your uniform before getting a quick shower and washing your hair. Wrapping yourself in a towel, you began to pack for this trip. Part of you was still in disbelief you had agreed to do this. This was going to be a long few days and you weren’t quite sure how you were going to survive.

Another pediatrician agreed to pick up Joe’s load of patients, another nurse covering your shifts. You knew there was going to be talk about you both going together, but right now you didn’t care. That wasn’t your biggest issue at hand. The next morning you caught a cab to the airport, still trying to wake up. A text popped up on your phone.

-On your way to the airport?

How did Joe have your phone number? Granted, you hadn’t changed it since you all had dated. But then you remembered you had to call him from your personal cell phone while the phone lines were down one night.

-Yeah, should be there in 10-15.

It was just a second before another message popped up.

-Brill. See you soon. X

You rolled your eyes lightly as you continued to make small talk with the cab driver. It wasn’t long before you arrived at the airport, unloading your suitcase before making your way into the airport. You checked which gate you were leaving from again on your phone. Dropping your checked bag off was the easy part. Moving through the crowd of people wasn’t the first thing you wanted to do in the morning but here you were. You checked the gate number on your phone again, making sure you were in the right spot.

Butterflies began to rise in your stomach, and the nerves beginning to set in. You scanned the airport for any signs of Joe but didn’t see him. You felt someone tap your shoulder, causing you to jump and turn around.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine.”, you brushed your shirt easily.

“I brought coffee. Your favorite, iced mocha latte.”

“Thanks, but you didn’t have to.”

“I know,”, he began easily, setting his bag near yours. “I thought it was a kind gesture.”

You knew you were giving him a weird look. Since when did he make “kind” gestures for you? It was something you weren’t used to. Not anymore. That ship sailed when he decided to leave and chose his career over his fiancee.

“Thanks.”

It was tense and quiet between you both as you stood there, waiting for the announcement that your group was able to board. You sipped your iced coffee in silence, the awkwardness taking over. It felt like an eternity before they finally called your group number, Joe allowing you to go first. You closed your eyes, moving with the cord of people. This was going to be a long plane ride. Yours and Joe’s seats were together, him letting you choose whether you wanted the aisle or the window.

You chose the window, instantly stowing your purse below your seat. Joe was up, still working on putting his carry-on and yours in the overhead compartment. Trying to divert your attention was hard. Joe was tall but he was stretching, his shirt riding up. You swallowed hard, looking away just as you gained a glimpse of his stomach and happy trail. Memories instantly rushed through your head—waking up with him in the morning, your head on his chest. He’d wake up and ask you how you were before you both shared a lazy kiss before he’d pull you on top of him, whispering for you to fuck him before work.

“Got them.”, Joe breathed a sigh of relief, bringing you out of your daydream.

“Great.”, you smiled widely, the awkwardness apparent.

You focused on the other passengers boarding the plane, focusing in and out on the small talk you were sharing with Joe. Once everyone was boarded, the pilot began to read off the usual flight instructions as he prepared for take off. It had been a while since you had flown on a plane. The last time for Christmas to see your parents for a few days after, considering doctors and nurses never had a holiday. Joe could tell you were tense as the plane soared down the runway.

“Feeling okay?”

As if he really cared about your feelings or fears.

“Fine.”

“You’re knuckles are turning white.”, he eyed them on the armrest.

“I’m fine.”, you repeated with a slight nip in your voice.

He threw his hands up easily, resolving and backing off. “Okay.”

Once the plane got in the air and the turbulence settled, you felt some relief. There was silence between you and Joe for a bit and you hoped if maybe you closed your eyes, he’d leave you alone. Somehow, you ended up falling asleep. All you remember was waking up to the announcement that the plane would begin preparing to land soon at Baltimore-Washington International Airport.

“Get a good nap?”, Joe asked with a smirk, peering over glasses and up from his papers.

“Um, yeah. I was exhausted.”, you mumbled, sitting up and hoping you hadn’t snored or drooled all over the place.

“Didn’t you sleep?”, his voice was half condescending.

“Night shift sucks.”

He nodded. “So does getting woken up in the middle of the night.”

You glared easily, narrowing your eyes. “At least you get paid well.”

“Mhm,”, he agreed. “I just love being woken up by your voice at two a.m.”

You felt your heart drop down into your stomach, opening your mouth to give a sarcastic response but you were interrupted by the pilot announcing you all would be preparing for landing, the plane descending quickly. That was the worst part for you after all the ear infections and trouble you had with your ears as a child. Joe didn’t speak to you, just watching you plug your ears. Landing was miserable for you. You counted down the minutes until it would be over.

After what felt like an eternity, you landed successfully. Joe grabbed your all’s bags from the overhead compartment, letting you go in front of him. What a gentleman, was chivalry dead? The airport was busy, full of hustle and bustle.

“Want to grab something to eat or something before we grab our bags and head to the hotel?”

It had taken six hours to complete the flight from Portland to Baltimore.

“Fine.”, you agreed.

You seemed to be distant, not talking much while you all sat at the bar called Martini. He ordered his usual—a filthy martini while you opted for your usual, a pina colada. He watched as you took a bite of your sandwich before chasing it down with a sip from your drink. Your eyes shot over to him, causing him to look away. He could remember the mornings you’d make him breakfast on the days you were off, sitting beside him at the bar in the kitchen.

It was a kind gesture that always made his mornings better. He’d take a sip of coffee before you both leaned in for a kiss.

“Want another drink, Joe?”, you asked, springing him out of his daydream.

The waiter eyed you both attentively, waiting for a response. You both agreed to another cocktail before agreeing this would be the last one. You wanted to get to the hotel and get settled in before his dinner plans came about. This would give you the chance to freshen up, maybe grab a shower and a quick nap. The waiter brought the ticket, you snatching it up before Joe could.

“What are you doing?”

“Seeing how much my part is.”, you slurred lightly before opening your wallet and digging for your cash.

“Don’t worry about it. I got it.”, he wrestled to grab the ticket from your hand.

“No, you’re not paying for my stuff. Just because I’m a nurse doesn’t mean I’m poor.”

He eyed you, his brown eyes open in surprise. “I never said you’re poor. I’m just trying to do something nice for you.”

“Why? Because you talk to me like shit on the phone?”

You gasped as the sentence left your mouth, never intending to say it. You were thinking it, but the alcohol had decided that you would open your mouth and insert your foot. Drunk words were sober thoughts or some shit like that.

Joe eyed you, his brain trying to process everything.

“I mean—I know I’m kinda a jerk on the phone sometimes.”

“Joe.”

“No, you’re absolutely right. I’m an asshole.”, he chuckled bluntly before throwing back the rest of his drink.

You sighed, beginning to feel guilty for even saying it. If you could take your spiteful words back, you would have. Looking down at your phone, you began to feel awkward. Maybe you should have stayed in Portland, never coming with him in the first place. You knew better—you knew how this was going to play out. There were still deep-seated feelings of betrayal and hurt between you both. No small trip was going to fix that.

“I didn’t mean it.”, you said easily, fiddling with your fingers.

Joe chuckled to himself before looking up at you. “Those were real words. Your real feelings about how you feel that I treat you.”

You groaned. “I’m a little tipsy.”

“But tipsy enough to tell me basically you feel like I treat you like shit.”

“You do.”

“Do not.”

“Do so.”, you eyed him.

“How?”

“Can we please just drop it?”, you groaned, grabbing your purse.

“Fine.”, Joe resolved, clearly looking defeated.

You all got up, Joe looking on his phone to get an Uber. Grabbing your luggage, it was finally time to go to the hotel. You bit your lip, trying to focus on the fact that soon you’d be in your own hotel room and you could decompress. You could be alone in your thoughts, maybe get yourself together. There was hardly any conversation between you both as waited for the Uber.

“What kind of vehicle is it?”, you asked, looking away from him.

“Um, black Toyota Camry.”

“I think this is it.”, you muttered as you grabbed your suitcase.

You and Joe opened the back doors simultaneously.

“Quinn?”, the driver asked.

“Yes, that’s me.”, Joe said easily, fixing his glasses.

He was super casual today, wearing glasses and a baseball cap. He looked good in his t-shirt and button-up, jeans, and tennis shoes. You’d never known he was a doctor by just looking at him. You closed your eyes, buckling up and mentally cursing yourself for thinking about how good he actually looked. There was no way you were going to be wrapped back up in this trap again. Not with him. You couldn’t do this. You could barely be civil at work.

You looked out the window, trying to avoid him at all costs.

“So traveling for work or pleasure? A couple getaway?”

“Um—”

“No. We’re traveling for work.”, you interrupted.

Joe shot you a look as the driver seemed to sense the tension between you both. There was some small talk as you all took the twenty-minute drive to the hotel you were staying at. You couldn’t wait until this car ride was over so you could have some distance and space. You needed a hot bath and maybe some wine. The wine sounded really good.

You all pulled up to the entrance of the hotel, the driver announcing you had arrived. Joe grabbed both of your suitcases, unloading them as the driver waved goodbye and drove away.

“I can take my stuff.”

He handed it to you without putting up any fight or argument. You walked ahead of him, anxious to get to your room. Joe couldn’t help but look at you, your jeans fitting tighter than your scrubs did. He swallowed hard, trying to distract himself and look anywhere else but your body. He could remember you coming home after work while he was on call. You in the scrubs that hugged your body just right, he’d instantly beg to fuck you. He’d feel up on you while you hung your coat up and put your purse away.

“We have reservations.”, you spoke, bringing Joe back to reality.

“Name please.”

“Joseph Quinn.”, Joe spoke up, standing behind you.

“Okay. A room with a king-size bed.”, the receptionist eyed the computer, clicking through a few things with her mouse.

“I’m sorry? There’s supposed to be two rooms.”, you spoke up.

The clerk stopped, looking up at you. “I’m sorry. We are all booked up. That’s what your reservation was for.”

You looked back at Joe, feeling as if he had lied to you. You weren’t surprised by this behavior. It wasn’t the first time he had misled you.

“I thought you said it was two rooms.”

“It was. The hospital must have made a mistake—maybe they thought I was the only one going. Are you sure there are no other rooms available?”, he pushed his glasses up on his nose.

“I’m sorry sir. This is the only room we have available.”

“But there was supposed to be one for me and one for my nurse.”

You rolled your eyes at him before turning back to the clerk. “Does this have a sofa sleeper?”

Your grip tightened on the handle of your suitcase. In the back of your mind, you knew there was an ulterior motive. He was trying to be sneaky—he knew this entire time that there was only one bed in the room. Closing your eyes, you could feel the anger rise in your chest. You were so over this damn trip already. What the hell were you thinking when you agreed to go with him?

“Yes, mam.”

“Fine.”, you agreed, looking at Joe before crossing your arms. “Just—let’s take it. I’m tired.”

“Are you sure?”, Joe turned to look at you.

“Yes. Where else are we gonna go? The hospital paid for it. Let’s just take it.”

“Okay, fine.”, Joe turned back to the receptionist, before taking the keys from her. “Thank you, darling.”

“Of course.”

Joe grabbed his suitcase at the same time you grabbed yours. Feeling infuriated, you walked ahead of him to the elevator. Pressing the button for the elevator, you let out a loud sigh. Joe noticed but chose to ignore it. He knew you were pissed off at him. Even though, none of this was his fault. The elevator dinged, arriving at the lobby. Stepping inside, you were the only two in the elevator. It was complete silence until you arrived at the sixth floor.

Exiting the elevator, you pulled out your key to unlock the door. Joe could tell in your body language you were angry with him. He had seen it one too many times while you both were together. You threw the door open a little aggressively. He followed behind you, carefully closing the door behind you both. Now, you were locked in a room with him. For how many hours?

“I’ll take the couch. You can have the bed.”, Joe said easily.

“Fine.”, you responded.

Joe eyed you, watching you open your suitcase and take out your clothes and toiletry bag before going straight into the bathroom and closing the door behind you. He sat down on the couch, feeling defeated. Somehow, he had still managed to fuck up and you all weren’t together. He leaned back against the couch as he heard you start the water. He closed his eyes, trying not think about you in the shower. How could you be so close yet so far away?

Squeezing his eyes tighter, he tried to shove the thoughts of water running down your body out of his mind. He groaned as he felt his cock twitch just at the thought of you naked. He couldn’t do this—not here, not now.

“Fuck.”, he hissed, palming the bulge in his jeans—anything to get it to disappear.

Trying to focus his attention elsewhere, he grabbed his papers from his briefcase while looking down at the copy of his speech. It was handwritten, several lines crossed out and rewritten. He had worked on it endless nights—perfecting it. Most nights, he had barely drifted off before you were calling him to come back to work. Continuing to hear the water run, he looked down and began to read his speech from the beginning aloud.

He managed to run through it three times before he finally heard the water shut off. The sound of you sliding the shower curtain across the metal rod reached his ear. He bit his lip, waiting for you to throw open the door. It was quiet for a few minutes before he heard you open the door, smelling the scent of your body wash and perfume waft out of the bathroom behind you. He was fighting the urge to turn and look at you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”, you asked easily.

“Tell you what?”

Joe was surprised you were even speaking to him.

“There was only one room.”

During your shower, you had tried to talk yourself down before confronting him. You didn’t want to lose your cool on him. You had to work with him every day.

“I didn’t know.”, Joe said honestly as he looked up at you, his eyes over his glasses.

“I’ve heard this lie before.”, you laughed sarcastically. “Like when you said you had no idea you were going to have to relocate to Portland to be an attending in one of the most prestigious programs, becoming the head of pediatrics.”

You folded your clothes from the day, your lace gown brushing above your thighs. You didn’t make eye contact with him.

“I—”

“Please just save it, Joe.”

Joe’s mouth dropped open, face crinkling in confusion. “Y/N.”

“No—you act like it’s such an inconvenience. Like your life is so hard. It must be so hard—such a burden to be a doctor. You have to worry about giving a speech about your ongoing research to cure type one diabetes in children. Oh—and be nominated for the Lasker Award. I’m so sorry your life is so hard, doctor.”, you spat bitterly.

Joe scoffed before laughing bitterly in return. “This is a huge deal for me—for my career. This could change children’s lives. It could change medicine as we know it. I’ve worked hard—so fucking hard to be here and you’re not going to downplay it and take this away from me. I refuse for it to happen.”

You turned to see the fire in his brown eyes, narrowing your own. You had struck a nerve in him. You felt the anger rising in your chest. He could and would never accept accountability for his actions. Why couldn’t he just admit he was wrong? His pride always got in the way.

“Right. I forgot. You always choose your fucking career. It’s the most important thing in your life, isn’t it? More important than the people you love.”, you placed your hands on your hips.

Joe groaned, rolling his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration and closing his eyes. This reminded him so much of fights you all would have at night once he got home from being on call. It was exhausting, he hated fighting with you. Your whole relationship was far from perfect, but he felt like you all were worth fighting for.

“Does it keep you warm at night?”

“Y/N.”, Joe said in a low tone, begging you to stop while you were ahead.

“Do you enjoy going to bed alone?”

“Y/N.”, he repeated, coming closer.

“Do you have a good fucking time jerking yourself off? That’s all you’re ever going to have. Especially if you continue to choose your career over the woman you supposedly loved.”

“For fucks sake!”, Joe snapped before grabbing your waist, pushing you against the wall.

You tried to protest, asking him what the hell he thought he was doing before his lips crashed into yours, you instantly melting into his kiss. You hated yourself for it, the old familiar feeling returning. It felt so wrong, but felt so right. Your tensed muscles relaxed as one hand found your waist, the other cupping your cheek. His hands were strong, large as your mind remembered they knew your body. He had memorized every curve, every freckle, every imperfection. But it was all perfect to him.

He pulled away, breaking the kiss as you looked up at him. Your eyes were locked into each other’s, neither one breaking contact.

Your face was crinkled in confusion. “Joe, what the—?”

He cut you off, his lips crashing back into yours. You didn’t fight it, part of you didn’t want to. It felt just like old times, the familiarity returning. It was like coming home after being gone for months. You had missed it whether you wanted to admit it or not. You had missed him. It felt like you both were miles away from each other even if you worked together on a daily basis. He pressed you closer against the wall, bringing his body closer to yours, eliciting a small moan from you. He chuckled lightly into the kiss.

