#i've been needing some more angst in my life

[iblameashley]

Crosshairs, Bullets and Affections

Military | Male | Gay

5,300 words Content: Alternate universe, longing, angst, cursing, injury / wounds, mention / depiction of blood, captivity / imprisonment, military level violence, mention of torture, gun violence, death, some German, poorly edited Gay Stuff, Love, Fluff

Inspiration for this fic

König | Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick | Kaz?

!!!SFW!!!

In the heat of battle, König saves the life of enemy soldier Gaz, leading to his capture and disavowal from KorTac. Struggling with his feelings, König faces suspicion and hostility from the 141. Assigned to integrate him, Gaz is put at the forefront of König's awkward attempts at romance, while Ghost and Soap watch from the sidelines. König asks himself the age old question, 'do you believe love can bloom even on a battlefield?'

Consequences

König sat in a surprisingly well-lit cell. The concrete walls and steel bars a clear reminder of the new reality he found himself in. The space felt cramped, but then again, Konig remembered that he's not an average sized man; his legs hanging over the small bed that he rested on.

Upon being brought to the one-four-one base, he was promptly stripped of all his tactical gear and tossed in this cell. Captain Price had been generous enough to allow Konig to keep his hood – a source of amusement for the rotation of guards – and was left to his long-sleeved shirt and pants. Though they had also taken his boots and replaced his with slippers, nothing that could be used as a weapon was left, but at least he was relatively warm and comfortable.

His eyes flickered to the calendar on the wall outside the cell. June sixteenth. Six month and - he had to think about it - four days since his confinement started.

Originally, Konig had been in earshot of some of the more creative suggestions from the members of the one-four-one relating to any information he had. Ghost, ever the pragmatic man, had advocated for a ruthless approach. He had argued that the Colonel was too seasoned to be susceptible to typical tactics, and suggested a tried and true method, according to him; jumper cables and a car battery.

Soap on the other hand, saw no value in interrogating Konig regardless. He saw the giant of a man as too big a threat to keep around and had instead suggested the use of some C4. Most of the team had assumed he was joking. They were really hoping he was joking, but his mate Gaz had been injured and emotions were running high.

Price however, understood the gravity of the situation and the delicate balance of power at play. He saw the value in Konig as an asset, and a chance to gain insight into the inner workings of a known military threat. Besides, Konig had saved Gaz's life on the battlefield, and that alone had piqued Prices interest in the man. Saving an enemy combatant and allowing yourself to be captured in the process? What the fuck had the man been thinking?

The cell door opened and snapped Konig out of his thoughts. His eyes wandered up to see Price standing there. He dragged a metal chair into the cell and the guard closed the door behind him, though stayed close; his hand on his holster, ready to make a move if Konig tired anything.

König's jaw clenched under his sniper hood as he met Prices gaze, his walls coming back up.

“I can't imagine this has been easy for you.” Price began, clearing his throat. He leaned back in the chair and crossed one leg over the other. He tried to appear relaxed by resting his hands on his knee.

“I've seen worse.” Konig fired back with feigned disregard, his accent thick and his voice raspy. “...Just another obstacle.”

Price nodded, he understood the position Konig was facing. “I understand your reluctance to speak to me -to anyone- since you were brought in, but I really need to understand what brought you here.”

Konig narrowed his eyes. Though Price couldn't see it, his lips were pressed into a thin line.

“I had my reasons.” He replied flatly. “Reasons that don't concern you.”

“I would argue that they concern me greatly, Colonel.” Price tapped at his knee, staring Konig down with curiosity. “You aided one of my men on the battlefield. Why?”

In a fleeting moment, König's eyes betrayed him, and a glimpse of vulnerability flicked between the two men.

Price raised a brow, noting the reaction and realizing there was much more to this than Konig was letting on.

“...You had the chance to run. You didn't.... and now, here you are.”

König's body tensed and he gripped at the think mattress below him. “Sometimes the cost of doing what's right is higher than we anticipate.” He replied.

“I wasn't aware KorTac knew what doing 'what's right' was.” Price said, the irony not entirely lost on him.

König sat there quietly, what was the point of replying to that particular comment?

Price let out a sigh, waving a hand apologetically.

“We don't have to be enemies, Colonel.”

“König.” König corrected.

“König.” Price smiled, “Help us, and I promise you, there will be a place for you in this task force.”

“We'll see.”

With that, the conversation had lapsed into silence. Knowing that König was unwilling to speak to him any further, Price stood up and grabbed the chair. The door to the cell opened and he left the holding area.

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Actions

Amidst the gunfire and explosions, König has spotted someone who shouldn't have been there. Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick. He'd recognize that man anywhere, though he would have noticed sooner, had the man been hanging upside down from a helicopter.

Somehow, the one-four-one had gotten involved in this particular conflict and now there were fights to be hand on two fronts.

It had happened quickly, as so many things do on the battlefield. Gaz had been stuck by enemy fire, a bullet tearing through his shoulder and sending him tumbling backwards. He landed hard on the ground and yelped out in pain.

König's instincts had kicked in before his brain could stop him, and he sprinted across the battlefield until he hovered over Gaz's prone form. He crouched down as gunfire whizzed past them, and he quickly assessed the extent of the injury.

Gaz was going to bleed out if nothing was done, so Konig grabbed the man like a sack of potatoes and hauled him to cover. He worked frantically to stem the bleeding, ripping the shirt to get a better view of the wound.

“That's my favourite shirt, mate...” Gaz had mumbled. He was too unfocused to realize who was tending to him.

“I will buy you a new one, gutaussehend.” König replied as he began to tend to the wound.

It wasn't pretty by any means, but it would do. The bleeding had been stopped, some fragments of the bullet removed and it was disinfected. König had used most of his gauze to bandage the area.

König had barely had a moment to sigh in relief when he felt a gun at the back of his head. “Move away from my mate, nice and slow you slag.” The gravelly British voice commanded him.

“Ja.” König nodded.

He moved with an impressive grace away from Gaz before slowly standing up; his hands raised in surrender.

Ghost kept his weapon trained on König as he peered down to Gaz. A mixture of shock and confusion washed over him as he saw that bandages wrapped around Gaz's arm.

“The fuck is this, mate?” Ghost grunted as he returned his full attention to König.

“I... I don't know.” It was honest. König's own mind was racing with questions about what he had just done. His heart was racing, and if it weren't for the sniper hood over his face, Ghost would have clearly seen the grimace adorning his face.

“Don't play fucking games with me. I should put a bullet in your fucking head...” Ghost snarled. His finger moved towards the trigger, but he thought better of it. Price and Soap were on the way, so there was no need to shoot the man dead. Yet. “Drop all your weapons nice and slow. And kick them away.” He commanded.

König complied and removed his pistols and combat knives, setting them gently down on the ground and kicking them out of reach one by one.

“Step back.” Ghost commanded him once more, flicking the barrel of his gun and Konig.

“Ja.” König nodded.

He took a step back. And then another until he was several feet away from Ghost, Gaz and his weapons. Ghost would have plenty of time to shoot him if he made any stupid moves.

“He will be okay if he gets proper treatment.” König explained calmly to Ghost. He was trying to diffuse the situation as best he could.

“Didn't ask your opinion, slag. Keep quiet.” Ghost hissed, though his attention was split between König and Gaz who was passed out and breathing a bit heavy.

It felt like hours had passed before Price and Soap finally made their way to Ghosts location.

“Steamin' Jesus!” Soap exclaimed as he came to an abrupt halt. He took in the scene with shock and awe.

“Guten tag.” König said a bit more cheerfully than a man with a gun aimed at him should have.

“The fuck happened here?” Price questioned Ghost as he pulled up behind Soap.

“Our German friend here wanted to play medic with out Sergeant.” Ghost nodded in Gaz's direction.

Price moved to Gaz to inspect his situation and Soap pulled his firearm and aimed it at König.

“I got yer back, LT.” Soap reassured Ghost. “I think yer the best man tae cuff the bastard.”

With that, Ghost roughly bound König's hands, his gaze lingering on the captive soldier with a mix of distrust and disdain. As they made their way to the exfil location.

The same question was on everyone's mind; “Why had an enemy soldier helped one of their own?” Not that that question would be answered anytime soon. Even as König was loaded onto the helo, he simply stared into the abyss of uncertainty.

“Scheiße” König cursed himself silently. He knew he had fucked up, but there was something that pulled at his heart, knowing that Gaz would be okay. Though he probably couldn't say the same for himself.

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Feelings

It was early in the morning when the lights flickered on and illuminated the cell, stirring König from his uncomfortable slumber. He muttered something in German, his voice tinged with annoyance until he saw Gaz standing outside his cell.

He swallowed hard and sat up on the cot. “Guten tag, Sergeant.” He croaked out.

König yawned as he leaned back against the cold concrete wall.

“Gaz. Just Gaz is fine.” Gaz advised as the door to the cell opened.

He entered slowly, and like Price had, dragged a metal chair in with him. His presence seems to fill the room with warmth. König's heart fluttered, and he began to fidget as he tried to hold Gaz's gaze.

“How are you holding up?” Gaz asked as he made himself comfortable.

“It is a holding cell, so it holds me well.” König joked. Attempted to joke. He wanted to hang himself as the stupidity of it washed over him.

Gaz chuckled and shook his head. “Okay, then...”

König's throat was dry as he struggled to find his voice a second time. His fingers seemed to dance on his knees as he gathered his thoughts.

“I am... fine.” He finally replied with a faint shrug. “Trying to make the best of this situation.”

Gaze smiled at him and nodded. “I can imagine you've been a bit bored being cooped up in here all these months.” His voice, his accent was smooth as it wormed its way into König's ear. “But you're still alive and in one piece.”

König's eyes fell to Gaz's shoulder. His arm was no longer in a sling like he has seen a few months back, and he must be healed by now.

“As are you.” He replied nervously.

“Mmm.” Gaz nodded again. “Because of you, I kept my arm and my life.”

There was an unspoken hint of gratitude to Gaz's words, but he was a bit too prideful to outright say the words 'thank you', at least right now.

“Still going through physical therapy. Still can't aim straight with it, but I'm getting there.” His jaw clenched shut and his brow furrowed as he wondered why he had admitted that to König.

“You will recover. You are still young and strong.” König smiled under his hood, he eyes softening as he spoke.

König couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him. He didn't understand this attachment he felt towards Gaz, but he knew it was dangerous for a few reasons. Aside from the fact that he had never felt this way about another man, if he allowed himself to explore these feelings, he'd solidify his desertion.

But as he looked into Gaz's pretty brown eyes -only slightly more enticing than his pretty lips- he could help but let a flicker of hope course through him.

“There... was one other reason I stopped by...” Gaz mentioned in a casual tone, though his eyes were downcast as he said it.

“Hmm?” König tilted his head like a puppy. “Tell me, mein freund.”

Gaz hesitated for a moment, but quickly decided it was best to just be honest. “You've been disavowed.” He spoke the words slow and calmly. “Since the one-four-one never made any demands to exchange you for anyone or anything, and because you were seen willingly helping me, and surrendering to Ghost, KorTac has officially cut their losses with you. We received the news last night.” Gaz explained.

König's heart sank like a stone into the cold depths of the ocean. 'Disavowed'. The word echoed in his mind. All because he had done what he had thought was right.

He shook his head. No, this was all his fault for sure. He had helped the enemy, of course he was disavowed. He was a traitor, and he would have done the same to anyone else on his team.

He grappled with the thought of never seeing Austria again. His friends or family. Everything about his life now lay shattered at his feet, an a storm of emotions began to rage within him.

“I understand.” Was all he managed to mutter out.

And that was that. The conversation was over and Gaz knew it. So with a nod of his head he got up and left König to his thoughts.

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Decisions

There was no choice but to start integrating König into the one-four-one. Well, Ghost had vehemently opposed the idea, stating that König could never be trusted. Price had understood the concern, but also wasn't planning on sending König on missions anytime soon, let alone giving him access to restricted areas or information. Soap had also voiced his concern; first in Scottish Gaelic and then in English.

“I don't fuckin' trust him, Price.” Ghost voiced his disapproval once again.

Price rubbed at the bridge of his nose, clearly exasperated by this circular conversation.

“I understand your concerns, Ghost, but we need to make use of him--”

“It just doesn't sit right with us.” Soap interjected.

That was the last straw for Price. It had been two weeks of this conversation happening again and again, and now his own subordinate was cutting him off mid sentence.

Price was a patient man, and more than happy to entertain the thoughts and concerns of them men under him, but enough was enough.

He stood up from his chair and placed his hands on his desk. He took a deep breath and glared at both men.

“Listen to me very carefully.” His voice was low and seething with rage. “If either of you twats bring this subject up again, or if you ever interrupt me again, I will kick your asses out of the one-four-one. Now, the next thing I better hear from either of your mouths is 'yes sir' before you leave my office and fuck off. Do you understand me?” He hissed.

There was no room for black and white in Prices words, the look in his eyes conveyed his seriousness about the situation, and Ghost of all people knew how fucked he'd be without his job on the task force or Price to have his back.

Ghost and Soap nodded. “Yes sir.”

They promptly left Prices office.

Gaz had been sitting off to the side reviewing some documents as this exchange occurred. To be fair, Ghost and Soap had burst into the room uninvited, and Gaz had been working with Price at that time. He had felt no need to stand or engage as Prices limit had been reached.

And now, he sat there flipping through pages with a smirk on his face.

“Feel better, sir?” He chuckled as Price straightened himself out and took his seat again.

“Fuck off, Kyle.” Price gave him the side eye, but even his beard and tone couldn't hide the amusement.

“I have a job for you.” Price said after a long moment of silence. He reached into a box and retrieved a cigar. He took his time lighting it and enjoyed several long puffs before he continued. “This is a delicate situation, but I believe König has potential beyond information.”

Gaz's brow furrowed slightly, concern crossing his face as he processed Prices words.

“The man has been here what, seven months now? Almost eight? He hasn't once tried to make an escape, and he's been even more docile since you gave him the 'bad news' as it were.” Price puffed on. “I say we give him a real chance, and if he fucks up, we put a bullet in his head.”

Price shrugged and tapped some ashes into a nearby tray.

“I want you to take point on this, Gaz. He seems to like you, so might be easier for you to help integrate him into the force. Obviously I want you to keep a close eye on him, and you won't be alone, but you'll be in charge.”

Gaz's jaw clenched. He took his time thinking about it, but figured he would agree without protest. This was an opportunity to learn why König had helped him all those months ago. And he couldn't deny the joy he would take in superseding even Ghosts authority on this 'project'.

“What I say goes?” Gaz asked. “Outside of your final decision, that is?” He clarified.

“Your say goes.”

“Consider it done, sir.” Gaz agreed. “When do I begin.”

“Now. Why not take out lumbering German to the mess for some lunch.” Price laughed before taking a drag from the cigar.

“...yes sir.”

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Targets

König stood at the firing range stall waiting for Gaz. His nerves were frayed to say the least as he looked around the room to see Ghost and Soap off in the distance; glaring and judging him. Ghost had a hand on his pistol, still ready to put him down at a moments notice.

“Alright, big guy...” Gaz's words snapped Konig out of his daze and he looked down at the man. Into those big, brown eyes. “Let's see what ya' got, yeah?” He beamed.

König nodded and swallowed hard. He wanted to do right by the one-four-one, he wanted to earn the trust of this whole team, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to impress the handsome young man handing over a rifle to him.

König took the rifle and stepped into the stall -which was way too small for him- and, in an attempt to break the tension decided to tell Gaz a joke.

“Hey, Gaz...” König began, already grinning under his hood, “why did the soldier bring a ladder to training?” He asked as he inspected the weapon.

Gaz gave König a quizzical look and tilted his head slightly as he thought about it.

“No idea, why?” He finally asked.

“To reach new heights!”

There was a deafening silence in the range as Gaz, Ghost and Soap processed the joke. The moment only broke by Ghost snorting in reply and looking away.

“Fuckin hell... that was bad...” He murmured as his shoulders shook.

“That's... certainly a new one.” Gaz replied to König, trying to distract the man from Ghosts reaction. He cleared his throat and extended a hand to guide König to the targets down the range, “Alright, lets focus on the targets now.”

König felt his cheeks redden with embarrassment, but he couldn't help it, his heart fluttered when Gaz was around. Without another word, he turned to the targets and readied his rifle.

Pop, pop, pop.

He fired several rounds from the first rifle and his targets. Several head shots and a few straight through the heart.

Next up was a pistol. He was equally skilled with that.

Gaz recognized his skill, and had read in his file that König had always wanted to be a sniper, so he decided 'what the hell' and wanted to give the man a chance. As he guided König to the sniper range -with their shadows in tow- the giant spoke up once more.

“Why did the soldier cross the road?” He asked, smirking like an idiot under his hood.

“I dunno, mate,” Gaz shrugged, already shaking his head. “Why?”

“To get to your side.”

“Christ...” Ghost sighed.

Gaz legitimately laughed at the joke and gave König a pat on the back. “If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to sweet-talk me.”

“This is painful.” Soap whispered to Ghost as they finally made it to the sniping range.

“Mmm. But entertaining in its own way.” Ghost replied as the two men watched Gaz and König set up.

“Just take your time, mate.” Gaz reassured him as he stepped away and left Konig to his practice.

Sniping is a game of patience, and König had been denied his sniping career for two reasons. The first was his size; he made a better battering ram than a sniper, and the second was his need to fidget when bored. But he was determined to prove to Gaz he had what it took.

He took aim and steadied his breathing. His hands were steady and after judging the distance, he fired.

“Fuck...” he hissed under his breath. He had hit the target, but not where he had wanted.

He aimed again. He focused. He fired.

“Der mist!” He grumbled a bit louder this time.

He took one last shot and at least his something vital on the target.

With a resigned sigh, he put the safety back on and moved himself into a sitting position on the floor as the target came swooping in for Gaz's examination; and Ghosts whispered ridicule.

Gaz took time to examine the target, and was overall impressed with König's shots. Only one would have likely been fatal, had it been a person, but the other two could certainly be crippling to an enemy combatant.

“Not bad, not bad.” He nodded as he looked down to König. “Guess we'll just need to set up some more practice time for you.”

König's mood perked up at the idea of spending more time with Gaz and quickly stood up, towering over Gaz in the small box of the sniping range. “Ja, I would like that!” He exclaimed.

He looked over to Ghost and Soap and and then back at Gaz, lowering his voice. “Hey Gaz, what would be your perfect date?” He asked.

Without missing a beat, Gaz grinned and replied, “April twenty-fifth, its not too hot, not too cold, all you need is a light jacket.”

He was so fucking proud of this reply, and loved watching the gears turn in König's head.

The dumbfounded look in König's eyes tipped Soap over the edge and he buried his face in Ghosts arm, snickering at the custerfuck that was this interaction.

“O-oh... okay.” Konig replied still confused.

He handed over the sniper rifle and turned to leave the booth, in a bit of a hurry at that, and slammed his head into the top of the door frame as he attempted to re-enter the base.

“Gottverdammt!” He yelled, felling the rage build inside him. He had fucked up his sniper practice, Gaz wasn't into him, Ghost and Soap were making a mockery of everything and now his head was hurting like a motherfucker.

“You alright there, big guy?” Gaz asked in a soft, sincere voice. He placed a hand on König's arm and turned him around. He could easily tell what König was feeling.

“Yeah...” König grunted, rubbing his head. He took a moment to breath and calm himself down before continuing. “Gotta watch out for door frames, they sneak up on you...” he tried to downplay the embarrassment. “Well... maybe not you...” He added in a deadpanned tone.

Gaz let out a deep laugh, not realizing that König hadn't been joking, just stating a fact.

“Aye, Gaz here is a shorty.” I Soap joked as he and Ghost moved past the two and entered the base.

“Hey, Soap... get fucked.” Gaz laughed.

“I wouldn't talk, mate... you're shorter than Gaz.” Ghost reminded Soap before giving one last glare at König. The meaning was clear; fuck with or hurt Gaz and Ghost would ensure König disappeared without a trace.

“Fuck, never thought I'd see a man flounder so hard. Big mans got it bad.” Soap remarked as he and Ghost made their way down the corridor.

“Better than anything on the telly, though.” Ghost reported. “Four pints says he completely blows it.” He added, staring down at Soap.

“Deal.” Soap grinned.

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Secured

It was late in the afternoon, and the sun was starting its drop towards the horizon. Long shadows were cast over the ground as the ruins of of the enemy stronghold smouldered in just below. The task force was wrapping up a mission and were currently attempting to regroup back at exfil.

König had been brought along, but he had not been authorized to partake in the mission proper. Price had relegated him to extraction duty alongside two other soldiers.

There was an unsettling silence that washed over the land just after Soap had radioed in that the mission was complete and they were heading back. Maybe it was soldiers intuition, but König had a bad feeling.

Sure enough, and only moments later, the sound of gunfire echoed in the distance as Ghost, Soap and Gaz dashed from the foliage and into the open field.

Bullets whizzed by them as they ran, and they fired back sporadically as enemy soldiers burst through the cover of the trees.

“Give me a weapon.” König commanded one of his chaperones.

“Negative.” The man replied as he reached for his assault rifle. “You don't have authorization. Stand down and let us handle this.”

König wasn't asking.

Faster than the soldier could react, König slammed his hand into the mans throat, dropping him to the ground, gasping and panicking as he fought for air.

“I'm sorry mein freund.” He said as he walked away and unlatched the container that stored a sniper rifle.

He worked quickly to assemble the weapon, making sure to give it one last look before using his towering height to climb onto the roof of the truck. The other soldier finally noticed him, and the look König flashed him was warning enough. Do not try me.

The soldier nodded and returned his attention to his comrades charging in their direction.

König laid down on the roof and set up the rifle.

He licked his lips as he peered through the scope and acquired his first target. He flicked the safety off and calmed himself -as difficult as that was, seeing Gaz in danger again- before placing a finger over the trigger.

“That's it, maus... run into my trap.” He smirked as his finger pulled the trigger.

The rifle discharged with a sharp crack, the thunderous roar echoing across the landscape. It struck the target like a bolt of lightening dropping the man instantly.

“Pop.” König commented, proud of himself.

Several more booms erupted from the barrel as König took down enemy after enemy until his team was in the clear and there were no more soldiers pursuing them.

He flicked the safety back on and hopped down from the truck as Gaz, Soap and Ghost came to a halt.

“You weren't authorized to use that.” Ghost grunted, trying to suppress the need to catch his breath.

“Lay off the man, he saved our arses.” Soap huffed, punching Ghost in the side of the arm.

He walked past König and gave him a pat on the shoulder, “Thanks for the assist, chum.” He smiled.

König's eyes lit up with excitement as he turned his attention to Gaz. He extended his arms and walked with a confident swagger towards him.

“Mine freund!” He exclaimed as Gaz looked up at him, his chest still heaving and sweat dripping down his brow, “Did you see that! I got them all!” His voice boomed with pride.

Gaz just grinned and shook his head. “I can't say I saw it, but I knew you were helping us when the gunfire behind us stopped.” He joked as he took one last, deep breath. “You did good, König.”

The adrenaline was still coursing through his veins when out of nowhere he leaned down and wrapped his large arms around Gaz and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Thank you, liebling!” He was beaming under his hood.

He picked Gaz up off the ground and held him at face level.

“It's all thanks to you. It's all thanks to your trust in me.” König continued as he squeezed Gaz a bit tighter.

“Okay, okay!” Gaz laughed, patting König on the shoulder. “Put me down!”

“Nein!” König replied in a surprisingly playful tone.

Truth be told, he never wanted to let Gaz go. Fuck, he'd never have touched Gaz if it hadn't happened by impulse. That and Gaz smelled so goddamn good.

“Guys!” Gaz called out to Ghost and Soap, “Guys!” He called again with a huge grin on his face, “This dudes great, can we keep him?” He laughed loudly.

König was looking at Gaz with heart eyes, and it didn't go unnoticed by the man wrapped in his arms. How could it? He was wrapped in the mans arms!

“Make you a deal, big guy...” Gaz said in a quiet voice, slipping his hand under König's hood to ghost his fingers over the back of his neck. “Put me down, and you can take me out for a few drinks. Just the two of us. How's that sound?”

König's heart nearly gave out at the thought.

“A date?” König asked, needing desperately to know this wasn't just drinks between friends.

“A date.” Gaz confirmed with a confident nod.

“Ja.” König said as he lowered Gaz back down to the ground. “A date sounds wonderful, liebling.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Ghost yelled with a rage Gaz and Soap had last heard when a rookie tried to touch his mask. “Konig you walking Sequoia tree, what the fuck?!”

König's eyes widened. The soldier he attacked.

“Fuck.” He grunted, knowing he was about to face Ghosts wrath, and likely Prices when they got back to base.

Gaz bit his lower lip and shook his head. He gave König a slap on the ass and walked away, “Well have that date after you get out of solitary.” He winked at the large man and give him a finger gun.

König lowered his head and began his march to a probable death. “Es tut mir leid, Ghost!” He called out as he disappeared to the other side of the truck.

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[cannibalizedlove]

My bestiest bestie recommended you and I have a BIG idea. I've always thought about a fic where y/n (any gender) moved into this creepy-ish home. After awhile of being there, there had been strange movements and noises and etc. Often the ghost of the house (timothee chalamet) visits only when they're asleep to either caress their hair or cheek because timothee is afraid to show himself to them; especially from fear of scaring them. He is a very beautiful ghost too. When the reader falls in love with timothee, they can only feel him. The reader is the only person that can physically touch him because of how strong their love is. (I might be a bit cheesy).

and the best part of this story is that when the reader dies in the future — the two lovers can and will always be happily together.

A very fluffy and sweet story! With some slight angst.

This is such a cute idea!! I love a little angst-y, cheesy story so I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did. Love your and your besties blog as well!!

Hauntingly Yours.

Information and warnings — Gender neutral reader, gender never specified, Ghost Timothée, old hollywood Timothée, slow burn, very, very long fic.., reader death, Timothée doesn’t know what technology is, hurt/comfort, lover boy Timmy, fluffy angst.

You had recently moved into your new house, an old, southern gothic home from the early ‘20s.

When your friends helped you move, they joked that it was haunted. The rickety house was a bit beat down, chipped paint, leaky faucets and creaky floors galore, but it had good bone structure and charm that you couldn’t pass up.

You enjoyed the aesthetic of the house, and knew the more deserted area it was in would have a positive effect on your writing.

You had been in a slump, your book was 30 pages behind the deadline and your editor was livid. You believed if you were to move away from the loud city, the bustling streets and lit up buildings you could connect with the words and let them flow onto the pages.

It was about a week into settling in, and you were starting to believe your friends. In the dead of the night the floors would creek, and sinks would turn on randomly. When you would write, you felt a cold air touch your neck, and an almost humming sound would whisper in your ears.

You had finally had enough a few nights ago. You were about to lay down for a late sleep, when a loud crash came from the kitchen. You ran quickly to the room, finding a mug your mother had gifted you from your last apartment completely shattered on the floor.

After sweeping up the remaining pieces, you grabbed your laptop, getting to the bottom of this.

You began researching the area and house, and your jaw hung open as you found out the history of your home.

In the late 1930’s, a beautiful star was on the rise. Timothée Chalamet was an actor like no other, he was gorgeous, talented, and had incredible range.

He lived in a gorgeous home, it was in the southern part of the state, off the grid and away from the busy city he desperately needed to get out from.

It seemed as everyone loved him, except the man who took his life.

One night, as Timothée was alone in bedroom, he was shot dead. The shooter was later identified as his costar in his upcoming film.

As you read on, you became increasingly aware that you lived in an old hollywoods stars death bed.

What you weren’t aware of was he knew you lived here too.

Timothée had been alone for all these years, he had felt so alone. He would roam the hallways pacing back and forth for hours before returning back to the bed in which he had died in.

Until you came along.

You were beautiful, and so talented. He loved just standing in the doorway and watching your fingers tap on your weird bright box late at night, he didn’t quite know what it was but he enjoyed reading the words that popped up on it.

Timothée was terrified of letting you see him, so he’d only come into the room late at night, while you were sleeping. He’d softly caress your cheek or pet your hair, watching as your chest moved up and down in your slumber.

You couldn’t sleep, you were too horrified by the idea of sleeping in a deadman’s house, but mostly you were pissed that your real estate agent hadn’t told you about the haunted backstory.

As the late hour rolled around, Timothée had walked into your room, shocked to see you awake. He tipped toed around you too see what was on your light box, as he saw his passing plastered all over it.

His phantom heart sank. Timothée never wanted you to find out about him, he knew you’d be scared and leave him alone once again.

You felt the energy shift, a shiver ran down your spine and you decided enough was enough. You grabbed your phone and began to dial the number of your real estate agent, trying to find out how badly your pockets would be broke if you canceled your contract early.

That was until your phone was flung out of your hands, cracking the screen a bit.

“Hello?! Who’s there!?” You called out with wide eyes, trying to pretend you weren’t terrified in your own home.

A soft whisper rang through your ears, and you felt your heart skip a beat. You knew you weren’t alone.

You ripped a piece of paper off and drew a “yes, no” sign with two pens on top of eachother like the game you learned back in elementary school. This was the only way you knew how to talk to the other side. You sat on the dreaded bed, putting the paper in the middle of the mattress.

A weight shifted on the end of the bed, you knew this was Timothée, he was sitting with you.

“Is there someone here with me?” You asked out, hugging yourself for a sense of security.

Timothée picked up the pen and put it on the “Yes” part of the sign, watching you with tears in his eyes as he watched the utter sense of horror fill you. He was scaring you, something he wanted less than anything in the world.

“Are you the actor who died here back in the ‘30s?” You muttered out, watching as the pen once again went to the “Yes.”

“Are you able to speak to me?” Another question, Timothée swallowed thickly as he began to speak, believing you wouldn’t hear him.

“I’m sorry to scare you mon amour..” A voice softly whispered out.

You jumped, falling off the bed and panting profusely. Timothée was equally shocked, his voice had never been heard before, and was utterly confused by your abilities.

“I can hear you.. I’m going fucking insane. I’m actually insane, oh my God.” You tugged on your skin, pulled on your hair and looked around like a madman, truly believing you were either asleep or finally losing your mind.

“You’re not insane, Dollface. I’m right here.” The voice called out, it had that old hollywood transatlantic accent mixed with a french one, and it had you.. swooning. Impossible, you’re not weak in the knees for a ghost.. right?

Timothée made your way towards you, and sat by you on the ground, “No one has ever heard me before, Mon Cherie. I’m so alone, all I do is roam the hallways and watch you work, I’m overwhelmed with desire when I see you.” His voice filled the room, and you calmed down slowly but surely.

As you guys continued talking, you found yourself relating more and more to him. He was a kind soul, who didn’t deserve anything he had went through. When he talked about his death, you felt water drop on your knee, and you knew he was crying. You comforted him, telling him that he was okay now and how nothing could hurt him anymore.