Joe’s hands moved from your waist, trailing lightly down to the hem of your short-laced gown. You felt his fingers brush the midline of your thigh before he caressed your thigh, pulling the gown up in the same motion. He moved his hands until the gown was near your breasts. He wanted to squeeze them so bad—he was going to, if you’d let him. You broke the kiss momentarily, long enough for him to pull the gown up and over your head, leaving you only in your laced thong panties.

“Fuck—a thong?”, Joe eyed you, brown eyes gleaming in the low light.

“Yeah.”, your breath hitched easily.

“So sexy—I know you wear them at work.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And how so?”

Joe chuckled again, feeling you pull at the hem of his t-shirt. He allowed you to pull it up and over his head, careful not to knock his glasses off his nose. You admired his chest, tossing his shirt to the side before running your hands over his chest. He inhaled sharply, closing his eyes before you brushed your hands down to his abdomen. He had to have been working out, running or maybe the gym.

“Because,”, his breathing caught. “You wear tighter scrub pants and I can always see the line of the thong trailing up your perky, tight ass.”

“You look at my ass?”

He chuckled again before shrugging. “Yeah, I love to see you walk away. What can I say?”

You rolled your eyes, reaching for the button on his jeans. “You men are pigs.”

“No—I just admire the view. If you’re gonna wake me up in the middle of the night, I should get something out of it.”

You undid the button on his jeans, feeling them go slack. “Nice to know.”

“Look,”, Joe groaned as he felt you unzip the zipper, finding the rest of his happy trail. “Do you know how many times I have to bite my tongue because other residents, other attendings are talking about how they wanna get in your pants?”

You paused, meeting his eyes. “They say that?”

He nodded. “Yeah. And I have to bite my tongue so damn hard.”

His jeans fell to the floor, he held your arms as he stepped out of them. Using his foot, he scooted them to the corner with his t-shirt. His baseball cap was on the table as you entered the room, the first thing he had removed. You couldn’t help but swallow hard as your eyes wandered down to his boxers. He was so hard and just for you. Fingers fumbling and shaking lightly, you pulled the waistband of his boxers down, beginning to expose him.

He inhaled sharp as you slid them down his thighs, following them. His hands moved to your shoulders, supporting you as you became face level with his cock. He groaned softly as his hands moved to your hair, tugging it lightly. Just enough to make you moan a little. For a moment, you debated taking him in your mouth but that’d have to wait.

“If they only knew how much attitude and sass you had.”, Joe swallowed hard.

You found the strength to raise your body back up, glaring at him. “You bring it out of me.”

He chuckled before moving his hands under your ass cheeks, picking you up in one swift motion. You squealed easily as he carried you to the pure white king-sized bed. It wouldn’t be for long. He continued to kiss you as he eased you down on the bed, climbing on top of you. His cock dug into your thigh as if it were begging to enter you already. Were you really going to let your ex-fiancé fuck you? Inhibition was out the door, the voice of reason fading.

“You’ve been so bitchy at work lately.”, his brown eyes resolved, him towering over you in bed.

He kissed you before you could respond, his hands roaming over your body before stopping at your breasts, giving them a squeeze and causing you to moan in his mouth.

“I have—to be a bitch. You’re such—a dick—especially at night when I have to call you.”, you barely got out between kisses as he took your nipple, twisting it and working it between his fingers.

This was the moment he had been waiting for.

“You’re always the one who calls.”, he chuckled. “Do you like hearing my voice that much?”

Your eyes closed, your moan filling the hotel room. “No—the other girls are scared—to call you. Always—ask me to do it.”

“Oh,”, he said raising his eyebrows in surprise. “Well maybe I’m so irritable because I always have to take care of myself…and then I wake up alone.”

His head dipped, becoming flush with your chest. He took your other breast in his mouth, beginning to suck and nibble at your nipple causing you to dig your nails into his back. He groaned, mouth full of your breast. Truth was, he loved feeling your nails dig into his skin. It made him feel like you needed him—craved him. It was animalistic, your instincts taking over. You wanted—needed him to fuck you.

“Maybe—if you weren’t such an asshole—”, you hissed as he bit your nipple, the pain quickly turning into pleasure. “And chose your career over the people—you love, you’d have someone to wake up to and—fuck!”

He smirked, biting and sucking your nipple to get you off track or at least make it hard to finish your sentence.

“Take care of you.”, you whimpered, feeling his teeth ease up.

He leaned up, his weight lifting off of you. His broad, thick fingers found the side of your thong while you watched him with eager eyes. You cleared your throat easily, feeling the hoarseness beginning to sink in already. Your eyes wandered briefly down to his cock, his precum already oozing at the head.

“Just gonna move my panties to the side and fuck me?”

“Is that what you want? Wanna sass me?”, his brown eyes fixed on your vulnerable state.

You didn’t respond before speaking again. “Do you realize how much of a dick you truly are when I wake you up? It’s like you’re disappointed to hear my voice?”

“I have to come in and see you. I think I have a right to be irritable.”

He slid your thong down your thighs, legs, and ankles before cupping in his hands and bringing them to his face.

“What are you doing?”, you asked, face crinkled in confusion.

He put them to his nose, inhaling the scent of you, your cunt. “Fuck. Makes me wanna taste you.”

“Um—”, you tried to sit up slightly.

“Relax, lay back. Your scent arouses me.”

You laid back gently into the bed, just like he asked. Your hair was sprawled out behind you, and you felt yourself sink into the plush king-sized bed. After he was done getting your scent, he laid your panties to the side just in the event that he needed a reminder. You looked up at him, rubbing up his broad shoulders. He wasted no time in positioning himself, lining his cock right up with your throbbing, wet cunt.

Locking eyes, he asked you silently if you were ready for this. You gave him a light nod before he lined himself up again with you, brushing your cunt with his cock. He was teasing you, this was the calm before the storm. Your thoughts were interrupted as he shoved himself deep inside of you, splitting you open.

You gasped, gripping his arms while sinking your nails in his skin. “FUCK—you know I only—call if the child isn’t improving. And—we can’t manage it.”, you moaned the last of your sentence causing a smile to spread across his lips.

“Mhmm, you always have everything ready for me like a good little nurse.”, his palm brushed hair out of your face and back behind your ear.

You glared at him softly. “I just—don’t wanna hear your shit.”

He laughed while pushing deeper inside of you, his rhythm steady. A soft sigh escaped your lips, eyes fluttering shut. Your mind was overstimulated. If breathing didn’t come naturally, you would have forgotten to do that.

“I’m trying to compliment you.”, he groaned as he narrowed his eyes, glasses attempting to fog.

Your eyes opened, hands moving to his face. You brushed through his sideburns, hooking your fingers on the frame of his glasses. You slid them off his face gently and carefully, moving them to the pillow away from you both to prevent them from getting bent and twisted.

“Anything—to get in my pants, right?”

“Didn’t take a lot of effort.”, he grunted, rutting inside of you.

“Fuck—you.”, you moaned, turning your head while feeling him place aggressive, hungry kisses on your neck.

“Oh, we already are, love.”

You didn’t respond, the sounds of sex filling the hotel room. You could hear how wet he was making you, the sound of you both intertwined together. It was the perfect storm—the rush of knowing better, knowing you shouldn’t be doing this, and the fact that he was balls deep inside of you.

“Deeper—harder, please.”, you whined pitifully.

You shut your eyes quickly, realizing how pathetic you sounded. It made you cringe at how much power he had over you. Even after all he had done, all he had put you through.

“Anything for you.”, he brushed your face, causing your eyes to shoot open.

His rhythm changed, the effort he put in changed. He was determined to make you orgasm, he needed to feel you clench around his cock. He needed to feel your juices wash over his cock. The thought alone almost made him whine. You all stared deep into each other eye’s as he continued to thrust deep inside you, balls smacking against your ass. Joe might have been a dick at times, but he was good at two things—being a doctor and sex.

Joe pulled your right leg over his shoulder, allowing himself more leverage as he continued to fuck himself into you.

“Fuck—Joe.”

“What, love?”

There was love.

“Feels good.”

“Does it?”, Joe breathed, placing a small kiss on your leg.

Were you really going to feed his ego right now? It was going to be big enough when he won his award. You had a feeling he would win. And you knew that no one would shut up about it. Not at the hospital. Not

“Fuck—yeah, Joe. I’m getting close…..”

Your answer was long and drawn out in a moan. You could feel your release barreling towards you like a train. No matter how badly you wanted to ride this out or savor this feeling, your body wasn’t going to let that happen. The hot, aching feeling of your orgasm was rising in your stomach, causing it to twist and knot as Joe grunted with each thrust. You let out a few small, abrupt moans signaling you were ready to cum all over his cock.

The sounds you made were like music to his ears, the sweetest symphony that he had missed.

“Cum for me, please cum for me—all over my cock.”

“Fuck—Joe….”, you bucked your hips slightly.

“What is it, love?”

“I’m gonna fucking—cum. Like right now.”

“Oh fuck, love. Cum please.”

Your toes curled, one the surefire signs you were cumming. “Fuck….”, you hissed before digging and running your nails down his back. “Cumming now, Joe.”

“That’s right, love. That’s so fucking sexy.”

He felt the walls of your cunt tighten around his cock, drowning him in your juices. You whined, the tension that had built up finally breaking loose. He slowed his thrusts, allowing you to ride out your orgasm only intensifying it in the process. You cried out, going slack against him as he continued to fuck himself into you.

He bent down and planted a soft kiss on your lips. “Amazing, love.”

Your body began to feel relaxed as you began to come down from your high, the sensitivity of him being inside you causing you to writhe.

“I’m gonna cum.”, he warned as he looked into your hazy eyes.

“Cum, Joe. Cum deep inside of me.”, you begged.

You knew it was the lust talking. If you had been thinking rationally, you would have thought about the fact you were no longer on birth control. You would have realized the possibility of becoming pregnant. But right now, you didn't care.

“Oh—love, here it comes.”, he warned.

He went stiff, hips stuttering as you felt his cock pump his seed deep inside you. The warm cum filled your cunt as he allowed himself to ride the high of his orgasm. Your eyes rolled back as he held himself steady, fingertips sinking into your ass. He was gonna keep himself buried deep inside of you, making sure he was finished cumming. Your chest was heaving, knees trembling. The adrenaline high was still there.

Without warning, he easily pulled out, eliciting a whimper from you at the loss of contact.

“How—was—that?”, he breathed as he fell beside you.

“Good—really good.”

“Just good?”, he seemed offended slightly.

“I don’t want to boost your ego too much.”, you smirked at him.

He rolled his eyes before pulling you over close to him, beginning to slowly kiss your neck. In between kisses he was sucking on your neck, desperate to leave his mark on you. Your leg wrapped around his, giving into him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, gripping his shoulders. He wasn’t done with you yet.

“What are—you doing?”, you sighed between kisses.

“I’m not gonna stop until you tell me this was amazing, earth-shattering sex.”, he chuckled.

You sighed into him, feeling his cock becoming hard again. It was digging into your thigh as he sucked on your neck. He was needy, desperate to be inside you again. He hungered for you, only you.

“Joe….”

“Yes, love?”, he spoke against you, teeth sunk in the soft delicate skin of your neck.

“Fuck.”

As his teeth let go, you felt a stinging sensation in your neck. He had done it, you knew he had.

“Mhm, now you’re mine.”, he chuckled, admiring his work by rubbing over the hickey and causing it to throb.

He was being cheeky and if the truth was being told, you loved it. You loved when he playfully teased you. You could handle this Dr. Quinn a lot better than the one at work who was uptight, grumpy, and a dick.

“I have an idea.”, he spoke suddenly, beginning to kiss your neck again.

You twisted your arm to be able to cup his chin, running your hand through his hair. “Hm?”

It was clear that he was still pussy drunk, you were cock drunk.

“Why don’t you let me take you from behind?”

Your stomach twisted at his words, moaning slightly into his touch. “And why should I?”

“Mhm, you’ve been a bad girl. Need to be punished—and reminded who is your boss.”, he gave your breast a squeeze causing you to moan.

He leaned up, shifting in the bed. “So why don’t you be a good little girl and get face down, ass up?”

His brown eyes had a fire in them as they stared deeply into yours. Your stomach was knotting up at the thought of him doing you from behind. You leaned up, lips crashing into his. His hand brushed over your cheek, catching a handful of your hair. Every kiss with him was like magic, finally finding something you had lost.

“I’m—not gonna be so—soft.”, he moaned easily through kisses.

“Okay—fair.”

You broke the kiss unexpectedly, causing him to wear a confused expression in return. You smirked easily as you shifted in bed, giving him a cheeky smile before grabbing the pillow at the head of the bed and cuddling it before wiggling around. You nestled down into the bed, sighing as you did just as he asked—face down, ass up.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy. I swear.”, he groaned as his thick hands found your hips, sinking his fingertips in them causing your breathing to hitch and a small moan to escape.

“Tsk—tsk. So hard to work together when I have such a naughty, hard to please nurse.”

If he wasn’t going to fuck your brains out, you would have fought with him then and there. You felt his hands slide down from your hips down to your ass before squeezing it. You moaned out, gripping your pillow tight and preparing yourself for the onslaught of sex he was about to give you. He chuckled devilishly, knowing he had you right where he wanted you.

“I’m already so hard for you.”, he breathed as he leaned down to place a kiss on the small of your back.

“Yeah?”, you turned your head, gripping the pillow.

“Mhm, yeah. Can’t wait to be deep inside you and remind you who’s your boss.”

“What are you waiting—for then?”, you breathed.

“Someone’s ready for my cock to be buried deep into their cunt, hm?”, he teased, feeling his breath on your back.

“Yes.”

He chuckled easily while rubbing your hips, positioning himself to enter you. His cock brushed against your puffy, aching entrance. Yes? Were you really giving in to him? He was surprised that you admitted it so easily. He had been so used to you giving him a hard time, fighting against him.

“Fuck—still so wet.”, he inhaled sharply.

“Just came—can’t help it.”, you breathed.

“No—it’s a great thing.”, he reassured you.

You didn’t get a chance to respond before you felt him slip deep inside you, causing you to moan and grip the pillow so tight your knuckles turned white. This time, he didn’t give you a chance to adjust. Your eyes were wide, and it felt like he was splitting you wide open. You knew it was the fact that he was getting more leverage, able to go deeper inside you.

“Feeling okay, love?”

His question was almost half concerned, half taunting.

“Fi—ne.”

He chuckled, beginning to move inside you. He groaned as his rhythm picked up, sinking his fingers in the plush of your ass.

“Shouldn’t you—be perfecting your speech?”

“You want me to?”

You felt him slide himself all the way out of you, shocking you. You whimpered pathetically at the loss of contact.

“Joe…”, the plead in your voice was pathetic.

“What? I mean—you’re right. I should be perfecting my speech.”

“I didn’t—mean it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Sorry—I’m sorry.”

“You’re what?”, Joe grabbed your hips.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, love. I couldn’t hear you.”, his voice taunted.

You closed your eyes, knowing damn well he could hear you.

“I said—I’m sorry.”, you finally spoke up.

“One more time—sorry my doctor ears must not be able to hear very well.”

“I said—I’m sorry.”, you clenched your teeth, rolling your eyes and showing off that sass he talked so much about.

“Ah, okay. I guess I could accept your apology, nurse Y/N.”, he chuckled with arrogance and ease.

You rolled your eyes, a smile spreading across your face as he teased your entrance again. You felt your chest rise, a sharp inhale. He loved watching you fall apart under his touch. But little did you know, he would be there to pick up the pieces. Even it was just for the night. You couldn’t imagine how dumb this decision was—to sleep with your ex fiancé and have sex with him not once—but multiple times.

“You do?”

“Mhm, I do.”, he smirked as he slipped himself back inside of you causing you to moan loudly enough to fill the entire hotel room. “And that sound makes it so worth it.”

“I hate—you.”, you glared back at him.

“Do you? You have a bad way of showing it.”, his finger sank into your hips as he picked up his rhythm.

“Fu—ck!”

He chuckled, watching you come undone. His hands moved up and down your body in perfect rhythm while he fucked you out. It was as if all the tension and frustration from before was finally coming to a head. You were making up for lost time, for all those times you both were pissed at one another.

You heard his grunts as he rutted himself into you. “Like that?”

“Love—it.”, you moaned honestly.