Throughout the conversations, you found yourself falling harder and harder into a love for him. He was incredibly talented, smart, and insanely witty. You knew if anyone walked in, they’d think you were absolutely mad, but funnily enough, you had never felt so grounded and happy.

“If you were alive when I was, I bet we would’ve been the best of lovers, Sweet Pie. We could’ve rocked Hollywoods world!” Timothée laughed, you chuckled with your head hanging low, you desperately wished it was true. You wished you could’ve loved him back then, maybe he never would’ve met his terrible fate and you could’ve grown old together. You both could’ve lived in this house, and he could’ve reached the level of stardom that he had deserved.

Soon when you lifted your head back up, complete shock struck you as you were now face to face with the man you had been speaking to all night.

He looked straight out of a black and white movie, he had a sharp nose, heavy lashes, perfectly set curls, and soft freckles that kissed his entire face.

You screamed, throwing your hands on your mouth.

“What?! What’s wrong?!” Timothée exclaimed, his eyes were wide and he grabbed your arm.

“I can.. You! I can see you?! I can FEEL you?!” You had explained in complete shock, locking eyes with him, and staring at his large hand on your arm.

Timothée was overjoyed that you could finally be with him, but he quickly feared that you would be scared of him, more than you were before.

“You’re.. beautiful, Timothée.” You said with a sigh, moving closer to him and gently running a thumb across his cheek. “Much more beautiful than the pictures, I didn’t think you could get prettier.” You giggled, bringing him into a tight embrace.

Timothée hadn’t felt a hug in decades, he began to sob, shaking like a leaf as he held you close. “I’ve never wanted anything more than to be seen.” He said through intense tears, and you shushed him quietly, kissing the top of his head and wiping his tears.

“I see you, Angel.” You began to cry with him, and the two of you fell asleep holding each other.

The days went on and you were falling for him more and more, since you could see and feel him now, you did everything together. You taught him what a laptop was, and you showed him new movies and explained how CGI was a part of every film now. He thought it was tacky, and said that hollywood had declined since his time and you laughed with agreement.

It had been about a month since you first met Timothée, and you were head over heels for him. Today was different than the others, because you decided you were going to tell him how you loved him. You cooked the two of you breakfast, and held his hand over the table as you ate with him.

“May I tell you something, dear?” You muttered, rubbing your thumb against his boney knuckles, holding eye contact with him as he had a bit of syrup on the corner of his mouth. He was a complete goof, and you loved him for it, he deserved to know that.

“Of course, darling, what is it?” He asked sweetly, smiling widely.

“I, well, I love you.” You exclaimed, you looked down as you said it, feeling like a fool.

“Oh, Mon Cherie.” Timothée began to cry, he was a very emotional man, and you loved that about him.

He left his seat and picked you up, swinging you around, “I love you more than you know!” His voice cried out.

For the rest of the day, you were clung to his side, you spent the entire afternoon kissing and holding him tightly. You loved him, he loved you and that’s all you needed. When the day had come to a close, you needed a shower. You broke apart from Timothée and left him with a peck on the lips.

You had gotten a towel, and began to undress, jumping into the shower. Everything was normal, you shampooed your hair, hummed songs and went to grab your soap. It fell out of your hands, and with closed eyes you went to grab it, in a terrible accident you slipped on the bar of soap. You screamed and slammed your head on the faucet insanely hard. For a moment you heard Timothée rushing into the room, and the next moment you heard and felt nothing.

You woke up to Timothée crying as he held you close, you were confused as you heard ambulances outside your home and men rushing in your direction. It felt like you were seeing with your eyes closed, and Timothée was whispering comforting nothings into your ears.

It had finally clicked for you, you had passed away due to the hit to your head. You were terrified. You began to scream and cry but your body wasn’t moving, you wanted to yell that you were alive and for them to stop wrapping your body, but Timothée held you down and told you that there was nothing you could do.

Months later your friends and family had a funeral for you, you stayed back, in that southern home.

Every morning you woke up to Timothée in your shared bed, and every night you’d eat dinner, and go to bed with him. You felt at peace, you knew that you and him would be in love forever, and you knew that nothing could tear you apart.

Your souls were intertwined in that home, till the end of time.

#timothee chalamet #call me by your name #fanfic #dune part two #elio perlman #lady bird #lil timmy tim #male reader #paul atreides #timothee imagine #timothee chalamet male reader #timothee fanfic #timothée chalamet x male reader #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet x male reader #timothee x reader #timmy chalamet

[miniscule-meow]

Something Unexpected (16)

Writing Masterpost

Part 1

Part 15

Next part

Wordcount: ~2.3k

~*~*~*~

The party for their engagement finally rolls around. The staff around the castle had been in a dither about it for weeks. Day after day Princess Larkspur has had to sit, literally chained to a table making decisions that really have no point whatsoever. It was completely asinine. A group of ladies crowd around the table showing her different swatches of fabric, holding different gatherings of flowers. They ask millions of questions, what’s the color scheme, what type of flowers does she prefer, how should the table settings look, what color should the napkins be. They went on and on and on. It made her want to chew her own leg off so she could finally be free of the bindings and just fly out of there. She wanted to scream, “I don’t care!” at the top of her lungs, over and over again.

But she quells her frustrations thinking back to the conversation that Prince Oliver had with her. He told her to play by his rules and to be on her best behavior and that might earn her some better treatment. Do the opposite, and it isn’t hard to see how things could become so much worse. So, she figures she might be able to earn herself some extra freedoms here by playing nice. And besides, it might impress the right people if she does a good job, and that might earn her extra freedoms as well. At this point, she would do nearly anything to not have to wear the golden chain and be escorted around the palace.

The guards walk her about like some kind of dog, it is humiliating. At the very least, these ladies appear to be valuing her opinion. No matter how annoying it is, they are actually listening to her, she has to give them that. She is being treated like a proper princess, fulfilling the duties she is called to do. Apparently, if she had grown up in this cursed, backwards human society, this is the very thing any young girl would dream about doing. So, she picked floral arrangements, and she picked colors. She even entertained the subject of tablecloths and napkins for about two hours.

It takes the whole day for everyone to get her ready for the party. Her makeup is done for her, in her opinion it is entirely too detailed to be seen by any of the humans in attendance, but no one asks her. Her hair is twisted half up in an several elegant braids that come together elaborately into a neat bun, the rest is left flowing over her back in copper waves. She wears a green dress that is honestly stunning. It hugs her waist just so, and the skirts flow gently to her ankles. The front has a high halter neckline with a plunging golden mesh section that goes down nearly to her bellybutton. The back is nonexistent, allowing her wings free range of movement behind her.

Her wings shimmer with fine fairy-made jewelry that doesn’t incumber her flight, not that she imagines she’ll be doing much flying. She is absolutely dripping with jewels. The whole outfit is of course ruined by the golden band that is locked onto her ankle as she steps out of the room set aside for the fairies. Prince Oliver meets her at the door.

“Princess.” His voice is low, and formal. He barely even looks at her. He’s handed her chain and he simply attaches her to his lapel. “You may rest upon my shoulder.” He says this in a way that doesn't seem to be a suggestion.

Her stomach turns knowing that she spent all day getting all done up like this, just to be an accessory on his jacket. She’ll have to be his perfect little boutonniere. She grimaces and perches herself on his shoulder as he directed her to, unsure of where else she would even go.

This is going to be incredibly boring. She thinks dryly as Prince Oliver leads her into the grand ball room. Music is playing lightly from a string quartet across the room. So many humans are already milling about. The lady’s dresses all look heavy and dull, the men’s suits look incredibly stiff. This certainly isn’t a party for fairies. Lark isn’t convinced that this is even what a party for humans is supposed to be.

It’s so dull, everything is so rigid. Especially watching the humans perform their so-called dances. Everyone moves about like clockwork. Everything is so specific and planned. Of course, she cannot join in. She asked Prince Oliver if he wanted to dance, and he huffed a short mirthless laugh in response. She supposes she is much too small to participate, so she is stuck observing from the sidelines. At least Prince Oliver has to sit and watch and be just as bored as she is.

The night dredges on at a snail’s pace. People crowd around them, talking to the prince, and ignoring her completely. Or, they step too close to coo over her like she’s some exotic hamster with wings. Some cringe at her from a distance, as though she were some over-sized moth. She catches a group of ladies sneering over at her, then giggling and whispering to one another. Certainly they’re jealous that a “little thing” like her could have taken the prince’s hand away from them. Not that they would have had a chance anyway. Lark is very impressed that she is able to keep herself from rolling her eyes. I would gladly trade places with you, if I could. She thinks bitterly.

The monotony of the party drags on, but the worst part absolutely has to be the eating. All the humans are gathered together at one long banquet table. She is ceremoniously unpinned from her captor’s- or rather- her prince’s lapel, and she is affixed to her own place at the table. She is just on the table, level with the plates. They couldn’t be bothered to give her an elevated place, though they did make a single table her size for her to sit at. She supposes she should be grateful for that at least.

She feels an aching loneliness inside her heart. How grand it could have been, where her prince not a tyrant, where this kingdom not so monstrous. This party could have intermingled fairies and humans together in one crowd. This party could have symbolized a coming together of the kingdoms. This party could have actually been fun. But no. She is the lone fairy in the crowd, an oddity, a prize that has been won. This is only punctuated by her sitting alone in a sea of humans looking down on her, if they decide to pay any mind to her at all.

Before her is a mass of shifting hands, and walls of bodies. Everything is so loud. Cutlery scraping over plates, everyone is shouting and laughing and chewing. A hundred things are happening all at once, and she feels like she might explode.

It all comes to a head in one slow-motion moment. A glass is carelessly tipped over, spilling its contents all over her. It soaks her beautiful emerald gown with wine and the rolling glass shoves her little table clear to the floor. She flies up, out of the way of the glass, and is quickly smacked out of the air, engulfed in a palm. She is whisked up and away from the danger but the chain connecting her to the table snags taut and jerks her leg painfully. She lets out a small shout as Prince Oliver mumbles a curse under his breath.

She realizes all at once that this is the first time that he’s held her. Every other time they have interacted he has elected to touch her as little as possible. A guard would place him where he wanted her, and deal with her chains. Perching on his shoulder earlier today was the closest they had been. But now, his fingers completely surround her. He holds her just a little too tight. She feels her heart hammering against her chest, her wings pressed uncomfortably, but not painfully, against herself. She finds it hard to breathe with her face squished against his massive digits and his fingers constricting her ribs. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to pretend that she isn’t being semi-suffocated by his clumsy fingers. She supposes she should be glad that she doesn’t have to bear the weight of a table full of humans resting their eyes solely on her. Think positively Lark.

Once he gets her unchained, he holds her cupped in both hands, like a child that has just caught a firefly. He excuses himself and carries her off, away from the noise of the party.

He plops her soggy form down onto a bathroom counter, letting the chain fall limp around her. The first thing he does is not check on her. Instead, he first washes his hands, drying them before taking off his jacket and setting it neatly aside. She looks down at her dripping gown, trying to wring out some of the wine as he rolls up his sleeves. He turns the faucet on once more, testing the water temperature with a finger before he collects her in his hand. Wordlessly, he brings her under the stream of water.

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” She shouts, completely soaked through. He jerks her backwards, out of the water as she sputters.

“What? Too hot?” He reaches a hand forward to check the water temperature again. She pushes wet hair out of her face to more properly glare at him.

“No! You are trying to drown me!” She shouts, all of the fear and humiliation from the night threatening to boil over in this moment

“I am not. I am just trying to help.” He furrows his brow down at her, setting her down with a wet plop and shutting off the faucet. Obviously, he doesn’t understand how being held in a loose fist and doused under a waterfall would not be helping the situation.

“You are not helping! This is so much worse! How would this not be worse?!” She flexes and balls her hands a few times, trying to calm herself down, trying not to cry. “Can’t you just take me back to the room and let me put something else on? This dress is ruined, my hair is ruined, my makeup is ruined.” She huffs, exasperated. “I’m fine, by the way. Not that you asked." She glowers a moment before adding "And my leg hurts, thanks to you and your stupid chain, but aside from all that, I guess I’m fine!” She’s shaking with rage.

Prince Oliver doesn’t even apologize. He frowns down at her, and nods. He dries his hands and collects his jacket. He picks up the end of her chain, like he’s going to walk with her down the hall like the guards to. If she were his size she thinks she would try to strangle him.

“Well?” He says, obviously impatient.

“I. Can’t. Fly.” She shoots back, obviously equally impatient.

“What do you mean you can’t fly?” He furrows his brow again. He does that a lot, she hopes he gets wrinkles.

“I mean I can’t fly! My wings are soaked, but who’s fault is that.” She sneers up at him.

“Tch. Fine.” He collects her in his hands again. It’s just as uncomfortable as it was the first time. Maybe even more so considering that she’s absolutely drenched now. It's clear that doesn’t like holding her. Well good. She thinks, because she doesn’t like being held.

She gets herself cleaned up, with the help of her ladies in waiting. They all of course want to know what happened, and after that they just want to gossip about the party. It must all be so romantic and exciting to them. She grimaces, but lets them keep their fantasy. Rose colored glasses and all.

They dry her wings, put her hair up in an attempt to mask how wet it is, and her makeup is re-done. She wears a new dress. This one is powder blue with sheer puffy sleeves that come to a cuff at her wrists. The top ties behind her neck, but the bodice is corseted below her wings. The skirt billows around her, though stops just below her knees. Oh, these humans will be so scandalized when they can see her ankles and her shins. Good, she hopes it makes one of them faint.

She is escorted back to the door, there is a landing in the human sized door where a fairy sized door is cut out. As she reaches for the doorknob she catches the tail end of a conversation.

“…A shame that you have to babysit that little insect.” It’s a woman’s voice. Prince Oliver grumbles something in response, but notably does not defend her. “You must not be having any fun at all.” She can hear the pout in her voice through the door.

“It’s not about me. It’s about my kingdom.” He says nobly, Lark rolls her eyes while she can. She clenches her jaw and quietly peaks out the door. She sees the prince and some lady that she might have met in passing at the party. She’s pressed up against him, her arms slung over his shoulders, he has his arms caught around her waist and is holding her close to him. Lark quickly retreats back behind the door, her stomach twisting itself into knots. She wasn’t foolish enough to think that her and that monster could fall in love or anything, but the realization drops in the pit of her stomach. This is how it is going to be. He will have his love, and she will be the decoration adorning his lapel. What a sorry existence.

But what he said is true for her as well. It isn’t about her. It’s about her kingdom. The sacrifice of her freedom right now is saving all of the innocent families back home from unimaginable suffering. The tension between her kingdom and the human’s kingdom was only getting worse and this arrangement brings peace.

If she was being honest, it could be worse. She could be locked in a metal cage; she could be starved; she could be dead. She’s still a princess. She goes to banquets; she wears fine gowns. So what if she’s kept on a leash and has no one to talk to. It’s for her kingdom. She nods thinking to herself, Alright. peptalk over, lets go finish this heinous night.

#g/t #g/t story #g/t writing #g/t stories #g/t fantasy #fairy #fairies #princess lark #something unexpected #my writing #angst #g/t angst #no comfort #blogging to you live from vacation #i've been very excited about the chapters that come after this one so i'm glad i got this one out of the way #i actually ended up really liking this chapter #i've been needing some more angst in my life #things will get worse #it's been so long since i've updated this story #i've got plans though so stay tuned #not me midnight posting again #oh well people will probably still see this eventually

[dandyshucks]

piplups are typically proud pkmn that are difficult to bond with, so I've been thinking again about what it was like when Junebug first met Henry, their starter 'mon... (cw for vague-ish abuse mentions)

Junebug is incredibly patient and often gives people more grace than should ever be extended to a person (will put up with a lot of incredibly cruel behaviour from others and make excuses for them), so being patient with an initially stand-offish Henry would be not a problem at all. they are also big on researching so they'd have known what they were getting into, even as a young child, when they chose piplup to be their starter.

anyways Junebug quickly realized he didnt like being in a pokeball, so they stopped doing that and put the pokeball up on a high shelf where neither of them could reach it to show they weren't going to use it with him. and he slowly started to trust them more and open up to them more after that - it was a key moment that marked the beginning of Henry considering them to be a potential friend.

when they first received Henry from Rowan (who I imagine travels around the region with a bunch of starters to educate kids about how being a trainer works and get them started on their trainer path), they took him home in the pokeball as one does, and when they let him out once they got up into their room, he refused to even look at them for a good long while. oh the humiliation of being in a pokeball!

but the real bonding finally began once Henry had spent more time around Junebug's parents - they had tried to keep him away from their parents as much as possible to protect him, but ... hard to do when you are a young child living with them sbdjskl. it was a less than ideal way to grow close, but the two of them soon grew inseparable, supporting each other through the rougher times and cheering the other on as they both grew and learned, and covering for the other when someone slipped up. hiding or shredding journals, bandaging scrapes from forbidden ventures off the allowed paths, tucking away ill-gotten bits of food into hiding places, comforting each other after nightmares or after being reprimanded/punished, nudging the other if they're "misbehaving", standing look-out when the other needs to do something against the rules, etc etc etc.

making an intolerable situation somewhat bearable! bonding while stuck in an unsafe environment! growing up together while trapped under an abuser's thumb! the whole works !

#abuse tw #I've been avoiding bringing up any angst stuff but ... there is so much and it is stifling to avoid it entirely fjdkdl #i could say smth abt how my real life would be considered angst yadda yadda processing and talking abt it in a safe way yadda yadda #but fjdksl idk i dont think that whole speech is necessary #I'll give the proper CWs as needed and ppl can ask for more if they want #i probably will never go into like. actual detail bc honestly my brain goes staticky if i try to do that even in my own personal writing LOL #so it'll mostly all be pretty vague with some specific nods to things here and there #anyways yay henry :] he's such a sweet lil guy and i want to do more writing and art featuring him fjfkdl #I have so many thoughts abt all of my team but Henry and Greer are the ones who have the most Lore™ #junebug 🪲 #dandy.cmd

[tev-the-random]

I don't think you understand just how mentally ill session 7 has made me. My brain is both over and under-stimulated. I'm so SAD, but I'm NOT SAD ENOUGH. I need to BAWL MY EYES OUT, I need to CONSUME SO MUCH CONTENT ABOUT IT. Please. Please give me some good fanfiction about it. Please tell me someone out there has made something to make me DROWN IN TEARS. Give me the absolute angstiest writing you have, feed me your most sadistic recommendations, scratch the sad sad parts of my lizard brain, I'm begging you-

#Please <3 #I've been craving to read some good angst lately but everything that's happened in this session only made me want MORE #It's like they've beat me up in an alley #I need someone to put me out of my misery #stab my heart #I'm accepting anything at this point- #I'm so normal #I'm so very normal about this #Limited Life #Life Series #Trafficblr #Bad Boys #TEV Talk

[moonchild1]

jeon jungkook fic rec list (Ⅸ)

hi everyone wow it's really been a while and i'm on list 9 already damnnn that's alot and list 10 is like half way complete already... soooo you might notice a change in the set up this time around i liked how it looked on my ao3 list so i added it here as well, i absolutely love this list like i've gone over this list a million times it's filled with alot of fics i was absolutely obsessed with, you know how attached i get to the characters and this list holds quite a few of them too so i hope you enjoy reading them as much as i did and you fall for them too... remember to give lots of love to the authors of these fics they are absolute geniuses and deserve all the respect and love in this world for creating these beautiful fics and sharing it with us so be sure to give them a follow, like and reblog or even leave a little comment i'm 100% percent sure it would mean alot to them 🥺🖤 also as these fics contain smut no under minors allowed/interact... if you would like to share some of your favourites or just wanna ramble about fics you love send me an ask i love hearing from you guys and happy reading everyone till next time ✨🖤

a- angst s- smut f-fluff

series

dreamcatchers by @ggukcangetit f a

↬  DI Jeon didn’t need a new partner. Unfortunately, his superiors felt otherwise; especially considering the extremely high-profile murder that had just taken place in the port city. Recent transfer, DI Choi Yuri finds herself confronted with a new cityscape, unfamiliar people, a hostile partner, and a homicide that is certain to bring back unpleasant memories.  

block party by @minlucent f s a

↬ moving into your new apartment brings back memories of your biggest mistake. neighbours au e2l

a little bit of your heart by @yoongiofmine f s a ft. myg

↬ you had everything you could ever dream of; the career of your dreams as a music producer, the best friends you could ever wish for, and a exes-turned-friends-turned-fuck-buddies relationship with min yoongi. you knew you and yoongi would never move past that and you were okay with it. Until a friend from your past comes back into your life, offering to give you everything you deserve, everything yoongi couldn’t. Will jungkook show you what you’ve been missing? Or will the new guy threaten yoongi enough to do something about it? 

lost stars by @/yoongiofmine f s a

↬ Jungkook was lost. He didn’t know who he was anymore, so he decided to leave and find himself. But he wasn’t expecting to find you along the way, an island girl who has no idea who he is. Jungkook has a secret. But so do you. idol au s2l

secrets we keep by @/yoongiofmine f s a

↬ Being a camgirl was never your main goal in life, but when the pandemic hit and you lost your job, you were desperate. Now, two years later, the world is back to normal and  you are one of the top creators of OnlyChingu; the South Korean version of OnlyFans. A website where idols hide behind anonymous profiles in search of that connection they lost during lockdown. Jungkook was never into this type of stuff. Until he ran into you. He knows you’re his perfect girl, his ideal type. Will he be able to put his own insecurities aside when chasing you? Or will you let the secrets you keep ruin you? idol au

i hate you, i love you by @jungblue s a

↬ You hated him at seven, warmed up to him at twelve, and liked him at fifteen. Now the two of you are twenty years old and inseparable best friends… and you’re absolutely in love with him; he’s in love too—just not with you. 

fatal attraction by @jungcock s a ft. kth

↬ your dangerous ex-boyfriend comes back to haunt you in more ways than one. exes au serial killer thriller

pub golf by @taleasnewastime f s

↬ One night. One stupidly hot man, who just keeps appearing in every pub you go to. Six friends. Nine pubs. Nine drinks. Ten million stupid rules. Let the chaos begin. s2l

animal by @cutaepatootie f s a

↬ boxer jungkook au ANGST

things you don't know by @btsgotjams27 a

↬ It’s been seven years since you last saw the boy that broke your heart. After moving back home, you try everything you can to avoid seeing him around town, but destiny has a wicked way of doing the opposite.

entangled by @caelesjjk f s a ft. kth

↬ Jeon Jungkook is Spider-Man. He saved your life twice. But he’s also been your sweet lab partner in college for the past two years and now someone who is more than just a friend. You care about him…maybe even love him. But something tells you that you aren’t quite sure what love even is. How could you when you have feelings for someone else as well? Kim Taehyung is the handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus and somehow ended up dancing with at Club Onyx. You were upset that Jungkook had stood you up once again and Taehyung made you feel like you were on top of the world. What you didn’t know that night, is the dark secret Taehyung is trying desperately to hide, but the closer the two of you get the more difficult that becomes.

when the end comes by @oddinary4bts f s a

↬ Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

new girl by @jjkeverlast f s a

↬ after finding out your boyfriend of 6 years cheated on you, you find yourself moving in with three guys in a loft. what could possibly go wrong?

horizon by @/sokooks f s a

↬ The way you approached life had started to break down Jungkook's emotional barriers. Jungkook couldn't deny that he was drawn to you in a way that was entirely new and unfamiliar. You had become more than just an assignment; you had become someone he genuinely cared about. It was the way you made him feel. With you, he felt more human than he had in a long time. Despite his best efforts to remain detached, his heart had other plans. angel au

searching for nirvana by @/sokooks f s a

↬ he shouldn't be here. he shouldn't be touching you the way he was- but he was here before him. he was your friend, not him. he knew your body, not him. he wanted to be the only one to touch you the way you liked. he he wanted you to remember that. despite the fact that he already had someone waiting for him. best friends au cheating au.

twelve hours by @whatifyoulivelikethat s a

↬ you have twelve hours to make jeon jungkook fall in love with you. he's about to get married. you're the entertainment at his bachelor party - a burlesque dancer. long ago, he used to be the class representative and you used to be the class delinquent. nothing has changed and, yet, everything has.

when it all... by @7deadlysinsfics f a

↬ what’s there to do when your husband says he thinks he doesn’t love you anymore? you pick up the broken pieces the best you can and try to move on

better than me ? by @/7deadlysinsfics f s a

↬ jungkook is clear on what you both are to each other. still, he doesn’t want you to think anyone else is better than him

our first and our last by @thedefinitionofbts f a ft ot7

↬ The first time you met Jeon Jungkook was on your tenth birthday. On that day, he was nothing more than the strange man who jumped into a dark portal that suddenly opened in the middle of the park. The ten year old you just stood in the grass, strands of hair ruffling from the calm breeze that swooped by; head slightly tilted, bright, innocent eyes wide open and staring at him with wonder and disbelief. There was a certain amount of confusion, but your young mind was too naïve to question his actions or what they entailed. soulmate au

dancer in the dark by @gwoongi f s a

↬ Money can’t buy you happiness. Jeongguk, for the longest time, thinks he’s happy. Truthfully, Jeongguk doesn’t know what happiness is until you find him. rockstar au

together by @httpjeon f s a ft.pjm

↬domestic!au, couple!au, stoner!au, gamer!au

hot bot by @/httpjeon f s

↬ purchasing a Hot Bot wasn’t exactly something you ever really planned on. when you do, however, it sends your life down a path of convoluted government schemes and dark secrets.

stardust by @iamtaekooked f

↬ You didn’t believe in soulmates until you lay your eyes on Jeon Jeongguk, the younger brother of your best friend’s husband. That is when you see the red string beginning encircled around your pinky and ending in his

serendipity by @rohobi f s a

↬ After you reveal your inexperienced sexual status to your best friend, Jungkook grapples with the news, startled by the idea that the girl he always thought could get anyone, is a virgin. After finding his porn at 3AM, you decide that maybe it’s about time to stain the white sheets of your world with the colors of a forbidden fruit Jungkook seems to have in the palm of his hands.

chasing shadows by @colormepurplex2 s a

↬ Your job gets you into trouble sometimes. Who would have thought crime journalism would put so many targets on your back? But, it’s happening again, someone’s threatening you. Only, this time, it’s not just you that’s in the crosshairs. Your best friend, Enola, is out on assignment and can’t help like she usually does. So, what does she do instead? She sends her brother, Jungkook, armed with a magic bag, a charming smile, and deductive reasoning skills that prove his worth as one of the best PI’s around.

I gasp once, and in that breath, I accept you in by @inkofyoonkoo f s a

↬ In which Jungkook arrives to your small town to spend the holidays, and you slowly let go of all the ghosts of your past. s2l fwb au

sweet nothing by @adonis-koo f s a

↬ Being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself. His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time.

three's a crowd by @/adonis-koo s a ft. jimin

↬ When your mom’s fairytale life begins to bleed over into your world you’re suddenly caught between two men and one big secret, what was supposed to be a relaxing trip soon begins to spiral out of control. All you wanted was a free vacation… ceo au

sleepwalking by @taexual f s a

↬ due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

empty space by @ahundredtimesover f s a

↬ It started as friendship, turned to a casual fuck, then ended in heartbreak. Turns out, he wasn’t who he said he was, and years later he enters your life again, forcing you to face all the emotions you’d been trying to bury. 

OR Officer Jeon looks really hot in his uniform and you wish you didn’t hate him as much as you do.

as the world burns around us by @today-we-will-survive a

↬ You haven’t seen the sun in two years. The Virus wiped out a good three quarters of the world’s population and then the wars that followed wiped out half of that. After everything happened, it was only a matter of time before the different countries started blaming each other and emptied their nuclear arsenals. You’re still surprised Seoul survived – if you can call what it has become “surviving”

hotter than hell by @chateautae f s a

↬ jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.

to turn a bad thing good by @/chateautae f s a

↬ jungkook’s drunken one night stand goes awry when he comes to learn not only is he being forced into an arranged marriage, but it’s to the very girl he abandoned that night—and things get a lot more complicated when you’re the best hookup he’s ever had.

J’aime by @baepop f s a

↬ You’re the newest hire at a local café and head barista Jeon Jungkook takes you under his wing.