Your sexual desire was overtaking you. It had been a long time since you’d been fucked. Months—almost a year. A lot of the sex you had was trying to forget him. Like near holidays or his birthday. You weren’t proud to admit it, but it was the truth. And no one you seem to fucked could compare to him. They weren’t him. It was that simple. The news of other doctors liking you was no surprise, but you had no interest in them.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ tight.”, he groaned.

In the back of your mind, you knew there was no way he had abstained from sexual activity. You were sure there were countless women he had fucked since you. Your brain immediately tried to send the thought away.

“Joe….”, your mouth was becoming dry.

There was no doubt he was an attentive lover during sex, always asking if you were okay and praising you—making you feel good.

“Yes? Ready to cum?”, his hands found your ass, squeezing the globes of your ass in his thick, broad hands eliciting a moan from you.

“Ye—ah.”

“Hm,”, he hummed in satisfaction. “Cum for me. Cum all over my fucking cock.”

The closer you came to a release, the dirtier his talk became. He was an educated man inside of the hospital, using proper medical terminology. But here in the bedroom, he was sexually charged with desire and lust.

“Fuck, Joe.”, you hissed through a moan as his speed picked up lightly, the sound of his balls smacking against your ass filling the room.

As badly as you hated to admit it, he knew your body better than anyone. He knew exactly what he needed to do to get you across the finish line.

“What, love? Ready to cum for me?”

You nodded breathlessly, gripping the pillow for dear life as if it would provide you any tangible support.

“Answer my question.”, he grunted as he rubbed your ass.

You knew what would follow.

Your brain and mouth weren’t doing a very good job coordinating, failing you at this very moment. Joe rarely saw you at a loss for words, but here you were.

“Are you gonna answer me, love?”

“Try—ing.”, you squeaked.

“Not hard enough.”, he teased back.

That was the last thing you heard before he drew his hand back, feeling it make contact with your ass and causing you to jump slightly, jarring his cock inside of you.

“Easy, love.”, he chuckled. “Don’t wanna hurt this pretty cunt of yours. Would love to go again tonight.”

“What was that—for?”, you choked out.

“Just reminding you of who’s your boss, here.”

You groaned while rolling your eyes, settling back down into the bed and making it a point to wiggle your ass at him. It was dangling a piece of meat on a string to a starving animal. But it also felt so good with his cock inside of you, him never losing his hard-on or accidentally slipping out of you.

“You love to hold it over me—don’t you?”

“What’s that?”

“The fact I answer to you.”

“Maybe, you’re the only one who puts up a fight with me. Never meek like you used to be. Kinda turns me on if I’m being honest—hearing your sassy little mouth in the middle of the night.”

You felt your stomach do a flip. He was referring to when you first became licensed as a registered nurse. You preferred not look back at those days, only looking forward.

“Do you want me to cum or not?”, you hissed.

“Oh fuck, do I? It’s all I’ve wanted.”

He went back to that rhythm, the one he knew would make you cum within minutes. He wasn’t going to be mischievous anymore—not this time.

“Tell me more.”, you breathed.

“About what?”

“Me…what turns you on about me.”, you breathed.

“Um, well…”, he began. “For starters, it’s super sexy when you already know what I want when I get there—you’ve already got things ready for me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah—makes me want to take you to an on call room and fuck you…after we stabilize the kid, of course.”

“Of course.”, you hummed in agreement.

“Just didn’t think you’d be up for it. So, I always go back home and jerk off in bed under my silk sheets.”

Your breathing hitched. “You never asked.”

He moaned lightly before resolving to a sigh. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Pain had long melted into pleasure, your stomach knotting up. It always seemed like the second time you released was easier, and faster than the first. But Joe knew what he was doing, especially when it came to you.

“Tell—me—more.”, you pleaded through a moan, the sound of sex filling the room.

“Okay,”, he swallowed, hands roaming your body. “I find it really sexy when I watch you interact with kids—like the one who was scared to go to surgery for his appendix last week. You gave him one of the little blue teddy bears and reassured him. He hugged you, I imagined what you would have been like as a mother. If we had stayed together.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach at his admission. “You did?”

“Yeah, made me want kids again.”, he groaned as he hit the spot that made you forget your name.

Your thoughts went out the window, brain now focused on your sexual release. You dropped the subject entirely, moaning as you gripped the pillow tighter.

“Joe…..”

“Yes?”

“Gonna cum—like right now—can’t wait.”, you moaned out as you closed your eyes.

“Mhmm, cum for me. Want me to fill your cunt full again?”, he groaned as he became flush with your body, placing a lazy kiss on your shoulder.

“Fu—ck. Oh my God.”, you hissed.

You felt your cunt tighten around his cock, juices washing over his cock. He was barely moving inside of you now, giving you a chance to ride out your orgasm. His slight movements inside of you intensified your orgasm, your eyes rolling back in your head. This was the earth-shattering sex he was talking about, the one you had missed. Even when you had slept with someone else, it wasn’t as good. No one compared to him and they never would.

“That’s it, love. Feels so good on my cock.”

Your legs began to shake, feeling the aftershock of your orgasm coursing through your body.

“God, I missed your cunt.”

“That all you missed?”, you moaned into your pillow lightly, brushing your hair out of your face.

“No.”, he kissed your shoulder again, pausing his movement.

“Whatever.”, you smirked easily. “Are you gonna cum or not?”

“I want to.”, he chuckled. “But you never answered my question.”

“Which one?”, you sighed, beginning to come down off your high as you snuggled into your pillow.

“If you want me to cum inside of you or pull out.”

“Just cum in me. You already have.”

“Okay. Are you sure?”, he breathed as he began tp pick his rhythm back up, gripping your hips and pulling you back to him slightly causing you to squeal lightly.

“Mhmm, don’t ask again—I might change my mind.”

You snuggled into your pillow, eyes beginning to become hazy. It felt like you were floating, but you weren’t complaining. His hands wandered to your ass, squeezing it and making you moan even if he had already taken care of you.

“I love to see you all fucked out.”

“Yeah?”, you hummed, chills cascading down your body at his choice of words.

“Mhm, it was always my favorite thing.”

“Thought you said you wanted to go again.”

“We don’t have to right after this.”

You nodded easily, letting him have his way with you. You wanted him to cum—you wanted to feel his hot, sticky release. It was even better when it was running down your thighs.

“Fuck—I’m gonna cum.”, he hissed.

“Cum, Joe. Fill me full, please.”, you begged, helping him cross the finish line this time.

That was all he needed to hear. You felt his hips stutter as he sank his fingertips into your hips, a loud groan escaping him as he warned you of his release just seconds before you felt his cock pumping his seed deep inside of you. The warmness flooded through your cunt, causing a smile to spread across your face. He was trying to catch his breath, holding himself steady as he made sure that none was wasted. Not that he was trying to get you pregnant, he wasn’t. But for right now, the thought wasn’t such a bad idea. It made him feel like he had a purpose for staying in you so long.

A sigh escaped you, finally feeling relaxed that you both had a release. Half of you was debating asking him to stay inside you and cuddling you. It wasn’t such a bad idea, plus you needed a little aftercare, right?

“Ready for me to pull out?”, he asked, bringing you out of your fantasy.

“Yeah, just please be easy.”

“Oh I will, love.”

With that, you braced yourself by tightening your grip on your pillow. He eased himself out of you, leaving his seed buried deep inside. You whimpered at the loss of contact, causing him to rub your shoulder easily and give it another gentle kiss. He laid in bed beside of you, pulling you towards him. He pulled the sheet up and over you.

“Want to cuddle and go to sleep?”

“Oh, we can’t cuddle.”, you were beginning to come to your senses and out of your cock drunken state.

“Why not?”

“Because.”, you sat up easily, feeling some of his release run down your thigh. “We just can’t.”

“Relax, it’s just aftercare. You always liked when I cuddled you after sex.”

“When we were together.”, you corrected, grabbing an extra plush pillow from behind you and placing it inbetween you both.

“Oh come on, Y/N.”, he groaned. “Not the pillow divider.”

You glared at him. “Yes, the pillow divider.”

“I just came inside of you.”, he breathed, running through his curls. “Is cuddling really the worst thing we could do?”

“Joe.”

“Come on, I just want to show you I’m not always a dick.”

“No. Now, let’s just go to sleep, please.”, you rolled your eyes, pulling the sheet over you and turning away from him before grabbing the lamp.

You heard him sigh from the other side of the bed. You instantly felt regret swelling up in your chest. There have been a lot of mistakes you made in life, but this was a huge one.

“You’re just sexually frustrated.”, he spoke up, turning over in bed.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”, he began, resting his hand on the pillow divider. You felt his warm breath hit your neck, knowing he was only inches from you.

All that was separating you was a plush pillow.

“I’m not sexually frustrated.”

“Really?”, he teased, his hand moving from the pillow and finding your waist causing you to swallow hard.

You hated him. You hated him so much.

“Really.”, you choked out.

“How long had it been before tonight?”

“None of your business.”, you rolled your eyes.

“Well, judging by how tight you were—it’s been a while. You’re busy, right? A night shift pediatric nurse. Working long hours and a lot of overtime. You’ve not been able to move on from me, have you?”

“Fuck you.”

“You already did, love.”, he smirked as he chuckled.

Man, was he testing your patience. You didn’t respond to his snide comment, thinking maybe if you ignored him, he’d give up and leave you alone.

“You know what always made you relax?”

“What?”, you groaned.

He smirked as he tossed the pillow to the side, breaking the barrier between you both. Your eyes went wide as you flipped over to face him.

“Joe, what the fuck?”

“I’m jogging your memory.”, he smirked as he pulled the sheet up, dipping his head underneath. “Can you lay flat?”

“What do you think you’re doing?”, you asked as you subconsciously carried out his request.

“What does it look like I’m gonna do?”

“No, no—no way you’re doing what I think you’re gonna do.”

“Just relax.”

You felt his fingers grip your thighs, spreading them apart. He began placing innocent kisses on your thigh and you knew what he was planning.

“You’re not going to eat me out, are you?”

You felt his tongue take a swipe up your thigh, licking the release that had ran down your thighs while shifting in bed. “Looks like I am, unless you don’t want me to.”

Goosebumps appeared all over your skin at the sensation of his tongue, imagining what it could do—what it was about to do. It was like he was waiting for you to protest or tell him to stop. But you weren’t going to, no matter what your head was telling you—no matter that it was telling you how wrong this was. Your breathing hitched as you felt him begin to place gentle kisses on your thighs.

“Want me to at least pull the sheet down?”, you sighed, hands traveling to find his curls.

“Up to you.”, he breathed through kisses that were inching their way up your thighs to your cunt.

You groaned at his decision to leave it up to you as he placed your ankles on his shoulders. He parted your thighs further, dipping his head between your legs. You braced yourself because you knew what was coming, what was going to follow.

“Can you breathe?”, you rolled your eyes, fluttering them shut.

“Of course I can breathe. Now, just relax, and let me remind you how I can relieve your stress.”

“You just came inside of me, though. Is that okay?”

“Yes, now relax.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”, he repeated as you felt his breath on your cunt before his tongue took a long swipe up your wet fold.

He was immediately met with the familiar taste of you mixed with him. It drove him crazy, he loved it—he loved knowing he had come inside of you. It was just one more way he marked you. You moaned lightly as you ran your hands through his curls.

“See? You’re already loving it.”, he breathed against you.

Whether or not you would ever admit it out loud, you had imagined Joe going down on you before. Even after you both started working together again. It was a thought you had some nights as you laid in bed, your own hand between your thighs as you took care of yourself. It was pathetic, but you needed something. You had imagined Joe having his head buried between your legs, dragging his tongue up and down your slick folds. Now, it was becoming a reality.

It was worse when he had shaved his beard at first, leaving his baby face showing. It reminded you of when he was only a resident. He knew you hated it when he shaved his beard completely off. Unless he had forgotten. You wondered if part of him had done it out of spite. But then not long after, he was letting his beard come back and that made your fantasies even worse, spiraling them out of control. You loved the feeling of his stubble between your legs. You wore his beard burn like a badge of honor.

Without warning, his tongue took another swipe between your wet slit. Your back arched instantly at the sensation, letting out a moan to let him know you were enjoying this. Instinctively, you parted your legs as far apart as they’d go, allowing him full access to you. You eyed him, resting your head on the pillows at the head of the bed. He wanted you to be as comfortable as possible while he fucked you with his tongue.

“Like my tongue, love?”

“Shut up, Joe.”

His tongue entered you without warning causing you to jolt, almost jumping out of your skin. It was unexpected, but you knew this was punishment for your sass. You gripped his curls, giving them a tug and causing him to groan against your cunt. But it felt good and that was the bad part.

“Fuck—we taste so good.”

You just knew he had a smug grin.

“We?”

His tongue swirled in and out of your cunt, teasing you. “Mhmmm.”

“Such a naughty little nurse”, he cooed as he moved his mouth back to your folds, flicking his tongue over your folds.

Your eyes rolled back in your head easily. Joseph took his hands, moving your legs up to his shoulders, allowing him more leverage. It was hot. So very hot. Your hands continued to grip his curls with each flick and swipe of his tongue, you not being able to hold back your feral moans.

“Fuck Joe—dammit.”

“What? Feeling good, love?”

“No.”, you stammered.

You were never a good liar.

“I’ll just have to try harder then.”

You rolled your eyes this time from frustration. In your head, you were so focused on cumming that your brain wasn’t registering the sensation on your thighs from his beard. The stubble burning, rubbing against your thighs. A hiss escaped your lips before moaning, a sign you were in fact, enjoying his tongue buried deep in your cunt.

Holding your breath, you waited for a smart remark. But it never came, he was too focused on making you orgasm all over his tongue, dying to taste your sweet release. He had been deprived of it for so long.

After he was finished tasting the mix of both your releases, he popped his head out from under the sheet to look at you, admire the work he had done. Your chest was heaving, eyes fluttered shut. You had moved your hands from his curls to the sheets, still clearly reeling from your orgasm. Joe wore a smirk on his face, looking up at you. Even in the minimal light, you could see the glisten of your juices on his chin as he licked his lips.

“See? Told you I could jog your memory.”

You didn’t respond at first, still trying to come down from your high.

“Felt good, didn’t it?”

“Yeah.”, you finally breathed.

Joe fell beside you in bed, taking a deep breath before releasing a sigh. “Gonna build your pillow wall again?”

You glared at him.

“Just asking. I mean, are you gonna let me cuddle you and give you some aftercare or not?”

“No. Just stay on your side of the bed and I’ll stay on mine. Can we do that?”, you asked as you grabbed the sheet and comforter and pulled them up and over you.

“Not even a goodnight kiss?”, he pouted playfully. “So you could at least taste how good we are?”

You rolled your eyes. “Couples give goodnight kisses. Not exes who decided to fuck. Now, go to sleep.”

You finally found the strength to turn over in bed, away from him.

“Fine. Suit yourself.”, he sighed as he turned the opposite way, snuggling down into his pillow.

You weren’t sure how it happened when you blinked your eyes open hours later. For the first time in a long time, you had managed to sleep through the night. Coming to your senses while yawning, you felt two strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you towards them. There was also the sensation of something poking you in the ass. Your eyes widened as you shot up in a panic while wrapping the sheet around you to cover your breasts, coming to the realization of what had happened last night.

“Oh shit.”

Joe was slowly waking up, unlike you. “Is everything okay?”, he rubbed his eyes, sitting up with you.

“We had sex. Last night.”

Joe’s lips curved into a smirk. “Multiple times.”

You glared at him.

“I’m just stating facts, love. It was good—for the both of us.”

You rolled your eyes. “And you were cuddling me this morning. Didn’t I say specifically not to cuddle me?”

Joe shrugged easily, his sexy voice still apparent. “I can’t help what I did after you woke me up this morning around three.”

“What did we do around three?”

“Oh.”, he smirked. “We had sex again. You initiated it, rubbing your ass against my cock and begging me saying, ‘Please fuck me, Joe’, remember?”

“No, I definitely don’t.”, you laughed nervously.

There was a moment of silence between you both but this allowed your brain to begin remembering exactly what he was referring to, realizing you had indeed initiated sex with him again.

“Is it coming back to you, love?”

“Joe, please just stop. We can’t do this.”, you jumped out of bed, giving him a chance to admire your naked body, already making him hard again.

He groaned as he palmed the bulge under the sheets, trying to make his hard-on go away but he was filling miserably.