Written in the Stars by @/baepop f s a ft. kth

↬ You’re the girl of Jungkook’s dreams, literally. The only problem: you’re taken by his best friend

make me forget by @roseannekook f s a

↬ You are the lead vocalist and main dancer of your company’s first girl group, but on the fourth promotion of your debut song things don’t go as planned. At the brink of an uprising scandal, you seek refuge in the bathroom stalls…and find it in the arms of no one else but BTS’ golden maknae Jeon Jungkook.

one of your girls by @ggukiepie s a ft. pjm

↬ fwb au college au fuck boy au inspired by the song

boy in luv by @/ggukiepie f s a

↬ just two idiot best friends in l*ve college!au, bff!jk, athlete!jk, student council president oc, cheerleader!oc

the boy who left by @/gujoonim a

↬ As your eyes staring deeply into your possible client-to-be’s eyes, something crossed your mind, it was that pair of eyes that you were looking for when you being abandoned at the aisle on your wedding day. ceo au

love sewn by @jvnghxope s a

↬ You’ve never cared about the thin-as-paper walls of your beloved apartment until Jeon Jungkook moved next door. You could hear everything –from his late-night parties on Saturday, to the quality time he spent with his girlfriend in the intimacy of his bedroom. One day, everything ceases. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and you find yourself knocking his door before you can think it twice.

not yet by f s @bratkook f s a

↬ jungkook feels the pang of guilt in his gut when you spot your recent ex out with his new girl, and what better way to make the jerk hurt than to have him believe you were now dating him, the neighbor he had been insecure about your whole relationship.

one shot

blazes of deceit by @periminkle f a

↬ when the opportunity to finally venture past the stone walls you’ve grown up in presents itself, you jump at the chance to discover the origin of those mysterious lights—even if the trip comes with a harsh truth and a suspicious, yet undoubtedly attractive, tour guide. tangled au disney au

southpaw by @starshapedkookie f s a

↬ Knowing Jeon Jungkook for the better part of your life, you thought you knew everything about him. Well, that was before you two disappeared from each other’s lives at least. When Jungkook suddenly finds himself buying you a coffee to rekindle your friendship, it leads to much more than you bargained for.

house of cards by @jeonggukingdom s a

↬ What does safe mean when you are chased by zombies, when every corner you turn could be the last one for you? What do words like home and future mean when you’re always on the run and every moment could be your last? They mean nothing and everything at the same time and Jeongguk is all of the above. He is your safe haven, he is your home and he is your future. But things like that crumble easily in your world.

enouement by @littlemisskookie s a

↬ War is Hell, but it’s what you had to do to take your brother’s place. Of course, between the days of Hell are little slices of Heaven you’d call your Captain, Jeon Jungkook. mulan au disney au

miss taken by @junghelioseok f s

↬you pride yourself on being a professional, but sometimes your students' parents really test your patience. single parent dilfjk jk e2l

the ex text by @shadowkoo f s a

↬ The 2 AM texts have started again. It’s a bittersweet familiarity that you can’t run away from, and despite wishing to forget him: no one will ever measure up to the exceptional standard set by your ex, and you’ll never have anyone as good as him either. Like a permanent mark on your heart, Jungkook’s presence has become an insatiable craving, an addiction you'll never outgrow or cast aside.

the proposal by @hansolmates f s a

↬Jeon’s the editor-in-chief for Big Hit Publishings, a closet romantic with a penchant for antagonizing his assistant on the reg. When his work visa is in the process of being renewed and he takes a trip to Norway, his eligibility to stay in America is on the line. However Jeon Jungkook doesn’t go without a fight, and in order to save his job he offers you a proposal you can't refuse. based on the movie the proposal e2l

red and gold by @/thedefinitionofbts f s

↬It’s no secret that genius, billionaire, international playboy, and philanthropist- Jeon Jungkook, better known as the CEO of Jeon Industries-and even better known as Iron Man, is one of the most intelligent, wealthy, and powerful men in the world. There’s nothing that can get to him or his ego, that is, until you happen to show up and give him a run for his money. 

burning bright by @snackhobi s

↬there are no secrets in the drift. if jungkook were to see the mess inside your head and heart, laid utterly bare, he’d turn away from you. based on the movie pacific rim

but we loved young by @jl-micasea-fics s a

↬Jungkook is everything you’re not, the ying to your yang. Your tight knit friendship nurtured from childhood survived the major life events that most don’t, and to that end, you suppose you’re fated to be together, until unrequited longing is eventually noticed, and boundaries are forever crossed.

the shoulder on which you cry by @lemonjoonah f s a ft. knj

↬ after moving away from your hometown five years ago, you’ve struggled on every return. each trip back being made out of haste due to an unfortunate event in your life. namjoon has always been there to help you through those moments. but when he can’t be there to support you during your current trip home, jungkook offers to stay by your side and be the comfort you need. 

illusion of choice by @hobibliophile f s a

↬ You’ve grown up with the Jeons, Jungmin and Jungkook, for as long as you can remember, your parents being very close. But little did you know that this is because you are in fact arranged to be married to the Jeon heir, Jungmin. However, a tragedy causes Jungkook to take up his brother’s mantle, and that includes becoming your fiancé.

the blue princess and her red rose by @/cutaepatootie f s a

↬ After all, he was her red rose, while she was just another one of the many blue roses that grew in the dying gardens of Greyria. princess au

rigor mortis by @readyplayerhobi f s a

↬ A night out at a bar results in you going home with a young and attractive police officer. But if you think the night was something to remember, that’s nothing compared to waking up to find a zombie outbreak in the city. A chance encounter with Officer Jeon leads to him helping you escape from the plague infested city.

lowkey by @joonbird s

↬ Jungkook is the nude model for your art school’s life drawing class.

part-time lover by @sketchguk f s a

↬there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school. only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time. 

sweet apple biscuits by @rosaetae a

↬ a story about someone who receives letters from themselves ten years in the future and asks them to fix all their regrets and save a particular boy. inspired by the anime 'orange'

i'll be home by @wwilloww f s a ft.knj

↬ When your first love, Jungkook, disappeared from your village five years ago, no one thought he would return, let alone on the night of your betrothal to another man. 

white lies by @noteguk f s a

↬ in which Jungkook lies his way out of and into trouble. But he can’t tell white lies when it comes to you. 

yes coach by @/taleanewastime s

↬ You play in a local netball team and as a new season starts you have a new coach. Enter Jungkook, he may look soft, but he turns out to be a hard taskmaster, one who ruffles your feathers when he makes some changes to the team. Tensions grow between you through the weeks, until they finally reach breaking point.

spf 50 by @gimmeyoon f s

 ↬ If you have to spend your summer home from college working a job you hate, it might as well include sitting by the pool with Jungkook. Now if only kids could stop vomiting in it.

fifth wish by @jiminrings f a

↬ jeon jungkook, world-class socialite and nepotism baby, should be out every night to celebrate while he’s at his prime. why should he fake-date his bodyguard instead? alternatively, jungkook regularly throws coins to wishing wells with only one desire in mind — to get rid of you.

blacklisted by @/httpjeon s a ft. kth

↬after departing from your dom, you’re assigned to two incredibly powerful men.

↬looking for other jjk fics or the other members check out my library

#kiki!fic!rec #moon's recs #jungkook #jungkook:oneshot #jungkook:series #jungkook:smut #jungkook:angst #jungkook:fluff #favourites!jjk #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic recs #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook series #moonchild1 #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook

[myfictionaldreams]

Today's Lesson: Don't Catch Feelings // James Potter x Fem!Reader

PART 1 (Dry Hump) // PART 3

Summary: It was meant to be a one-time moment. A friend helping another friend who'd never been kissed before. So now, when your best friend finally gets the girl he's wanted to impress, why are you filled with such jealousy.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst, jealousy, friends w/benefits, can be interpreted as cheating but there's no official relationship, kinda love triangle, sex education, fingering, mutual pining, arguing, regret, kissing, drinking, fake orgasm (w/ other m character), dry humping, voyeurism, loss of virginity (James), praise kink, creampie, riding, cliff hanger! -- sorry if I've forgotten any tags

Words: 6.4k

Tags list: @bellathethirstybitch, @kenqkii, @ghostlycrystobalove, @anehkael, @1-800-ididurmum, @imdoingbetternow ~ Y'all asked to be tagged in the comments. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write a part 2! Thanks for your support.

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

"Move your thumb to the right. Yes, that's it! Right there - fuck James, don't stop! Yes! Yes! Oh-!" Even with the silencing charm around the room, you were sure the entirety of Hogwarts could hear you cumming hard around James' fingers curling inside your cunt as his thumb - now in the right place - circled your throbbing clit.

The tips of your fingers ached with how firmly you were digging them into his muscularly toned shoulders, probably bruising him, but he never commented on this. The messy-haired man just continued to listen to your instructions, putting more enthusiasm into these moments than in any lesson here at Hogwarts.

Even as your walls clenched tightly around his digits, he didn't stop. However, you were now quietened as he sloppily made out with you, swallowing your cries of euphoria until there was nothing left to give, and your moans turned into a laugh.

James groaned as you pulled away from his swollen lips, gently tugging on his wrist to ease his fingers out of you. "Woah there, Tiger, that was plenty good enough. Any more and I'll probably collapse", laughing as he pouted with his lower lip, his hazel eyes half-lidded and pupils blown in a clear display of arousal.

"So it was good?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, not moving his face away from hovering over yours.

"It was more than good, Potter. You're very good at listening to instructions, and your skills are improving with each orgasm, that's for sure", you praise whilst pushing his glasses up his nose as he smirks handsomely in response. James turned to kiss the tip of your fingers as you couldn't help but giggle once more at the action, your feet hooking around the backs of his knees as you tried to pull him closer to the edge of the desk.

But, like everything perfect in your life, you became your own worst enemy as you couldn't help as the words slipped out, "You'll have Lily orgasming before her underwear's off". It was meant to be a joke, but it only reminded you why you were even in this situation.

The smile faltered for a split second on James' face as he dipped his head to look at the floor, his hair now curtaining your view of him. "That's the plan", he chuckles as he begins to casually suck on his still-soaked fingers as your jaw drops at the sight.

"James!" you exclaim as he returns his gaze to you. His look of innocence for the act only added to the desiring pulse in your core.

"What? Sirius said that there's nothing more tasty than a pretty girl. Seems he was right", he casually remarked with a shrug of his shoulders. All air seemed to rush from your lungs at the compliment that quickened your heart's beat and warmed your cheeks' skin.

You were once more captivated by his eyes as he inched closer, and the hardness still contained in his trousers poked your inner thigh. "Need some help?" you asked curiously, teasingly, reaching between your bodies to palm him.

James' eyes lowered to focus on your lips as he licked his own, wetting them, and all you wanted to do was taste him, but then he took a step back, your legs and hand stopping away from his warmth.

"Nah, I'll sort it later, don't worry", he explains whilst beginning to smooth the uncontrollable mop of black hair on his head.

A heavy sinking feeling settled in your chest as you realised you'd probably overstepped the thin line between what the two of you had been doing for the last couple of weeks.

James Potter, your best friend, had been since the first year at Hogwarts. Both were thick as thieves and when he'd previously admitted to never having kissed someone before and had finally convinced his long-time crush to date, he needed the practice as the fear of Lily turning him away for any bad kissing skills. As the good friend that you were, you offered to teach him how to kiss, which promptly ended with you both dry-humping to orgasms.

After, James had been on his date and returned, particularly thanking you on his knees as his kiss with Lily had been everything he had ever wanted. However, after this, it was like a drug you both couldn't get enough of. One lesson turned into another and another. How to touch a girl with and without clothes, t the right way to touch and kiss breasts, and now how to use his fingers.

Nothing penetrative yet, and it had all been about teaching him about pleasing girls, so you'd yet to touch him because that would mean you were both hooking up for satisfaction rather than education.

You were unsure where the lines were becoming blurred in your heart and mind. James had always just been your goofy best friend. Mr Popular at Hogwarts would go above and beyond to make you laugh or protect those he cares for, and he continued to be like this for you. However, the rooms felt too small when you were both in them. You spent way too much time fantasising about the feel of his hands or the taste of his lips that you'd yet to look at any other man since that first kiss in the Shrieking Shack.

Then, there came the added complication of Lily. Lily was also a close friend, and even though James and her were not officially boyfriend or girlfriend yet, the way he pined for her and the more dates they went on, the more you were filled with dread. It felt as if you were betraying her with your want for James. Even with the lessons, you knew if ever caught; it was almost impossible to explain that it was all for Lily's benefit in a fucked up sort of way.

You were essentially teaching the man you were falling in love with how to pleasure your friend for their future. All the while, you were becoming more emotionally involved than you'd ever meant to be. I mean, you had casually slept with numerous people during the last year at Hogwarts; sex and feelings were two things you were able to separate.

So now, you were unsure what had changed for you to fall for the man who was so evidently in love with someone else.

"Are you coming?"

His deep voice drew you out of your spiralling thoughts as you blinked at him in confusion. "Coming?"

"Yeah, to class?" he asked, picking up his bag and pulling the strap over his shoulder.

"Oh, yes, I just need a minute. You go without me anyway; we haven't got the same class next", you say whilst standing and trying not to wince at the dampness between your legs that had spread your thighs.

"You sure? I don't mind walking you", James ensured as he pulled on the tight area of his trousers around his crotch, but then gave up and covered his erection with his bag.

"I'm sure we're on opposite ends of Hogwarts anyway. I'll catch you later, Potter", you confirm whilst straightening your tie and shirt.

"Alright then, Sweetheart, catch you later".

With one more beautiful grin', he's off. Then you're by yourself and left to slump back onto the desk and rethink your life. However, you couldn't dwell on it as the clock tower bell began to ring, indicating the start of lessons. As you cursed to yourself, picking up your wand from your bag and waving it over your body, your clothes instantly corrected yourself, and the wet mess between your legs vanished.

You were utterly breathless by the time you'd arrived at potions, and it took a great deal of effort to ignore the lingering ache in your pussy as you attempted to sneak into the room.

"Ah, at last. Welcome miss! Please take a seat; we haven't started without you, dear," Professor Slughorn declared as he held his hand out toward your usual classroom seat as everyone stared at you.

Trying to ignore everyone's eyes, you rush to your seat beside Lily, that heavy, unwelcomed feeling returned to your stomach as she smiles at you, leaning close to whisper, "I told him you were in the bathroom, so he said he'd wait for you before starting the lesson".

You return her smile, however forced as you thanked her and turned your gaze back to the professor. Before long, Lily's sweet perfume drifted into your senses as she leaned in closer once more to ask, "Who's the lucky guy?"

A sharp pain shot through your neck with the speed with which you looked at her, "I don't know what you mean; I was actually using the bathroom".

She tilts her head to the side with an all-knowing look. "Mmm hmm, sure, sure. So why is your lipstick smudged then, huh?"

Your fingers quickly moved to the corner of your lips, frantically wiping away any residual lipstick when it dawned on you that you'd not put any make-up on this morning and had fallen for her trick.

Glaring at her, Lily gave you a brilliant smile whilst moving some of her luscious red hair behind her shoulder, declaring, "I can read you like a book; don't forget that".

Rolling your eyes, you playfully nudge your shoulder against hers, deciding to ignore the previous question. For some reason, unbeknown to yourself, you couldn't help but ask, "So how's it going with Potter?"

Internally, you were criticising yourself for even asking and showing interest in it, already knowing that the answer was something you honestly didn't wish to know.

Lily's grin softened until her lips pursed, and she began to write down the instructions from Professor Slughorn in the book on her desk. "It's going ok; I mean, he's definitely more of a gentleman than I thought he was ever capable of. I also think the exams are getting to him a little; he seems distracted at the moment".

This piqued your interest as you began arranging your ingredients before you, chopping whatever was closest to you without the slightest attention as you asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well, we were on head boy and girl duty two nights ago, and he always used to joke that he wanted a quiet corner away with me in a classroom or something, but now that you know, I'm more open to that. He seems distracted. He still holds my hands and gives me compliments and a kiss or two that makes me want more, but by the end of the duty, he will either find his friends or go to bed".

You swallow thickly, asking, "Oh really? So you guys haven't - I mean, you haven't done anything other than kissing?"

Lily's cheek blossomed with colour as she continued her prep for the potion before her. "No, not yet; I mean, I want to; he's a great kiss, but nothing so far. It still feels strange not to be cursing at him to get out of my sight, like I never pictured myself to be in this position, and maybe it's also taking him some time to get used to".

You were only half listening to what your friend was saying as your thoughts screamed at the fact he was only a good kisser because he'd practised with you. Also, the tiny part of you that was cheering her heart out at the fact that you were the only girl he'd touched intimately, for now.

"Psst. Oi! Goldie! Pea! Turn around. I know you can hear me", came the annoying whisper as you and Lily both glanced over your shoulders to Sirius, who was leaning across his desk, grinning from ear to ear, his shoulder-length hair tied at the nape of his neck.

You huffed, glaring at Sirius as you reminded him, "I've told you a thousand times not to call me that!"

The Marauder sarcastically sticks out his bottom lip, "But it's an endearing name, Pea!"

"No, it's not! It's bullying!" you remind him, turning further towards where he and Remus sat, the latter politely declining the conversation to continue with his work.

"It's not my fault you vomited peas in second year", Sirius pointed out with a cocky smirk.

Thankfully, Lily cut off your retort as she snapped, "Stop reminding her of that. I've told you that my hair is red and not gold!"

"Meh, semantics", he shrugs and appears eager again. "What are you both doing after this? We were thinking of getting a group of us together and heading down to Hogsmeade. Do you both wanna join? I'm sure James would want you there".

That nauseous sensation returned as you knew he wasn't referring to you as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively towards Lily. One part of you desperately begged not to go, not wishing to see Lily and James acting all lovey-dovey in public, and another part of you knew it would look suspicious if you weren't to attend. Who else were you expected to hang out with on a Friday evening other than your best friend, James?

Lily answered for you as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders, "Of course, we'll both be there, but not to hang out with you; we don't need boys to have a good time".

You smile at her, forgetting all of your woes for a moment, watching as she adds a sprig of Rosemary into your potion and watching it change from the awful shade of red to a soft caramel colour to match hers.

"What would I do without you?" you say with admiration.

"I don't know, crash and burn?" she jokes, pulling a genuine smile from yourself.

Later in the evening, the two of you were true to Lily's word as you made your way there, joined with Marlene, and, not wanting to go with the boys, gave yourself some time to dress in something other than school clothes, opting for jeans and a warm jumper.

The three of you wandered through Hogsmeade, stopping in Honeydukes for a sweet treat before deciding to rest in the Three Broomsticks; however, you found what seemed to be the rest of your school year in the same place. There was hardly a free seat as the three of you pushed through the crowd to the bar.

"Evans! Over here!" James' voice shouted above the noise of everyone else from the corner of the room. Lily giggled as she waved over at him, and you tried not to wince with jealousy as you pushed her and Marlene in his direction.

"Go over there, I'll get the drinks". Thankfully, they didn't need much convincing before making their way over to the other Gryffindor. "Three butterbeers, please. Oh, and a large fire whiskey as well", you say, slipping the barmaid Rosmerta an extra galleon so she wouldn't question your age. You were old enough to drink, but there was a swift ban on students at Hogwarts being sold alcohol, but an extra galleon here and there, and no questions were asked.

As you waited for your drinks to be poured, you observed your surroundings and noticed a certain Ravenclaw watching you over the rim of his glass, a smirk flirting on his lips. You smiled back, holding his eye contact briefly before looking away from Quirinus. He was in Ravenclaw and relatively bright, if not a bit of a nervous nelly if he didn't have any alcohol in his system, which, by the looks of things, he was a few drinks deep and clearly in a flirtatious mood.

You were ready to make bad decisions when a hand on your lower back snapped your attention. The touch burned through your clothes to your skin as James appeared by your side. His face lowered so that he whispered into your ear as he questioned, "Is it bad that I can still smell you on my fingers?"

You swallow harshly, fighting to keep your face neutral as you couldn't help but quip back, "I'm sure your girlfriend would love to hear you say that".

James leans away to study your face, a frown adorning his expression, "She's not my girlfriend".

"Yeah, sure", you retort, turning away from him to nod at Rosmerta as she placed the drinks in front of you at the bar.

"Well, if she were my girlfriend, my fingers definitely wouldn't be smelling of you now, would they?"

The fire of jealousy that was being stoked in your heart was only being fueled further by his words. "I'm sure she could teach you a thing or two, Potter. You don't need me to taint your fingers".

"Maybe I do", he quickly responds but then corrects himself, "I mean, I don't think she has much experience. Anyway, you didn't mind it earlier when you were begging for more".

You turn to him with a glare that had him relaxing his stance as he realised he was on the threshold of overstepping. "Don't be so sure of yourself, James, and with the lack of experience you both have, wouldn't it be better for you both to be inexperienced together?"

Picking up the fire whiskey, you began to take heaving glugs of it, savouring the painful burn as it slipped down your throat. James eyed the drink as he leaned closer once more, his body half crowding around yours as he harshly whispered, "Where the fuck is this all coming from? I thought you were ok with what we were doing. It's nothing serious, just one single friend teaching another single friend, right?"

Yes, you answer in your thoughts, having not taken the fire whiskey away from your mouth, but then he's grabbing the glass and trying to take it away from you as he demands, "Hey, slow down, alright? You'll be pissed with the hour".

Giving him a shove with your shoulder, you spitefully say, "You aren't my boyfriend, Potter; stop telling me what to do. I want to drink, so get lost".

The concern in his hazel eyes drops as he looks at the two butterbeer, asking, "Are these McKenna and Evans? I'll take them and leave you to calm down".

"Thank fucking Merlin", you exclaimed with one final glare before he stormed off with the two drinks in hand.

You blew a long breath through your mouth, trying to ignore the overwhelming urge to scream, cry, or storm out. However, a brush of an arm against yours stole your attention as Quirinus now stood next to you at the bar, his Ravenclaw-coloured jumper vibrant in the candlelight.

"Fancy another firewhiskey?" he asked, and you nodded, not trusting yourself to be able to talk without crying.

The drinks came at a steady pace, and before long, you were feeling the effects, the anxiety that had hit you like the Hogwarts Express train from your argument with James had fizzled into anger. It only made matters worse when you would glance over the Ravenclaw's shoulder to see James wrapped his arm around Lily's shoulder, the two of them whispering to one another without a care.

A lump formed in your throat as the world tilted for a second. Quirinus noticed your glare as he, too, looked over his shoulder and assumed you'd prefer to sit with your friends as he offhandedly mentioned, "If you'd rather go and sit with them, I wouldn't be offended, you know".

"What?" you say, snapping out of your staring contest as you realise James is now staring right back at you with just as deep a frown behind his glasses. Giving your attention back to the man at your side, you quickly grabbed his arm, not wishing to be left alone, "Sorry, Quirrel, I really do want to stay with you. In fact, why don't we find somewhere a bit more quiet?"

The alcohol was definitely speaking on your behalf as his eyes lit up, his teeth nipping at his lower lip as he stood to his full height. "Ye-Yeah, I want to do that", he stammers enthusiastically as you grab his arm and head towards the back of the pub and climb the stairs, ensuring no one is following.

Sneaking past the bathrooms, you ascended even further into the depths of the pub until you found a spare living room with a sofa in front of the fire as you claimed, "This will do perfectly".

Turning around and before you could ponder any further on the man you really wished was here and deciding you needed to have some fun of your own, you grabbed the collar of Quirrel jumper and pulled him in for an eager kiss. However, the door barges open as you both spring apart.

You release a nervous laugh as you see no one is there, quickly rushing over to it and shutting the door, locking it properly with a wave of your wand. "Oops, must not have locked it".

Turning back towards Quirrel, he eagerly eyed you up and down. Not giving yourself time to regret the decision, you ran over to him, your arms moving around his neck as you pulled him into a quick snog. It was sloppy and distracting as he kissed you back with just as much eagerness.

It seemed Quirrell wasn't in the mood to wait as he soon fumbled with the button to your jeans. You silently have to give him some credit if he was going straight to the good without even touching your tits or kissing your neck. You wanted a distraction, and the fingers slipping into your underwear were definitely a distraction.

Especially as he began to vigorously rub your left labia rather than your clit. Attempting to shift your hips in your favour, he kept his fingers in the same dry spot, assuming your hip movements were a sign that he was doing a good job.

Great, you thought. Your love life was now just as dry and useless as your friend's life. Just fantastic.

Deciding there was still some hope left, your fingers moved into your jeans, your hand cupping the back of his fingers and moving them to finally circle your clit. However, the dryness and eagerness that he was moving made you feel overstimulated and ready for it to be over as fake moans began to spill from your lips.

"Fuck, you're so pretty", Quirinus moaned against your lips as he suddenly pulled back, but only so he could turn you on the spot and lean you awkwardly against the back of the sofa. Two things then started. One, his fingers shifted again back to the poor labia and away from your clit and two, he began to hump into your arse like a dog in heat.

Your eyes closed as you continued to fake the moans as his lips found the side of your neck as he nuzzled into you and continued with his pleasurable humps. You knew you could push him aside at any time, but for now, he was distracting you, even if you weren't finding any pleasure in it.

"Fuck you're so wet. Do you like that?" he asked, biting your neck like a vampire as you refrained from rolling your eyes.

Instead, you faked your seductive voice as you moaned, "Mmm yes, feels so good", even though you were pretty sure the wetness he was feeling was just sweat, as there was no way you were wet for this guy.

Matching the eagerness of his moans, you pretended to be close to orgasm just as his thrusts increased in speed, and your thighs began to ache as he pushed you harder and harder into the back of the sofa.

"Fuck!!" he cursed loudly into your ear as he came, and you two pretended to also orgasm, breathing heavily whilst bending over slightly to put some room between the two of you. As his fingers removed from your underwear, he proclaimed, "That was so good, wow. Hey, do you want to go on a date or something-".

His abrupt stop in the sentence has you turning with a questioning gaze but stopping short, seeing his face turn a pasty shade of green.

"Are you ok- Shit!" you quickly move out of his way as his hand covers his mouth, eyes bulge in panic, and he runs towards the door, wordlessly waving his wand and dashing out of the door with the promise of going to vomit.

You're unsure whether to be worried for his well-being and sudden turn or offended that he had suddenly become so unwell. Either way, you were well and truly finished with the day. Buttoning up your jeans, you began to move towards the open door and back down to the loud mass of students downstairs, but the door slamming in your face and audibly locking had you halting.

"What the fuck?" you question under your breath, rushing towards the door and twisting the handle, but it was thoroughly locked. "Alohamora" with a wave of your wand, you'd expected the door to unlock, but even this didn't work as panic slowly began to set in as you started to wonder if this was some trap in the room for people who sneak in. "Shit! Please open, please, please, please!" you repeat with more urgency as you continue to try and spell the door open, but then a low behind you in the empty room has you screaming and turning until your back is pressed against the door.

"He didn't make you cum”, James stated with venom laced in his words as he revealed himself from underneath his invisibility cloak.

"James?! What the fuck- have you been there the entire time?!" you hissed in rage, your body becoming hot all over as realisation dawned on you.

"Why did you fake an orgasm with him?" he asked, repeating the same subject as before as he stepped closer to you from where he was leaning against the desk at the opposite end of the room.

"You can't just follow me around, James! That's so fucking creepy, and wait - did you hex Quirrell? Is that why he was sick?"

"He fucking deserved it for not making you cum”, he declares as his body trembles with the restrained anger flowing through his veins, the vein in his throat bulging as he takes a step towards you.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you begin to pace in front of the fire, rubbing your hands over your face as you go through about every emotion humanly possible. "I don't understand you whatsoever! Who are you to judge who and how I spend my time? You never cared before, so why now?" Turning to face him, you see the anger that seems to have disappeared from his body as he slowly steps towards you, his eyes unblinking as they bore into yours, full of rich emotion that you were too frightened to name.

You felt breathless as he stepped into your personal space. The fire crackled to your side and illuminated half of his handsome face, reflecting off the glasses already beginning to slide down his nose as he peered down at you, and you had to clench your fist to stop yourself from pushing them back up again.

James was still wearing his school uniform, you noticed, giving yourself the slightest distraction from the anger and confusion pulsing through your body.

Your mouth suddenly felt dry as you asked quietly, "How did you know I was faking it?"

James breathed in through his nose as his eyes scoured your face. "There were a few obvious signs". You became utterly captivated with every word he had to say as he lifted his fingers, gently held your chin, and began to tilt your face further up to his as he lowered his own so there was only a breath width between the tips of your noses.

"One, you always hold your breath just as you're tipping over the edge. Two, your eyes were open; you usually close them as you become lost in the moment", he numbered off whilst gently kissing the corner of your lips and like every other time recently, your body reacted instantly to the touches, pulsing and begging for more but then he listed the final sign. You truly became wholly lost to James Potter. "And third, the reason I know you didn't orgasm was because you weren't saying my name".

A soft moan escaped your parted lips as he had you hypnotised and, blaming it once more entirely on the alcohol, closed the gap between both of your mouths.

The kiss was everything you could have ever wanted for a first romantic kiss with someone you had a crush on. However, it meant so much more. Barriers were being broken, friendships snapped for potentially a lifetime, and yet it was what you needed—more than the air in your lungs, than the heat blazing from the fire. You needed James, and he evidently needed you.

The gentle and tentative touch of your lips lasted for a single breath, and then all restraint keeping you back was released as both of you gripped each other fiercely. Your fingers wove through his soft hair, pulling him down firmly as his arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you until both of your chests were pushed together.

Where you'd once been overheating with rage, now you were ablaze with lust. The clothes were too tight and claustrophobic against your skin as you needed to touch his. Thankfully James had the same idea, as both of your faces tilted, the kiss deepening with longing strokes of tongues and swapping of saliva, just like you'd taught him those weeks ago, his hands began to move beneath your clothes frantically.

Before long, your jumper was carelessly dropped to the floor, the same with his tie and shirt. Your fingers explored his toned chest and stomach, enjoying the little hitches of breath that he moaned. However, it was your turn as he moved your bra straps off your shoulders as his nimble fingers unhooked the band at the back with a simple flick, another trick you had taught him last week.

Before you could compliment him, his lips were trailing down your neck, sucking and licking on the sensitive areas until you were mewling with need. However, he didn't stop lowering his face until his lips were wrapped around your nipple, pulling the sensitive bud into his mouth and pressing the flat of his tongue against it.

"James!" you keened, rising to the tips of your toes to press your chest harder into his face, and he loved it from the deep groan he released, his fingers flexing on your lower back.

The Marauder moved from one breast to the next, teasing and nibbling until you were a desperate mess. Gripping onto his hair, you tugged on it, forcing his face away from your tits so that you could go back to kissing him deeply whilst also pulling on his shoulders towards the direction of the sofa.

Catching onto the direction he was being pulled in, James took over the lead as he sat down and pulled you into his lap, where you straddled his thighs. You couldn't help but contemplate how the position mirrored the one that started this entire situation, except now you weren't teaching. He was more leading and dominating the situation.

The hand on your lower back pressed more pressure until your crotch was flush against his. It felt somewhat wrong to have your chests both naked and pressed together, but the rest was still covered with jeans and trousers. However, it didn't stop the moans from escaping either of you as his hands moved your hips so you were grinding on his cock.

"Sweetheart, I need these off. Right fucking now before I combust", James pleaded as he undid the button of your jeans.

"You two then, Potter, off!". Once more, the clothes were off of your body within the blink of an eye until you were both only in underwear. Returning to finding your pussy against his cock, now you could genuinely find some real pleasure as the fabric of your underwear and the shape of his erection pressed against your clit, causing your insides to clench with the need to be filled.

James began to chuckle as his lips wandered down your throat, causing you to sit back and ask, "What's so funny?"

Moving his face closer to yours, he confidently stated, "I can feel how wet you are, even through my boxers". The two of you looked down to see a wet patch had formed over the grey material of his underwear where you'd been rubbing yourself as you realised you'd soaked through your lace material. The smile soon drained from your face as you both looked at one another.

"I need you", you dared to whisper as your hands moved from his shoulders to cup his cheeks, skimming the edge of the metal frames of his glasses.

The Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he repeated the words with just as much passion, "I need you too".

It was almost like an out-of-body experience, your lust and arousal dictating your movements as you both held eye contact as you raised on your knees, pulling aside your underwear as James pushed the waistband of his underwear down to the mid-thigh.

Nothing separated the two of you now, and you could have cried as you positioned the head of his cock at your entrance. His arms moved around your body, hugging you close as he rested his forehead against yours.

"Oh Sweetheart, you feel - holy shit - you feel so good", James gasped as you lowered yourself to his length.

You were shaking with the overwhelming sensations pouring through your body, making just as pleading praises to the man currently stretching your cunt. For once, it wasn't about teaching him anything but just following instincts and responding to each other's bodies. You both took a second to adjust to the new sensations and then you couldn't wait another moment before rolling your hips, easing your body up and down.

The room echoed with the fire crackling and the sound of your drenched cunt being filled with James' cock over and over as he began to find more confidence, meeting your hips midway with his own thrust.

"Yes! Just like that!" you praise, tipping your head back and allowing him to move with his vigour as he fucked into you desperately.

"I- I feel like we're made for each other", he grunts as he looks down at where your bodies meet.

"Me too! James, please don't stop!" You could feel it, that tightening in your core that gave you such pleasure. You felt as if it was too much as it continued to build in the moment, as all you could do was cling to the man beneath you.

"That's it, Sweetheart, I want you to cum for me, say my name and cum”, he demanded as he fucked you as hard as he could, holding onto your shoulder to keep you in position. All air escaped your lungs as your eyes closed, and the tightness in your pleasure exploded in a flurry of clenches as you squeezed his cock through your orgasm, screaming his name like it was the only thing that mattered.

Through your overwhelming pleasure, you were half aware of the shivers and grunts coming from James as he couldn't contain himself any further and came with his shaft buried entirely within you. The thick seed spilt into you, mixing with your own juices and pooling into his lap as it began to slip out as his cock softened.

Heavy breaths and the stink of sex suffocated the small room as you both clung to the tendrils of hope that had bloomed from giving in to temptation.

But like most things, the happiness had to end as his grip loosened on you and the reality of the situation dawned on the both of you.

No more kisses were shared, no more longing looks as you clambered off of his lap, and the two of you began to dress, ignoring the fact that both of your underwear were now coated in bodily fluids.

Just as you pulled your jumper above your head and turned towards the door, James' hand circled yours. "Please don't shut me out, you're my best friend, I can't lose you". You don't say anything, and the emotions that had been threatening to spill all day finally surfaced as tears lined your eyes and your nose became stuffy. James looked devastated by your reaction as he stepped closer, his hands cupping either side of your face. "Did I hurt you? Please tell me you don't regret this".

"I should regret this", you begin to explain, letting the tears slip free, but James' thumb was there to swipe them all away. "But I don't, never with you. The only thing I regret is that this was your first time in this shitty little room and-. And your virginity wasn't meant for me".

James frowns at your words as he kisses your temple for a long second, "I'm pretty sure it's my virginity, and I can do whatever the fuck I want with it and give it to whoever I like. Also, side note, speaking about my virginity like this makes me sound like some virgin sacrifice".

You laugh tearily, leaning into his touch for a moment before stepping out of his grip and moving towards the door, turning the handle but finding it still locked. You couldn't turn around to face him, knowing it would break you to see the sadness in his eyes.

"Please don't go", James pleaded.

"Let me go, James", you whispered, meaning the sentence in more ways than one.

"I can't, Sweetheart", he admits, sounding almost broken.

"You have to. I don't want to be your bit on the side".

"You aren't my bit on the side; I mean, I can't do that to Lily; that's why I haven't asked her to be my girlfriend yet because of what we were doing".

Your heart sank at his words even though you knew he wasn't necessarily saying it to be cruel. "You can't do that to Lily, but you could do that to me? Please, James, please just let me go".

You were greeted with pure silence, and just as you're about to turn around and ask again, the door unlocks, and you're out the door in less than a second, rushing down the staircase and away from what you'd done but not before you're out of earshot as James screams the word "Fuck!" like a broken man.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter smut #james potter one shot #hp smut #hp one shot #mine*

[macfrog]

sweet child o' mine | pt. ii

hi. this is max's lawyer speaking. please don't get mad at her for this part. she asked me to let you know that she loves you all and hopes that you trust her. sincerely, jimmy mcgill

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you're pregnant with joel miller's kid. he's dating someone else. you deal with it.

warnings: reader is literally pregnant so typical pregnancy stuff like nausea (none of the v word, y'all are safe with me), ultrasound scene set in a hospital, anxiety and guilt surrounding pregnancy, description of body change/growth, brief and i mean brief discussion of abortion, joel is dating someone who isn't reader, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), reader has no physical description save for hair, cursing, genderless use of buddy when referring to baby, joel kisses someone who is not his partner, mention of alcohol, disturbing & semi-graphic nightmare about being involved in car accident, reader has a panic attack, discussion of dead parents, fluff and the beginnings of angst DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there's ever anything you feel i've missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 9.2k

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

“I know, I know,” Joel holds a palm up, “it’s nine thirty. I know. But I had to lug all this wood over here, and it – You okay?”

You realize when he pauses that you’re gaping at him, wide-eyed and frozen in place behind your front door. Your jaw hinges shut, a gulp like carpet burn down your throat. You didn’t hear a word he just said.

How does he know? He can’t possibly. Did he sense it, from two lawns away? Dream about the binding of cells, the furnace left lit in your body from that night? The embers still floating, just waiting to catch to life again?

Did he do the fucking math, the way you probably should’ve? How does he fucking know?

The minute the question leaves your mouth, you regret it.

Joel’s eyebrows drop. “How did I know what, kid? That you need new closets? Like you ain’t been nipping my ear about ‘em for weeks?”

Your eyes unlock from his and shift to the slats of wood leaning against the balustrade. The toolbox hanging from his fist. The worn jeans and the white dust marks on his thighs. He doesn’t fucking know, you idiot.

Joel steps forward. Takes your wrist. One grounding, steady hand around your thrashing pulse. “You’re freaking me out. What the hell’s –?”

“Nothing,” you chirp, remembering. The closet. The deal. The fucking – the deal. You withdraw your arm. Hidden up your sleeve, quickly slipping out of his grasp, is the news that his life is about to change forever.

Maybe. You don’t fucking know.

“No,” you continue, blinking the burn of sunlight from your vision, “I just – I forgot. Sorry. Come in. Sorry.”

“Quit sayin’ sorry,” he mutters, eyeing you suspiciously. He lifts a foot and hovers it over the threshold, hesitating. Like the first step across a minefield; instinct telling him to tread carefully.

And you swear an oath to yourself, swear it on your own life: if he doesn’t put the heel of his boot in your hallway, if he turns around right now whether because his instinct is razor sharp, or because he forgot his lucky screwdriver, or purely because he needs to take a fucking leak before he gets started – you will never tell him. He will never know.

If his intuition is that good, he’ll turn around and never show up on your porch again. If he has any sense, he’ll forget any of this ever happened. Deal off.

“How’s the stomach?” Joel asks, sole still three inches from wood.

“What?” you bleat, your heel knocking against the bottom stair. It’s a little more panicked than you intended.

“Yesterday,” a crease forms between his brows, “you said you had a weird stomach. That any better?”

Oh, you think, and as you open your mouth to reply, his foot hits the ground. No answer needed. He was coming in whether you tried to deter him or not.

“Oh, yeah. It’s – Well, it’s better than it was. I think I worked it out,” you grimace, tongue curling under the tinge of anxiety and – well. “Thanks,” you add, noticing the brisk cut of your replies.

The heavy thud of his footsteps follows you upstairs, blunt on the carpet as you lead him up. Joel sets the toolbox down and casts your room a quick glance, snapping back to you as soon as you notice him.

You tug on the corner of the bedsheets, a heat bubbling beneath your cheeks. Something shy and self-conscious, all of a sudden. The reality that you don’t feel close enough to this man to share the anatomy of your room with him, mixed with the knowledge that the two of you are, now and forever, bound by the anatomy of something a little more significant than dirty laundry and dusty wardrobes.

A little closer than most humans get, let’s say.

“You want a coffee or something?” you ask, crossing your arms and leaning back against the window sill.

“You havin’ one?”

“Sure. Wait – actually –” Can you have coffee whilst pregnant? A woman at work quit it altogether when she fell pregnant with her son. Fuck. “I’m – No. I’m good. But let me go make you one.”

Joel shakes his head, amused. Screwdriver burrowing into a door hinge already. He flashes you a tickled grin. “I’m good just now, kid. Wait until you’re makin’ one. Thanks.”

You lift a shoulder. “Welcome.”

His eyes flit from the twist of silver to your hunched shoulders, your arms crossed protectively over your chest. “You gonna stand there ‘n watch me all day? You my foreman now?”

“Sure,” you reply, and he laughs. You sniff, twisting your foot into the carpet. The plastic test itches against your skin; you can feel the two lines ripping into your wrist like tiny burns. “I can go, if you want.”

His lip turns, musing. A quick flick of his jaw. “You’re good company, all in all.”

Metal clanking against metal; fingers knuckle-deep in the toolbox. You can hear the harsh sound across your body, like the point of screws and bite of rust are actually scoring your skin. The groan of a near-fifty-year-old man rising to rip a decades-old door from its home. The creak of wood as it splits.

Everything so heightened that it’s actually painful.

Joel straightens up and pauses, turning his screwdriver between his fingers. “Are we –? We’re good, right?”

“Good?”

“Yeah. You’d tell me if things were weird?”

“Why would things be weird?”

His answer scrawls itself across his face. Your response scoffs from your lips.

“I just,” Joel sighs, “I feel like something might be off with ya. Maybe you just ain’t feelin’ too hot. But you’re quiet.”

“Quiet,” you whisper, palms locking heavily against your biceps. More defensive than convincing.

“Yeah. You usually annoy the hell outta me.”

Over your shoulder, Alice Brown waddles down her driveway, eyeing her flowerbeds. She pauses when Diane’s station wagon pulls up across the street; stands motionless as she watches the round figure climb out and totter to her own front door.

“Just – not in a very annoying mood, I guess,” you offer, staring at the white head of hair fluttering in the breeze. The glint of a trowel in her hand.

Joel’s chin lifts. He studies you, tongue tracing the ridges of his teeth. And then he’s nearing you, turning until you’re shoulder to shoulder, two silhouettes stood against the bright square of blue sky inside your window frame. His arms crossed; his stare fixed.

The words begin to boil in your stomach. Violent bubbles against the wall of your midriff. Rising like steam, fading into nothingness over your tongue, the sting of heat where your voice won’t collect them.

Joel moves from foot to foot. It feels like some kind of merry dance, some choreographed moment between you – like a skit in a comedy show. I know something you don’t know.

“What happened – at the wedding,” he murmurs, addressing the polished gold of your bedframe.

Some small sound passes your lips. An affirmative. You’re on the same page.

“We didn’t use – you know. And with you not feelin’ well, it’s…” A deep breath. Chest full of a ghostly bravery. And then he asks, “Are you –?”

Silence swallows the end of his question whole. You didn’t need it, anyway. The stiffness of his frame, his stare shooting straight ahead. The lack of oxygen between you – both holding your breath for fear that something might tear loose from your lungs. He knows. He knows he knows he knows.

You gulp. “…If I was?”

His head cranes upwards, focusing on the cracked plaster of your ceiling. The realization slowly trickling down over his skin. It hasn’t seeped through, hasn’t bled into his brain yet. “Then,” another breath, “then it’d be a conversation…” His voice is halved, split somewhere between knowing and – what is it? Hoping?

Your eyes slip over to the worn sleeve of his T-shirt, stretched around the swell of his bicep; scaling up to his shoulder, the tight set of his jaw. He’s so much taller, he’s so much older. There’s so much life lived and so many lessons learned behind his eyes that you wonder how much the news I’m pregnant would actually crack him.

Your eyes meet. You whisper, “Then – talk,” and his expression softens.

He blinks away whatever’s left of his trying, his polite attempts to skirt around it. He sheds probably a good three decades – turns back into some doe-eyed boy, wonderstruck and terrified. His voice is quiet, and at the same time, the heaviest with emotion you’ve ever heard it. “Are you?” he asks, and immediately, he blurs behind a wall of tears.

Your sentence gets caught in your teeth. It made no sense to begin with. Tangled between your molars, latching at the back of your tongue. Your hand slowly pulls free from your sleeve, the little white test between your fingers.

Joel’s eyes instantly drop, staring at the pale stick with a fraught expression you understand to mean the message has finally reached his brain. The same words now ringing between his ears: She’s pregnant. She’s pregnant. I got her pregnant.

You hold the test out, quivering in the daylight. He takes it in his thumbs, instantly soothing its tremble. Everything muted, every movement steady and considered. And suddenly the sight of that positive test feels less scary, in his hands. Feels like a smaller problem, if that were ever possible.

And he says nothing, and it’s almost unbearable to watch the shape of his lips thin, the shadow beneath his brows darken. Agonizing to stand here and wonder what the next words over his tongue will be.

He stares at it a moment longer. You count the beats of your pulse in your throat. You wrap your arms tighter around your body, holding your skeleton together.

Joel’s lips part. Your breath freezes. Whatever he says, you don’t want to miss a syllable.

“Are you –” he blinks, “– are you feelin’ okay?”

You stare blankly. His eyes finally lift.

“What?”

“Are you feeling okay?”

Your head jerks. “I’m – I’m fine. I mean, I’m fucking shocked.”

He nods. “How long have you known?”

“Took that right before you showed up,” you say, eyes diving to his hands. “Twenty minutes, maybe.”

He’s still switching between you and the test. Checking those two lines are still there, as if they might fade to nothing, and then checking you’re still there – as if you might, too. Might be swept off if he’s not keeping an eye on you.

His face pales. He sinks back against the window ledge. “Jesus,” he breathes, a hand down the scruff of his chin.

And it feels like relief, like a mirror sat before you, presenting the honest truth: you’re fucked, and Joel thinks so, too. It embeds the shock into the cushion of your brain, the weight of it absorbed and laid bare for every particle in your body to pay it a visit. What the fuck do we do now?

“Yeah,” you sniff, “Jesus.”

But then his arm wraps around your shoulder, reminding you you’re still solid. Still whole. He holds you to his side, and when you turn into him, he takes you in the other and pulls you flat against his chest. His lips to your hair. His breathing slowing yours.

“We’re gonna work it out,” he says into your hair. “We’re gonna – Jesus, I did not expect…We are goin’ to be fine, alright? You are goin’ to be fine.”

You’re nodding, the prickle of tears flooding across your eyes again. They’re doing nothing, his words – blunt against your skin and insignificant to the fear swelling around your heart – but it feels better to be afraid with someone. Feels better to hold onto something stronger, something bigger, while you feel yourself beginning to shrink.

“What do we do?” you ask into his shirt.

Joel loosens his grip, pulls away until you’re staring at one another. “What do you wanna do?”

“I don’t…” Your head’s shaking, lips moving quicker than your voice will offer the words over. “I don’t think I want to get rid of it.”

He nods, a hand coming up to hold your cheek. “Alright. Then you don’t have to. You don’t gotta do anythin’ you’re not comfortable with.”

“But,” you sniff, guiltily averting his gaze, “this fucks everything up. Everything’s about to change.”

Joel takes a long, slow breath. “It complicates some things, that’s for sure.” He looks out to the street; Alice Brown now hauling weeds from the edge of her lawn. In his exhale, he breathes a name.

“V…What?”

He looks down. Eyes dance around your damp cheeks. “Vanessa,” he says, clearer now.

“Vanessa?”

A nod. His nose wriggles with an awkward sniff. You push off from his chest.

“Who the hell is Vanessa?”

Joel lets you go; lets you step back. He watches as you brace yourself against the ledge. Runs a hand through his hair while he fixes the right order of words. He’s thinking. Carefully.

Too fucking carefully. He’s taking too long.

“Joel. Who’s Vanessa?”

“She’s…” He sighs. “She’s my ex. From Tommy’s wedding. Vanessa Hart.”

Your jaw slackens. The purple dress. The hair like silk, a halo around her head where the light kissed her perfectly. Her plump lips; the way her head tipped back to laugh. The amount of air you felt her take up the second you laid eyes on her, the second you saw her, arm on top of Joel’s.

“Vanessa,” you whisper, your eyes descending his frame. The memory feels menacing now: her sweet giggle a sneering cackle, and you’ve no idea why. The bulky jewels around her neck, her clawed fingers on his arm.

Joel’s hand sits inches from yours on the wooden sill. Alice is walking back inside.

“We, uh…we swapped numbers the morning after the wedding, at breakfast. I didn’t think much of it, but we’ve seen each other a couple times since.”

This isn’t the time for another it’s a date, it’s not a date argument. What the fuck does he mean by –

“Seen each other?”

“Mhm.” He owes you better than that. He reckons so, too. “Dates,” he clarifies. “We’ve been on a couple dates.”

“Oh.”

Your heart falls to the pit of your stomach. Plummets, dragging with it your breath and your nerve and any other words you can think of. Your chest gnaws at the edges of the cavity left behind. It hurts. It stings.

Though you’ve no right for it to hurt or sting: as far as you were concerned, as far as you think Joel was concerned, that night was a one-off. It meant as little as the alcohol draining from your glasses, the vacant buzz of love and hope loose in the air. Equally as intoxicating as each other.

Cataclysmic, for the first little while. So heavily awkward that you would wait to watch Joel head out in the morning, clear of your path, before you’d set off for work. It felt like the aftermath of some natural disaster – the cleanup of debris and mistake.

But oh, it feels like a punch to the gut. Low, unexpected; a foul move by someone who never meant to hurt or not hurt you. Someone ignorant to every move he made, right up to this moment.

Your arms wrap around your body again, as though tending to the bruise left by the sucker punch shaped something like that tall woman named Vanessa.

Joel scratches the back of his neck. “We were…we were seein’ about starting things up again. Me ‘n her.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “I got you. That’s – I mean, I’m – I’m sorry, Joel, I –”

“Woah, woah,” he’s stepping forward now, “hey, no. No way. This wasn’t you. Well, shoot – it kinda was you. But it was just as much me, right?”

You smile, your face back in the safe hold of his hands. Tears roll down your cheeks, collecting in the corners of your mouth. His thumbs swipe them away.

“This was just as much me,” he repeats, voice soft and soothing.

“But, you know – if you wanted to – just ‘cause I don’t want to get – so if you didn’t wanna have to – that’d be okay, you know that, right?”

His head snaps back, brows low. It’s the first time he looks like his cool has broken all morning. It’s the first time he looks…downright offended. “Are you kidding me?” he asks, and then, “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I just – I know this ain’t ideal. It’s even worse if you’re tryna make it work with Vanessa. So if you felt like it was too much, then…”

Joel shakes his head. “Shut up,” he says, edged with some kind of groan. “Stop talking, right now. Stop. You gotta take a deep breath, alright? I’m here, ‘n I mean I’m here. We’re in this together. I am not running out on you.”

“Joel –”

What was a mere crack in his cool before, rips through it now like lightning spreading across the sky. He closes his eyes, a sigh escaping between his teeth. “If you think I would leave you right now, to deal with this on your own –”

“I don’t,” you tell him, his vexation powering your sudden animation. You wipe your tears away, shaking your head. “I’m just saying, it’s a fucking lot. I don’t want you to feel trapped. I’m giving you an out, man.”

“I am not interested in taking it. Enough. Conversation over.”

“And what about Vanessa?”

“What about her?” he asks, the question dripping in something akin to anger. He catches himself, draws it back in. “She’ll just – We’ll talk, I’ll explain it. The hell else can we do? One thing at a time, okay?”

“Right,” you nod, “okay. One thing at a time.”

“Let’s just build these damn wardrobes. I sure as hell didn’t lug all that timber over here to not do ‘em.”

“Okay,” you repeat, making for the door.

“Ah.” He clicks, and you turn back. “Where the hell do you think you’re goin’?”

“To get the timber.”

“I don’t think so,” he says, pointing to your bed. “Sit down. Relax. You ain’t getting a damn thing.”

Joel calls it a day at six o’clock.

The skeleton of the closet is up: a smooth, tan frame lining one wall of your room. Much bigger, much sturdier than its predecessor.

You’re in the same spot he left you in: lying across your bed, admiring his handiwork. He’s good at what he does. You told him twice, and the two of you almost heaved both times. Compliments aren’t something you’re used to handing one another.

He left, maybe, three hours ago. Said he had to shower; said he’d be back first thing to finish the job. You sat up to see him out, got struck by a wave of nausea so bad that you fell back to the bed with one hand on your stomach and the other over your lips, and Joel had insisted – demanded – that you stay where you were.

I’ll be back later to check on ya, he assured, setting a glass of water at your bedside. And then he told you to call him if you felt even remotely off – sick, or panicked, or had a tickle in your throat that you couldn’t clear – and that’s when the two of you realized that you don’t even have one another’s numbers.

And you laughed, the both of you; laughed at the absurdity of you carrying his child when you don’t even carry his contact details in your phone. Laughed at how quickly everything has turned one hundred and eighty degrees in the few hours since you woke up. It felt like some form of release, the only way to clear the blockage of tension in both your throats. So, you laughed, until you felt sick again, and Joel swept the hair from your shoulders to cool you down.

The attentiveness is…new. It’s interesting. It’s kind, in the same way that being told to say hi to whoever your grandma is talking to in the grocery store, is kind. Sweet, the same way that answering the door on Halloween to a bunch of kids you don’t know from a street you don’t recognize the name of, is sweet.

Whatever. It’s fucking weird, alright?

You’ve never seen this side of Joel. You didn’t know or even think, in your wildest dreams, that he existed. Let’s face it: you two have spent the entirety of your inhabitance next door to one another, antagonizing each other. Your favorite hobby has always been pissing Joel off – teasing him for having backache, seeing how far down his porch you can launch his newspaper and he’ll still go get it. Playing the same kind of music you heard him playing on his guitar that one time, full-volume from your kitchen window just to fuck with him.

And, likewise: his favorite hobby has always been…well, ignoring you. Doing everything he can not to engage. If it weren’t for that fucking cat lady and her jittery green Chevrolet, none of this would’ve ever happened. She was a catalyst where one was neither needed nor wanted. You would’ve gone about your life, pinning your underwear only slightly more carefully to your clothesline, and Joel would’ve gone about his, doing – whatever the fuck he does.

Sure, it’s weird. But it’s nice. It’s nice to have him on your side, turning to check on you rather than snap at you for something. Nice to have him talk – actual, rounded words in place of grumbles and mumbles and groans and sighs. Nice to hang out with him and watch him work and ask questions about screws and power tools and pretend to be interested just to distract from the weight of queasiness in your stomach.

Your hands trail down, cupping around your navel. Your stomach still feels like your stomach: still soft, still spongey under your touch. If not for the two more tests you’d taken this afternoon, perched on the bathroom counter waiting for Joel to unstick his gaze from his watch and announce, That’s three minutes – both also positive, by the way – you’d have no fucking clue.

You hold the bottom half of your tummy, fingers rubbing gently over the skin that will soon enough grow and swell and protect.

“Hey,” you whisper, staring at the stationary ceiling fan overhead. A pause. An awkward inhale. “…hey, little buddy. I don’t – know you very well, yet. I figure you can’t even fucking hear me, but whatever. Just wanted to say hi. I’m – Ew, no. I’m not Mom, yet. What the fuck. I don’t know who I am right now, so just…maybe go easy on me until I figure that part out. And after, too. Alright? Are we…we cool?

“You can’t tell me, I know. I just have to assume we’re cool. Okay. Well. Keep growin’. Keep…doing your thing. You’re doing great. We’re doing – we’re doing alright.

“Good job, kid. Good job.”

Joel tells Vanessa two days later. She takes it…about as well as you might hope.

He says they talked for four hours. Three cups of coffee and a drive to Taco Bell later, she agreed to meet you. Properly. Not across the cluttered dancefloor of Tommy’s wedding.

She –? Is – is that a good idea?

I don’t know, kid. It’s the best I’ve got.

Meet me? Like, come kick my ass for sleeping with her boyfriend?

Joel had sighed and deadened his eyes on yours. Not her boyfriend, he corrected, passing you a sweater folded a little slapdash for your liking, and wasn’t her boyfriend when we slept together.

You shook the sweater straight again and fixed his work, muttering to yourself that at least he’s a better builder than he is a folder.

Joel heard you, and let it go. Passed you another – unfolded – sweater to sit in your wardrobe. Let’s just see how it goes, alright?

Alright.

We’re really trying this again. It’s only been a couple weeks.

Okay.

And neither of us have had much luck in that department since we broke it off, y’know?

Joel. I said okay.

He held your gaze a moment too long. Okay.

You’re on your porch when he strolls over, wrist blocking the six o’clock sun from his eyes. Newspaper in his fist, wind licking the corners. “Forget somethin’ today?” he asks, meeting you at the top of the steps.

“Came out to get it,” you brace yourself on the railing, “felt sick. This is me workin’ up to it.”

“You want me to toss it back onto my lawn so you can go fetch me it?”

You smile, eyes screwing shut. “Was coming over to ask what time for tomorrow.”

The reminder snaps him from his happy daydream. He says, “I was comin’ to ask you the same thing. Seven work?”

“Seven’s good. Are we getting food?”

“You wanna get food? I figured maybe you wouldn’t be up for it, what with the, uh…” Joel gestures to your hunched position, your head low between your shoulders, your deep, deliberate breaths.

“Maybe just drinks,” you utter, gulping back the sharp taste of bile.

He nods. “Drinks it is. You okay? You need anything?”

“I’m good. Thanks. See you guys at seven.”

Four minutes early, there’s a knock at your door. You pull it open, and there they are. Picture-perfect, like they might be posing for a holiday card. A bottle in his arm, a bunch of flowers in hers. A timid but genial smile between her cheeks, a twinkle in her eye. That same circle of shining light around her head, brunette tresses curled into bouncing waves.

“Howdy,” Joel says, stepping into the space you create. He dips his head, kisses your cheek, whispers a brief, Y’okay? in your ear. You nod quickly, gently shifting him out of the way.

Vanessa lingers for a moment in the doorway. She glances from Joel to you again, blinking in the porch light. Her pale skin lit in an ethereal glow. She’s prettier up close.

Joel addresses you, hand brushing the small of your back, “…this is Vanessa.”

“Hi,” she says, and pushes the flowers towards you – a small bouquet of gypsophila and eucalyptus. Bright, polite. Each sprig laden with the burden of appearing simpatico, but important. Meaningful, in the airiest sense of the word. “Hi,” again.

“Hi,” you echo, and then feel stupid for having nothing more to offer. You can feel Joel’s eyes on you, hot on your shoulder.

But Vanessa takes the weight from your chest. “It’s nice to meet you – officially. I saw you at Tommy and Maria’s wedding. You looked so beautiful.”

“Thanks,” springs from your tongue sooner than the rest of the sentence. Your brain scrams to find more words. “You looked – you looked great, too. Do you wanna –? I mean – Sorry. Come in. Obviously.”

She clicks over the threshold, her pale dress floating into your hallway like she’s part of a dream. She’s just as beautiful in this light, relaxed form – pastel blue and the glimmer of golden jewelry – as she was in the sleeker, more dramatic form you saw her in before. An aura about her which captures and tends to your attention. Intense, captivating, but not intimidating.

You usher them to the living room, offer them a space on the couch while you take Vanessa’s flowers to the kitchen. Joel follows you through, sets the bottle on the counter.

“Nonalcoholic,” he says, unscrewing the cap.

Your eyebrows jump. “Great. Thanks.”

“She’s nervous,” he murmurs, leaning in. “I know you are, too. Y’all are similar like that.”

You slot the stems into a vase of water one by one, carefully organizing a display. “She seems sweet,” you assure him. “She shouldn’t be nervous.”

“Neither should you.”

“Is this…totally weird for you?”

Joel breathes in deep, filling three glasses. “Yeah,” he says, eyes never lifting from the sparkling peach.

“Sorry.”

He angles his jaw. “Stop sayin’ you're sorry. I’ll kick your ass.”

Your head drops between your shoulders, eyes lifting only to his elbows. “Sorry.”

He scoffs, swiping the glasses and stepping back to let you out first.

“I’m trying not to make it weird,” you offer, slipping by.

“I don’t want you to try anything.” He kicks your ankle lightly and follows you back into the living room.

Vanessa sits forward and clasps her hands around her knee when you sit back down, shifting as though to reach for you before she stops herself. “How are you feeling? Joel said you’re a little…worse for wear, right now.”

“I’ve been better,” you say, smiling. “Just morning sickness. Which lasts – all day.”

She nods sympathetically. “My sister had it rough with her first. I actually…” She twists around, reaches for her purse, fishes out an orange packet. “I brought you some ginger tea. Kate told me it helped her a lot, so.”

She holds it out in almost trembling fingers. Likewise, you steady yours to take it from her, thanking her with a shy nod of the head. “That’s so kind,” you reply quietly, eyes darting to Joel. He’s staring at the pack in your hands, watching as you turn it over to read the back.

“And – listen,” Vanessa continues, the acceptance of her offering clearly fueling her assuredness, “I don’t want anything to be weird – between you and I, between you and Joel. I know this situation is…new. It’s, um…”

“It’s kinda weird,” you say, humoring. “It’s okay. I know.”

She breathes a relieved laugh. “It is. Thank God you said it.” She glances back at Joel, who smiles at her, slips his hand onto her knee. “But I guess,” a deep breath, “I guess it is what it is. And we’re all adults, you know? We can make it work, right?”

Your head switches rapidly between nodding enthusiastically and shaking enthusiastically. “Yeah. Yes. No, absolutely. And, you know, me and Joel – there isn’t – we’re not at all…”

“Oh,” she bats the idea away, “I know. I know that. He told me everything. It’s – You know, it’s just a timing thing.”

Joel’s staring down at his hand locked around her leg. Unblinking. Unmoving. His expression doesn’t shift until the two of you settle back into your seats; until Vanessa asks if he’d mind making you a cup of ginger tea.

You barely notice his absence, the way she takes you up in conversation. Like twirling you off in some kind of dance, each sentence strung safely to the next. There are no lulls, no awkward pauses. She asks about work, asks about your family. She tells you stories about her niece, who’s three now, and compares how you’re feeling to how she remembers her sister feeling.

Then her work, and the IT guy her friend hooked up with, and her class at the gym which she’s trying to convince Joel to come along to, and Kate’s hot yoga class every Thursday night, and the new sushi place which just opened downtown and You gotta try it some day; the nigiri is divine.

And you nod along, and you laugh at her anecdotes and tell your own, and Joel tells her to tell you about the jazz band who were playing at the restaurant they visited a couple weeks ago, and you offer to top her drink up and she says she’ll do it herself and she leaves you and Joel alone for the first time all evening, and – it’s weird.

Because – behind the veil of conversation you’re doing your best to uphold, sits an image of this very night – only, in Joel’s house. In Joel’s house, on Joel’s couch, drinking nonalcoholic wine with Joel’s brother. Joel and Vanessa leant against one another on one couch, Tommy and Maria on the other.

You can’t help it – you’re wondering what Maria thinks of Vanessa. How long they knew each other, if at all, before the breakup. Whether they hung out, whether they discussed sushi and yoga, or the housing market, or their Miller boyfriends and their annoying Miller habits.

Maria would’ve liked her, you think. Would’ve found her as lovely as you do. And the idea, the image of them giggling together at family parties and being Tommy’s Maria and Joel’s Vanessa – presses a firm, bullying finger into the bruise you thought had faded some from the other day.

And once they’re gone, once you’re left alone again – lying in still silence, closed in on yourself by the thick darkness of your room, nothing but you and your thoughts and your unborn child for company – it slips out.

“Fuck her, right?” You hold your hands out, addressing your stomach. “She was so fucking nice. Did you like her? Fuck me, I liked her. I hope they break up.”

And then, realizing who you’re talking to: “No. Sorry, baby, no. I don’t hope they break up. I want your dad to be really happy. But – Goddamn. She was so sweet. I thought she was gonna slap me, and she just – she brought ginger tea! Fuck. They look good together, don’t they?”