“Why not? It was great sex—amazing sex. We both liked it, both enjoyed it. It was relaxing for the both of us.”

“Because we work together.”, you sighed.

“So? Never stopped us before.”

You turned to look at him, a soft glare in your eyes. It was hard to be mad at him. But you had managed to be mad at him before—for a long time.

“Isn’t tonight the night you find out if you won or not?”

Joe nodded before sighing. “Yeah.”

“Are you nervous?”

Joe watched you as you got up, letting the sheet fall. You could feel his eyes on you, admiring your naked body. What would it hurt now? He had seen everything you had through the night. Plus, you all had been engaged before. It wasn’t like a huge secret.

“Kinda.”, he breathed, running a hand through his curls. “This is a big deal.”

“So you’ve said.”

“Can we not do this right now?”

“Do what?”

“Argue. I need you to be on my side—be on my team, please. Can you do that?”, he asked as he grabbed your arm easily in an attempt to get your attention.

You stared at him, looking into his pleading brown eyes. “It would have been easier had I been your fiancé still.”

He sighed, rubbing his face. His beard needed a little trimming but you didn’t prefer him to be clean shaven. “I know.”

You could have said no when he asked you to accompany him. But something inside of you didn’t want to refuse. Somewhere, you had feelings rooted. Even if you didn’t want to admit it.

“How about we go sightseeing or something? Grab some breakfast?”, you suggested, clearing your throat as you slid a t-shirt on and some jeans.

The weather in Baltimore was much different than the weather in Portland. It was near fall and you were thankful you had packed a thick winter coat. Joe had packed a peacoat, never straying far from his Londoner roots. His parents continued to live in London and mysteriously, you didn’t learn a lot about them even while you all were in a relationship—even being engaged. He left his mom and dad out of things. You had went to London with him on a few occasions.

“Okay.”, he breathed as he got out of bed and you bit your lip, trying to ignore his physique.

He wasn’t ashamed of his body, not even bothering wrapping the comforter around him. He was standing in the room with his bare ass showing. You felt your breath catch in your throat, trying to direct your attention elsewhere as he slid his jeans and boxers back on.

“Hey,”, he began easily. “Wanna run by the pharmacy while we’re out?”

“And get what? A little late for condoms.”, you smirked as you fixed your hair in the mirror.

You’d need a good hot shower before the gala. Part of you was nervous, never doing these kinds of things with Joe before. You didn’t know if you would fit in with the affluent hospital crowd. These were doctors who had done a lot of research and written in medical journals. Where did you belong in this mess?

“Plan B.”, he breathed easily as he threw his baseball cap on.

“Oh.”, you widened your eyes, slightly surprised he’d bring that up.

He had a point though, you weren’t on birth control and you all didn’t use any condoms. Things just happened so fast. Part of it still hurt, however, because there had been many discussions while you all were still together about your future children.

He watched you for a response.

“Yeah, that’s great.”

He nodded before grabbing his wallet and stuffing it in the pocket of his jacket. “I’ll pay for it.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“No, I insist, love.”

You both paused, looking into each other’s eyes.

“Joe, you don’t have to do this shit for me.”

“I know. I just—it just takes two to tango, you know.”

You nodded. “Right.”

He grabbed the doorknob of the hotel room door, opening it and revealing the hallway. “We could always buy condoms if you plan on more sex. Maybe celebratory sex tonight?”, he smirked.

You rolled your eyes, trying to shift from the hurt back to playfulness. “We’ll see. You actually have to win first.”

You all wasted no time in exploring the city, quick to find a small diner for breakfast. It was quiet, off the beaten path. Joe chose to read the newspaper while drinking coffee. They had tea, but unless it was close to what they had back home, he wasn’t a big fan. You ordered an omelet with a side of hash browns and fruit, taking a sip of your orange juice.

“Who knew Baltimore had such a high crime rate?”, Joe asked, sipping his coffee.

“Not surprising.”, you stirred in your hash browns, smothering them in ketchup before taking a bite.

“I’d say their ERs are swarmed every night—gunshot wounds, mugging, car accidents.”

“Yeah, for sure.”

Joe opted for eggs, bacon, and a waffle. There was a lot of silence between you both as you both quietly ate your breakfast. You were chalking a lot of Joe’s silence up to being nervous about his speech and potentially winning the Lasker award. You did a lot of people-watching while you both were in the diner, anything to distract your attention from him. You didn’t want him to know he had as much power as he had over you.

You all finished breakfast, going around the city. Joe liked to sight see in new places. Even while you both were together, you all took a lot of trips. Joe also took a lot of pictures, pulling his iPhone out and snapping pictures while you all toured the city. The last stop was the pharmacy, Joe bedside you. You went to the family planning aisle, immediately finding the Plan B pill.

“Why do they lock this shit up?”, you groaned as you grabbed it from the shelf, noticing its near fifty-dollar price tag.

“I assume women steal it. If you’re stealing Plan B, you probably shouldn’t be having sex.”, Joe shrugged easily as you immediately began your walk to the cash register, him trailing close behind.

You rolled your eyes. “Some people make mistakes, you know.”

“Is this all for you?”, the woman at the register asked.

You could read on the woman’s face that she knew you all had sex. It felt like the entire world knew at this point.

“Yeah, how much is it?”, you asked.

“52.95 with tax and all.”

You went to dig through your purse bit before you even had a chance to finish looking, Joe had already pulled out his debit card and paid for it. You glared at him, watching him shoot a cheeky smile at you before he grabbed the bag and receipt, shoving the receipt in the bag. Exiting the pharmacy, Joe held onto your bag. It wasn’t surprising as seeing this was the man who didn’t care to go buy your pads or tampons when you were having your period.

It was always comfortable with him, never feeling shamed for being a woman and having womanly functions.

“Want me to carry that?”, you asked as you all walked down the street.

Joe had lit up a cigarette, a habit he wished he could break—and he had tried. “No, I’ve got it.”

“You know smoking is bad for you.”, you teased. “Coming from a nurse.”

He smirked before releasing a light chuckle, taking a draw from his cigarette. “We all have to cope in some way, don’t we?”

You shrugged. “I guess so.”

Arriving back at the hotel, you fell on the bed that you all had made a mess of. It was an instant reminder of the events that had transpired between you both. You were already exhausted and you still had to attend the gala with Joseph.

“I’m gonna shower first if that’s alright. Unless you want to join me.”, Joe cocked his eyebrows seductively.

Part of you wanted to take him up on his offer, eager to feel him again. But you knew that would just prove his point further.

“I’m sure you don’t want to smell like my girly body wash and perfume.”, you smirked back at him.

He smirked, undoing his jeans in front of you. He stepped out of them easily, folding them before laying them on the back of the chair near the desk. You felt your heart skip a beat, swallowing hard. Joe noticed but you didn’t want to believe he had.

“It would be worth it to stick my cock in your cunt.”

His words sent chills cascading down your body, your breathing instantly hitching.

“Can’t use condoms in the shower.”

“Ah, we’ve got your Plan B pill. What’s one more time before you take it? You still have roughly fifty hours.”

You sat up, mouth dropping open before you began laughing. “Aren’t you a doctor? The sooner you take it, the better.”

“True.”, he agreed. “We could take our chances.”

“Do you know how dumb you sound right now? Like a lovesick teenage boy who is horny.”

He laughed lightly while he stripped his shirts, leaving him only in his boxers. “I mean after the amazing sex we had last night, it’s hard not to be. If you want to say no, you can. It’s your choice. There’s some bottled water in the fridge to take your pill with. I’m really just kidding.”

You bit your lip, your common sense leaving you. “I’ll shower with you.”

“Sorry, love. What was that?”

“I said—I’ll shower with you.”

“Yeah?”, he smirked. “Need another dose? It’s just what the doctor ordered, isn’t it?”

“Oh my God. You’re unbearable.”, you laughed, elbowing him. “Shut up before I change my mind.”

You all had subconsciously got closer, looking into one another’s eyes. Locking eye contact just seconds before your lips crashed into one another, him backing you up against the wall. You moaned into his mouth easily as he reached for your jeans, once again undoing them. It was almost a repeat from the night before. It hadn’t taken him long to memorize how to get your clothes off in a hurry. Within a minute, you were down to your bra and panties.

“Don’t you feel like a dirty girl?”, he hummed, sticking his fingers down your panties.

“Yeah, I do.”, you admitted with a sigh.

“We’re gonna get all cleaned up. Promise.”, he breathed against your skin, kissing your neck.

“Mhm, can’t wait.”, you took in a sharp inhale as he pulled your jeans and panties down to the floor.

He tugged at the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, leaving you only wearing a bra. He wasted no time in wrapping his arms around your back, carefully undoing your bra and allowing it to fall to the floor. It was clear this wasn’t his first time undoing a bra from the front. He was skilled in undressing and for a brief moment you wondered how many other women he had done this to, but the thought was quickly interrupted by him kissing you, sending you into oblivion.

“Ready—for—the shower?”, he breathed between kisses.

All you could do was nod in response.

He picked you up again causing you to squeal in his mouth, shushing it with a kiss. His fingers squeezed your ass causing you to moan into the kiss. He had missed feeling your body, it was a work of art in his eyes. He had already managed to turn the water on, warming it up for you both. He had left the bathroom door open, the steam rolling out. He easily shut the door with his foot, setting you down on the floor and allowing you to gain your balance before pulling away.

As he opened the shower door, you were biting your lip and admiring his physique. How had your mind been changed from just this morning—seeming to regret the decision you had made to sleep with him. He motioned for you to enter the shower first, reaching his hand out for you. You grabbed it, allowing him to pull you towards him. He placed several kisses on your neck causing shivers to cascade down your spine, allowing you to sigh into him.

“You get in first.”, he breathed.

“Okay.”

He helped you inside the shower, following close behind. So close you could feel his cock pressing against your ass. Your eyes fluttered shut, biting your lip while imagining what it would feel like for him to be inside of you again. Was it smart to not use condoms? No, but the feeling of him without one was something you couldn’t put into words. Maybe it was just you being cock drunk, but you couldn’t help it. You’d never tell him but he was an amazing lover, always trying to please you.

The hot water rushing over your skin brought you of your thoughts as Joe grabbed your waist from behind, bringing you flush against him. He began kissing your neck, hands roaming over your breasts before giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Fuck—you’re so sexy.”, he breathed, water dripping off his curls and onto your shoulders while running down your body.

“You cuss a lot around me.”, you smirked easily, leaning back against him.

“Can’t help it—need inside of you.”

“You’ll get to be soon.”, you sighed, allowing him to kiss all over your neck.

“I know and I can’t wait.”, he hummed, hands finding your breasts before giving your nipples a pinch causing you to moan loudly.

You hummed in agreement, letting his hands roam your body. They were thick and broad, feeling you up. He wasn’t gross like most guys were when they were touching your body. He made it all about you, giving you small compliments about how sexy and beautiful your were, how much he wanted you, and things that just made you feel good.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The room was thick with steam that poured from the shower. Your pulse quipped and your mouth was dry. You could feel his cock digging into you.

“Remember when we’d have shower sex when I came off a nineteen hour shift?”

Your breathing hitched. “Fuck—yeah, I do.”

“It was such good sex—then we passed out in bed.”, he chuckled.

“Mhm.”, you hummed, chills covering your body.

You remembered it well. Those days felt like so long ago even if they weren’t. Ever since Joe had left for Seattle, time seemed to pass slowly. It was hard to live without him at first—even calling out of work for a few days to mentally and emotionally try to get a grip on life. The sun didn’t rise and set in him, you knew that. But he had been a huge part of your life. It was hard to know he was gone.

After he left, you learned to live without him—even feeling like you hated him some days. You hated him for making you love him. You hated him for leaving. You hated him for making you wake up alone. You hated him for choosing his career over you. You hated him for making you have to learn to live without him. But yet, here you were—having shower sex with him.

Without warning, he spun you around in one quick motion making you face him in the shower, water dripping off your faces. Joe moved his hand to the back of your neck, tilting your head up to give you a warm kiss. You thought about the power those hands held. He was a doctor, skilled with his hands. You lost your words when it came to him, he still had that power over you. He knew what you wanted and he wasn’t going to make you wait long.

He picked up your thighs, bringing them to circle around his waist as he pushed you against the wall of the shower for support. Your all’s shower was long forgotten, for the time being, something better in place of it. Joe wasted no time in slipping inside of you, his thick cock filling you and splitting you open in ways you couldn’t describe. A small moan escaped your lips, Joe releasing a grunt from the back of his throat. He was working soft strokes into you. If he was holding you, you were sure your legs would have given out by now.

“Can we both admit we missed this?”, he grunted before you both shared a soft kiss.

You scoffed playfully as he rutted himself further into you. “As if.”

“I know you missed me when I left for Portland.”

“What—does it matter?”, you moaned back.

“Because—I missed you too. If I’m being honest. There—wasn’t a day I didn’t think about you.”, he grunted.

“Don’t—lie. Please don’t lie, Joe.”, you begged, swallowing hard.

“I’m not lying. I debated calling you every day. I—typed texts I never had the courage to send.”

“Can we please—not talk about this right now while—you’re inside of me?”, you hiccuped.

“Fine—I won’t,”, he began as he continued to steadily fuck you. “Maybe after I win?”

There it was—his cockiness was back and in full force. It was hard to ignore, making you want to roll your eyes. But there wasn’t much else you could focus on other than him fucking himself into you. You felt your heart melt a little more.

You let out a whine and nodded your head. “If you win.”

Joe smirked as he sank his fingertips into your thighs, knowing he was going to leave marks. But you loved it—secretly, you loved anything he did. You felt your lower half tense, Joe continuing to help you towards your orgasm. You could feel every inch, vein, and tweak of his cock—all helping to add to your sensations and sensitivity. Joe put his lops back to yours, your moans going straight down his throat. He wanted you so badly, he wanted to swallow every little sound or hiccup you made.

“Joe….”, you moaned into his mouth.

“Hm?”

“Gonna—cum—now.”, you moaned, the sound muffled as it filled his throat.

He didn’t beg or coerce you to cum, a slight surprise to you. But it wasn’t stopping the fact you were going to cum. Without further warning, you came. You juices spilled all over his cock, causing him to moan in response. Joe didn’t immediately follow, in fact his cock felt even harder than before.

“Fuck your cunt is gripping me so tight.”, he grunted, breaking the kiss.

Your body was still shaking, reeling from your orgasm and Joe seized the opportunity to start fucking you faster. His hands pulled you off his cock only to slam you back down on it, moving your body like it was nothing. Your body couldn’t stop shaking, your stomach twisting and aching but you knew you had more to give him. Your hands gripped his neck tighter, trying to hold onto his fast-moving body. He was fucking you so fast and so hard that you didn’t even have time to catch your breath. No need to when he would just take it again anyway.

You felt his cock twitch and you both knew he would cum soon and you couldn’t wait for him to fill you full. Even if you knew the risks associated with it. All that filled your ears were moans worthy of the big screen and whines coming from you. Joe’s moans and grunts added to the music you both were creating. The steam from the bathroom wasn’t helping you think straight. You were beginning to feel dizzy and disoriented. All you knew at the moment was that you needed Joe’s cum immediately.

“Please—Joe….”, your pleading was cut short with abrupt thrust. “Please give me your cum, please cum deep inside of me.”

“You want it? It’s all yours—all fuckin’ yours.”, Joe coos.

Within a second, you felt his warm cum deep inside of your cunt. His hips stuttered as he let out a long groan, almost matching the pace he was using to spill inside of you. You couldn’t help it, you followed him and came again—a loud whimper coming out. It was euphoric—more than either of you could have ever hoped or dreamed for.

“Really want to stop this? Go back to work like none of this happened?”, he breathed, chest heaving up and down.

“We don’t have time to talk about this right now, we have to get ready.”, you breathed, trying to compose yourself.

“Fine. But I’m gonna convince you before this trip is over.”, he smirked as he slipped out of you, some of his cum spilling out and mixing with the water.

“We’ll see.”, you smirked back as you both began to quickly shower.

________________________________________________________________________________

As you stood in your bra and panties, you looked in the mirror while making sure every part of your hair was perfect. You were wearing it up, a few loose curls out but it made it look more elegant—something you didn’t do often. The dress you had brought, ultimately didn’t make you happy for this event. Joe offered to get you a new dress, even remembering your size as he called a local formal shop. Even through many protests, Joe didn’t listen to you. You didn’t want him doing this for you, it was something you weren’t used to.