It’s just hormones. Just the emotional trip that is being four weeks pregnant. Everybody feels like this when they fall pregnant – sensitive, vulnerable, clingy. Right? Right?

Your words sit stagnant in midair. You swear you can see them, heavy and intruding. Awkwardly lingering someplace they don’t belong. Because none of it even matters – the hormones, the emotions. The weird knot burning a hole in your chest, shaped like a clenched fist, knuckles branded by the heat of longing. It can’t matter.

You’re where you are, he’s where he is. A pillow in your arm, Vanessa in his. Feet apart, bricks and mortar and something like twenty years and two dates too late separating you.

Both staring up at the ceiling, wondering who the other’s thinking of.

“At eight weeks, your baby is roughly the size of a raspberry.”

Your knee bounces, breath coming and going in shaky ripples. The rubber sole of your shoe cries against the sterilized hospital floor. Your chest hums anxiously and your throat catches when you swallow and are the lights too bright? The room too hot? You’re sweating. Why are you sweating? Can you breathe right now?

Joel nudges your arm and your eyes roll to the pamphlet in his hand, his finger tracing the words. “C’mon,” he utters, leaning in, “how can anything the size of a raspberry be scary?”

You squint under fluorescent white. “A raspberry that grows into the size of a watermelon, can break my ribs, make me throw up, make me lose hair, and then tear my vagina apart on its way out? That’s pretty scary.”

He smirks. “Not to me it ain’t. My vagina stays perfectly intact the entire time.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you reply, whacking him.

He laughs, swatting your palm away, keeping ahold of your fingers inside his own. “Speaking of – we gotta talk.” He elbows you, waiting until you’re looking again to speak. “We gotta cut the language.”

“Cut the language?”

“Uhuh. Rein it in. And by we, I mean you.”

“Uh,” you scoff, “I don’t think so. When you do the growing, then you can rein your own swearing in. Leave me alone, asshole.”

“Charming,” Joel says. “You know the baby can hear you? You want it to come out swearin’ like a trooper?”

You grin, tipping your head to him. “If it comes out and says anything, we’re rich. So – yeah. Let it.”

He opens his mouth to reply when a nurse emerges from a nearby room and calls your name.

“You’re up, kid,” Joel says, standing beside you.

You turn back, speaking before your brain settles on words. “I’m scared.”

“Hey,” he says, taking your hand. He squeezes it gently, uses the other to keep you facing him. “This is the easy part, right? We’re just going to meet them.”

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, and wander over to meet the nurse. Joel’s hand a vice grip around yours.

She leads you into a similarly washed-out clinic room, only slightly dimmer with the lights turned out, and yanks a roll of paper across the bed. Tapping it twice, she smiles. “Hop up, darlin’.”

You settle into the crinkly paper, leaning back until you’re blinking up at the speckled ceiling. Another door opens and a woman in a white coat floats in, and you swear that if it weren’t for Joel’s Evenin’, ma’am when she greets the two of you, you’d believe she were a figment of your imagination. Another character in this fucking insane dream.

“Not often I do these past five o’clock,” she says, clicking her mouse and typing on her keyboard and fixing a hair grip back into her bun. Casual. It’s not even a thing to her, introducing parents and children. She does this all fucking day.

Joel tosses half a glance to you and then realizes you’re not currently in the room. He pinches your hand again. It grounds you for all of two seconds.

“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat, “work commitment. I couldn’t get away any earlier, so we’re havin’ to do this a little late.”

“What do you do?” she asks, staring at her screen. Her glossy brown eyes and rich, dark skin.

“I’m a contractor,” Joel replies, thumb stroking your shoulder.

Something bubbles in your stomach, something akin to jealousy, an urgency to tell her that right now, in this room, he’s mine. No more questions. Something which quickly dissipates when you remind yourself to quit being fucking ridiculous and that right now, in this room, he’s someone else’s, and the thumb on your shoulder is merely to hold you back from fleeing. Nothing more.

The sonographer nods. Her name badge reads Freya. Pretty name. Stop picturing what your kid would look like as a Freya. You are not naming them after the first sonographer you meet.

“Shouldn’t be too long, then y’all can get home for the night. You live nearby?”

“Twenty minutes’ drive. Not far, are we?” Joel asks you.

Your eyes shoot down to his. “No,” you push your cheeks up, telling Freya, “not far.”

She flattens her lips against one another, lending you a sympathetic smile. “You got nothing to worry about, honey. Promise. Gel might be a little cold, that’s about as scary as this gets. We’re just gonna make sure everything’s looking good, check your dates, check your measurements. You’re doing great.”

“You hear that?” Joel murmurs, settling down into the chair by your side. His hand hasn’t left yours. His voice is low, meant just for you, when he repeats, “You’re doin’ great.”

You huff a laugh, some nervous release from your lungs.

Freya smiles, face lit by the faint glow of the screen in front of her. “We ready?”

You roll the hem of your tee up when she motions, bunching it under the wire of your bra. She squeezes a bottle over your stomach, which tenses solid when the frozen bite of gel curls right below your belly button. Freya smiles apologetically when you wince. Told you, she murmurs, and your breath escapes in a slightly more comfortable laugh. Lighter, easier. Scariest part over.

She presses the probe to your skin and spreads the gel, coating the bottom of your tummy in a slippery slick which tickles with each inch she covers. Two buttons pressed, and a dark image appears on a screen opposite you.

A gray fan, speckled like the ceiling above your head. Dark, black shapes growing and shrinking at the turn of Freya’s wrist. She pauses, two blobs onscreen: the larger, black, round, home to a smaller, misshapen one. Flecked with white and silver and moving slowly, gently, but – right there.

“Mom, Dad,” she grins, “meet your baby.”

You and Joel move forward at the same time, drawn closer to the crunchy image as if by some kind of natural magnetism. Eyes never blinking, lips agape. The shapes flutter, the smaller dipping in and out of view.

“You see right here, right in the center?” A white cross appears over the blob’s middle. “That little movement? The kinda – pulsing?”

You each nod. Your nails dig so deep into Joel’s hand that you risk drawing blood.

“That’s the heart. Ticking away.”

“The heart?” you ask, watching the rhythmic flicker in the center of the screen.

“Yep. Perfect, too.”

She hits another key and suddenly the room is filled with a muffled thudding; a steady, energetic pulse in your ears. It matches the movements onscreen, the tiny throb of the baby’s chest, the shape of your womb moving like waves before you.

And suddenly, it's real – all of it: the screen and the room and the sonographer and you, and Joel’s hand encasing yours, holding your knuckles to his lips, and –

And the heartbeat. Right there, right in front of you. Shy, probably as nervous as you are to introduce themselves. Feeling your eyes on them, curled up somewhere safe inside you. Right there.

You turn to Joel, and his illuminated face is staring straight at the screen. Eyes soaked with tears, blinking as they form, cheeks dappled with wet. He draws his eyes from his child only to look back at you, only to mirror your stunned smile, your disbelieving laugh, more tears dripping down into his beard. He sits up, presses his damp lips firmly to your forehead.

Freya mutes the heartbeat, pauses the scan where the image is clearest, and sits back. “I’ll give you guys a moment to yourselves,” she says, wheeling back in her chair. “Take all the time you need. I’m right outside.”

“Thanks,” Joel mumbles for the both of you, sweeping hair from your face.

The door closes on your little bubble – you, Joel, and the grainy image of your baby. The evidence that – yeah, that night happened, and yeah, you’re forever changed because of it. The evidence that you’re about to become a mom, for real, no matter how much the thought makes you feel like your stomach is kicking around at your ankles.

And the evidence that, no matter how scared you might be, how unprepared and unworthy you feel – you fucking adore that little blob already.

Love it as much as Joel does, stood over you, kissing your hair and whispering words you’re only half-listening to. A quiet thank you, a shaky I can’t believe it. Something about showing his brother. And when you look up at him, blinking at one another, inches apart – he takes your jaw in his hands and lowers his lips to yours.

Different. Softer. No want laced through. No urgency. Nothing needed, nor requested, that isn’t already right here in this little bubble of yours.

He kisses you slowly, eyes closed, holding you until you pull away for breath. His nose bumps against yours and you laugh, heads together, eyes low.

“Still scared?” he whispers.

“Terrified,” you tell him.

“Me, too,” he says, and kisses you again.

You lean back against the bed, relief settling your bones and soothing your heartbeat. The notion washes over you that, if you could, you’d stay in this room forever. Staring at the screen, holding Joel’s hand. Whispering fears into his mouth and letting him swallow them in a kiss.

He hands you some paper towel and helps you drag it across your stomach, your eyes still fixed on the little shape opposite. He hooks his chin over your head – the fresh, woody smell of his cologne infiltrating your lungs and throwing you under the haze of something you’re not quite sure how to define.

“Duck,” he says, voice vibrating into your skull.

“Huh?”

“Start saying duck. Make the baby think we’re saying that, then you can say –” he lowers his voice, “– fuck, all you want.”

“The hell would I have to say duck for?”

Joel stands upright and shrugs. “I don’t know. Think of somethin’. A nickname, maybe.”

“Duck?”

He nods plainly, glancing over to the screen.

The pillow beneath your head sighs as you turn from Joel back to the ultrasound. “Baby Duck,” you offer, and he smiles.

Smiles in a way you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile. Eyes glistening, cheeks swollen. Something innocent and earnest about it. Something pure.

He agrees. “Baby Duck it is.”

Joel insists that you spend the night at his place.

“It’s been a big day,” he reasons, fixing the bed in his guestroom. “Just – let me run around after you for a little bit.”

You fight your corner as much as you can be bothered – I gotta maintain my independence, I’m gonna be a single mom soon enough, you know – but, truthfully, you’ll take any excuse to have him rush around at your beck and call. Some days you open your mouth and he hears the wet click of saliva between your lips, and grabs a glass of water for you before you’ve even voiced the request.

He orders takeout, settles shoulder-to-shoulder with you on the couch, and lets you pick whichever movie you feel like putting him through until the food’s gone, he’s out of beer, and you’ve abandoned Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles for an argument about the best part of pizza.

You don’t like the crust?

Nope.

What fuckin’ age are you?

If it ain’t stuffed, it’s just not worth it.

At eleven, you bid him goodnight and wander upstairs, falling into a sea of navy-blue sheets to be delivered to sleep by the serene silence of Joel’s home. It takes no time for your eyes to flutter closed, the soft sheen of moonlight painted across the wall, sweeping from your view to be replaced in a whir by –

Lights. Overhead and all around and so bright and so close that you swear they’re etched on the inside of your eyelids.

You’re in the backseat, watching them soar by in blurs of white and red and amber and green, and your pulse is rattling through your veins and throbbing between your temples and you can’t focus on any one object for longer than three seconds, before your eyes roll and your head dizzies.

A word, slung from your lips in a half-wakened attempt to stop it. A word you barely recognize at first, don’t understand the meaning of. It’s been years. Why now? Mom.

You’re not sure why, or who you’re even reaching out to. There are two figures in the front seats, heads facing forward. She’s not turning around. She’s not even fucking moving, not reacting to the speed or the lights or your voice. Mom.

You scream it, the syllable ripping violently from your throat, and your tiny fingers reach for her swirls of hair. You pause, staring at the chipped polish on your stubby, kiddy nails. Mom, I’m scared.

The distorted blast of a horn scoops the car up in one motion, hurtling over itself along the freeway. You’re thrown to the roof of the car, plummet back down to your seat; the seatbelt throttles you, rips a burn deep into the skin of your neck. Back up again; your head hits the spongey roof of the car. Your stomach somersaults.

Mom, please, you wail, swiping for her hand. It’s lying limp by her thigh, dark droplets on her wrist. Mom Mom please Mom I’m scared Mom please I’m so scared I –

“Baby.”

His voice is low, earthy. It chews apart the high-pitched squeal of brakes and screaming. The glass smashing. The metal crunching.

You lift from the bed like it’s ice water, gasping when you finally surface back on Earth. Your chest heaves, it’s not sucking in enough breath; you can’t breathe you can’t breathe you can’t fucking breathe.

Joel whips the cover from your legs and you roll from the mattress, feet planting on the floor. You bend forward to grip onto the sheets, a choking rising up your throat, closer and closer until it tugs on your tongue.

“Icantbreathe,” you pant.

Joel’s body curves around yours. “You’re alright,” he’s telling you – urging you; one hand between your shoulder blades, the other holding your wrist for fear you might collapse. “I’m here, you’re okay. You’re at my place, you’re safe, but, kid – I need you to slow down. You’re hyperventilating.”

You work your breathing to the strokes of his hand up and down your spine: in out in out in and out and in and out and in, and out, and in, and…out…and in…and…out.

“That’s it. Keep doing that. You’re good, baby, I got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

In – and out. In – and out again.

The room slowly desaturates back into boring, moonlit blue. Feeling sputters back into your hands, clawing at the sheets once the sharpness dissolves. The cotton pets back, smooth under your quivering touch. Your lips stop tingling, your ears stop ringing. One after another, until your blood settles back to a steady stream and you straighten up.

“Can you sit down for me?”

“No,” you whimper, and Joel nods.

“That’s alright,” he says. “I’m gonna get you a drink, that okay?”

You grab his T-shirt. “No. Don’t leave me. Please. Sorry.”

He cups your frozen cheeks. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Just downstairs. You can come.”

He settles you at his kitchen table and shuffles over to the cupboards, rubbing his eyes. You feel the heat of embarrassment and guilt, watching as he settles down with a groan minutes later.

“Ginger,” he tells you, voice rounded by his mug, sliding one of your own over to you.

“Sorry,” you mumble, lifting it with two hands. The smell sharp, cutting up the remnants of gasoline and smoke.

“Many times do I gotta say it?” he asks dryly. “Quit sayin’ you’re sorry.”

You gulp nervously. “You got work in the morning. You’re gonna be exhausted.”

“And if I hadn’t let you keep me up watchin’ chick flicks, I’d be rested. That’s something I can deal with later. I got you to worry about right now.”

You shake your head; the ceramic hits the table with a sharp thud. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Well,” Joel sniffs, “you’re carrying my child. I’ll always worry about you.”

You sit back, the curve of the chair cradling, your heart beating lamely against the wood. Joel’s jaw rests in the cushion of his palm, staring back at you.

“What time is it?” you ask, and he glances over his shoulder.

“Three. Take a sip.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sip.”

You obey, lifting the tea and swallowing harshly.

He watches every move, every shift reflected in his dark eyes, decorated by a tense, stony expression. “Does this happen a lot?”

“Never,” you say. “This never happens.”

Joel cranes his jaw, cracks his neck. “Alright,” he sighs, “that’s okay. Breathe again. You’re doing fine.”

But you don’t feel fine. The dregs of panic sizzle into something thicker, hotter. Anger. Frustration. “Why the fuck is this happening?” you hiss, fingers prodding into your eye sockets. “What the f–?”

“Easy. I don’t know. Hormones? Stress?”

“You sound like my fucking doctor.”

Joel smiles. Amusement, before concern wipes over it again. “Let’s just give it some time to pass, okay?”

You nod, hanging over your drink, the silhouette of your reflection staring back at you. The steam snakes up, seeping into your skin, bubbling under the surface. Wiping clean any memory of freeway or nail polish, like coating over a bathroom mirror. The shapes still visible behind, but blurred. Gone.

“How’s Vanessa?” you ask, an attempt to distract yourself.

Joel adjusts a little awkwardly in his chair. “She’s good. She loved the scan photo. Showed it to her sister. They’re sure it’s a boy.”

“Ha. Joel Jr.”

“Joel Jr.,” he agrees, and then attempts to distract himself. “So,” he says, “Allandale.”

“Mhm?”

“Wonder if I ever saw your mom or dad. When I was there visitin’ Sam.”

You shrug. “Doubt it. I mean, they always lived right next to the elementary school, if that helps. My mom was a first-grade teacher. The two of us used to walk there ‘n back together, every day.”

“First grade, huh? Best one.”

“Yeah. Yeah, and she was the best of the best. She used to go all out for her kids; used to go to Michaels and get all this crafty stuff so they could spend all afternoon making little houses or zoos, or – whatever she could think of. And she’d always keep some aside, bring some home for me to make one, too. One time, she came home with all this blue tissue paper and little foam fish, and we made an aquarium together.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Joel says.

“Yeah,” you say again, nodding eagerly. “She was so cool. And fun, y’know? I just remember her being so much fun. I always felt safe with her, felt loved. I actually used to think she hung the sun every morning, just for me.” You take a deep breath, replacing it with a broken sigh.

“What about your dad? What was he like?”

You frown. “He was…fine. Real quiet, reserved. A little grumpy, I guess. I always got the idea he couldn’t be bothered with me, young as I was. Always wanted to be left alone. I think my mom overcompensated a lot.”

Something flashes across Joel’s face that seems to say he knows – or, at least, he understands. Almost imperceptible, a quick flicker of annoyance. “You miss her?” he asks, switching back.

“My mom?” You almost laugh, gripping onto your mug. Staring at the slow swirl of ginger. A shrug which presents more like a flinch; an animal swatting a fly away. “I miss those parts, when I think of them. The aquarium, the walking to school. Miss the memories. But I don’t think I knew her well enough or long enough to miss her.

“I’ve lived way longer without her than I ever had her. Done everything without her, like –” gesturing down, “– this. But, sometimes…sometimes, I bundle the sheets up behind my back in bed, and I pretend it’s her. Pretend I have a mom, and she���s cuddling me to sleep. I dunno. Maybe that’s what missing her feels like.”

Joel soaks in every word you say, letting the shape of each one settle on the table between you before he speaks again. Letting them be spoken into the dead of night, collected by no one, and letting them fade into silence. Secrets sweeping off into starlight. Nothing you would admit in the daytime.

“What was her name?” he asks, voice timid and gentle in the dark kitchen.

You almost choke on your tea. “Shoot – I’m sorry. That was a lot. Sorry. She, uh – Her name?”

It brings the first genuine smile to your lips; the memory of your mom now clear behind your eyes. Her round cheeks, her fluttering earrings. The deep, dark curls of her hair, thick ringlets twisting and lighting in the sun. The gap between her front teeth, the purse of her lips as she kissed your cheeks, your hands, your tummy.

Her name like a melody in your head; a safe word, a calming mantra when the world becomes too noisy, too saturated, too sharp to bear. Two syllables. Two little beats, like a piece of her still lives in the sound of her name.

“Sarah,” you tell Joel. “Her name was Sarah.”

#*hits post* #*throws laptop from bridge* #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou #macfrog #neighbor!joel miller #neighbor!joel #babydaddy!joel miller #babydaddy!joel #tw pregnancy

[4ngel-inc]

｡･:*:･ﾟᰔ 𝓑𝓤𝓝𝓖𝓞 𝓢𝓣𝓡𝓐𝓨 𝓓𝓞𝓖𝓢 — WHEN THEY HURT YOUR FEELINGS

notes — i wrote this for myself & my fellow sensitive bbs :'))

warnings — kinda insecure reader in some, pretty suggestive, a little angst but all with happy endings !!

DAZAI — it hurts your feelings when one of dazai's ex-flings walks up to your table one night when you two are having dinner at your favorite restaurant, "ah- funny seeing you here, osamu. who's the lucky lady?" you glance up when you hear her call him by his first name, and the blood instantly drains from your face—she's absolutely gorgeous. it's clear dazai is only being polite as he offers a bit of small talk before his ex leaves, but she wasn't exactly friendly towards you, and that makes you a little nervous. you ask him about her on the way home, but he doesn't offer much information—"it was just a casual thing, nothing serious, i'm sure she understands." he wraps his arm around your waist tighter, protecting you from the chilly air with his coat wrapped around you, and you start to wonder, what makes you so special that he kept you around? will he grow tired of you as well? you voice your concerns that night before bed, speaking lowly as you're fluffing the pillows, "osamu, what is it you like about me?" he looks offended at that, "darling! what do you mean? i love everything about my sweet angel," he circles the bed, but you step back a little. "stop it, 'samu, i'm not special, why did you pick me?" he looks hurt, but smiles after a moment, pulling you in so he can cradle your face, "i wasn't as awful as you might think, love, i've been a true gentleman to everyone i've dated. and anyways, i didn't choose you, my heart did—i've been yours since the moment we met, i don't know how else to explain it, darling."

CHUUYA — chuuya is always very careful not to hurt your feelings, he's a gentleman in all things, putting your happiness before his own and making sure you feel safe and wanted. truthfully, he's the best boyfriend you could ever ask for, and most times, you're just downright spoiled. however, his work does take up a lot of his time, and though you've assured him you understand, sometimes, you do feel a little lonely. there are a few nights in a row he comes home without kissing you as he walks in, and he simply goes to bed while you're still on the couch watching tv without so much as an "i love you" first. you're really hurt, but you don't want to come off as needy—chuuya already has a lot to deal with at work, so you simply brush it aside. however, after a few more nights of the same thing, you crack. "chuuya?" you whisper as you peek your head into the bedroom. "mmh- yeah?" his voice is sleepy, and you feel a little bad for waking him, but you need to talk this through. "can we talk?" he sits up at that, turning on the beside lamp, "something wrong, princess?" you run your fingers through his hair before speaking, "chu," you sigh, "it really hurts my feelings when you go to bed without so much as a 'goodnight' or even a kiss, am i getting on your nerves lately or something?" his eyes widen, and he pulls you in, crushing you to him as he kisses your hair, "no- no, no, no, no. of course not. i've just been busy, angel, i'm so sorry. i'll call off work tomorrow, we'll spend the whole day together, yeah?" you smile and climb on top of him, "hmm, well, i think we should stay up all night tonight, then, what do you think?"

SIGMA — sigma absolutely hates the idea of hurting your feelings, it's almost like a foreign concept to him. he can't imagine doing anything to hurt you when his greatest goal in life is to simply keep you around for as long as possible, to love you and make you smile every single day—he's still searching for himself, and he wants to do it with you by his side. you just make him feel so warm and happy, he never wants to lose that. however, when you walk up to him one night on the casino floor, he's talking and laughing with a very beautiful woman, and it stings a little—you eye her hand as she slides it down his arm, clearly aiming to grab at his hand before his eyes dart over to you and he pulls away. "babe! what a surprise, i'm so happy to see you!" you don't answer, only eyeing the woman before she scoffs and walks away. "sigma, love, who was that?" you're trying not to let jealousy get the best of you—it's such an ugly feeling, after all. "huh? oh, just a customer. it's her first time here, she just wanted to tell me how much she likes the casino!" sigma really has no idea how beautiful he is, but his humble nature is just one thing you adore about him. he frowns when you don't answer, only watching the woman as she walks away. "babe? something wrong?" he panics a little, but the taste of your lips soothes him when you pull him in for a kiss that's probably much too passionate for others to be seeing. you hum as you pull away, "nothing at all, you just look gorgeous today, i needed a kiss."

FUKUZAWA — fukuzawa actually hurts your feelings a lot, sadly, but he's got the kindest heart in the world, so you never hold it against him for long. he's simply very blunt, so it's easy for you to feel a little dismissed sometimes. in particular, you bring him lunch at work one day, after spending literally hours on a tiny bento containing all of his favorites fashioned in an intricate design. you're so proud of your work, admiring the little details and garnishes that made it entirely worth all of the sweat (and a few tears), you even made his favorite hōjicha tea to bring with it! however, when you reach the floor of his agency and peek your head into his private office, you realize he has company, and whatever meeting he's having looks quite important. "ah, i'm sorry, y/n, you'll have to come back later." he attempts to close the door on you, but your words stop him, "oh! no, that's fine- i just wanted to bring y-" he cuts you off, "whatever it is, we can talk later, y/n. i'm busy right now." he shuts the door before you can respond, and you've never felt more embarrassed. you wander into the ada's main room before setting the lunch on dazai's desk, "dazai-san, could you eat this? i worked really hard on it, i just want someone to enjoy it," your voice breaks as you walk away. when fukuzawa arrives home later that night, he has the empty bentos in his hand, placing them on the table before approaching you on the couch, but you put a hand out to stop him, "just- don't, yukichi." he ignores your words, dropping to his knees and resting his head in your lap, "my angel, please forgive me, i was meeting with the council. let me make you dinner? lunch was excellent, truly, and it was the best tea i've ever tasted."

AKUTAGAWA — ok, akutagawa is a little clueless, so you give him a lot of leeway, but there are just some things he says and does that can't be erased, and that's especially true when he snaps at you one night, "i just want to be alone for a few minutes! is that too much to ask?" you'd followed him into the bedroom when he got home from work, making grabby hands at him, "ryuuuu," you whined, "where are my kisses?" you simply wanted to spend time with him, but now that he's yelled at you, all you want is to be as far away from him as possible. you sleep on the couch that night, even after he's begged you to come to bed, and eventually, you wake up to him sleeping on the floor next to you, not even covered in a blanket, but simply resting his head in the crook of his arm. he doesn't look comfortable at all, and your heart aches a little when he stirs, "babe? you're awake already?" "ryu, how long've you been there?" "i don't know, maybe a few hours? i couldn't sleep without you," he states nonchalantly, not even a hint of shame in his voice. you sigh, tugging on his arm, "come here, do you remember what you said to me?" he frowns, "yes, and i'm deeply sorry, i had a long day at work. i never want to hurt you, i'm just. . ." he looks down at his hands, "i'm still learning. but trust me when i say this, taking space from you is the last thing i want. coming home to you is the best part of my day."

#— love notes: [bsd] ୧ ‧₊ #bsd x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #akutagawa x reader #fukuzawa x reader #sigma x reader #bsd fluff #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #osamu dazai x reader

[angel-eyes05]

to leave the warmest bed i've ever known

pairing: spiderwoman!reader x miguel o’hara 

summary: after miguel’s fight with miles, you confront him in his office

warnings: this whole thing is basically one big argument there’s SO much angst, implied suicide attempt, HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, im projecting a little in some parts of this ngl (i cried writing a certain section of this, you'll know it when you read it lmao), mentions and descriptions of blood, gore, and death

word count:  4.1k

notes: i watched the movie yesterday…and miguel is on my mind. but i remember reading this namor x reader fanfic after i watched wakanda forever of a similar idea to this and i loved it so this is HEAVILY inspired by that fic, but just make it miguel. i would link it but ngl that was so long ago and i dont remember the author. if i end up finding it again ill put it here. also, just pretend miguel has been doing this whole spider society thing for a couple of years at least, it just needs to work like that for this ik its probably not canon but just roll with it lmao. and yes the title is a taylor swift lyric im so glad you noticed (im so sorry she's in my brain rn with the eras tour)

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The anger boiled up inside your chest as you stormed your way across the lobby. Hundreds of different Spider-Man variants were scattered across the area, some more injured than the others. It sickened you sometimes. How he had so many people under his grasp and just decided to throw some of them at the walls sometimes, not caring how hard they hit the floor because they were all just ammo to him. How despite his denials of it, that’s probably what your role was to him as well. Nothing more than a bullet in his massive machine gun.

You normally tried not to think about it, how his determination towards his goal sometimes meant lack of care for others. But this time he had just gone too far. You always had a soft spot for Miles, watching closely on him whenever Miguel would let you go though scanners of all the different variants. You admired his struggle, but eventual success to taking up the previous Peter’s mantle, and always hated how Miguel talked about him. You knew there was no way Miles could’ve asked for any of this. For the pressures and struggles of being a Spider-Man, for everything causing such a strained relationship with his parents, for the death of his uncle, and for what will be the eventual death of his father. You definitely didn’t.

Ok lets do this one last time. Eh, whatever, there’s probably gonna be 50 other introductions after this one so it doesn’t really matter.

Being Earth-837’s Spider-Man has never been easy. Especially since you were bit when you were only 13 (another reason you sympathized with Miles and Gwen). Your life had followed the order of canon events to a perfect T, your older brother killed in a fight with a robber only two months after you were bit. You tried to overcome the burden of your powers by trying to live as normal of a teenage life as possible, but it was mostly in vain, having to give up multiple friendships and relationships in fear of those you love getting hurt. This was only elevated when your boyfriend Peter was murdered in the crossfire of an encounter with Doc Ock. You didn’t understand. You couldn’t. What you had done to deserve all of this. All you did was just be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You wonder sometimes what would happen if someone was in the same place you were when you got bit. If someone else went to the closed down area of that museum and ran into that spider. That stupid spider that ruined your life. Those thoughts slowly started to disappear for a bit. For a few years things were easy. Things seemed like they were finally going in your favor.

You were 25 when it happened. The last canon event. Ever since you were a little girl you hated your mother’s job. Losing nights of sleep over if she would come home or not. She always did though. She was good at her job. Too good though. Good enough to get promoted to police captain, which for who you were, was basically sealing her fate. She saved so many people that day. You were too busy fighting Venom to notice how much collateral damage you were causing in the process. Your mother’s job was to evacuate all the citizens away from the fight. She died shielding a child from incoming debris. A noble way to go. But god was it gruesome. You found her after the fight was over, two metal poles impaling her. One through her stomach and one straight through her face, pools of blood growing bigger below her as she was left there, all the paramedics busy trying to save the heavily injured. You froze when you finally recognized her, unable to at first due to how mutilated her face was from the pole. Suddenly, you were transported back to being a six year old, falling asleep outside the door to your mother’s bedroom so you would know exactly when she would come home. Purposefully falling asleep in her arms so that she couldn’t go anywhere.

When you used the key she had given you to get into her apartment that night, and you slept in her room, desperate to intake anything left of her before she was fully gone. You doused yourself in her perfume so it still felt like she was standing right behind you. You had always loved her smell. The smell of vanilla, curl product, and fancy perfume. They were attached to memories you had of her. Trying on her heels when you were a kid to try and be fancy like her. Smelling her hair in the morning before school to comfort you before she left for work. Despite all of this bringing you comfort, all it really did was cause further denial in your heart. That one day you were gonna hear the keys clacking in the keyhole to your apartment one more time. That’s all you really wanted. You would give everything up in a heartbeat just to hear her police scanner go off one last time. But it wasn’t going to. And it was your fault. Deep down you knew it was. You should’ve done a better job controlling the debris. You had always been a messy fighter, but you didn’t know it was going to mean anything until it was too late. 

How you got up to the top of that building is still a blur to you to this day. But next thing you know, you were looking at the New York City skyline from the very top of the Empire State Building. And at the very edge too. You heard some sounds behind you, but you just decided it was the wind howling from how high up you were. You were just so tired. Everything and everyone you loved was cursed all because of you. And with your mother as the most recent victim, you decided you finally had enough. You took a deep breath, eyes overflowed with water, as you set your foot forward.

Your plummet was interrupted by a sudden contact you felt to your forearm. Shock filled your body as you turned around to look at what had stopped your attempt. The blue hand was massive, nearly wrapping back around onto itself as it held onto you for dear life. You finally looked up at face that the hand belonged to. The mask that covered the massive figure was a strange one. Blue with strange red silhouettes for the eyes. It kind of reminded you of…your own costume? That couldn’t be though there was no way. This must be the afterlife or something. You already jumped and that's why you didn’t remember your way up to the top. This was some kind of creature trying to stop you from jumping down to hell below. His breaths were heavy and loud, almost like he was desperate to stop you. This convinced you that this was real, which caused you to try to escape from his grip. He was stronger than you, and was putting up a huge fight. You were slick though. Once you were out of his hand, you closed your eyes and quickly made your jump. Everything flashed before your eyes. Your brother, Peter, your mom. You were hoping to see them soon. This was very quickly interrupted again when you suddenly stopped falling. Something had attached itself to your stomach. You opened your eyes. A web? This web was much different than yours though. It was glowing a bright, neon orange.

The man was holding onto the end of it tightly with both hands. His mask then disappeared to show his face. His was long, matching how big the rest of his body was, defined cheek bones sticking out. Brown wavy hair slicked back with a few loose strands flying out in the wind. The look of desperation on his face stook out most of all. Why did he care so much? He didn’t know you, and you definitely didn’t know him. “Let me pull you up. Please,” he said to you between shaky pants. You stared at him for a bit before nodding. He slowly pulled you up with the string of his web, each move more careful than the last. As soon as your feet were planted safely back on the roof of the building, he wrapped you up in his massive arms. You appreciated the gesture, but you didn’t return it, still very confused about why he was so concerned. He was so big around your body though, you couldn’t help but feel a little comforted, feeling his still shaky breaths against the hairs of your neck. Soon after, he clicked on some buttons on his neon orange watch and led you into a portal.

The rest is history. You’re grateful he found you that day. It allowed you to meet so many people, Peter B., Jess, Gwen, Hobie, Ben, Pavitr, Margo. They all related to you and you felt like you could share things with them that you couldn’t do with anyone else. You had grown especially close to Peter and Jess, both of them having been in the game for a long time, just like you. They both knew how you felt, having lost so much and growing so tired after so many years. Peter even named you as Mayday’s godmother when she was born, a gesture that caused you to nearly kill him with your hug. Miguel though was different. He wasn’t nearly as social as the rest of your friends, but you found yourself having much more intimate moments with him (in more ways then one). You eventually found out why Miguel was so concerned for you the day you met. He had taken interest in your abilities early into looking for variants for his little “project”, but refrained from roping you into something so dangerous while you were still in your teens.

Once you were old enough though, he started paying more and more attention, hoping to catch you in a fight and recruit you then. But he was always pulled away with more important duties to attend to. That was until he witnessed your canon event. He had seen it happen so many times before through his scanners. It was going to happen. It had to in order for your universe to not collapse in on itself. But for some reason, yours hurt more than the rest to him. Especially how you coped with it. Seeing you wrap yourself up in her blankets and clothes broke his heart. He knew where this would lead to. That’s why he was there that day. To save you. He had to, or he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. You got your own watch immediately, along with your own room in the Spider Society headquarters. He stayed close with you for the first month of you being a member of the team. When he wasn’t out on missions, he was with you. You didn’t really know what to label you two as, but whatever was going on, you liked it. And he did too.

That is until Miles came into the picture. Once Miles was bit, all hell broke loose for Miguel. He was always in some alternate dimension catching some Spider-Man villain who got out and rangled them back over here, falling back over to you more beat up and bruised than the last time. You couldn’t imagine how much stress he was under, the fate of the entire multiverse up to him. You had some ways of helping him relieve his stress, but you wish you could convince him that he wasn’t alone in this. But nothing ever got through to him. He had become distant, aloof even. You tried bringing it up to Jess every so often, but she would just brush it off.

“That’s how he’s always been.” Not to you he hasn’t. This week has been hell though. With Spot making it over to Miles, Miguel had been going into rages all week. You had put up with it for now, but that was all about to stop. Watching how harsh he was being on Miles, throwing so many Spider-Men at an innocent boy, risking all of their lives in the process. Disregarding everything Gwen and Peter were feeling and then throwing Gwen back into her broken world with nothing. He had gone too far. No one else was going to stand up to him about it, so you knew it had to be you. Maybe he would listen, maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t really matter. He just needed to hear it.

“It’s not worth it you know.” The voice snapped you out of your thoughts, stopping you in your tracks. “You know how stubborn he gets over these things,” said Jess, trying to convince you to save your breath. “I don’t care. I have to at least try,” you responded, monotonically. “I just don’t understand how you can follow him so blindly and not see what he’s doing is wrong.” “Because he isn’t wrong. I don’t know about you, but I’m not just gonna stand by and let some kid’s stupid decisions destroy another Earth,” Jess argued. “He’s just trying to save his dad, I can’t understand how that makes him such a bad person,” you said, finally turning around to face her, shocked when she was closer to you than expected.

“You know exactly why. Don’t be so naive, y/n,” she shot back. “You can’t stop me,” you said staring straight into her. She shrugged. “Then I can’t help you.” She began to walk away. You did to, until you heard her say. “You don’t know how much he cares for you.” You turned around to face her again, but her back was still to you, her head tilted ever so slightly to look at you. “If you really do care for the kid, watch what you say to Miguel right now. Cause you might just give him the final push he needs to do what needs to be done.” You didn’t give her a response, and just simply kept walking. You felt Jess’ eyes on your back as you entered the elevator to get up to Miguel’s office.

The elevator ride up felt longer than it should’ve, as you tried to gather all of your thoughts and emotions together so even if he didn’t listen, your words would still stick with him in some way. You didn’t necessarily want to hurt him (though your fists were telling you otherwise), but you did want him to be aware of what he’s done. Once the doors finally opened, all of that work flew out the window as rage took over your body again, seeing Miguel up there looking at the scanners. The fact that he looked just as normal as he always does made you furious. It’s like nothing happened.

“You know, I could hear you coming in from the lobby,” he said, almost stopping you in your tracks. You hated when he did that. Claiming that he knew what your every move was going to be. Like you were under his control or something. “Yeah, well then you must’ve heard me talking to Jess, which means you know exactly what this is about,” you shot back, stopping to where you could see him perched up there. “Why don’t you just save me the conversation about morality and just come up here and kick my ass already. It’ll save both of us time,” he said, not even taking his eyes off the scanners to look down at you. This only added to your fury. “That’s not what I’m here for Miguel, so don’t you dare try to twist my words here. What you did to that kid was fucked up and you know it.” “Oh yeah, then why didn’t you try to do anything to stop me?” he questioned.

“Because I’m not stupid Miguel. I’m not gonna try to take down hundreds of Spider-Men at once.” “Oh, cause you’re so much better than that?” This wasn’t like him at all. That gentle, kind, and caring Miguel you once knew was gone, taken over by some sort of personal vendetta he had against Miles. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this all needs to stop before it gets taken too far. You’re getting into a fight you can’t win. That kid’s strong and so are his allies. And if you go any further into this, I won’t be here to help you.” He stayed still and only turned his head to look at you. “And what makes you think that you’re so important to my plan that it’ll fall apart if you leave? Have you really become that pretentious?”

Your body froze. Have I really? No no no, that’s exactly what he wants. If you begin to doubt yourself now, you’ll stay and nothing will change. You knew you were right. He was trying to crumble you down, but you wouldn’t let that happen. “And you really think that one kid is going to ruin something that you’ve been working for for years? How insecure you’ve become.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, turning back away from you. You did the same, wiping off your face in anger. “I hate it when you do tha-,” you said as you turned back around, but were cut off to find Miguel standing there right in front of you. He was close. Too close to your liking, although in any other circumstance you would’ve found this attractive.

He tilted his head up, but his eyes were down staring daggers into yours. You hated how much he tried to make himself seem more superior to you. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he repeated, this time slower as if you were a child. “He’s just a kid Miguel,” you said in a low, quiet voice. “An anomaly. And a dangerous one at that.” “God Miguel, all he wants to do is protect his dad, do you know how insane you sound right now?” you said letting out a slight laugh when you finished. You backed away from him a little. “He doesn’t know how much damage he’ll do with this. Saving his father will only prolong the inevitable. His world will be gone within hours if he does this. All I’m trying to do is make him understand,” he tried to explain. “By trying to kill him.” “You always have to exaggerate the situation,” he said palming his face. “But that’s essentially what you’re trying to do isn’t it? Why not snuff out the problem entirely by taking him out!”

He signed and began to walk away while you were talking, bringing up your anger even more. “Yeah, use all the power you’ve accumulated over the years and just take out the small problem! Except this isn’t just a fly on the wall Miguel. This is a child! An innocent boy who didn’t ask for any of this to happen to him, just like how we didn’t. I get it, I’m sorry that this job is stressful, I really am. But that gives you zero right to act the way you are!” You were screaming at him at this point. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want your emotions to get the best of you. But he was being too stubborn. This was the only way you thought you could get to him. You might not have wanted to, but you needed to hurt him now. It was the only way.

“You can’t be so power blind that you refused to accept the fact that there could be a way around Captain Davis’ death. You said we saved Earth’s before, I’m sure we could do it again.” Your anger only kept rising when he kept walking away and didn’t respond. “This is a personal thing isn’t it?” you asked calmly. You knew it was working now when he stopped walking. “Yeah, it it. You won’t let Miles get his happy ending. Because why should he be pardoned of his burden while the rest of us have suffered so much. While you’ve suffered so much.” The answer to your question was confirmed when Miguel stayed silent. “Just because you didn’t get the life you wanted Miguel, doesn’t mean you have the right to stop other people from getting theirs.”

You knew you overstepped the line when Miguel turned around and started walking towards you, fury burning in his crimson eyes. “Yeah, so what! What if that is what this is all about! You should know better than anyone how much this job takes away from you!” he screamed at you, backing you up into a wall. “Why should he get to be let off so easily, while people like you and me have to suffer so much? Don’t try to turn me into the villain here when I know you’re thinking the exact same thing, y/n.” He wasn’t entirely wrong. You had wondered it at some points. “I won’t let you turn this onto me Miguel, this is about you,” you fired back. “Oh no, you’re not getting off that easily. I know you’re thinking it. And you’re right. Why should Miles get let off so easily when you’ve lost so much.” He held your hands in his, trying to connect to you. “And you have mi vida. You’ve had so much taken from you and it’s unfair. Why should he only have lost one person when you’ve had three taken from you. Your brother, Peter, your moth-.”

He was cut off by your hand striking against his face in a harsh blow. “If you’re smart, and I know you are, you’ll keep those three out of them. I won’t let you drag their names through the dirt for something as stupid as this.” You both stood there for a while, both of your eyes looking towards the ground, hoping it would open up to swallow you both as an escape from this god awful conversation. You never wanted it to come to this. In all honesty, you cared for Miguel. You might’ve even loved him, if you were even capable of doing such a thing. You hoped he felt the same way about you, but in a job like this, he always had at least one wall up around you. It just wasn’t worth it anymore. You were too tired to keep trying for something that was most likely going to fall apart in the end. 

“You’re still going after him aren’t you?” you asked, finally breaking the silence. Miguel looked back up at you. “You can’t ask me not to. You know better than anyone why this is so important to me.” He moved his hand up to cup your cheek and kissed your forehead gently. You let it sit there for a minute out of habit before pushing it off your face. “And you must know why I can’t stay anymore then.” His shoulders dropped. “Whatever this thing between us is. It’s over. I can’t stay beside someone who can’t see what he’s doing is wrong.” Miguel’s dropped hand turned into a fist of anger. “Fine,” he spat in your face. “I don’t need someone like you in my way. You’re just a liability to this anyways.” He began to walk away from you back to his scanners. “Just don’t come crying back over to me when your little plan doesn’t work out, cause I won’t help you.” He used his webs to pull himself back up to the platform to keep looking for Miles. You stood there for a second, gathering yourself.

Five years. Out the door just like that. It bewildered you how easily a bond like you two had could be broken all because of one teenager. You began to make your way for the door before you said. “When this is all over…don’t try to find me.” He didn’t respond. Once the elevator doors opened, you rushed inside, desperate to get away from him. So many thoughts rushed through your head as the doors closed and you sunk down back to the lobby to leave. You didn’t have much of a plan. This could end up being a horrible idea. Your gut told you it was the right thing to do though. And that was enough for you. You walked out of the headquarters lobby with a new heart and a new mind, ready to take action for your new plan.

First though, you had to find Gwen.

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a/n: god that took longer than it should've. dw dw i'll do a part 2 if enough people ask for one. im not 100% sure how im gonna do a part 2 cause yk....idk how beyond the spiderverse is gonna go so tbh, we're just gonna make it go the way i want lmao. thanks for reading, ik this was kind of a long one lmao

NEXT CHAPTER

#miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #into the spider verse #spider-woman reader #across the spiderverse #fem!reader #fanfic #fanfiction #spiderman #spider man #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderverse

[ikeuverse]

MAKE OFFICIAL — l.heeseung

PAIRING: dad!heeseung x stepmom!reader GENRES: fluff, slight angst WC: 5.2k+

WARNINGS: a bit of discussion, mention of bruising and blood, mention of food, gently suggestive at the end.

NOTES: honestly can't explain the amount of requests i've had for part two. i tried to put together a bit of everything... i thought of something a bit more distressing, but with a child in the story my pedagogical heart softened, so i didn't get something as distressing as that (thank goodness)!!! i hope you enjoy it.

part 1 | masterlist

"Seriously, I need to make this really official" Heeseung sighed, drinking some of his beer and placing the mug on the bar table.

Friday was the day to drink with the guys and talk as much as they could without the girls being around. And that subject was ideal for him to broach with the guys.

Looking ahead and noticing the attentive gazes of his best friends, he knew that this silence wouldn't last long, and besides, Jay was already finishing another sip of his drink so he could answer.

"Let me get this straight" the boy wiped his lips off any traces of alcohol, glancing at Jake and Sunghoon, then fixed his gaze on Heeseung who was sitting in front of him "You want to make the relationship you're having with my sister official?"

"Yes" Heeseung replied.

Jay remained silent for a while longer, choosing to take another sip of his beer.

"After more than a year you've been together?" Heeseung knew that the emphasis was ironic on Jay's part, and judging by the looks on the faces of the other two seated, he knew they were thinking the same thing too.

"I know, but it's just that there's never been a request, you know?"

"Do you want to ask y/n to be your girlfriend officially?" Sunghoon asked him. Heeseung nodded in agreement, playing with the stem of his beer mug without facing any of his friends this time.

"Dude, you made it official a long time ago" Jake laughed a little "You two live together, share the care of Aimi, and treat each other like married couples. Do you know what that is?"

Looking at it this way, Heeseung could tell that they had been official for a long time. He decided to trust what he felt from the day he kissed you for the first time in the living room of his parent's house, where you showed that you wanted to be with him and, above all, seemed to want to take care of Aimi as much as he did.

Heeseung was right. Little by little he introduced you to the little one's life, like simple things: picking her up from school, having dinner sometime at Heeseung's apartment. Aimi even cried one night when you said you'd go home and come back the next day. In conclusion, that was the first night you slept at Heeseung's apartment, wearing one of his t-shirts with Aimi's arms around you at a slumber party in the living room.

It was only a matter of time – or routine, as you both liked to think – that you picked up some clothes and left them at Heeseung's apartment. Or that you went to pick Aimi up from school because her father was leaving work late.

This brought you closer to his daughter. It brought you even closer as a couple. And neither of you could answer when the exact day was that you moved into his apartment. Neither of you could say when you started bathing Aimi and waiting for Heeseung on the sofa, to have dinner, read a story, and sleep as a family.

His friends were right, it all became even more official as he thought about the events of the last year. You never considered leaving him because he spent time with his daughter, as others had told him. You kept your promise by spending more time with her than her father did. The two of you even established things together for her upbringing, and you didn't even know how to tell Heeseung that the role of mother was filling your heart with joy.

It wasn't something to think about, nor did he think he'd have someone under his own roof playing mother to his daughter. But while you were there doing everything without a hint of effort, with a smile on your face and sometimes even tears in your eyes at the little girl's achievements, or even in moments of fever or something. He knew he had made the right choice.

"But if you want to" Jay's voice snapped him out of his reverie, making Heeseung sigh and face the boy who was now looking directly at him, "you can think about how to officially ask her."

"I need you all to help me" he said.

"We'll help" Jake smiled.

"Go to the beach tomorrow, just you and her" Sunghoon finished his drink and leaned back on the bar stool, running his hand through his hair before placing it on the table and drumming his fingers "We'll babysit our princess Aimi and you and y/n can enjoy the official proposal."

"I don't know, sometimes I think Sunghoon thinks so well" Jay whined, pretending to be thrilled.

But the reality was that the idea had been incredible.

"That's when you're not swearing at me" he retorted.

"But you deserve it!"

Jake rolled his eyes at Heeseung, leaving Jay and Sunghoon to continue the discussion while the other two thought about and came up with a weekend plan for the official proposal.

Perhaps something simple and completely romantic, as you liked and he knew very well. Jake could help you find a hotel facing the sea so that you and he could go for a walk in the evening and he could propose.

Heeseung was already getting anxious and, even though he knew you would accept, it was as if he was back in his teens. His stomach churned and his heart pounded as he smiled at Jake and thanked him for his help.

Heeseung's fingers gripped the leather of the steering wheel tightly. He was trying his best not to speed up any more than he had to, but he knew that he had already gone over the limit since he had received his call to meet him at the hospital.

He didn't even know if he had parked correctly when he stopped the car, let alone hear if anyone had said anything to him. Heeseung just ran into the building in search of the waiting room where you had informed him.

Heeseung could have sworn he was going to throw up at any moment.

Hi love, can you meet me at the hospital? Aimi and I have a little problem...

What kind of fucking problem was it? Because Heeseung's eyes were already blurring as he found the hospital room.

He stopped his hurried steps when he looked down the corridor and found you. You were talking to a doctor, with gray hair and a well-pressed lab coat. As Heeseung wandered his eyes over the two of you, he noticed Aimi lying on your shoulder.

That habit had remained from when the two of you first met. He thought it was the most adorable thing in the world that it had been his daughter's place of comfort. Almost every night, she would lie on your shoulder on the sofa and fall asleep before going to bed to listen to the story Heeseung told her before going to sleep.

One night he himself lay on your shoulder to see if it really was magic or if his daughter just liked to rest everywhere... He woke up two hours later, almost drooling and with you focused on the television, laughing softly as he got up, completely tired from the nap he had taken.

So yes, your shoulder was an extremely comfortable place to sleep.

But why was Aimi wearing a bandage on her head? Why was Heeseung running back toward the two of you? He almost screamed when he saw his little girl with that, already imagining a thousand scenarios where she'd had some suture, where that gray-haired doctor had bullied her and he was sure to end up with him and that lab coat that he now found ugly.

"Hey" he said as soon as he got close enough to the three of you.

"Hey, love" you greeted him first, turning towards Heeseung and feeling his lips on your forehead. The man bent down enough to kiss the top of Aimi's head in the process.

"So, you're the father?" the doctor asked, he just nodded.

"What happened? Is Aimi all right? Are you all right?" he could hear the tremor in your voice and felt like he was going to cry at any moment. You gave him a weak smile and then looked at the doctor.

"Usually mom is more nervous than dad," he laughed, "but I see you're the one who's calm around here, Mrs. Lee."

Mrs. Lee.

"But everything's under control now. Aimi was under observation for two and a half hours and has been released to go home."

"Two and a half hours?" Heeseung said loudly, almost scaring the little girl resting on his shoulder. He apologized to his daughter while looking at you and then at the doctor.

The man saw that he had said too much, or even knew that it wasn't a matter for him to deal with, so he just said goodbye and gave the two of you his contact details in case you needed to come back. You knew you wouldn't, so you just took Heeseung and Aimi home.

"Shall we?" you asked, cradling the little one in your arms and ready to leave the hospital.

"Two hours? What the fuck is two hours?"

"Heeseung" you warned him.

Swearing in Aimi's presence. He hissed an apology as he walked with you to the car.

"How did you get here? Two hours ago?" the irony in his voice already indicated how angry he was.

"Heejin brought us, I couldn't drive" you whispered after you reached Heeseung's car.

He carefully and calmly put his daughter in the back seat, into the car seat, and then buckled the seat belt. As soon as he closed the door, you didn't move.

"What?" he asked.

"The keys. You're not going to drive like that." He would have asked you 'like what?'. Not when you knew him so well and knew that he was shaking so badly with nerves that he could barely hold the wheel again.

So choosing to hand over the keys was the right thing to do. Heeseung going in the passenger seat and you taking the wheel to get home.

"Now can you please explain to me what's going on?"

You sighed loudly at the stoplight, looking over to find Heeseung's eyes already fixed on yours.

"Aimi fell at school and hit her head" you said. "It was absolutely nothing serious, but the nursery called me and I just thought I'd ask Heejin to bring us."

"And you didn't think to call me at the time?" he tried not to raise his voice out of nervousness, his heart completely racing at that moment.

"I knew you'd freak out more than you are now, and I think I only made things difficult because I was afraid you'd get sick."

The intention was valid and indeed true. Knowing Heeseung and how one hundred percent concerned he was, it might have been possible for the boy to faint while receiving the news of what had happened to Aimi.

There was a moment of silence while he thought about what to say. Heeseung knew you were right, but at the same time, he let his feelings go to his head, not even thinking about what was coming out of his mouth.

"What about taking care of serious matters about Aimi together?" he still looked at you, even though his attention was on the road now.

"I was just as worried about you as I was about her" your voice tried to be as soft as possible for him, both to calm him down and so as not to wake the sleepy little girl in the back seat.

"And you only let me know two hours later. Right!" he laughed humorlessly "If you were really worried about me, you would have told me what really happened and not deprived me of taking you and her to the hospital."

"Heeseung..."

"Why did you tell me at the hospital, y/n? Why didn't you wait until we got home?" he raised his voice without even realizing it.

"Heeseung" you called him again, but he didn't hear.

"Were you going to wait for me in the living room of our apartment with a heart bandage on her forehead and tell me it was a surprise?"

"Lee Heeseung!" you altered your voice a little more, stopping at another traffic light and looking at him in the process "Code orange" you finished when he looked back at you, feeling that the boy was analyzing every inch of your face.

"Dad?" Aimi called out. He turned on the spot and held her hand, seeing that his daughter had gone back to sleep.

Code Orange was a language the two of you had created so that you could use it when moments like this happened. Any argument, any disagreement around Aimi and all you had to do was say Code Orange to remind each other that she was there. And then you'd stop whatever you were saying so as not to scare her.

He didn't say anything else. He kept holding Aimi's hand until you drove home.

The routine has been the same since the three of you arrived home together. The only difference was that Heeseung kept quiet while you went to the kitchen and you walked with Aimi on your lap to the bedroom to get her things and prepare a bath.

Heeseung felt he'd blown it the moment he heard you talking about Code Orange.

He knows he crossed the line. He knows that it all hit him at once and with nerves and worry, things got completely out of hand.

Unforeseen events tend to happen in people's lives, and Heeseung knew that this triples when you become a father. He often heard from his parents, or even your parents, how things could get out of hand.

He remembers exactly the day at the amusement park when he was taking it easy with you and whatever was going to happen between the two of you. Heeseung was always on alert in case something happened to his daughter, but on the night he decided he was going to kiss you for the first time, Aimi got a fever. She felt sick and ran to meet her daughter. That unforeseen event was the first you two had experienced together.

Heeseung remembers every little event when the two of you had to change course just because things hadn't gone according to plan, and he hadn't let it get out of hand because he knew that unforeseen events happen. Becoming a father was already an unforeseen event in his life and each thing that happened made him prove his point.

He then ran a hand through his hair, frustrated by the whole thing because it wasn't that the official request had been completely sidetracked. It was because he was so worried about Aimi and ended up arguing with you just because he let his nerves get the better of him.

In our year-long relationship, he had never argued so seriously with you about anything. It wasn't the first time you'd done something with Aimi and told him hours later, but Heeseung knew it was because his heart was racing with the name of the two of you and the word little problem in the same sentence. You've never had a problem.

"What the fuck, Heeseung!" he wanted to tear his hair out as he remembered your stern eyes on him, your hands gripping the steering wheel tightly because he knew you didn't want to argue either. Whether in front of Aimi or not, neither of you wanted that.

Making amends was the only thing to do, but how? The request to make it official was already ruined and he had to come up with a plan B that he had no idea about, not least because the main plan hadn't even been his idea in the first place.

Sighing and throwing his head back, Heeseung opted to scour the app on his cell phone in search of something to eat. He wasn't in the mood to cook and didn't want to search the cupboards for something instant for the three of you, especially since he knew you'd been away from home too long and would need something substantial.

So he walked slowly to the bathroom which contained a huge bathtub, where you used to bathe Aimi every day while Heeseung prepared the food or did anything else. At your daughter's request, since she said she liked to talk to you during that time.

"I was too strong" Aimi's voice interrupted Heeseung's thoughts, as he stopped in the middle of the corridor and noticed the bathroom door open. He took a few more steps, enough to see that the bathtub was full, lots of colored foam that you only put in on days when Aimi really needed it – today was one of those days – and you were sitting on the floor, facing her.

"Of course you did, I'm so proud, actually" you said so encouragingly that Aimi clapped her hands, raising some foam and laughing along with you when one of them splashed onto your pants.

"I love you" Aimi told you.

"I love you too, my love" came your reply immediately. Heeseung sighed lovingly.

"Like my mom?"

Silence. Heeseung felt his throat go dry and didn't know why you hadn't answered Aimi's question. Whether you were thinking about something or whether it had caught you off guard as much as it had.

The truth was that yes, you loved her as your daughter. But neither you nor Heeseung rushed into things, not least because he wanted you to feel comfortable, and also because he didn't know how you felt about it. Your relationship with Aimi strengthened so naturally that outsiders thought you were mother and daughter. And when asked, no one denied it.

"Do you want me to be?" you asked after a while.

At that moment, your hands brushed some of the soap out of her hair, while Aimi played with some rubber animals floating on the water.

"I want to. I want to!" the little girl's excitement almost makes you cry if it weren't for the little arms around your neck in a tight hug. You didn't even care if you got wet or not.

And at that moment Heeseung felt his heart fill up. A few more steps he leaned against the doorframe, his eyes watering and only noticed when the scene in front of him became a little blurry. He had to blink a few times to keep the tears at bay.

"Dad! Dad!" Aimi greeted the boy, releasing herself from your embrace and making you turn quickly towards him "I want y/n to be my mother."

"Do you?" he asked.

Even though it had been in a soothing tone because of Aimi, you knew that the question had been asked as much for her as for you. Because as soon as his eyes shifted in your direction, you just nodded and turned your attention back to the little girl.

"I really want to" she sounded just as excited as the first time she'd said "Dad, did you know that mom y/n didn't let go of my hand today?"

"Really? And you want to tell me what happened at school?"

"Mom, can we let Dad in on the bath talk?"

She had never called you mom. Neither you nor Heeseung had heard it from her in the whole year of their relationship. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your mouth and you only realized you were about to cry when you heard Heeseung sniffling softly behind you.

"Of course, if he wants to" you tried not to let your voice get shaky.

Heeseung didn't want to risk saying anything or he'd cry even more, and he was grateful that his daughter was excited and didn't realize that both he and you were emotional. He sat on the toilet seat while he listened to Aimi tell the story.

How she defended herself against a little boy who picked on her at school. She also told how he didn't want to let her go down the slide, so she fought with him, but when she went down she hadn't been paying attention and hit her head on the tunnel before going down.

Noticing now that the little girl no longer had the bandage on her forehead, he saw the small cut. Something completely superficial and which probably shocked the teachers and even you because he thought about the amount of blood that came out. Confirming this as soon as you said it yourself after Aimi had finished counting the parts she could.

"How about we finish this bath and order dinner?" Heeseung let out a long sigh after laughing at some of the other things his daughter had said, hearing her giggle too.

"Sushi?" Aimi's eyes lit up at that.

"Are my girls okay with sushi?" he asked.

"We are!" you and Aimi replied together, and then Heeseung got up to order dinner.

It could have been considered a long wait until he ordered through the app, waited for it to arrive, and set everything up in the room. But he did it so calmly that you had time to finish Aimi's bath, dry her off, and put her pajamas on so that you could go into the living room and have dinner as a family.

"Can we watch it?" the little girl asked, smiling when her father agreed and let the two of you sit down on the sofa to eat.

Dinner was filled with laughter and more stories from little Aimi, a few comments about the cartoon the three of you were watching, and even the repetition of food because, according to her, it was so tasty.

After another hour the little one fell asleep on Heeseung's lap, which was something new because she always preferred to stay on your lap before she fell asleep. So maybe that's why he had the biggest smile on his face.

"Do you want some help?" you asked as you turned off the television.

"All right, I'll put her to bed then," Heeseung nodded in agreement and got up.

He walked off towards the bedrooms, leaving you to tidy up for dinner while he took great care to walk with his daughter on his lap without waking her. This had been done by him countless times, but he seemed to have lost the practice after you came into their lives because Aimi always called on you to do it.

And he loved this connection between the two of you so much. That's why he was happy. Because you had done something that he had always been used to doing alone, and by returning to it, things were fitting together more and more in Heeseung's mind.

Placing Aimi on the bed, he kissed her on the top of the head and smiled at the sleeping figure of his daughter. She was sleeping so peacefully that she didn't even look like she had bumped her head during the day – and faced a little boy at school – but Heeseung pretended not to have heard. He wanted to leave it to the girls since it was a bathtime conversation.

"I love you, little one" Heeseung whispered to Aimi as soon as he had tucked her under the covers, turning on the lamp before slowly leaving the room.

Now he needed to think about how to apologize to you and how to start this conversation. Maybe saying he loved you could also be a good thing, right? Or he could use the puppy-dog eyes tactic because that worked with you sometimes.

No, it was quite serious, he couldn't joke about it.

What would Heeseung do anyway? He started to panic as soon as he got to the living room and everything was tidied up. So you were probably already in the kitchen washing the dinner dishes, and as soon as he entered the room, you realized it was true.

"Did you get it?" you asked when you saw him standing in the kitchen doorway.

"I never miss a beat" he smiled, even though your attention was on the dish you were washing.

Not even a glance in his direction, not even a smile from the corner of your lips. Nothing. Heeseung wanted to scream and run away, but he chose to approach in slow steps and stand behind you.

At first, your posture seemed intact because you didn't notice that he had come so close, but when his hands found your waist and he pressed your back against his chest, you stopped everything you were doing.

Heeseung felt your body stiffen for a few seconds and then calm down as he slid his hands down your exposed skin from your hips to your belly and hugged you from behind.

"I'm sorry" he whispered with his lips between your hair.

"What?" you understood a little garbled because he hadn't said it clearly, but you wanted to be sure of the words or if you weren't thinking too much.

Meanwhile, you wiped your hands before forcing yourself to face him with Heeseung's hands still on your waist.