A knock came to the hotel room door.

“I’ll get it.”, Joe said easily.

You tried not to pay any attention to the conversation he had with whoever was delivering the dress. You put some finishing touches on your makeup, taking your mascara brush over your eyelashes one more time before spraying some make up setting spray. You heard the door close gently before hearing Joe’s footsteps grow closer.

“Here’s your dress—even if I do like seeing you in your bra and panties.”, he laughed lightly.

You didn’t immediately turn around to view him. “Thanks.”

“What’s wrong?”, he sighed. “You should be happy.”

You scoffed lightly before turning around. “You bought me a dress. Quit doing nice things for me, please. You’re making it harder to hate you.”

“Maybe that’s my intention—though I don’t think you hate me at all.”

You rolled your eyes. “Just show me the dress.”

He smirked as he unzipped the garment bag, revealing a black dress with crystals decorating the slender straps with mesh insets at the waist and a sultry side slit.

“Joe, it’s—”

“Don’t say it’s too much. Just please wear it—I insist.”

You glared at him. “I was going to say beautiful.”

“Oh.”, he chuckled softly. “Can we get you in it?”

"Yeah, we only have two hours to finish getting ready and to get to the venue.”, you looked back at him.

“Alright, turn around and I’ll get you into clothes instead of getting you out of clothes.”

You rolled your eyes before following his request. He took the dress out of the garment bag, instantly admiring how beautiful it was—just like you. He knew you were going to look amazing in it.

“Okay just step into this for me.”

You did before he slid it up your body, admiring how it fit perfectly around your curves as he fixed the straps on your shoulders, the crystals flickering in the light. He zipped the dress up, it finally taking full form on your body. Looking in the mirror, you could tell on his face that he loved the way it looked on you. You noticed him look you up and down in the mirror.

“God it fits you like a glove.”, Joe breathed.

“It does.”, you agreed. “Now, I need to put on my heels. Shit, and my earrings.”

You left him standing in front of the mirror as you walked over to grab the dangle earrings, putting them in your ears. Turning away from the mirror, you noticed him putting the finishing touches on his suit. He looked good—so good. You slid your heels on before grabbing your clutch, quickly slipping your morning-after pill inside. You’d take it after the awards. You knew it could cause severe nausea, cramping, and maybe even bleeding.

“Ready to go?”, you asked easily.

You could tell Joe was becoming nervous.

“Yeah.”, he began. “You look beautiful.”

He was deflecting, something he had learned to do very well while growing up. There were a lot of secrets you didn’t know about your ex-fiancé.

“Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.”, you joked softly.

He smiled, forgetting his problems for tonight. “Let’s go.”

“Lead the way.”

To your surprise, a limo showed up to chauffeur you and Joe to the gala. You all sat in silence on the ride there, being offered champagne to kill the nerves. You sipped yours slowly as did Joe, the silence lying between you both.

“Nervous?”, you asked easily.

“No.”, Joe lied, taking a sip of his champagne as he cleared his throat.

“You’re a bad liar.”

“I’m not lying.”, he defended. “I was maybe nervous when I took my USMLE to be a doctor….I’m not nervous now.”

He didn’t make eye contact with you as the ride continued, you nodding lightly even though you didn’t believe him even in the slightest. You all continued to sip your champagne until it was gone and you all arrived at the gala. The driver got out, opening the door for you both as you thanked him.

“Can we at least act like we like each other?”, he whispered.

“Are you going to admit I’m just one of your nurses?”

He rolled his eyes again. “You’re more than just one of my nurses—you’re my best nurse.”

“Whatever.”

“It’s true—you know what I like—how I like it. I’ve been hard on you lately. It’s not fair to you.”

“Joe please—can we not do this before your speech and stuff?”

“What are we telling people? I can call you my date and then if they ask your profession, tell them we met working together—which isn’t a lie.”

“Sure—tell them the truth.”, you agreed.

“Fine, we will. It’s not like I’m ashamed of you.”, Joe responded.

You both continued inside, classical music instantly filling your ears. The lights were down low, the noise of people chatting and glassware clinking joining the music. You swallowed hard and the nerves began to sit in and you weren’t even the one up for an award and delivering a speech. Joe nudged you easily in hopes you would link your arm with his and at least make it look like you enjoyed one another’s company. Glancing up at him, he stared ahead and didn’t bother glancing down at you.

“Dr. Joseph Quinn.”, a voice spoke, causing you both to turn around.

A hand was held out, Joe clearing his throat and taking it.

“Dr. Thomas Snider.”

“And who’s this beautiful woman on your arm?”, his eyes glanced over to you.

You and Joe eyed one another before Joe responded.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. Can I call you that?”, he outstretched his hand.

“Yes, nice to meet you, Tom.”, you took his hand.

“Why don’t we all have a drink? It’s a big occasion—I heard you’re up for a Lasker award.”

Joe looked at you as he fixed his suit as if he was asking your permission. You nodded lightly as you both followed Tom over to the bar area. You sat beside Joe, laying your clutch on the table as you were careful to sit down in the chair in your dress. A waiter was quick to come over to the table and ask for your drink order. Tom asked what you all would have—Joe wanted a martini while you opted for a Cosmo. You listened to Joe and Tom’s conversation lightly while waiting for your drink. Maybe in an hour or two you could sneak off to the bathroom and slip your morning-after pill. You needed to take that. It had been almost over twenty-four hours at this point, nearing day two.

The sooner the better—that’s what their slogan was on the website and all healthcare professionals knew that to be true. It was either take the pill or leave it up to fate. But you didn’t exactly want to get pregnant with your ex-fiancé’s baby. That wasn’t on your bingo card and this was your best bet. It had a ninety-five percent effectiveness rate after twenty-four hours—eighty-five percent after forty-eight hours. But that was better than not taking it at all and hoping for the best. This wasn’t something you could hope for the best for—that often ended tragically as evidenced by your life.

“So how did you all meet?”

The question from Tom brought you back to reality.

“Um, we actually work together.”, Joe smirked over at you.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”, you agreed, looking back at Joe.

“What do you practice?”, he asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“Like are you pediatrics, ortho, cardio?”

“I’m a nurse.”, you said bluntly.

“Ah, the doctor and nurse trope. Nice Joe.”, he elbowed Joe playfully, causing Joe to smirk lightly as he took a sip of his drink.

You glared at them both lightly, fire beginning to burn in your eyes.

“She’s a peds nurse. My best one.”, Joe smirked at you, laughter resolving as he noticed you didn’t think his joke was as funny as he did.

You felt your heart soaring in your chest, causing you to almost immediately perk up. But you quickly reminded yourself that he was just putting on a front. It was what he was best at doing. He was a smooth operator and only told people what they wanted to hear.

“I’m happy for you, Joe. Hold on to her or someone might snatch her away.”

Their cordial laughter ripped through your thoughts and you cleared your throat lightly. Your drink was almost gone but it wasn’t helping you.

“I’m gonna grab another drink.”, you responded lightly.

“Okay.”, Joe spoke up easily.

You gave him a half smile as you got up, abandoning the conversation. Wasting no time, you marched up the bar counter and ordered another Cosmo. You put your wallet on the bar, beginning to think about the Plan B pill that was inside of it. You couldn’t help but think about that as each second clicked off the clock, your timer was running out. You shook your head as the bartender slid your Cosmo to you, distracting you from your thoughts.

“Hello,”, you heard someone tap the microphone in an attempt to gain the audience’s attention.

You turned around in your bar seat.

“Thank you all for attending our annual award ceremony. Doctors and other medical professionals alike across the United States are nominated for the Lasker Award for their continued groundbreaking research in this field. We will be beginning in the auditorium shortly if you all want to go ahead and take your seats. Again, thank you all for coming.”

Chatter began to pick back up amongst the crowd. You swiped your drink from the bar, thanking the bartender before making your way back over to the table only to find Joe sitting there alone. He was checking his cell phone before he noticed you had made your way back over.

“Hey.”, he spoke softly.

“Hey. Your friend leave?”

He scoffed lightly before it turned into laughter. “Not exactly my friend. Just an old acquaintance.”

“He’s blunt.”

Joe nodded, already knowing he wouldn’t be your cup of tea. You weren’t used to that even if you were a nurse. The medical field brought along a lot of emotions. Joe remembered vividly being a resident and not being taken seriously. He always had to ask permission from his fellow and you never dared question an attending. Even though he had pushed the bill before when it came to the outcome for his patient. At first, he wasn’t respected for it—he was chastised for it. He had come to America for a fresh start. Meeting you was never in the cards and neither was leaving you. But he couldn’t think about that right now.

“Yeah.”, Joe began, sipping his drink. “Always has been. Don’t let it get under your skin.”

“That’s a little impossible.”

Joe laughed lightly. “I know.”

“Are you nervous?”, you attempted to change the subject.

“Kind of.”

“You’re gonna do fine. You always do. You have charm and charisma working out of your ears. It’s what a lot of women love about you.”

Joe’s brown eyes panned up to meet yours. “Funny. I can’t find any women who love that endearing quality.”

He was trying to make jokes, a soft smirk across his lips.

Rolling your eyes, you responded. “You just haven’t met the right one.”

“I did. And I fucked it up.”

You looked at him, confused. It was like time was in slow motion and you couldn’t wrap your head around what he had said. Was your brain tricking you?

“Dr. Quinn.”, a woman who was dressed very elegantly interrupted your all’s conversation. “They’re ready for you.”

He gave you a soft smile as he raised up from his chair, brushing his slacks. You eyed him, opening your mouth to speak but no words would come out. You wished you could have forced words of encouragement but what would you say back to something like that? He looked back at you as he walked away, following the woman who came to get him. You hurried and downed your Cosmo, leaving the empty glass and almost running towards the auditorium—except you had heels on and you couldn’t “run”.

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alamisgroup-12 · 3 months

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six-eyed-samurai · 1 month

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DEATH MARKS AND SOULMATES

Set in the Kimetsu Academy AU. Funny enough this is not angst. Fem reader.

In this world, you find your soulmate not by a red string or a name tattooed on your person, but rather a symbolic little picture imprinted on your shoulder that symbolised something special between you and your soulmate.

The world has seen the ordinary sort (a coffee cup for a cafe meet cute, a book for a library study session), with some unique types (a cross to represent a hospital visit)...but surely no one else on earth save for one Genya Shinazugawa had one of a grave.

It was a plain, unexceptional thing really. Just a simple brown casket underneath thin lines of grass and soil and a tombstone standing sentry over it.

Yet how could it NOT symbolise anything not related to death?

Did it mean he'd die before meeting his soulmate? Did it mean whoever they were, were already dead? Did it mean they were both going to die upon meeting? God, it drove him crazy.

And fearful.

Which was why Genya had long sworn off finding his soulmate. They were both clearly better off never meeting.

So he contented himself with dating around people occasionally who had yet to meet their soulmates. Sure, he knew it wouldn't last long, until they met their one and only at least, but it was fun while it did and at any rate it kept his mind off his own dark, depressing mark.

It still hurt though. Hurt to watch everyone, family and friends and colleagues - hell, even enemies - get together with their soulmates.

Inosuke and Aoi going out after she tripped on his loose shoe he lost running to class identical to the one on her arm and smacked him for it. Iguro-san and Mitsuri-chan shyly confessing their undying love when they pieced together his mark was an old pizza box and hers was a Bunsen burner and test tubes. Kanao and Tanjiro got together after their dropped wallet mix up and discovering the missing halves of their coins literally.

For fxxk's sake, even that Agatsuma kid and Nezuko started dating when they saw the lightning and the loaf of bread on each other's shoulders.

It was really making him feel...slightly left out.

But getting together with his soulmate was a bad idea. So for years Genya could've won a Grammy award for his acting like it was fine, that he never did actually want to meet his soulmate.

Until stupid, lovable HER waltzed back into his life.

He vaguely remembered her from his childhood, but when they both started talking it was like he had known her all his life. Even the gloomy way of how both of them had first met - at some services for a relative of hers and a great god aunt of his - did nothing to dampen their childhood recap chatter.

Was it her charming, if not idiotic humor? Was it the way she complimented him so naturally? Was it the way she just stared at him across the ground and smiled when he turned around?

Whatever it was...she was really making it hard for him to keep to his promise.

"Hey, Genya?"

God. This was it. No, no, no...

"Hmm, yeah?"

"There's something I want to tell you...We've been really good friends for a while now. I was thinking...something more?"

"AND I TURNED HER DOWN, ANIKI, WHY THE HELL DID I DO THAT?”

Genya groaned into his pillow and banged his head against his bed while an irritated Sanemi sat at the other end with a disbelieving expression and handa in the midst face palming himself and bringing it down on his little brother's skull in despair and rage.

"GENYA, WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT!? I'M FXXKING TIRED KF SEEING BOTH YOUR PUPPY EYES AND MOONING!” Sanemi bellowed, then took a deep breath to calm himself and wake his already asleep siblings. “Dammit, what did she say?"

"She was so nice about it, that's the problem!!! She even said we could still be friends if I was fine with it but I just feel even more guilty! WHY ARE GIRLS JUST SO - UGHHH."

"Genya, is this about your soulmate mark thing again?" Sanemi sighed, suddenly serious, and yanked his brother up. "You do know plenty of people don't wind up with their soulmate right, stupid idiot? It doesn't decide everything."

"Yeah, but what if she finds her soulmate and they're a better match? She showed me her mark once - something like a black umbrella lying in a puddle."

"Black umbrella?" Sanemi frowned (well, even more so than before) and leaned back. "Well, well, you don't see that many of that colour around. What are the odds of him finding her soulmate?"

"You found yours! Besides, it's really common, it's the sort of umbrella you bring to a funeral."

"Funeral? Damn, kinda like yours huh, tough luck - hang on a second."

"Yeah?" Genya peeked from the mound of pillows in surprise.

"Tell me how you guys met again." Sanemi snapped his fingers impatiently. “Get on with it, dumbass, I'm not gonna sit here all night listening to you moan about being a wimp.”

"We were at dad's funeral, remember? Her dad was his drinking buddy or something. I dropped the umbrella I was carrying and since it was raining it nearly blew off but she caught it-"

His mouth dropped open when Sanemi let out a loud groan and slapped the mattress. "What?"

"Genya. Funeral. Your mark is a coffin. You guys met at a funeral. You dropped your umbrella. She caught it for you. Her mark is an umbrella. Any bells RINGING YET, YOU GODDAMNED FOOL?"

"...oh god."

Sanemi barely had time to shout after Genya with the speed he was barging out of the room and running off. "DON'T COME BACK UNTIL YOU GET HER, OR I'LL LOCK YOU OUT!”

It wasn't that hard to find her house, having been there so many times. Genya tore through the storm and down the streets like it was nothing but a leisurely walk in the park, barely avoiding slipping on the puddles, until he arrived in front of the garden you and him had spent so many days messing around in. She was standing so obviously, miserably in the pouring rain holding the umbrella like he did so many years ago, a quiet moment from the accepting facade she had thrown up before.

Something about just watching that made him regret every single dead he had had before. She was a beautiful, serene, sorrowful painting.

And he'd be a fool to auction such a treasure like that off.

He called her name, once, twice, panting and desperate.

She whipped around almost at once. "Who - Genya-kun? Genya-kun! You'll catch a cold!"

She rushed forward at once to cover his dripping wet self with her umbrella, concern written - scrawled - over her features.

"Doesn't matter - look - uh -" Genya faltered, then took a deep breath. "I said no because I was afraid you weren't my soulmate. Or if you were... let's just say my mark wasn't the most auspicious. I was...scared of what would happen, so it was worse."

"Is that - is that it? Genya-kun, I - I don't - you know I don't care - care about the marks -"

"No, listen, please. Then I talked it over with Aniki and he kinda made me realize some things."

"Oh - uh - yeah? What?"

"That the grave on my shoulder was because I met you at a funeral, that I love you mark or not and...that yes, I want to be something more."

"We - we can be more than more. We'll be most - I - I promise!"

She held her umbrella over him all those years ago.

Now both of them threw it away to laugh and dance in the rain as newfound lovers.

#sanzuyaps #genya x reader #genya shinazugawa x reader #genya shinazugawa #sanemi shinazugawa #kimetsu gakuen #Kimetsu Academy #modern au #soulmate au #genya x you #genya x y/n #genya shinazugawa x you #genya shinazugawa x y/n

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karikarasuno · 2 years

Text

Pantone 16-1364

Pairing: Ichigo Kurosaki x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Soulmate!AU, Modern!AU, Strangers to Lovers, Dating, Domestic Fluff, Pumpkin Picking/Carving, Floor Sex, Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Sappy Feelings

Word Count: 10.9k

a/n: this was supposed to be @thegetoufather birthday fic, but life had other plans for me so i couldn’t finish it in time. but nevertheless, it is here. i hope you enjoy this, my love, my other half, my soulmate. and happy birthday, you a real one.

The world is black and white. And maybe a little less than fifty shades of grey. For those who have fallen in love, it’s rumored that they can see a few shades more. A color called red or even blue. But for you it’s still dull, love not having awarded you those rose colored glasses you’ve heard about. Yet you still hold out hope that one day, you’ll see more, that love will find you and fill your world with something colorful. Even if it’s mild compared to what a person can see when they meet their soulmate.

Apparently it’s a rush and a daze. It’s sudden and overwhelming. The world like nothing you could’ve ever imagined before. And you crave it. But you also force yourself to be a touch realistic. The odds of you meeting your rumored other half is unlikely. Zeus allegedly had taken that from you a millennium ago. You’ve stayed up late into the night more times in your life than you could count simply imagining what your soulmate was up to, imagining what it would be like connected so physically that you shared a body and a beating heart.

The thought alone is too much. So you focus on other things. Like the line for Starbucks wrapping around the entire store, the afternoon rush is just as unsightly as the morning one. And you feel bad for the baristas, but you’ve been up for far too long. The weight of waking at 4am hanging heavy on your shoulders as you finished your shift at the hospital. And really all you wanted was a pumpkin spice latte. The weather finally catching up to the season in a way you thoroughly enjoyed. You place your order with the young looking girl at the register, her demeanor a bit frazzled as you specified your order and walked off to the side to wait.

The crowd is thankfully shrinking. Bodies no longer push you off into a corner and you take your first conscious deep breath of the day. You relax as much as you can and go over the other tasks you have to do once you get home. A nap at the very top of it, if you’re being honest. Your name is called some minutes later, incorrectly but you know it’s you as you walk back up to the pick up bar to grab your drink. You give the person a small thank you, grateful to finally be heading home. That is until you bump into someone. They’re taller than you, build firmer in comparison to yours. And the force with which you slam into them has your bag slipping from your shoulder and your coffee lid popping off the top of your cup. Your blessed pumpkin spice latte spilling right over the lip and all over hand as you drop it from the shock of the heat. You could cry, the tears already burning the back of your eyeballs. There’s a series of apologies falling from the other person’s lips, a hand gripping your bicep to keep you steady, and napkins being shoved into your open hands.

You squeeze your eyes shut. One deep breath and then a broken exhale to ground you. But when you open your eyes to look at the person keeping you up, your vision is blurry and out of focus. Like a camera lens that can’t seem to concentrate on the subject. Your head is spinning, your body feeling like it’s teetering sideways. And you see it. Colors. Too many to keep track of, all bright and bold and nauseatingly vivid. This can’t be happening, not to you, not now. Not ever if you are being honest. This is too unexpected, your control snatched straight from your fingertips as you look up at him. He’s stunning. Heartbreakingly gorgeous. And you wish you had the ability to describe the extraordinary color of his hair, the color bright enough to blind you. There’s a headache forming at your temple, a building pressure behind your eyes as you take everything in. It’s too much. You feel like a newborn first opening their eyes. A world that is too foreign suddenly appears all at once and in high definition.

He’s staring straight back at you. The moment just containing you and him in the middle of a bustling Starbucks. But you can’t bring yourself to care about anyone else. Too enraptured by him. Your soulmate. The one ripped from you by a bitter Greek god and you get it. This is terrifying in a way you cannot comprehend. Color rises on his cheeks. Irritating you because you can’t pinpoint it. But it burns and you yearn to feel it beneath your fingertips.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, his voice gruff and astonished. It warms you from the inside out. The autumn chill long forgotten as your coat becomes stifling.

“No.” It comes out confused and accidentally.

“No?” He mimics, voice just as confused, but his hand tightens on your bicep as you sway. You bring a hand up to dig the heel into your eye, shutting them again in disbelief as a dizziness begins to take you. The pain in your head grows tenfold when you open your eyes again. Your vision continuously in and out as you stare at the man in front of you.

Your soulmate.

“This can’t be real,” you say, regaining some sort of composure as you register the napkins in your hand and the cold stickiness clinging to your scrubs. He seems quicker on his feet than you are, bending over to pick up your spilled coffee and laying some napkins down to soak up the mess. You can tell he’s still processing this. But not in the same way you are. Not in the outwardly life altering, mind numbingly slow way that you are.

“Sorry,” he says again, stepping back to toss the soaked napkins into the nearby trash can. You’re still embarrassingly frozen in place. Too many thoughts and also none at all buzzing through your mind as you wrap your head around the situation. It is far too much.

A barista is coming over with a mop soon enough, breaking your spell as you step aside to allow him to clean up the mess you made. He offers you a sympathetic smile, and you notice the colors of his eyes are light and a weird feeling twists in your gut when you can’t put a name to it. It’s almost like a pit of envy has rooted itself into your stomach at the fact that this is what you’ve been missing your whole life. And you can’t even identify what you’re seeing, just that your eyes have finally reached the full extent of their abilities and your brain is pounding because of it.

“Stop apologizing,” you respond, walking around the mess on the floor and closer towards him. You shift your bag onto your shoulder again, your feet feeling like they're on solid ground instead of walking on water. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No, I should’ve been more careful, but it was like you appeared out of nowhere,” his voice is distant, like he’s thinking too hard about the situation. “It must’ve been the,” he waves his hand between your bodies, gesturing vaguely to what you assume is the bond. The inevitable entangling of your soul threads that whipped you two into each other.

“Yeah,” you nod meekly, not sure what more to say. An awkwardness so palpable settles around you two and you almost want to run. But it’s as if you no longer have control over your limbs, your feet taking you closer to him instead of towards the door like your brain is telling them to. It still seems fake to you that he’s here, the person you’re fated to be with always within a normal distance and not halfway across the world like you always thought them to be.

“I, um,” he pauses, sensing your apprehension and giving you a moment. You’re starting to feel cold now that the coffee is no longer hot. Your clothes are just wet and uncomfortable on your skin. “I’m Ichigo.”

Ichigo. Ichigo, your soulmate.

You swallow. Your name stutters out from between your lips and for a second you assume you said it incorrectly. Adding syllables where there are none. But when he repeats it, sounding as awestruck as you feel, your heart grows. It knocks against your ribcage and pushes out whatever air you had left in your lungs. You’re selfish all of a sudden. The need to hear him say it again tangles its way into your being and a fast greed washes over you.

“Ichigo,” you repeat, the name supposed to be foreign on your tongue but it’s sweet and familiar. Comforting as if you’ve been saying it for lifetimes.

You’re not sure how you made it to your apartment after that. He was heading back to work when you gathered enough brain cells to rub together to have a normal conversation. Something about some office job. But honestly your head was still reeling and your eyes were about ready to pop out of their sockets, so you exchanged numbers and went your separate ways. Except now you stand in your living room. All the furniture and decor are a mixture of colors that you can’t decide if you like or not. Rangiku had picked everything out when you moved in together a few months ago. She met her soulmate over a year ago. But she’d fallen in love prior to that so her concept of colors has always been far different from yours.

You need an aspirin. And a shower. And a fucking nap.

You try to keep your eyes shut for as long as you can, bracing yourself against the kitchen sink as you chug some water and two pills. The door unlocks from behind you as you wait there, Rangiku yelling that she’s home so loudly the pain in your temple sharpens.

“You okay?” She asks as she takes off her shoes by the door and puts her things down. She sounds concerned, her voice thankfully dropping multiple decibels to a more manageable volume for you. When you open your eyes, she’s standing much closer to you than you expected. And the first thing you notice is her hair. It’s nearly the same color as Ichigo’s. And again, a pang of jealousy resonated in your chest.

“Your hair…” You reach out to feel some of the thick tresses hanging over her shoulder. She must’ve had a blow out this morning because it’s soft and voluminous, but really, you can only concentrate on the vibrancy of the color.

“I just got it done,” she smiles, teeth twinkling and eyes shiny. “I saw a new lady today and she was amazing. I swear she worked some magic because my hair has never looked this good.”

And she’s right. It’s glossy and strong, each strand bouncing and smooth beneath your fingertips. But again, you’re stuck on how it just reminds you of him. “The color, it's just like-” his, it’s just like his.

“Oh yeah, the hair lady said she never worked on a natural ginger before–”

“Ginger. Is that what this color is?” You force your eyes to focus on it. Force them to concentrate on the deepness of it that’s packed beautifully within each strand.

“Wait.” Her whole body freezes, her chattiness devolving into stunned silence as she stares openly at you. There are gears turning inside her head. Her eyes are darting all over your face in rapid tiny movements and you swear the motion makes you dizzier than you already are. “You can see my hair color?”

It’s hard to respond to her. Difficult to explain the situation when you are still processing it yourself. But there’s a rising excitement coursing through her body. She has questions. So many that you don’t know how to answer. You don’t even know if you want to.

She calls your name, emphasizing each syllable slowly, as if your hearing changed and not your eyesight. “Tell me right fucking now if you can see the color orange.”

Orange.

You’re ready to pass out. You wanted this so badly, but now you’re not sure if you can handle it. Not in this state, at least. “I met him today at Starbucks. He bumped into me and spilled my coffee everywhere and I’m so dizzy and my head hurts so bad and he’s so gorgeous and I don’t think I can do this.”

Words are flying from your mouth before you can stop them. A tornado of emotions that was swirling inside of you is now spinning out of control and straight at Rangiku. She’s pulling you into a hug though, her arms wrapping around your shoulders and the pressure helps you breathe. It alleviates some of the pain thumping against your skull and you suddenly want to cry.

Your world is on an axis foreign to you. Gravity is a concept you’re no longer acquainted with and your soul feels like it’s not even tethered to your body anymore.

“How did you do it? When you met Gin for the first time, how did you keep from falling apart?”

She places a sympathetic hand on your head, cradling you to her body as she just holds you. “Come on, let’s get you out of these gross clothes and into bed. You’ve had a long day.”

As soon as you are laid in bed, your blanket tucked over your shoulder and under your chin, sleep welcomes you immediately. To be fair, you’re exhausted. Meeting your soulmate was just the cherry on top of a sleep deprived day. And if you didn’t wake up some odd hours later— pain in your head gone, but colors still attacking your vision— you would’ve sworn it was some fatigue induced delirium. But no. Your duvet is a pretty light shade of something and there’s a rug at your bedside that’s fluffy and a deeper shade of something else. The curtains are white, at least that much you know. So for a fact, you didn’t imagine him. Him and his orange hair and stunning eyes and strong hand. Your bicep is still warm from where he gripped you, almost as if he branded it into your skin from just one brief meeting.

It’s difficult enough to thumb through all of your muddled feelings. But oddly, there is an overwhelming sense of relief. Like some weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying around for so long has somehow lifted and you’re lighter. Is this how Rangku feels? Like she’s floating?

You find her in the living room when you finally muster the strength to pull yourself out of bed for the second time today and see her with her hair tied up messily on her head as she paints her toenails. The tv is playing some random real estate reality show she’s been trying to get you to watch and her tongue sticks out the corner of her mouth with concentration. You don’t make a noise at first, not wanting to disrupt her when she’s already on her pinky toe and you know damn well she will fuck up if you interrupt her. So when she’s done, a satisfied grin on her face, you plop down beside her with a heavy, huffy breath.

“Your head still hurt?” She glances your way, sympathetic but ready to pry. She won’t ask anything if you’re still in pain, regardless of if she’s dying to know. So while her question comes from concern, it’s also laced with her own self interest.

“No,” you say, nudging her shoulder away with your palm, “just hurry up and ask me your questions.”

��I need every single detail. What does he look like? How did you meet? Is he tall? I need an estimate too, like feet an-”

“You’re gonna make my head hurt again if you don’t stop,” you laugh, heat touching your cheeks from the memories she’s pulling from your brain that’s still slightly foggy from sleep and distant pain. Her features soften, a tiny, excited smile on her face as she waits for you to respond. You bring your hands up to hold your cheeks in your palms, still warm to the touch as you try to decide where to start first. Images of Ichigo flash through your mind and you wonder how to even describe him to her. And you’re positive that if he wasn’t your soulmate and you didn’t meet him for the first time in dazzling colors, you would still find him dizzyingly attractive.

“Go on then,” she urges, nudging your calf with her foot, careful not to press her freshly painted toes onto your sweats.

“Well, his name is Ichigo.” And the story flows forth from you with ease like a rush of water lapping at the sandy shores, the words never ending as her questions meet your thoughts halfway. It’s late into the evening when you manage to end the conversation, she ordered takeout before you woke up, already knowing you’d be too tired to want to cook anything. She pulled out her laptop too, finding those flashcards you use in kindergarten to show you all the basic colors. You recognized very few. Black, grey, white, and now orange. But there are so many more that you wondered how someone could choose a favorite.

Red is nice, it comes in so many shades you find yourself drawn to the darker ones. Blue is wonderful too, the pastel ones especially pretty. But you aren’t sure if it’s just your newfound bias because of a certain someone, that your eyes always linger on orange.

The next time you see Ichigo is at a local cafe. It’s small and one of your favorite spots, so when he suggested it you jumped at the opportunity. It’s been a week or so since you first bumped into him. The week drainingly long and cumbersome. Your shifts seemed to last forever, the residents up your ass with misplaced pride, and you just wanted to go home. Your only saving grace is Ichigo. He likes to text you sporadically throughout the day, but never too late and never too early. He’s the one who actually reached out first, the day you met he texted you at around dinner time. A simple hey and you were smiling like an idiot at your phone for twenty minutes.

Since then conversation was easy if not a bit stilted at the beginning. You found out he works at a publishing company in the children’s literature department as an editor and translator. Which admittedly tickled you because he didn’t seem the type. And when you told him just that he was adamant that there couldn’t be a ‘type’ to childrens lit. You decided not to die on this hill, even though riling him up was proving to be particularly entertaining.

“See anything you like?” He asks over the menu, peeking up at you curiously. You’ve been taking turns stealing glances since you arrived a few minutes after he did. Your memory of him really didn’t do him any justice. He is slightly tanner than you remember, his eyes a stunning shade of what you now know is brown. It’s light and warm, very welcoming on his otherwise serious face.

“I had my eye on the roasted red pepper pesto sandwich, probably with a side of chips.” Your eyes drift down the menu, reciting your usual order by memory since you haven’t paid a lick of attention to the menu since you’ve arrived.

“Hmmm, that looks good,” he says inquisitively, his eyebrows furrowing in thought and you can’t help but admire how endearing he looks, with his lips in a thin line and his brows pinched together. He traces a knuckle down the laminated menu, running through the options again as he clearly struggles to choose one.

“It’s really good, it’s one of the only vegetarian dishes so my options are limited, but it’s actually delicious.”

“You’re vegetarian?” His eyebrows quirk up interested. You nod, placing the menu face up in front of you to look at him fully, instead of between glances that didn’t belong to you.

“Not a big fan of the texture of meat, so I stopped eating it a while back,” you explain, somehow expecting an adverse reaction from him, but he simply reciprocates your stare. Taking in the information and storing it.

He, on the other hand, ends up ordering a traditional breakfast sandwich– fried egg (sunny side up), bacon (not too crispy), and provolone cheese all on a croissant.

“Breakfast for lunch?” You ask teasingly after the orders are placed and the waitress takes your menus. He smiles at you, small and endearing before he reclines more comfortably in his seat– gaze unwavering from yours.

“I skipped it this morning because I was in a rush to get to work. I hate doing that, though, because it throws off my entire day when I don’t have breakfast.” Interesting, you think. You’re usually one to skip breakfast anyway, with how demonically early you have to get up to be ready for your shift at the hospital.