"I said I'm sorry" his voice could now be heard more clearly. Heeseung looked deep into your eyes as he heard you sigh softly.

"Heeseung, I—"

"No, I need to talk first. May I?" he asked. Your nod encouraged him to speak even though he didn't even know what he was doing in the first place.

Heeseung never got to that part where he needed to fix what he'd done or saw the person in front of him willing to listen to him. He had also never felt so much love – apart from his daughter – that made him feel complete.

He looked into your eyes, seeking even more approval as he leaned down to rest his forehead against yours.

"I'm sorry I was an idiot and broke the orange code" he whispered, a breath of air from his lips going straight against your skin. The sensation was so familiar, yet it always made you shiver "I'm sorry because as well as being worried about everything that happened, I was so frustrated."

You raised one of your hands, placing your icy fingers against his skin. Heeseung shivered at the touch, not because of the temperature, but because your hand was touching him.

"Frustrated with what?" your touch wasn't enough, you had to caress his cheek so lovingly and then slide your fingers to the back of his neck that Heeseung swore, right then, that he had to kiss you.

And he did. But it was as quick as it started because he wanted to talk and needed to get it off his chest.

"Earlier today I was with the boys and I had the desire to make things official with you" the boy felt each word come out so freely as his hands rested against your waist. You continued to caress the back of his neck and this time kissed the corner of his lips when you noticed that he seemed nervous before saying the next words "I was going to take you to the beach tomorrow. The boys would stay with Aimi and... Well... I'd officially ask you..."

Your hand stopped caressing him. He didn't know if that was good or bad, so he momentarily moved his forehead away from yours so that he could look into your eyes. They were attentive to Heeseung. Every movement, every word, everything that came from him.

"I know that after we become parents, unforeseen events happen and I've heard this from my parents, from yours, from colleagues who are parents. It really does happen" he explained so seriously that you found the pout that formed on Heeseung's lips cute "And I was frustrated because, as well as knowing that we wouldn't be able to go to the beach tomorrow, Aimi got hurt and I couldn't be there for the two of you."

"But you're with us every step of the way..."

"I know, love. I know that" he brought his face close to yours again "I think one thing joined another and I only saw the shit I'd done after you warned me. So I'm sorry."

"It's okay, it wasn't your fault" you said softly, causing Heeseung's heart to calm down a little.

He knew he was lucky from the moment he met you. He just didn't feel like he deserved it at this moment when everything seemed to make him feel bad about what had happened. Even with you telling him that everything was fine, the way Heeseung found to further derail his apology about you was to kiss you.

For real this time. Then he put one hand on your waist and brought the other up to your face to push away the hair that insisted on staying there.

Taking one last look into your eyes, Heeseung smiled before joining his lips to yours. The kiss started slowly, just longing for that touch as the wet muscles slid over each other. You allowed him to press your body to his as the kiss began to intensify, seeming more needy, urgent, and with a euphoric Heeseung pulling you even closer to him.

Neither of you felt like stopping it, both of you wanting anything that was stopping you – the clothes – to be out of the way and for everything to work out the way you both wanted it to. But before anything else, the air search was clear, so he slowly stopped the kiss, leaving his mouth still pressed to yours.

"I think the officiating was done by someone else today" Heeseung said a little too breathlessly, hearing your ragged breathing against his skin as well.

"What do you mean?" you asked.

He smiled, opening his eyes and seeing the sight of you with red, wet lips right in front of him. Something he would never get sick of seeing.

"I overheard some of the conversation in the shower today" Heeseung began. His lips went straight to your forehead, leaving them resting there as he whispered, "Her calling you mom for the first time just made me sure that making what we have official doesn't need a right place or need to be done by me."

"Heeseung…"

"I love you, y/n" he said, his lips coming away from your forehead so that he could look at you one more time as he spoke "I love you and I've known that we've been official since that first kiss in your mother's living room."

"I love you, you idiot" you said, your heart racing and full of love. You hugged him and kissed the tip of his nose as you lifted your feet to reach him "And that was definitely the best official request in the world. No beach can top that."

He laughed at your comment and pressed his lips to yours again, but without kissing them this time.

"Now how about you bath me too? I've had a busy day and I think I need to relax."

"You're worthless, that's for sure" you laughed, but under no circumstances would you deny Heeseung's request.

© ikeuverse, 2024. do not copy, translate or steal my stories.

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #heeseung fluff #lee heeseung #heeseung #enhypen heeseung #enhypen au #enhypen masterlist #enhypen x reader #heeseung fanfics #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x reader #enhypen imagines

[oepionie]

—VOICELINES ABOUT YOU. various

Synopsis: Yuuken interrogates some of the boys on the campus about their special someone. Hearing their loving ramblings on you was certainly not what he expected.

Tags: Self-Indulgent, Fluff, Angst if you squint really hard, Reader is not Yuu, Tweels are a bit...too mad in love, I brainrotted so hard, You're Malleus' fiancee, Malleus doesn't know how to tell a joke someone help him

Cw. Riddle's Mother, Overworking, Hospitalizations, Poor living conditions, Illness, Bullying, Allusions to violence, Marriage, Tad bit of possesive behavior, Description of stabbing

WordCount: 2k+ | 💌Masterlist

R.R | RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS:

About: Riddle's Rose

"Rose? I see you've met that troublesome intern at the library. That's a nickname. Their name is (Y/N) and yes, they are my partner." "A-Ah? I'm so direct? Well, you asked me a question! Though...I would prefer that this discussion end here. I prefer to keep my relationship with them private.”

Chat: Childhood Memories

“Ever since we were young, (Y/N) was quite rebellious. The complete opposite of me as a child, really. They were always sneaking off during the night and coming over to visit me. Mother...didn't approve of them and often screamed in their face. I was quite terrified she would scare them away, though that didn't stop them at all. Haha, I think they got even more persistent afterwards. I am truly glad I met them.”

Personal Story: To the Hospital

“Again...? I see. Thank you, Trey. Hmph, I'll have to schedule another visit once more."

> "Riddle? What's wrong?"

"Ah, Yuuken—It's Rose. They've gotten admitted to the hospital...again. (Y/N) is quite impulsive and tends to bite off more than they can chew. On more than occasion, like now, I would find out about their hospital admissions via Trey days or even weeks after."

>"Aren't you dating? Why aren't they telling you?"

"They claim that they withhold the information from me out of concern for my workload or out of fear of being a burden. Though that is—a sentiment I don't understand. Nothing is more important to me than their health."

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R.B | RUGGIE BUCCHI

About: The Photo In His Wallet

"Where is it?! Man, I'm so fucked if I lost it—Oh?! Oi, Yuuken! That wallet's mine! Man, thanks a lot. I really would've been screwed over if it weren't for you." "Eh? The photo? Shishishishi curious, aren't cha? Hmmm...how 'bout this? You get me a steaming hot meat bun and I'll give you a story time about them."

Chat: A Hopeful Future

"My studies? Course I take them seriously! That's what's gonna' put food on the table one day. Plus, I wanna' give (Y/N) the life they deserve—What'd I mean? Well, if I'm going to be their husband, I want 'em to live comfortably. It's not like we need anythin' luxurious, anyways. As long as we're together and there's enough food to go by, it's going to be all right."

Personal Story: In Sickness and In Health

"....that's good to hear. Please look after 'em, granny. Love ya." The call ends and Ruggie sighs. "That's the best news I've received since."

>"News?"

"Guh-?! Man! What's with you and sneaking up on me!? Yeah yeah—you heard right...news. Granny just called me to talk about (Y/N), their health is looking up. Tell ya' what, I knew that deal with Azul was worth it. I managed to snag some medicine and send it home."

>"Oh? Medicine?"

"Yeah. Ever since my first year of high school, they were sick and bedridden. (Y/N)'s parents don't have enough money for a doctor, so there's not much they can do. Of course, I'm out here doin' my best to help too."

"I really...I really wanna see them up and runnin' again. Hey, who knows—maybe we'll get to make flower crowns for the village kids again...together."

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A.A | AZUL ASHENGROTTO

About: An Interrogation

"Yuuken, you’ve met (Y/N), I hear. Well, as their partner, it's only right that I ask you about it. I assume you don't mind. So, what is your opinion of them? Nothing short of perfection, I hope."

"Hm? You think they're nice? Good then."

Chat: Busy Octoboss

"With all the deals, my maintenance of my academic ranking, and my position as Monstro Lounge's manager, my workload is quite substantial compared to most. And, I regret to say that it does get in the way of my personal life, including quality time with my lover. It tears at my heart, yet I cherish how they're so understanding and patient. Still, sometimes I can't help but think I am undeserving of them..."

Personal Story: Deep Sea Bonds

"My childhood is not something that I appreciate or want to remember. Yet, despite everything I've been through, I do think it is pleasant to look back on the days when I met them. You see, (Y/N) was bullied too. They were just like me, relentlessly bad mouthed and hurt by the kids around us. However, they never failed to greet me every day with a bright smile on their face."

>"What a sunny person."

"They'd also always have the courage and bravery to stand up for me, often taking the brunt of the bullying. I wish I could say I did the same for them...but I was far too cowardly back then..."

>"Wow. You two must be really close, then."

"Of course. They've been through a lot.Which is exactly why I won't allow anyone to speak ill of them anymore." Azul pauses, smiling slyly. "Say, Yuuken. You'll tell me if anyone casts aspersions on my Angelfish, won't you?"

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J.L | JADE LEECH

About: A Helping Hand

"Hm? What's that? Ah, you’ve met my darling pearl. I see. I do notice how you’ve been frequenting Monstro Lounge lately…Have you perhaps acquired a romantic interest towards them? No? Hehe, Alright." "Now, to answer your question, yes, that is right; (Y/N) routinely comes over to visit and aid me in my Mountain Treks. I couldn't be more grateful for their assistance."

Chat: The Pearl Ring

"Oya? I see you're curious about the ring I've been crafting. Well, it's for (Y/N). You see, in merfolk culture, we create handcrafted jewelry to serve as a courting gift. This is one of many ornaments I plan on giving them. Though, this one is...particularly unique. Ah, well...(Y/N) Leech does have a nice ring to it, does it not?"

Personal Story: A Jaded Reaction

"Oya? (Y/N) is spending the night at Ramshackle? Whatever reason for?"

>"Grim wanted to have a game night."

"Ah. I see. How...lovely. What's that? My smile is frightening you? Oho, now is it? Hehe, my deepest apologies. We eels tend to be quite...protective. I so anticipate you to take good care of them. And fret not, as long as you keep them away from any harm, no disputes shall arise."

>"Uh...and if something happened?"

"What if something happened...? Well, I'm sure you wouldn't mind being hunted down the face of the earth, tied up, and pulled down to the deepest pits of the blue ocean, where no one can hear your anguished cries for help...Would you?" 

>"..."

"Just joking. I would never do that."

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F.L | FLOYD LEECH

About: A Sea Walnut

"(Y/N)? Aha~~~ You've heard of my little sea walnut? They're so adorable and squishy, yanno!—Is there a problem? If you got a problem with 'em, I'll squeeze you." "Oh? Not scared at all, huh? Ehe~ You sure are ballsy. Tread carefully now, shrimpy~!"

About: Ocean Currents

"Whenever a strong ocean current comes, sea walnut always huddles close to me and grabs my arm. They've always been afraid of being blasted away."

"They used to do that a lot when we were kids, but it never gets old. Hehe~ Sometimes, I lead them to places where the waves are strong, jus' so they can cling onto me! It's so funny to see 'em get afraid and scramble after me when I move too far away. "

Personal Story: Shark Attack

"Hmm~? Oh, what're these bite marks? Rad, aren't they? I got them after fighting a buncha' sharks."

>"Sharks?! Why would you do that?"

"To get these. It's shark teeth. Our anniversary is comin' up, and Jade suggested that I should make some jewelry for them. It's a merfolk courting thing. Azul 'n Jade told me to get them pearls, but I thought that was boring. So, I'm making one with shark teeth instead! Isn't that cool~?"

>"I-I guess, but what happened to the sharks?"

"Ugh. None of them were a fun hunt. The entire hoard swam away so fast. Can you believe it???… I’m not the typa eel who would let my prey get away that easily, though. And it’s not like I had anything better to do. Ehehe! There were so many of those sharks swarming around, but I managed to squeeze them all! Well, it was worth it in the end cuz I got what I wanted. I'll do anythin' for my little sea walnut~"

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J.V | JAMIL VIPER

About: A Hearty Meal

“What am i doing? Well, I'm making some Roast Chicken with Sumac Flatbread. Oh? Who's (Y/N)? Ah, Kalim must have told you, huh. (Y/N) is my partner. They are truly wonderful."

"For example—Though I like to think I'm skilled at disguising my true feelings, the moment I go to see them, they already know what I'm thinking. They have a keen sense of intuition and always seem to know what I need and when I need it. Truly, I'm grateful for such a caring—Ah, I'm sorry. I was rambling again."

Chat: Snake-Eyed Envy

"I can't dispute that a lot of people back home are vying for their affection.That bothers me at times. As Kalim's babysitter-ehem, retainer, I don't have enough time to check in on them every day...However, as cheesy as it sounds, I have yet to meet someone who is as smitten with (Y/N) as I am."

Personal Story: World Left Unsaid

"I soon understood that I was more than the circumstances of my birth, all thanks to (Y/N). In fact, My bond with Kalim has become stronger and more genuine thanks to them. I...realized my hatred for Kalim was just my desire for my circumstances to be different...I didn't hate him at all. Without (Y/N), I would never have understood it."

>"They must be very important to you, Jamil."

"Absolutely. I was terrified that I might lose them after my overblot. But to my surprise, they stayed with me. Naturally, it hurt them, but they were really compassionate towards me and about how much I had to go through."

>"Do they know of what you feel?"

"I...I don't think (Y/N) realizes just how much I cherish them. I don't think now's the right time for that though. I've hurt them too much and I still have a long way to go before I fix things."

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M.D | MALLEUS DRACONIA

About: He's Engaged?!

"I am, indeed, betrothed. Heh. Why are you looking so bewildered, Child of Man? If I'm going to be a king someday, it only makes sense that I would need someone to reign alongside me, no? At first glance, (Y/N) may seem aloof, but as you get to know them more, you'll see that they are actually incredibly lovely and warm."

"You never thought I was one for romance? My, my... What a bold statement, you best learn how to hold your tongue. Have you considered that I could use lightning to smite you where you stand?...Now, now—That was a joke. You don't have to cower in fear."

Chat: Safe And Sound

"My precious treasure tells me that I tend to get protective at times. Though can you really fault a lover for wanting to protect the one who is most important to them in this cruel, ruthless world. One where others will not hesitate to turn on you?"

Personal Story: The Art Of War

"I am actually the first of my lineage to wed someone who is not a noble. You see, (Y/N) is a knight-in-training. And, as you can probably guess, they served as my retainer. To see them at work was truly a magnificent sight to witness. They command attention and radiate strength. While I had always admired them, I could not bring myself to express my true feelings to them. Until...that night."

>"That night?"

"Yes. On the evening of Silver's 16th birthday, someone had rushed at me with a dagger in hand. (Y/N) was the first to respond and took the hit for me...The sound of their screams as the knife tore through their flesh was truly...horrifying."

>"That's horrible! What happened to the guy?"

"Worry not, he was taken care of accordingly....If there is anything I’ve learned from Lilia's many teachings, it’s that the worst calamities that befall an army arise from hesitation. To avoid further offensives, one must deal with and eliminate adversaries as soon as possible. Don't you think so?"

Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and are very motivating on my end!

Taglist: @keedas @spadecentral @crypticbibliophile @pastellepastary @cassidycampfire @cocomollo @poisonioushearts @anonima-2 @kawaiipotatoghost @ramvuda @sweeneyblue1 @the-lost-anime-dad @chuuchuudreams @taruruchi

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#im silly sim silly im silly im sill #twstnexus #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfic #twisted wonderland x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie bucchi #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #jade leech x reader #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #twst voicelines

[bradshawsbaby]

Love in the Air

Pairing: Rooster x Female Reader

Summary: You weren't expecting anything interesting or exciting to happen on your flight from Virginia to San Diego. But what happens when you decide to shoot your shot with the handsome stranger sitting in front of you on the plane?

Word Count: 12.5k

Author’s Note: Thank you so much to my dear friend, @ryebecca for giving me the idea for this one! I've been mulling it over in my brain for a while now, and the super adorable Netflix movie Love at First Sight gave me some much-needed inspiration to finally see it through to completion. This story exists outside of the Mr. & Mrs. Bradshaw Universe, which is sort of a first for me, so I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Travel anxiety, some very mild angst, discussions of parental death, brief language, lots of fluff.

If you had to rank your preferred modes of transportation, flying would probably be at the bottom of the list, beat only perhaps by public bus or bicycle. It seemed that no matter how hard you tried to make it as smooth and easy a journey as possible, your experiences at the airport always turned into one catastrophe after another.

Your flight this morning was supposed to take off at 9:30am, which meant that you had scheduled the start of your day to ensure that you would be at the airport no later than 7:15, accounting for traffic and long lines at check-in and security. That, of course, meant that you had to leave your best friend, Katie’s house in Fredericksburg at 5:45 on the dot in order to make the sixty-one mile trip to Charlottesville-Albemarle Airport, and that was being generous. If the two of you stopped for coffee—which Katie insisted was a must—that alone had the potential to derail your plans, which had you nervously fiddling with the bracelet you never took off, the one your dad had given you as a gift for your high school graduation.

“Relax,��� Katie laughed, taking her eyes off the road for only a moment to reach out and squeeze your hands reassuringly, halting your anxious movements. “You’re going to get there with plenty of time to spare. There’s literally no one on earth who’s a more responsible flier than you. Have you ever even come close to missing a flight?”

“No,” you admitted sheepishly, taking a small sip of your hazelnut iced coffee. It did little to calm your nerves, but it was one of the best iced coffees you’d ever tasted.

“Of course you haven’t,” Katie smiled, her eyes back in front of her as she signaled to merge into another lane. “So just take a deep breath and enjoy all this gorgeous fall foliage. I’m going to get you there without incident, I promise.”

Katie knew better than pretty much anyone how much flying tended to stress you out. The two of you had been attached at the hip since the first day of kindergarten. Your friendship had survived all the ups and down of adolescence, boy drama, the separation of going to colleges hundreds of miles apart, heartache, loss, and so much more. She was truly the sister you never had, and you couldn’t be more grateful to have her in your life. Even now that you were living in San Diego, and Katie and her husband had moved to Fredericksburg, Virginia for Josh’s job, nothing could keep the two of you apart.

Using a little bit of the vacation time you’d accumulated at work, you’d taken a long weekend to fly out and surprise Katie for her and Josh’s housewarming party. It had been months since you had seen your best friend in person, and the two of you had spent the past few days acting like a couple of high schoolers, staying up all night eating junk food and keeping poor Josh awake with your loud and hysterical fits of laughter.

You hadn’t realized just how lonely you’d been, all by yourself in San Diego, until you’d witnessed up close how cozy and happy Katie’s life in Virginia was.

It wasn’t that you were jealous of Katie, not by any means. She and Josh had met in college, and you were thrilled that your best friend in the whole world had found her person, the one who was going to be there to hold her hand through life and love her through every up and every down. You had even shed a few happy tears when Katie had confided in you this past weekend that she and Josh were finally trying for a baby.

You weren’t jealous, but you desperately longed for what she had. While Katie and Josh had been happily in love since sophomore year, your love life had been decidedly marked by one failed relationship after another. The most painful of which had been your last boyfriend, Andrew. That breakup had been what had propelled you to accept the job offer that had taken you to San Diego almost a year ago.

“Screw Andrew!” Katie had told you as she’d helped you pack up your entire life into a few suitcases and boxes. “You’re headed to the Hottie Capital of America!”

“I must have missed that moniker on the travel brochures,” you responded dryly, although it was the first time you’d felt the urge to laugh in weeks.

“Um, hello, missy. It’s literally called ‘Fightertown USA,’” Katie said, stopping what she was doing to turn and face you, hands on her hips. “You’re going to end up with some sexy fighter pilot, and I am literally going to wither away with envy,” she giggled, winking at you.

“Yeah, right,” you smiled despite yourself, nudging her playfully.

“It’s true,” Katie sighed, feigning dramatics as she draped a hand across her forehead and swooned onto your bed. “I can see it now. You’re going to make the cutest little Marine or Navy wife.”

And yet, for all of Katie’s confidence, there you were, a whole year later, just as single as you had been when you’d first arrived in Fightertown.

It wasn’t to say you were completely on your own. You’d made some really good friends at work, and you got along with all of your neighbors. You’d even gone on a few dates with some guys from North Island. But none that ever went anywhere.

Spending the weekend with Katie and Josh, being reminded of just how in love the two of them were, made you wonder if it was ever going to be your turn.

“You okay?” Katie asked, breaking your silent reverie as she took the exit leading towards the airport in Charlottesville. It wasn’t necessarily the closest airport, but it was the only one for today that offered the flight you needed to get back home. “You seem so quiet.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” you nodded distractedly, smiling as you took another sip of your iced coffee. “Just a little tired, I guess.”

How could you possibly tell your best friend that seeing her happiness caused an ache inside your chest that hurt like nothing else you’d ever known? You couldn’t. It made you feel guilty enough just to admit it to yourself.

“Feeling a little nervous about your flight?” she pressed, reaching for her own iced coffee as the car came to a halt at a red light. “I know it’s long, and you hate connecting flights, but I stuck some Benadryl packets in your bag, if that helps at all. It sucks that you have such a hard time sleeping on planes.”

Smiling, you leaned over and pressed an affectionate kiss to her cheek. What had you ever done to deserve such a good friend? And there you were, lamenting about all the things she had that you didn’t.

“You’re the best,” you told her sincerely, giving her shoulder a small squeeze. “I’m so glad I was able to get down here this weekend.”

Katie beamed brightly, reaching up to squeeze your hand before placing hers back on the steering wheel. “You’re telling me. It was the best surprise ever. I’m just sad I can’t keep you here longer.”

“I’ll be back soon,” you promised, trying to mentally calculate when you might be able to get time off from work again.

“Maybe you can come down for Christmas this year?” Katie suggested hopefully, glancing over at you with her big green eyes.

“Maybe,” you nodded, twisting your bracelet once more as you saw the signs for the airport approaching. “Or maybe I can fly you and Josh out to San Diego.”

“Oh, yes! Christmas on the beach? Sounds perfect,” Katie grinned, looking out for the sign for departing flights.

All too soon, Katie was pulling up in front of the Delta terminal where your flight would be taking off in just a few hours.

“See? Only 7:11! I got you here ahead of your insane schedule, even with the stop for coffee,” your best friend teased, a twinkle in her eye as she indicated the time on the dashboard.

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved her off, laughing out loud as she swatted your hand jokingly.

The two of you climbed out of the car to grab your luggage from the trunk. You’d done your best to pack lightly, which was never an easy task for you, even just for a weekend trip. But somehow, you’d managed to squeeze everything you needed into a carry-on bag. Well, that and a giant duffel that you were claiming was a purse.

“Ugh, goodbyes make me crazy,” Katie shook her head, clearly trying to hide the tears that were brimming in her eyes, which caused tears to spring to your eyes as the two of you reached for each other.

“I love you so much,” you told her, squeezing her tightly as she rocked you back and forth in her arms. “I’ll call you when I land.”

“Text me when you get to your gate,” she said, pulling back and taking your hands in hers. “And let me know if there are any cuties on your flight,” she added with a grin, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“I doubt I’m going to bag any cuties looking like this,” you countered sarcastically, indicating the yoga pants and oversized sweatshirt you’d donned that morning, as well as the messy bun you’d thrown your hair into.

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous no matter what,” Katie scolded you, swatting you on the butt. “Now get going. We wouldn’t want you being late or anything like that,” she joked.

You laughed as well, though your heart ached a bit as you grabbed the handle of your suitcase and began turning towards the doors of the terminal.

“Love you! Talk to you soon!” Katie called out, waving and blowing kisses.

You threw one more wave your best friend’s way, then disappeared inside the terminal, which was already fairly crowded despite the early hour.

As expected, despite the fact that you’d taken pains to get there early and make sure you were on top of everything, the unlucky cloud that seemed to follow you whenever you flew made its appearance once again.

You of course ended up on the slowest moving line at security, only to be heavily questioned by the TSA agent who seemed to be under the impression that you looked nothing like the photo on your driver’s license. Then, when you finally got to the security scanners, you set off the metal detector and had to be publicly groped by another sour-faced TSA agent. As if that wasn’t bad enough, your suitcase was “randomly selected” for extra testing and security checks.

Katie may have loved to tease you about it, but this was precisely the reason why you always left as early as you did to get to the airport.

By the time you were finally rolling your suitcase towards your gate, you were feeling more frazzled than ever. Naturally, the gate had changed since your boarding pass had been printed, and now you had to trek halfway across the airport to find the new one.

You wondered what it felt like to be one of those lucky travelers whose gate was right at the center of the terminal, right near all the restaurants and shops. It had never been you. Without fail, no matter where or when you were flying, your gate always ended up being at the farthest corner of the terminal.

When you finally arrived, triple checking that the gate number matched your flight information, you let out a heavy sigh as you grabbed an open seat at the end of the row. To your surprise, you found that you were seated right next to an open outlet. You never got that lucky.

Turns out, you really did never get that lucky. When you plugged your phone in, you found that it wasn’t charging. Evidently, the outlet was open because it didn’t actually work.

Muttering under your breath, you unplugged your charger and threw it back into your duffel bag. At least your phone was still on 74%. You’d much prefer to have it fully charged, but this would do until you could charge it on the plane.

Glancing down, you realized that you had missed a text from Katie.

At the gate yet???

Rolling your shoulders back and getting more comfortable in your seat, you opened up the message so that you could send a quick response.

Just got here. You’d think I was on the No Fly List with how long it took me to get here.

Katie must have made good time getting home, because it wasn’t long before your phone was buzzing with another text.

😂😂😂 Get yourself a drink!

Katie, it’s not even 9am…

So? A mimosa then!

You laughed, shaking your head. A mimosa didn’t actually sound like such a bad idea right now. Neither did a large iced coffee. But now that you’d finally made it to your gate, you didn’t feel like dragging all your stuff with you across the terminal once again. And you didn’t feel comfortable leaving your things behind, unattended or even in the care of a stranger. Maybe you’d just order one on the plane.

When your phone buzzed again in your lap, you looked down and saw that it was another text from Katie.

Any cuties to share that mimosa with???

You were about to text her back that right now, the only cuties you could see were an adorable four-year-old and an elderly couple who must have been in their eighties when suddenly, the most gorgeous man you had ever seen in your life appeared, as if out of thin air. You were suddenly glad you didn’t have a mimosa or an iced coffee in hand, for you were certain that you would have spit it out in shock upon seeing this guy.

Jaw hanging open and eyes widening, your brain was too fuzzy from lack of sleep to remind you that it was wholly inappropriate and rude to stare.

He truly had to be the hottest man you had ever seen up close in real life. Tall, with broad, thick shoulders and a muscular build. His hair was a golden brown that looked like it was touched frequently by the sun—as did his skin, which was an amusing combination of both tan and pink, as though he should have applied just a pinch more sunscreen than he had. Most surprising of all was the mustache that made your stomach do a strange little flip. You usually weren’t all that attracted to facial hair of any sort, and most guys couldn’t pull off the mustaches they tried to sport, but this particular mustache was the sexiest thing you had ever seen. And somehow, despite not knowing this man from a hole in the wall, you couldn’t imagine him without it. It was like it was a part of his DNA.

Thankfully, he was still staring down at his boarding pass, so he hadn’t noticed your intense scrutiny. Coming to your senses, you closed your mouth and quickly averted your gaze, your cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. How mortifying. Imagine if he had looked over and caught you staring at him, gaping like a fish out of water?

Still, despite your self-consciousness at the thought of getting caught, you couldn’t help but steal another glance in his direction, this time out of the corner of your eye. He looked even taller this time around. It probably had something to do with the way he carried himself, an easy confidence pouring off him. This man knew he was hot stuff, of that you were sure. But there was also something unassuming about him, something quiet and almost humble. He was dressed in a pair of dark sweatpants and an old UVA T-shirt, nothing fancy or flashy. Somehow, however, he managed to pull it off even better than a three-piece suit.

You were startled out of your observations when your phone buzzed again. It was Katie, emphasizing her last message impatiently.

Do you have some kind of magic powers that I was unaware of to make hotties appear out of nowhere? Right when you texted me, the hottest guy I’ve ever seen walked up to my gate.

‼️‼️ GO TALK TO HIM!!! ‼️‼️

At the mere suggestion of going to talk to that guy, your stomach erupted into butterflies. Looking up once again, you saw that he had evidently confirmed he was at the right gate, and had settled down in a seat a couple rows over, facing away from you. God, even the back of his head was handsome.

Are you crazy? This guy is seriously the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. I look like a homeless lady that wandered in off the street. I am NOT talking to him!

Your phone buzzed angrily a moment later.

Will you shut up before I drive back there to hit you upside the head?! YOU are gorgeous!!! Who cares if you have no make-up on and your hair’s in a messy bun? It’s called airplane chic! You’re still completely stunning. He would be LUCKY to have a girl as hot as you want to talk to him!

Chewing your bottom lip, you looked up again, trying not to be obvious as your eyes slowly wandered over the people at your gate, until they landed on him once more. He was on the phone this time, having an animated conversation with whoever was on the other end of the line. Occasionally, he would turn slightly in your direction and you could catch a glimpse of his side profile.

Damn, this man was seriously perfect from every angle.

“Alright, Mav, I’ll see you when I land,” you heard him say—not that you were trying to eavesdrop—before he hung up the phone and dropped it back onto his lap.

It was then that you noticed his phone was plugged into the outlet next to his seat.

Maybe this could be your opportunity? You could casually walk over and see if there were any other open outlets near his. Perhaps you could even make a joke about how it was just your luck that the outlet near your seat wasn’t working. Maybe he’d laugh and tell you some horror story from his travel experiences and the two of you would end up talking until you exchanged numbers. Maybe there was some tiny, infinitesimal chance that this stunning man would actually be charmed by you and possibly even the teensiest bit interested.

Or maybe you would just remain rooted to your seat, terrified to move as you stared at the back of his head.

You were already anticipating the text from Katie when your phone buzzed once again.

The reason you’re not answering me better be because you’re in the middle of a conversation with Mr. Hottie from your gate!!!

Biting down on your lip, you turned your phone over, not knowing how to tell your best friend that you were too much of a chicken to get out of your seat and approach this guy.

At that moment, however, you were suddenly saved, at least somewhat, when a member of the flight crew announced that they were about to begin boarding. Forgetting about Katie’s texts and the hot guy sitting several feet away from you for a moment, you began gathering together all your belongings, making sure you hadn’t forgotten anything.