You don’t answer him, just stare. Which is probably odd, maybe unnerving, but you still haven’t been able to quite comprehend the fact that he’s real. And seems just as interested in you as you are him. Especially with the way he meets your stare without any sort of shame. When the food arrives you’re pleased to see the vast arrays of colors that decorate your plates. You never expected for food to be so colorful. It’s fun.

Ichigo runs a knife down the center of his sandwich, drags the serrated edge across the ceramic plate and you watch as a gooey bright color seeps from its center. Rangiku taught this one to you too, but the name is escaping you right about now.

“What color is that?” You ask before you can reel the question back in, before you can think of whether he would even know it. But he looks up at you and then back at his plate.

“This one?” He gestures with his knife to what you presume is the egg’s yolk, having seen it before but always assuming it would be a muted grey. You couldn’t have been more wrong. You nod to urge him to go on and he thinks for a moment, running the color wheel through his head like you have been doing all week and says, “it’s yellow.”

You’re dying to ask him if he’s seen it before. If colors began to make their debut in his life long before you met each other. But with a question like that comes talk of love– past love, maybe even pained love. Has his heart ever been broken? You’re not sure if you want to know. You’ve seen heartbreak on Rangiku when you two were teenagers. It wasn’t pretty. It scared you into believing that maybe a world in color wasn’t worth it.

“That’s not what I thought egg yolks would look like,” you laugh, shaking your head and sitting back in your seat. Your sandwich hosts an array of colors as well. The red you knew already, it’s in the name. But the green of the pesto is what surprises you when you lift the food to your face.

“Have you never seen colors before?” The question gives you pause, a squirming uncomfortable feeling starts to root around in your stomach because the implication is all you hear. The underlying question rings, have you never been in love before?

“Have you?” Slight defense in your tone, but mainly curiosity. A burning red begins to blossom up his neck and tinge the tip of his ears. He realizes the hinting nature behind his own question once it was thrown back at him. He’s embarrassed.

“Uh, yes.” The squirming feeling rises to your chest, threatening to ink your heart with murky emotions. “Obviously never like this. Not until I met you.”

You nod and clear your throat. You shove some of the sandwich into your mouth and take a larger than necessary bite to avoid saying anything. To avoid having to say something when you didn’t know what. It’s not fair to feel this way. You had lives before each other. Lives without each other. And you’ve known him for all of 8 days, but there’s a seed that has been planted and is growing at a rate you have no control over. Maybe it’s your soulmate bond. Or maybe you’re just hopeless.

“We were together in high school,” he starts, unprompted by you, but feeling the overwhelming urge to explain. “Broke up in college, the distance kinda drove us apart since we went to different universities. It didn’t end badly or anything, though.”

“Do you still talk?” You’re jealous, you realize a second too late. The question flies from your head and you suddenly feel like you’re being intrusive. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

Your cheeks are warm, your hands slightly clammy, so you take another bite out of your sandwich.

“Not really,” he shrugs. “We share mutual friends since we’ve known each other for so long. She’s actually engaged to her soulmate. She met him not too long after we ended things actually.”

Oh, you feel kind of bad now for asking something so private. But he doesn’t look dejected or bitter when he says it. Mostly indifferent, but you’re not sure if it’s a mask or if he truly means it.

“You?”

Your head whips up to look at him. Heart fluttering because you forgot this conversation started with you. You were too caught up in his past to remember what even brought it up.

“Um,” you fidget in your seat, feeling awkward now, which is probably how he felt. The seat too hot to sit in. “I dated a guy a few years ago and nothing really came of it. Not anything colorful, anyway.”

He hums, finally biting through his sandwich. Yolk smears across his bottom lip and you want to wipe it clean. The yellow is much more transparent on his lip, the skin there dusted with red. And you want to kiss him. So badly it’s sort of jarring. But you don’t, obviously. He catches you staring when he looks up. A tension that was not here before enveloping the entire table and you wish you could take a photo of him at this exact moment. His jacket is still on, his hands cradling the sandwich between long fingers, and his brown eyes sucking you into him. But it’s not that you’re dying to capture. It’s the sunlight that beams through the wide window you sit beside. The autumn rays bouncing off of his hair and the orange absorbs the light like it is meant for him. Like the sun is his. And you’re helplessly orbiting him.

For two weeks, meeting him once your shift ends and during his lunch hour becomes routine. Weekends are a trickier battleground since plans had already been made in advance and therefore much tougher to align your schedules. But lunch is simple. Your text threads now consist of options of what to try next. Some new while others are old favorites you want to share with each other.

You also find that sharing with him is terrifyingly easy. From family history to embarrassing high school experiences to your drunken escapades with Rangiku. It is all divulged in a single hour with a table separating you and food as your only other company. But sometimes the topics are tougher to navigate. When Ichigo told you that he lost his mother at a young age forcing him to step up and help his father care for his younger twin sisters it was over two bowls of soup– yours tomato bisque and his french onion. But most times they are much lighter, like when you find out he’s not a big fan of sweets. You had offered him a bite of your brownie and he physically recoiled. He had a tendency for physical reactions, most of the time to express disgust which you teased him relentlessly for. You caught the both of you by surprise one afternoon when he scowled at something you said, your thumb coming up to smooth out the creases that formed between his eyebrows whenever he did that.

Touching him also comes just as easy as everything else. He’s always moving pieces of hair from your face and you developed a quick habit of holding onto his arm whenever the two of you walk through crowded streets or busy restaurants. Your first kiss is actually shared at a crosswalk. The temperature that day dipped into something brisk and chilly. You were sleepier than usual so you found comfort in resting against him and allowing him to take the lead to your destination. In your state of half paying attention, you tripped over a chunk of lifted cement on the sidewalk as you were about to cross the street. But he caught you with strong arms around your waist. The sleepiness that was weighing down your eyelids disappeared with a gust of wind and suddenly your face was pressed into his broad chest. Your heart had probably stopped because you could no longer feel it beating in your chest when you looked up at him. The world had seemed to slow down, your mind filtering out everyone but him. You’re not sure who made the first move. It’s hard to remember when all that clouds that memory is the perfect brush of his lips against yours. And then he was pulling away before you could even register that the kiss had happened. He was blushing again, finally asking if you were okay and smiling when all you could do was nod at him. The alarming noise of the crosswalk signaling for you to hurry and cross the street was the only thing that tore you from that moment. Because you swear you could have kissed him forever.

And kissing him is all you want now that your day shifts have turned into overnights for the week. You didn’t realize you could miss someone so badly until you and Ichigo started functioning on opposite schedules. You ache for him. Your soul throbs to be near him. And it does feel like losing a limb when you’re not together. The string of fate is taut and ready to snap from how terribly you yearn for him. Zeus is a bitch for carving humanity in half.

Still, Ichigo finds ways to make you smile. Oftentimes staying up later than you know he’s used to. Or even offering to drop off food on his way home from work while you get ready to start your shift for the night. You take him up on it one night, no longer bothered by the idea of inconveniencing him because you just want to see him. He shows up on your doorstep with some takeout. His nose is tinted pink from the cold and hair windswept from walking from the parking lot to your apartment.

“I picked up some food from that Thai spot you’ve been mentioning. I guessed a little on what you would want.” He holds up the bag, the smell already warming you and your stomach grumbles as a result. He chuckles at the sound as he strides into your apartment, toeing off his shoes near the door before bending over to kiss your cheek. You’re still in your loungewear, and you initially felt self-conscious about not changing for him but he doesn’t seem to pay it much attention. Instead gazing around your apartment with acute fascination. There are signs of you and Rangiku all over the place. An organized mess of diy projects half started and miscellaneous knick knacks you and her find whenever you go thrifting and have to buy.

You also started experimenting with color, buying unnecessary amounts of blankets or decorative pillows or wall art simply because you enjoy the colors schemes. There is a mirror lying on your dining room table, painter’s tape lining the edges with some tentative strokes of yellow framing the outer corners.

“You paint?” He places the takeout on the bar counter that separates the kitchen from the living room, staring curiously at the project on your table.

“Not exactly,” you laugh, not wanting to call whatever smears of acrylic on glass painting. “I saw someone do this on TikTok and I thought it would be a good way to learn colors. There are so many shades of just one color when I walked into the crafts store a couple weeks ago I thought my head was gonna explode.”

You remember trying to find the yellow that resembled yolk, but instead fell face first into a color called mustard that you couldn’t stop yourself from buying. There were about twelve other colors you left with that day, your wallet not the happiest with you but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“What’s this supposed to be?” He asks innocently, head tilted to the side as he takes in the wobbly paint. His eyes are narrowed as he scrutinizes it, it’s his thinking face which you’ve grown quite fond of. You smile as you watch him, finally feeling more like yourself than you have these last few days.

“I’ll serve us our food and then I’ll show you the video I’m talking about.”

He joins you for dinner, but when the time comes for him to leave it’s still too soon. You even contemplate calling out just so you could spend the rest of the night sitting on your couch with him. But he’s far more responsible than you are, level headedly telling you that you should probably go in and that Saturday his day is free. An excited feeling flurries around your chest because this is the first Saturday you’ve had available too, so you promise it to each other. A new motivation simmers under your skin as you go about the rest of your week. Knowing that by the end of it, you and Ichigo will have more than just an hour together.

“Gin is picking me up soon,” Rangiku shouts from her bedroom so you can hear her in yours. She has luggage rolled out by the door, the apartment having turned into her extended closet as she packed for her getaway trip with Gin. Somewhere tropical.

“Lucky you,” you say as you walk into her room. She’s still throwing things into a small backpack when you do. “Having a sugar daddy to whisk you away to fancy places.”

She rolls her eyes at you, throwing a stray sleepshirt at your face. “He is not my sugar daddy, he just likes to spoil me.”

Her smile brightens at the thought of him. And before you would get jealous of the far off lovey look on her face, but you are starting to think you look the same whenever you think of Ichigo.

You’re going to a pumpkin patch with him today, the leaves all sorts of pretty colors and you wouldn’t trade some beach vacation for it any day.

“You’ll have the apartment all to yourself this weekend,” she says, cutting your thoughts in half. You don’t miss the suggestive tone in her voice. Your cheeks are heating in response. “Any fun plans?”

“Just hanging out with Ichigo later today. He’s taking me to pick out a pumpkin that we’re probably gonna carve. Maybe make some dinner together.” You try to keep your voice light and level, occupying yourself by unplugging her charger from the wall beside her bed since it’s the one thing she never fails to forget.

“Just hanging out,” she nods, sitting on the edge of her bed with a sly smile on her face. She takes the charger from you, but not her eyes from your face. You hate that you know what she’s thinking. Because it’s been whirling around in your brain, the fact that you two will be alone together. In your home. Just the two of you. Your mind has wandered too many times to even count and your body flushes in response.

“That’s the plan,” you shrug, hoping she lets the conversation end here and sitting beside her.

“I sure as hell hope not. It’s been fucking forever for you and you deserve some head, at least.”

“Rangiku!” Your entire body is burning and you’re not the type to shy away from conversations like this, but Ichigo makes you feel so oddly shy and you don’t want to fuck up whatever you have with him by being too forward.

“It’s the truth, bitch. You’re overworked and under pleasured,” she laughs, your face scrunching up at her.

“What is wrong with you?”

“You love me,” she giggles and hugs you to her chest, totally pleased with herself.

“So there must be something wrong with me then?” You joke, wiggling from her tight embrace and getting up from her bed. There’s a knock on the door that interrupts her retort and her eyes twinkle at the sound of it. “Go get your man,” you sigh exaggeratedly, barely hiding your own happiness for her.

She squeals and gets up from her seat, practically skipping towards the door and leaving you alone. You do an additional once over of her things, making sure she isn’t forgetting anything important. Not like it matters much when she can buy whatever she’s missing wherever they land.

“Oh, hi,” you hear her greeting rise in pitch, sounding surprised which doesn’t make any sense.

“Hello.” Oh god, it’s Ichigo. His familiar voice matches the surprised tone of Rangiku’s. Panic is rising in your chest, afraid of what nonsense will come from her mouth. You practically run out into the hall, ready to stop the train before it wrecks itself.

“You’re early,” you say breathlessly, glad that you had the foresight to be up and dressed by now– hair done and up in a claw clip.

“I am?” You check your phone for the time, and yeah he’s about an hour early, but you can’t complain because you’re more than happy to see him. Less excited about the unexpected introductions you now have to do.

“Just a little, but that’s okay.” Rangiku is smiling between the two of you, eyes even more sparkly than they were before, this time with something you should be slightly worried about. “This is-”

“Rangiku,” she finishes for you, holding out her hand for him to shake. “And you must be Ichigo.”

He takes her hand firmly, and you almost want to tease him for reverting into the shy side of him. He’s sometimes reserved, but him meeting Rangiku and being a little speechless makes you chuckle under your breath at him.

“I am,” he clears his throat, finally walking over the threshold once Rangiku moves out of his way. “I’m assuming I’ve been talked about.”

He slides his eyes in your direction, a hardened glance that has a playfulness behind it. One that sends a shiver down your spine involuntarily.

“Mmm, in various degrees,” Rangiku adds, not missing the way his look made you react. Ichigo’s eyebrows raise, inquisitive and asking for more information through his expression.

“Nothing crazy,” you explain because it really hasn’t been anything crazy, Rangiku just likes pushing your buttons. He hums in response, not saying anything to her amusement. He has a small bag in his hand that you missed when he initially walked in, placing it onto your dining room table that is now clear of the mirror that you were painting.

“I bought carving stuff from that store you like in downtown,” he says as he starts unbagging the items he bought. You notice a tube of paint rolling in the bag, sneaking an arm under his and plucking it from the plastic.

“What’s this?” You’re twirling the paint between your fingers and looking for the name, it seems like a shade of green but very light.

“I saw it and thought of you.” He feigns nonchalance, shrugging one shoulder and flicking his eyes over the other to find Rangiku smugly staring from the kitchen. “It’s sage green.”

You find the label name as he says it, running a finger over the word sage and already thinking of what colors it would pair nicely with. It’s sweet that he thinks of you, buys things that remind him of you. Your chest goes tight, and it should be uncomfortable but you’ve never felt more at ease.

“Thank you,” you smile fondly his way, wanting to lean over and kiss him, but restraining yourself since you have company who will very much ruin the moment. He nods, and you can tell the same thought is running through his head because he steps towards you before stopping halfway.

Not too long later, Gin stops by to grab Rangiku for their trip. As they are walking out she makes sure to call over her shoulder, “you kids have fun, but don’t do anything I wouldn’t.” And you almost strangle her for being so ridiculous as she winks and then scurries away into her soulmate’s arms.

Ichigo sighs once you two are alone, visibly relaxing now that Rangiku is gone. His hand finds your waist almost immediately, and you hadn’t realized how tense you were until the warmth of his palm is staining your skin through your sweater.

“Come on,” he says, bending slightly at the waist to whisper against the shell of your ear. Goosebumps tighten your skin and you suppress a shiver, eyes blinking slowly. “These pumpkins aren’t gonna pick themselves.”

You snort out a laugh, elbowing his side and he grunts like it actually hurt him. “You’re lame.”

Picking out the perfect pumpkins proves to be a stressful process. Ichigo is pickier than you would’ve assumed, his eyes scrutinizing each one. You decide to part ways to choose your own. And when you reconvene he has managed to find the most perfect one, it’s smooth all the way around, the shape almost cartoonishly pristine. Like he drew it himself and molded it with his fingers. It’s a good size too, not too big and not too small.

You, on the other hand, pick out two pumpkins. One humongous and hard to carry. It’s slanted to the left and dotted with pimpled skin. The other is the complete opposite, tiny and cute with a long stem sticking out the top.

“We agreed on one each,” he narrows his eyes, sticking his choice under his arm in an attempt to help you with yours.

“This one is so small it hardly counts,” you argue, trying to swat his hand away to show him you can carry it yourself, but it’s up and out of your arms before you can fight him off. He makes the pumpkin look like a normal size with the way he holds it against his chest with an arm wrapped around the circumference. You’re upset that he makes it look so easy, but your body heats up when you recognize how broad he is. Wishing it was you in his arms instead of those damn pumpkins.

“It 100% counts.” He walks over to the little old lady under one of the tents set up on the outskirts of the field. You move to pull out the cash in your wallet to pay her since his hands are full, but before you can wrestle it from the bottom of your purse he’s already handed her money with the pumpkins securely in his arms.

“You’re so impatient, y’know that?”

“I’m not impatient,” he argues back, shifting the pumpkins in his arms and heading towards the car. “Now hurry up, my fingers are frozen.”

At the apartment, the pumpkin carving is a disaster. He’s hopeless when it comes to any kind of creativity. Every time you cut into the thick skin he swears he has no idea what you’re trying to make and your stomach hurts from laughing so hysterically at all of his faces of frustration.

“It’s literally just a face, Ichigo,” you breathe heavily to even put your breaths from laughing at him.

“A weird one,” he grumbles, grabbing some seeds and pulp that you scraped out when you first started and tossing it at you. The cold wet strings stick to your neck and sweater and you gasp from the feeling. When you turn your face to look at him, he’s hiding a laugh behind his hand. His shoulders shake from the restraint and you’re positive your expression is only fueling him.

You lean over to grab a fistful of the squishy contents, cringing at how gross it feels but then repaying the gesture by throwing it at him. He tries to dodge it, but it lands right on his collarbone and shoulder, one of the seeds finding its way into the hair behind his ear. His eyes are wide when he meets your eyes, a glint of something devious in them and your instinct is to run. But he’s quick, and his hand already finds some more and as you’re jumping from your seat he hits you right across your torso.

“You’re making a mess,” you scream over your shoulder, using the chair as a barricade to separate you two. You make a fast break to the right, grabbing whatever is left of the pumpkin insides and raising your arm.

“For the record,” you exhale on a laugh, “you started this.”

The pulp flies from your hand and in his direction. His reflexes are faster than you imagined them to be because he dodges with ease. A squeal leaves your throat as you spin and run in the opposite direction. He’s chasing you all around the apartment as you throw the decorative pillows you had lying around the living room at him to keep him away.

You’re out of breath. The air in your lungs fighting against every laugh and scream you steal from it. You barrel into your bedroom, kicking the door open with your side and stumbling on your carpet. When you look back at him, he’s cleanly jumped over the couch, now only arms distance away. You have no time to shut your door, but you also have no intention to. You’re tired and panting. Your bedroom is completely dark as you run further inside of it. The sun set probably an hour ago, time taken from you like it only does when you want it to slow down.

Your guard is down. Your chest heaving from the lack of oxygen circulating and you’re in his arms anyway. He’s wrapped them around your middle, fingers digging into your sides to keep you from wigging out of his embrace.

“Are you done?” His voice is rugged and heavy, dipping lower as he also tries to catch his breath. Your thighs clench in response with a will of their own and your stomach twists when his hot breath fans across your neck. You kick out your legs half heartedly, stubbornly not wanting to admit to him that you have given up the fight.

Ichigo’s grip tightens, and you feel the expanse of his chest fill against your back when he inhales deeply. He tickles your sides, pulling out a surprised laugh from you as you squirm and try to get away from him.

“I’m done!” You shout between laughs, pulling at his fingers with your hands. “I promise! I'm done!”

“You won’t run away from me?” He asks, fingers pausing but his hold is still as tight.

“No, I won’t,” you sigh, pressing most of your weight into him. “Pinky promise.”

You hold up your pinky, not even sure if he can see it in the darkness of your bedroom. He loosens his arms and your feet fall flat on the floor. You turn to face him, pinky still in the air and you can just barely make out his features. His orange hair is one of the only things visible so that’s what you focus on. He wraps his pinky around yours, your bodies still flush together.

You tilt your head up at the same time that his bends towards you. His nose brushes the slope of your own, and you share a breath. One that’s stuttered and charged.

“Can I-,”

“Yes,” you gasp, tugging on his pinky and slotting your lips together. His are soft and taste like original Chapstick. You briefly wonder when he put some on because they’re smooth like it’s been freshly applied. You grab hold of his shirt, fisting it and refusing to let him go. Not this time. You want him completely uninterrupted. You want to kiss him until your lips swell and your cheeks burn.

His arms are around your waist again, his hands twisting your sweater between his fingers and you are so firmly carved against his body you can feel his abdomen tense against your torso.

He tries to take a step towards your bed, the intention clear enough, but when you try to follow suit your foot catches on the edge of your shaggy rug. Neither of you are paying enough attention to regain your balance. The kiss breaks and your bodies are stumbling backwards and landing on the soft rug with an umph. He somehow twisted his body in a way so that he’s not resting most of his weight on top of you, instead you’re laying side by side, limbs entangled in each other.

There’s a heady moment of silence, one that still lingers with fresh desire but is tinged with a relief that’s comical. He breaks the silence first with a chuckle. It’s pressed into the top of your hair, the vibrations rattling around your skull. It has you joining him, a surprised laugh of your own bubbling up from your chest.

“You’re always tripping over yourself,” he says, the hand that used to be caught in the fabric of your sweater slipping beneath until he’s touching bare skin.

“You usually do a better job of catching me,” you tease, brushing some of his hair from his forward. His bangs have grown some since you first met and he looks even more endearing when he’s unkempt.

“I was kind of distracted,” he whispers, his forehead knocking against yours as his hand slips deeper beneath your clothes. You will your body to relax, fight the shiver that’s threatening to tense your body and just feel his hand exploring your exposed skin.

“Doing what?” You crane your neck so that your lips are merely a centimeter apart again, nails lightly scratching through the hair on the back of his head.

“This.” And he’s closing the distance again, his lips now tasting like yours. The strawberry lipgloss you swore was gone by now still taints the taste of each open mouthed kiss. You slide your tongue against his bottom lip, asking for more. You sense that you catch him by surprise because his lips part but around a deep groan. One that has the hair on your arms standing and your hips rolling forward against his.

He moves to your neck, hands becoming desperate in the way that they map out your frame. He rolls so that he’s hovering over your body— tongue licking at the space just above your collarbone. Your head lulls to the side to give him better access, your eyes closing instinctively when he sucks tenderly at the skin there.

The black that overwhelms your vision frightens you though, for once not used to it after so long of it being your only companion. You nudge him so that he’s sitting up, and your heart aches when you can’t see his eyes. Or the look of concern you know that’s there.

“Wait,” you rise to your elbows, your voice only air with how breathy you sound. He doesn’t move, just waits patiently for you to say something else. Worried that something is wrong. But instead of reassuring him you worm out from beneath him, arm rising above your head as you twist your torso to reach the lamp that resides on your bedside table.

The room is immediately filled with a golden glow when you tap the base. The colors that you thought were beginning to fade flooding your senses to remind you that it’s true. That you aren’t dreaming this. Or having some expertly wild delusion. That your soulmate is here and offering you a kaleidoscope of new beginnings.

“I wanna see,” you explain, hand coming up to rest on his cheek. “ All my life I’ve been living in shadows. Let me see you.”

His eyes soften, irises like melted chocolate. He understands you. Better than anyone ever has before. It could be proof of the bond that’s destined to tie you together. Or proof that Ichigo is someone like no other. He has a presence that you can no longer live without. And you are terrifyingly in love with him. You don’t have to know what love is like to know what the feeling that clouds your senses is. It makes you want to run but not away from it, straight into its embrace without the fear of uncertainty holding you back.

You pull him in for another kiss. Less rushed, but purposeful. He takes his time undressing you, eyes lingering and stalling on every new exposed inch of your skin. You thought you’d feel the prickling of self-consciousness whenever this moment came, but you have never felt more self-assured. He kisses his way down your body, lips paying special attention to the spots that make you whine. That makes your fingers curl against his arms.

He’s stripped down to his underwear and is now towering over your completely naked form. You reach for him, wanting him impossibly close, but he grabs your wrist to stop you. His eyes burn with an unwavering desire and you could explode just from the heat of his gaze, so you don’t understand why he’s stopping. When you open your mouth to question him, when you rise to your elbows to ask him if he’s okay, he stops you with a large hand against your stomach to push you back down onto your back.

“How do you like to be touched?” It’s innocent within itself, but the circumstances are anything but. The shyness you assumed was far away is creeping into your brain as you fail to answer him.

“I-, just touch me,” you say, hoping that it’s enough to urge him to continue. But he leans over so that his face is just over yours, eyes even more intense with the reflection of the golden light.

“No,” he says firmly, brows furrowing like they always do when he’s frustrated or thinking too hard about something. “Teach me how to touch you.”

Your eyes flutter close, heat that couldn’t get any hotter flaming throughout your core and you toss your head back against the carpet. Your chest rises with a broken inhale, your mind glitching momentarily at his words.

“Fuck- uh, okay,” you swallow, finding his wrist and wrapping your fingers around it. You place his hand at the base of your neck, pushing it down to feel the weight of his palm there. You hear his breath hitch, too busy focusing on the feeling of his hand moving across your skin to see it for yourself.

You drag it down further, using the confidence that’s simmering somewhere within your blood to guide his hand across your breasts.

“Squeeze,” you pant when his fingers envelope the sensitive skin. Your nipple is already pebbled beneath his hand and you moan when he follows your direction. There’s a trembling vulnerability to this moment. A comforting one that forces you to keep going.

“Like this?” He asks when he squeezes again, taking his thumb and dragging it over your hardened nipple.

“Mmm,” you hum, not able to do much else other than enjoy him. But you tighten your fingers around his wrist once more to push him down even further. Straight between your parted legs where you already feel the slick begin to gather and wet your inner thighs. Your breath halts in your throat, stuck against the walls of your trachea as his fingers slip between your folds.

He moans with you this time, parting your lips and gathering as much of your slick as he can on his fingers while you limply hold his wrist. You take your other hand and slide your fingers between his, touching yourself alongside him when you focus his fingertips against your clit.

“P-pressure,” you stutter, hips canting to meet his firm circles. “Just like that.”

Your head is swimming with lust, a sickeningly warm pleasure caresses your veins as you lose yourself. You’re no longer concentrating on guiding him, perfectly content in leaving him alone to learn your body on his own. He moves his fingers down to your entrance, fingertips prodding at the opening without dipping inside like you so badly want him to.

“Ichigo,” you sigh with enough need that has him looking up at you inside of where his fingers meet your sex. “Please.”

His shoulders slump forward and his chin falls towards his chest. If you didn’t know any better he’d look like he was in pain. The muscles all over his body pulled taut and tense. He’s slipping two fingers inside of you then and you clench harshly around them. You’re unable to breathe properly, not with how he curls them upward in search of the spongy tissue you know is there. You force yourself to keep your eyes open and trained on him, unwilling to lose every frame of him he is giving you.

His other hand moves over to palm over the tent in his briefs, harshly rolling the heel of his palm against his cock and guilt pulls in your chest at the sight of it. There’s a dark spot forming where his tip is and your mouth waters at that thought of how he might taste in your tongue. But you can’t focus on it for too long when Ichigo manages to press against your swollen walls, using that motion to drag his palm over your clit at the same time.

“Oh,” your head falls to the side, neck no longer able to hold it up as he focuses entirely on forcing you to the edge. His fingers are targeting every nerve ending that’s there, and there’s a fuzziness clouding your vision as he drives you towards your release. You can barely note from your peripheral that he’s pulled himself from his boxers, his long fingers wrapped around his cock and stroking himself at the speed with which he’s touching you.

The sight has your heart racing and your clit throbbing in anticipation. Your hands are gripping the tresses of the rug at your sides, and your moans are rising in pitch the closer you get to your release. Your thighs close around his wrist when he groans your name roughly. You vaguely comprehend that it’s a plea for you to come. But the tone scratches at your brain and before you can understand the pressure that’s built in your gut, your back bows off the floor and your vision spots with noisy mosaics of color. All you can hear is your own voice catching in your vocal chords and the brief gasp of his name as waves of unadulterated pleasure wash over you.

He doesn’t stop until your back is safely pressed onto the floor again, his fingers slowing inside of you before he’s pulling out altogether. You wince at the emptiness, blinking your eyes back open and wondering when you allowed them to close.

You’re satisfied and your limbs are so heavy. Your brain is mostly mushy endorphins and the first signs of sleepiness are beginning to make an appearance when your eyesight goes wonky.

It’s not until you see him fully, and the blush that’s coating his skin. The blossoming redness that stains his cheeks all the way to the tip of his weeping cock that your walls flutter again with the hopes of feeling him inside of you.

“Let me,” you sit up and reach for him like you did earlier, this time solely wanting to hold him in the palm of your hand. He’s sticky from the precum that’s been dripping from his head. And your mouth waters again with the need to wrap your lips around him. It’s like he can sense where your thoughts have taken you because he’s laying you back down with a hand to your shoulder.

“Next time.”

“But-,”

“Next time,” he promises, stealing any retorts from your lips with a heated kiss. His tongue swipes into your mouth and you nearly forget how wound up he must be. Every kiss is punctuated with a rumbling sigh straight from his chest. He's maneuvering the two of you onto your sides, pillowing your head on his bicep as he continues to mold your lips together. You automatically hook your leg over his hip, his cock slotting between your thighs and slipping easily through the mess of your pussy.

“Shit,” he pauses, panting against your mouth when he pulls away. You whine for him to continue, body screaming for him to bury himself inside of you. “I don’t have a condom.”

The white noise that was raging in your ear drums dials down and you breathe out a small laugh. You meet his gaze and you see the apprehension there, making you kiss the tip of his nose and rub a thumb over his heated cheek.

“It’s been a while for me, so I’m clean,” you explain, your heart thudding against your ribcage. “I don’t have one either so if you want to wait we can, but if you’re comfortable…”

You let your sentence trail off, still stroking his cheek with your thumb as you wait for his response.

“I am too,” he starts, breathing gentle puffs across your face. “Clean.”

“So then, fuck me, Ichigo.” You grip his hair between your fingers and gently tug it. His entire body shudders at the action and you grind down so that his head catches your entrance. He hugs you to him, face moving to bury itself in your neck as he thrusts into you. You can tell he meant to go slower, that he meant to take his time inching his way into your cunt, but your patience is wearing thin. And so you match his thrust with a roll of your own and in one motion he’s seated between your walls with a stuttered groan dampening your neck as his grip on your hip becomes bruising.

Your sweaty bodies stick to each other as he continues to drive in and out of you. You’re sensitive from your first orgasm, so being full like this saturates every thought and feeling and function that should come naturally. His pace is rhythmic, every drag of his cock perfectly timed with each exhale. You drop your forehead into his shoulder, losing sense of yourself because you can only think of him. And his strong frame and soft lips and thick cock.

It’s too much. There’s a sharp tug in your stomach, a warning that you’re about to come again. Your fingers unconsciously strengthen their hold on Ichigo’s hair, and you smear a kiss across his shoulder and wherever your lips can reach.

“M’gon-,” the words are punched from you when his thrusts harden, his hips smacking against you in rapid succession.

“Cum with me,” he barely grits out between a clenched jaw. “Fuck, please.”

“Ichi,” you moan, high pitched and shattered. This one is harder than the last, instead of colors gracing your screwed shut eyes, it’s just white. Pure, untainted white.

He's pulling out of you suddenly and with hardly enough time to aim his cum anywhere. Instead it rushes out in hot spurts all over your pussy, the temperature covering your sensitive clit and jolting your hips back in surprise. His arms are securely around you as he comes down. As you both breathe in jagged breaths of air to compensate for all the ones you lost.

When you open your eyes, the colors are too bright for you. The tan planes of his shoulder and the vibrant orange of his hair greet you first. Your body sags in his embrace, hand rubbing soothing circles onto his back as he finds his way back to you.

He stretches against your body when he finally grounds himself into this reality, his hands smoothing over your hair and thigh as he moves back to peer at you. His eyes are drunken and hazy. His lips are reddened and rosey.

His smile is broad and amused when he gets a good look at you. An entertained little laugh tumbling from him.

“What’s so funny?” You pull on his earlobe after you pinch it between your thumb and finger.

“You have a dried pumpkin string on your lip,” he laughs again, plucking it from your bottom lip and showing it to you.

“How?” You scrunch your brows together in confusion. Only then seeing the bits of pumpkin that you threw at him earlier still clinging to his collarbone and dried on his skin.

“I can’t believe you threw pumpkin insides at me,” you playfully pout, biting your lip to hide your smile from him.

“It was payback,” he grins, cradling your cheek in his hand until his fingers massage parts of your neck.

“For?”

“For waiting so long to bump into me at Starbucks.”

#ichigo kurosaki x reader #ichigo kurosaki fluff #ichigo kurosaki smut #bleach fanfic #bleach smut #happy belated birthday aman #I love you #kari’s writing🔆

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