When your boarding group was called, you did one final sweep around your seat, securing the strap of your duffel bag up on your shoulder and wrapping one hand around the handle of your carry-on before making your way to the line extending from the counter.

As you stepped up behind the elderly couple you’d noticed earlier, your boarding pass slipped out of your hand, floating through the air despite your best attempt to reach for it, and landing somewhere behind you.

Turning to find it, you nearly collided with the tall wall of man behind you, who was bending at the same time to grab it off the floor.

“Oh!” you gasped, startled to find that Mr. Hottie, as Katie had dubbed him, was not only standing behind you in line, but was also holding your boarding pass in his hand, glancing down at it.

“San Diego with a layover in Atlanta, huh?” he grinned, glancing from the boarding pass up to your face. Unsurprisingly, he had a beautiful set of whiskey-colored eyes that made your stomach do the same strange little flip that his mustache had induced. Oh, and up close, the mustache was even sexier.

“Oh, um, yeah,” you nodded dumbly, your tongue suddenly feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds as your brain short-circuited and couldn’t come up with a single worthwhile thing to say.

“Glad to know I’m not the only one,” Mr. Hottie went on, holding your boarding pass out to you. “Looks like we’ve got a long day of flying ahead of us.”

Mouth hanging open, you slowly reached out and took the boarding pass from him, trying frantically to think of something—anything—to say. He was flying to San Diego, too? You were on the same exact flight? Including the same layover?

“I—I—”

“Hey, the line's moving!” someone from the back called out, sounding annoyed.

Turning back over your shoulder, you were mortified to see that the elderly couple in front of you had disappeared and you were, in fact, holding up the line.

“Oh, um, I’m sorry,” you mumbled, ducking your head as you clutched your boarding pass and reached out for your carry-on. “Thanks again for grabbing this for me,” you told Mr. Hottie, waving your boarding pass slightly before turning and practically running towards the counter.

With his long stride, he caught up to you in no time, his smile friendly and warm as the two of you joined the line of people waiting to board the airplane.

“You weren’t holding anyone up,” he whispered down to you, as if it was some special secret the two of you were sharing. “I don’t know what that guy was in such a rush for. To move from that line to this one? We’re all getting out of here at the same time.”

You smiled at his words, feeling comforted by his reassurance. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Some people are just always in a hurry.”

The two of you were quiet after that, and you wondered if that would be the end of the conversation. You were casting around for anything else you could talk about when he suddenly asked you, “So are you leaving home or heading home?”

Your heart fluttered at his question. If he didn’t want to keep talking, he wouldn’t have asked that, right?

“Heading home,” you told him, fiddling shyly with your bracelet. You laughed softly. “It’s still kind of weird saying that. I’ve only been in San Diego for about eleven months.”

He raised his eyebrow, one corner of his mouth turning up in a smile. “Yeah? Well, I know I’m a little late, but welcome to Fightertown. I hope it’s been treating you well.”

“Oh, it has been,” you nodded, making sure to pay attention to when the people in front of you began moving forward. “I take it you’re heading home then, too?”

“I am,” he grinned, shouldering the backpack he was carrying with him. “Well, actually, I’m kind of leaving home and heading home,” he amended. At your curious look, he explained, “I’m from Virginia originally, but I live in San Diego now. I guess you could say I’m a transplant, just like you,” he added with a chuckle. “Are you from Virginia, too?”

“New York, actually,” you told him, as the two of you followed the flow of people towards the plane. “But my best friend and her husband moved to Fredericksburg recently, so I was spending the weekend with them.”

“Ah, that’s a nice area,” he nodded, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced down at you with a smile. At your unspoken question, he said, “I was actually down for a reunion weekend at my school. I went to UVA.”

“I gathered,” you replied teasingly, indicating his T-shirt.

Glancing downward, he shook his head and laughed. “Almost forgot I threw this on when I woke up. Trying to get to the airport on time is a real pain, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” you agreed with a laugh, adjusting your hold on your duffel bag. “Flying is definitely one of my least favorite modes of transportation.”

“Hmm, I don’t know if I’d say that,” he said in reply, an amused look on his face.

Before you could ask him what was so funny, however, you were being welcomed aboard the plane by the stewardesses, who were all smiling and indicating that they expected you to keep moving down the aisle.

Your heart dropped slightly at the abrupt end to your conversation. Now the two of you were going to go to your separate seats, and he’d probably forget all about you. It was one thing to make idle conversation with a stranger while on line, but you doubted he had any real interest in continuing the conversation beyond that.

Sighing softly, you rolled your suitcase down the aisle, pausing every now and then as the people in front of you put their bags in the overhead bins and got themselves sorted. When you finally reached Row 22, you stopped and looked back at Mr. Hottie with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, this is me. I’ll just be a minute,” you told him, pushing down the handle of your carry-on.

“No worries, this is me,” he grinned, indicating Row 21. “I even snagged the window seat,” he added with a wink.

Your mouth went dry. He had the window seat of Row 21. You had the window seat of Row 22. He was sitting directly in front of you.

“Here, let me help you with that,” he said, reaching for your carry-on bag and easily hefting it above his head, sliding it into the overhead bin for you. “Do you need me to put this one up there, too?” he asked, pointing towards your duffel bag.

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” you shook your head, holding onto the strap of your bag. “I’m going to keep this one with me. Thanks a lot,” you smiled, not even noticing the line of disgruntled people that was beginning to form behind the two of you.

“No problem,” he smiled, starting to slide into his row with his backpack still on his back. “Have a great flight.”

“You, too,” you replied, a little sadly, as you crawled into your row, doing your best to ignore the annoyed looks some people were throwing your way.

Needless to say, it was just your luck that the impatient man from the boarding line ended up sitting right beside you. You tried to smile at him, but he just grunted and put his headphones on, completely ignoring you.

Fine by you. Pulling your phone out, you found that you had a whole new series of texts from Katie, demanding to know exactly what was happening.

On the plane now. We should be taking off soon. I talked a little bit to Mr. Hottie. Are you happy?

It didn’t take long at all for her to respond. You could imagine that she had been sitting by her phone, waiting eagerly for your message.

Eeeee, yes, very! What did you guys talk about? Are you sitting near each other on the plane? Did you exchange numbers??? Send me a picture!!!

You laughed softly to yourself as you tried your best to answer all the questions your excited friend had asked you.

Just small talk. He’s actually flying home to San Diego, too. He went to UVA and was there for a reunion weekend. We did not exchange numbers and I’m not going to be a creepy stalker and take a picture of him, but he actually is sitting in the seat right in front of me.

OMG, IT’S FATE!!! So he has the same layover and everything??? And he’s FROM San Diego?! Babe, this is the guy for you!!! You’ve got to keep talking to him!

How would you suggest I do that? Just tap him on the shoulder and whisper into his ear the whole time?

It’s only a couple hours to Atlanta, and then you’ll have the layover, and then another four and half hours to San Diego. You could practically be engaged by the time you land! Just slip him a little note or something. Give him your number!

Your stomach was doing somersaults at the mere thought. Between the two of you, Katie had always been the more outgoing one. She would have no problem slipping a note with her phone number on it to a complete stranger, putting herself out there for the possibility of rejection and utter humiliation. You, on the other hand, preferred to play it safe. It was much more comfortable that way. And sure, maybe you’d never met your Josh the way Katie had, but at least you’d never been hurt too badly, right?

Unbidden, you thought of Andrew and felt bile rise in your throat.

Luckily, you were saved from having to answer Katie right away when the cabin crew made the announcement that it was time to shut down all electronics. Switching your phone onto airplane mode, you slipped it into the front pocket of your duffel bag and took a deep breath, buckling your seatbelt and closing your eyes.

Takeoff was your least favorite part of any flight. When you were a little girl, your parents used to make funny faces and sing silly songs to distract you from your terror. Even now as an adult who was flying all on her own, you still tried to remember the sound of their voices as the plane began its ascent.

It didn’t take too long before you were finally cruising at 18,000 feet and the captain turned off the seatbelt sign. Since you were a Delta SkyMiles member, you got free Wi-Fi on all your flights, so you immediately reached to turn your phone back on to let Katie know you had taken off safely.

As soon as your phone connected with the Wi-Fi, it was instantly flooded with a slew of text messages. A couple were from some of your friends back in San Diego, wishing you a safe and easy flight, but most were from your crazy best friend.

Don’t think you can use being on a plane as an excuse not to answer my texts!

I know you’re a SkyMiles member and you can see these messages!

You better answer me!!!

Shaking your head, you quickly tapped out a quick message in response.

Took off safely. Thinking of watching a movie before we land in Atlanta. You’re crazy and I am not slipping him a note.

Your phone was blessedly quiet for the next several minutes, and part of you hoped that Katie had given up this ridiculous notion. Knowing her as long as you had, however, you should have figured that wouldn’t be the case.

What’s the worst that could happen? He doesn’t answer you? The two of you never talk again? You’ve never seen this guy before in your life, and the chances are good that you’ll never see him again after this. So if you put yourself out there and it doesn’t work out, who cares? At least you tried. And sure, it might be a little embarrassing at first, but like I said, you’ll never have to see him again. But what if you thought about it the other way around? What if it DOES work out? What if this could be the start of something great? Would you really just want to walk away, wondering what could have been and regretting that you didn’t take a chance? You deserve to be loved so, so, SO much! And I know that you have so much love to give! This guy would be lucky if you chose him. Just give it a try, will you? For me? Please! You can’t see it, but I’m giving my best puppy dog face right now. And sending you all the best vibes! You can do this! I love you! ♥️

You groaned at your best friend’s heartfelt message. How could you possibly say no to that? You knew Katie just wanted the best for you, and she wanted you to be happy. You wanted to be happy, too. What if she was right? What if this was your chance? Would you be a fool to just walk away from it without even trying? Like Katie said, at least if you tried, you could say you’d done all you could. And if it didn’t work, then Mr. Hottie just wasn’t the one for you. No harm, no foul.

You were starting to feel like you might need to make use of the vomit bag tucked securely in the seat pocket in front of you when the stewardess stopped at your row to offer you all snacks and beverages. You gratefully accepted a can of ginger ale and a packet of pretzels, nibbling on them slowly in an attempt to settle your roiling stomach.

You were being an idiot. There was no reason to be so dramatic about all this. You could write a quick note and pass it up to him, then pretend it had never happened. Seriously, what was the worst that was going to happen? He was going to get up and make an announcement over the loudspeaker that the girl sitting in 22A was a pathetic, lonely loser? You doubted that very much.

Before you could lose your nerve, you reached into the front pocket of your duffel bag and pulled out the pen you always kept there. Turns out, it really did come in handy. Mercifully, the grumpy man beside you was already snoring, so you could write your note in peace without being worried about him seeing what you were doing.

Hand shaking slightly, you penned a quick letter to the handsome, charming man in 21A.

Hi there. I realized in all our talking that I never caught your name. But it might be good to know, seeing how we’re layover buddies and all. Hope you’re enjoying the flight so far.

You signed your name at the bottom, and then took a deep breath, reading over what you had written on the back of your Delta napkin. It sounded impossibly stupid, but you’d come this far and you weren’t going to turn back now. What was it that people on the internet were always saying? Something about shooting your shot?

Breathing through your nose to avoid getting sick, you reached out a trembling finger and lightly tapped the broad shoulder that you saw peeking out from the seat in front of you. You suddenly realized that he may have been asleep and panicked at the thought of waking him up, but he shifted immediately at your touch and you could tell that he was turning towards you.

Not wanting to meet his eye, you immediately thrust your napkin into the small open space between your seats and the windows, silently praying that he would take it from you instead of laughing in your face.

A second later, you felt his large fingers brush against yours as he took your little note, shifting in his seat once more so that he was facing front again.

What had you just done? Oh, God, there was still another hour left to go on this flight, then a layover, and another four and half hours to San Diego. True, you would never have to see him again after you landed in California, but that was still a lot of time left to have to be in proximity to him if all of this blew up in your face.

You were just about ready to launch yourself out of one of the emergency exits when you suddenly looked up and realized that there was a small white napkin hovering above your head.

Mr. Hottie in 21A was reaching back with your note in hand. Your stomach plummeted and your face and neck grew warm with shame at the thought of him returning the letter you’d written him, until you noticed the red ink on the back of it. 

You’d written your note in black ink.

Slowly reaching out, you took the napkin from his hand, your fingers brushing against each other once more. His were large and warm and calloused and made goosebumps rise on your arm.

Pulse beating rapidly, you turned over the napkin to see the response he had written on the back. His handwriting was a bit messy, more of a scrawl than anything, but it made you smile to look at it.

What was I thinking, not properly introducing myself to my layover buddy? Hope you can forgive me. My name is Bradley. I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’ve got some Wi-Fi on this flight, do you? If you do, feel free to text me. We seem to be dangerously low on napkins.

At the bottom, he’d written his cell phone number.

Pressing a hand over your mouth, it took everything in you to swallow back the squeal of delight that rose up your throat. It worked! Katie’s silly plan had actually worked! Oh, she was going to gloat about this forever when you told her.

Beaming brightly, you pulled out your cell phone. As much as you loved her, Katie could wait right now. You had an extremely gorgeous layover buddy to get in touch with.

Typing his number into your cell phone, you opened up a new message and contemplated what to say for a moment.

Layover buddies who both just so happen to have some inflight Wi-Fi? Clearly it’s meant to be.

You hoped the message came across as cute and flirty instead of desperate and weird as you hit send, anxiously waiting to see if he would reply.

It took only a moment before your phone buzzed, Bradley’s name lighting up your screen.

Layover buddies who both just so happen have some inflight Wi-Fi AND spring for the window seats? Obviously it’s meant to be!

You smiled and were about to think up a reply when another message suddenly came though.

Oh, and to answer your note—I’m enjoying the flight a lot more now.

The butterflies went crazy in your stomach as you wrote back to him.

Me, too. And that’s saying a lot, considering the four-year-old behind me hasn’t stopped kicking my seat since we boarded.

Bradley only took seconds to reply.

Oof, that’s rough. If I could switch seats with you, I would. But I have to admit that I’m very happy that you’re not kicking my seat.

Wouldn’t be too sure about that, you sent back teasingly before lightly nudging his seat with your foot.

Hey! I thought we were friends!

We’ll see 😉

You and Bradley went back and forth like that for the entire remainder of your flight to Atlanta, the banter light and easy as you teased and joked with each other. You even ended up playing a game of 20 Questions, in which you learned, among other things, that Bradley’s favorite color was red, he once broke his arm when he was seven years old, and he absolutely despised peas.

As the captain announced that you would soon begin preparing for your final descent, you shot off a quick message to Katie, who you had woefully neglected during your conversation with Bradley.

I owe you one. The pep talk and the plan actually worked—I’m texting Mr. Hottie as we speak! Update you soon. We’re about to land in Atlanta.

Just as you sent the message off to your friend, another text from Bradley arrived.

Looks like we’re going to have to turn off our phones, layover buddy. I’ll see you when we land. Food? I’m starving.

Grinning, you had to pinch yourself to check that this wasn’t some sort of elaborate dream.

Same. I’ll race you for some french fries.

You’re on.

When the plane finally landed and the captain turned off the seatbelt sign, everyone practically jumped out of their seats in a mad dash to see who could be the first to get their belongings out of the overhead bins. Since you and Bradley were in the window seats, you took your time, knowing you weren’t getting off the plane anytime soon.

You were surprised, however, when he suddenly popped his head over the back of his seat, grinning down at you. “Good thing our next flight doesn’t leave for a couple hours yet,” he said, indicating the crowd with a good-natured grin that made your heart melt.

You had almost been starting to think you’d exaggerated just how good-looking he was, but nope. He really was that hot.

“Plenty of time to grab those fries,” you laughed, smiling up at him.

When you and Bradley were finally able to step out into the aisle, he opened the bin above your head and reached for your suitcase.

“Let me take care of this for you,” he said, lowering it to the ground and lifting the handle so that he could wheel it up the aisle.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” you insisted, not wanting him to think that you expected him to carry your things for you.

“Hey, what are layover buddies for?” he winked, leading the way off the plane.

Once the two of you were standing face to face in the middle of the airport terminal, you began to feel a little shy and self-conscious again. It had been easy to talk to Bradley via text, but now that you were gazing up at his handsome face again, you suddenly found yourself getting just as tongue-tied as before.

Bradley seemed to sense your nerves because he smiled warmly at you, his demeanor just as open and friendly as it had been the entire time you’d known him.

“How about we hunt down those fries?” he suggested, waiting until you smiled and nodded before turning and guiding you towards the main concourse.

The two of you ended up finding a quick and easy little fast food counter, where you ordered a couple burgers, a large order of fries, and some vanilla milkshakes with whipped cream and cherries. As soon as it became clear that Bradley was going to pay for both your meals, you tried to argue and insist on paying your share, but he wouldn’t hear it.

“My mom raised a gentleman, and she would kill me if she thought I was even thinking of letting my layover buddy pay for her lunch,” he told you, winking playfully as he handed his credit card to the employee behind the counter.

You took your suitcase from Bradley as he balanced the tray with your food in his hands, leading you to an empty table towards the end of the concourse.

“Your mom must be very proud of you, I’m sure,” you grinned, reaching eagerly for a fry and popping it into your mouth. “Did you get to see her while you were in Virginia?”

Bradley smiled, though his eyes suddenly looked a little sad. “Yeah. Yeah, you could say that.”

Deciding not to press the matter, you instead turned the attention to his college reunion. That led to the two of you happily swapping stories about your time in college, which landed you on the subject of what you do now.

“A naval aviator? Really? And a TOPGUN graduate? That’s very impressive,” you gushed, mentally picturing him in a flight suit. You’d gone on a couple dates with some naval aviators from North Island, but none as handsome or as charming as Bradley. You suddenly groaned and covered your face with your hand when you remembered what you’d said to him right before boarding the plane. “So that’s what you meant when I was saying that flying isn’t my favorite mode of transportation,” you murmured, feeling a little embarrassed.

Bradley threw his head back and laughed at that, looking genuinely amused. “Hey, I get it. Flying isn’t for everybody. Trust me, some days I wish I had just opted for a desk job,” he grinned, his muscles flexing as he stretched in his seat. “But there’s nothing quite like it, when you’re the one doing the flying. Maybe one day I can take you up in the air and change your mind.”

He looked across the table at you and held your gaze, and you felt sure in that moment that you would have promised him anything he asked.

“So what’s your call sign then?” you asked with a smile, resting your cheek in your hand as you looked into his eyes.

“Oh, you know about that, huh?” he chuckled, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Well, uh, they call me Rooster.”

You had a feeling he expected you to laugh—maybe other girls in the past had—but you just grinned brightly in response. “I like it,” you said simply. “It suits you.”

He let out a small breath and smiled in return. “Thank you. My dad’s call sign was Goose. So I guess it runs in the family.”

“Your dad is in the Navy, too?” you asked curiously, lifting your milkshake and taking a sip.

Bradley cleared his throat slightly, looking down at his lap. “He was. He died in a training accident at TOPGUN when I was two.”

You sucked in a breath at your own carelessness and looked across at Bradley with empathy glowing in your eyes. “Oh, Bradley,” you murmured softly, reaching out and resting a hand over his. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he replied gently, a small smile on his face as he placed his other hand over yours. “But thank you.” He was quiet for a moment before he went on. “It was just me and my mom for a while, back home in Virginia. But she got sick when I was in high school, and she passed away my senior year.”

“Bradley,” you breathed out sadly, your heart breaking for him. You winced when you thought of what he’d said before, about seeing his mom while he was in Virginia.

“She and my dad are buried in my hometown, where I grew up. I go to see them at the cemetery whenever I’m back in town,” he explained, as if reading your thoughts.

“I’m sure that means a lot to them, and that they’re smiling down on you always,” you told him sincerely, squeezing his hand lightly.

He smiled up at you, the sadness in his expression lifting slightly. “I like to think so. I think they’d like you a lot,” he added, then looked away. He suddenly seemed embarrassed.

The two of you sat back, disentangling your hands as you sat in mildly awkward silence for a moment or two.

“What about your parents?” Bradley asked, clearly looking for a way to change the subject. “Do they still live in New York?”

It was your turn to look sad now. “Well, we actually have a lot in common, Bradley. Only I guess my story is sort of in reverse. My mom passed away when I was six years old. She got in a car accident on her way home from work. And my dad passed when I was a freshman in college. Lung cancer.”

“Shit,” Bradley muttered, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You couldn’t have known. And it feels kind of nice talking about it with someone who I know understands. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Bradley nodded, his expression serious as his dark eyes rested on your face. “Yeah, I do.”

You and Bradley sat in companionable silence as you finished your meals, then checked to see how much time you had before your connecting flight.

“I guess we should start making our way over to the gate,” you suggested, glancing at the time on your phone. You had about ten text messages from Katie, but you were too embarrassed to open them anywhere near Bradley.

Bradley nodded in agreement, wordlessly taking the handle of your suitcase and leading you back across the concourse.

“Hey, we got so distracted talking about my job that I never even asked what you do,” he suddenly realized once the two of you were seated at your gate, both your phones charging in a nearby outlet.

“Oh, yeah,” you smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair that had escaped your bun behind your ear. “Funny enough, I actually work for the Midway Museum,” you told him, glancing up at him, only to find that he was already gazing down at you.

“No way! Guess we’re both stuck aboard aircraft carriers for work then,” he chuckled. “What do you do?”

“Well, my official title is digital content specialist,” you said, biting down on your lower lip. You felt like it always sounded a bit pretentious. “Basically, I help run the museum’s digital accounts—social media, their website, email blasts, things like that. My degree is in marketing and communications, so that’s basically what I do.”

“That’s amazing,” Bradley said, and you could tell that he genuinely meant it. Some guys just pretended to be interested in your job as a pretense for trying to get into your pants, but you could tell that Bradley actually cared about what you had to say. He was actually listening. “Is that what brought you out to San Diego?”

“It is, actually. I had been applying to a few different places, and when I got word from the Midway that they were interested in hiring me, I thought that maybe it was the fresh start I needed,” you confessed.

“Has it been?” Bradley asked quietly.

“I think so,” you nodded slowly, absent-mindedly twisting your bracelet around your wrist. “It’s hard sometimes, being so far away from my best friend, Katie—the one I was visiting. She’s pretty much the only family I’ve got left. But I like the life that I’m building in San Diego.”

“That’s good. I’m glad to hear it,” Bradley smiled, his hand lightly brushing against yours as he shifted in his seat. He looked like he was about to say more when the flight crew called your boarding group.

“Looks like we’re going to be sitting near each other again, 21A,” you teased, glancing down at his boarding pass as the two of you rose and grabbed your phones.

“Glad to hear it, 22A,” he joked in return, holding up his phone and waving it back and forth. “And now my phone is fully charged for our trip back to San Diego, so let the texting commence.”

Giggling, you nodded as the two of you walked down the rampway side by side and made your way onto the plane and to your seats without incident. When you got there, however, you saw that there had been some confusion with a young family that looked to have four children under the age of eight. It seemed as though their tickets had gotten split up so that they weren’t all sitting next to each other, and the mother was frantic.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” Bradley asked, quickly taking stock of the situation. When the woman looked up at him, clearly stressed out and worried he was going to yell at her, he smiled comfortingly. “I was just going to say that, if you’d like, you can have my seat. I’d be happy to take yours since it looks like it’s next to my friend here anyway. That way, we can all be comfortable and sit with the people we want to sit with.”

“Oh, thank you!” the young mother exclaimed, looking ready to hug Bradley. “Thank you!”

She and her husband quickly got their children settled, thanking Bradley a few more times for good measure, while he took your carry-on and set it in the overhead bin.

Once you had settled in your window seat, Bradley took the seat beside you, grinning impishly.

“Look at that. Now we don’t even need to waste the Wi-Fi,” he murmured, nudging you playfully.

“Things just have a way of working out for us today, don’t they?” you laughed, settling your duffel bag at your feet. “I’m just going to send a quick message to Katie, to let her know I made it onto my connecting flight,” you told him, reaching for your phone and quickly opening Katie’s messages so that Bradley wouldn’t see them.

“Good idea, I should text Mav,” Bradley said, grabbing his phone out of his pocket. At your confused look, he explained, “My godfather. He’s also in the Navy, and he also just so happens to be stationed out in San Diego. He’s going to pick me up at the airport.”

Nodding, you sent a brief text to your best friend, promising you would call her as soon as you got home, then settled in for the flight and tried to get as comfortable as possible.

As soon as you felt the plane jolt to life and begin taxing towards the runway, your chest grew tight and your grip on yours and Bradley’s shared armrest started to turn your knuckles white.

“Hey,” Bradley said softly, genuine concern in his voice as he glanced over and noticed how on edge you suddenly appeared. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” you lied, keeping your gaze fixed straight ahead on the screen in front of you, which was currently playing some Delta commercial that your brain could scarcely register.

“I think your death grip on our armrest would suggest otherwise,” he pressed gently, his tone remaining light and good-humored. “You trying to take that thing with you?”

Startled, your nervous trance was broken and you glanced down to see what Bradley was talking about. Sure enough, your nails were digging into the armrest so intensely that you wouldn’t have been surprised if they left little crescent-shaped marks in their wake.

Letting out a shaky laugh, you looked up at the man beside you ruefully. “Okay, truth be told, I get a little anxious during takeoff,” you confessed, biting your lip in embarrassment. He would probably think that was silly. He was a fighter pilot, after all. His day job involved flying multi-million dollar aircrafts for the military. And here you were, acting like a scaredy cat over a commercial Delta flight.

Bradley’s eyes crinkled in a way that you found devastatingly charming as he smiled over at you. The look on his face was kind, without a single trace of mocking humor.

“Want to know a secret?” he whispered, leaning in closer to you so that his nose was nearly pressed against your cheek and you could feel his breath on your skin. “So do I.”

“You’re kidding,” you scoffed, shooting him a skeptical look. He was probably just trying to be nice. “But you’re a naval aviator!”

“Yeah, but I’m not the one flying this plane, am I?” he retorted with a lopsided grin. “It’s hard to put the reins in someone else’s hands. So I understand being nervous. Hell, I still get a little nervous sometimes when I’m flying an F-18. Just don’t tell anyone I said that,” he added, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

“Oh, of course not,” you giggled, smiling over at him. Glancing out the window, you realized that his conversation had distracted you so much, you hadn’t even noticed that the plane had finished its approach towards the runway and was officially waiting for takeoff.

Some of your nerves returned, and you gripped the armrest once more, but this time, you felt Bradley’s large, yet gentle fingers close over yours. Surprised, you turned your head sharply and instantly met his gaze. It was direct and disconcertingly open as he looked deeply into your eyes.

“It’s okay,” he assured you in a low voice, squeezing your fingers comfortingly. “We’re going to be okay.”

“My parents used to sing to me during takeoff,” you found yourself blurting out suddenly, your cheeks growing warm at the admission. “I can remember my mom doing it when I was a little girl, and my dad used to do it for me even when I was in high school,” you explained shyly, lowering your eyes to your lap.

At that moment, your stomach dropped as the plane suddenly began hurtling forward, seeking enough momentum to become airborne.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to recall the sound of your parents’ voices in order to calm your racing heart. But a new voice suddenly entered the mix as you felt your newfound flying buddy lean across the armrest, his warm body pressing against your side as he sang quietly in your ear.

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain…”

Wait a second. You knew that song. Where did you know that song from?

“Too much love drives a man insane. You broke my will, but what a thrill…”

Yes, you definitely knew that song. It was on one of the records your parents used to play when you were a little girl. Was it Jerry Lee Lewis?

Gasping in recognition, you whisper-sang the next lyric in harmony with Bradley—“Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!”

He laughed in delight when you began singing along, squeezing your hand with an affectionate grin. “And would you look at that,” he said, nodding towards the window. “We’re airborne. Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Shocked, you followed his line of vision and were taken aback to see that you were already ascending into the clouds, leaving the city of Atlanta far behind. That had been one of the smoothest takeoff experiences you’d had in—well, you couldn’t even remember how long.

“I barely even noticed!” you exclaimed, focusing your attention back on Bradley. You smiled gratefully, your heart melting at the adorable puppy dog look on his face. “Thank you, Bradley.”

You noticed at that moment that he still hadn’t let go of your hand, and your pulse began to quicken, but this time for entirely different reasons.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured in response, his voice low and suddenly husky. It did something to you, that deep, raspy voice of his. “Happy to do it.” He squeezed your hand gently once more, then slowly—almost hesitantly—let it go.

“I haven’t heard that song in the longest time,” you told him, resting back against your seat. “My parents used to listen to it.”

Bradley smiled slightly. “It’s the one song I can actually remember my dad singing. He loved to sing and play the piano. My mom had tons of home videos of him doing it. But that song—that song I can actually remember hearing him sing, you know? I was so young when he—well—I can remember that one. And that’s why it’s my favorite to sing and play.”

“You play the piano, too?” you asked, impressed. “Wow, a man of many talents.” You nudged him playfully, a big smile on your face.

“I’ll have to show you what I can do,” Bradley replied, winking.

Your stomach fluttered at the implication that he might actually want to see you again after today.

“I’d like that,” you admitted, ducking your head shyly. You suddenly felt much more aware of everything around you, particularly every inch of your muscular seatmate. Goodness, he really was huge, wasn’t he? Chewing nervously on your bottom lip, you began fidgeting with your bracelet, tugging at it absent-mindedly.

“That’s a pretty bracelet,” Bradley commented, pointing at it as he watched you twist it back and forth around your wrist. “A gift?” he asked lightly, his tone almost a little too casual.

“Mhm,” you nodded, smiling fondly as you gazed down at it. You could still remember the day you opened it. “My dad bought it for me as a present when I graduated high school. I never take it off.”

“Ah,” Bradley nodded, appearing surprisingly relieved. He was quiet for a moment or two, looking like he was mulling over something. Then he turned towards you and asked, “So, um, is there anybody waiting for you in San Diego? Anyone, uh, special, I mean?” he asked, his cheeks and his ears turning red as he rubbed the back of his neck.

You felt your own skin grow warm in response. Was Bradley asking if you had a boyfriend? And was he embarrassed about it? Just when you thought this man couldn’t possibly charm you any more than he already had.

“Not unless you count my neighbor, Mrs. Flores. She really appreciates it when I walk her dog on the weekends,” you told him, your lips twitching as you tried to maintain a straight face.

Caught off guard by your response, Bradley let out a loud laugh, covering his mouth with one hand as he glanced down at you, eyes twinkling.

“I’m sure Mrs. Flores will be very happy to see you back again,” he nodded, tapping his fingers on his tray table.

The two of you sat in silence for a couple minutes until you finally glanced up and said, “I had actually just gotten out of a long-term relationship right before I moved to San Diego. It was kind of the catalyst for why I decided to take the job at the Midway Museum.”

“Oh, really?” Bradley asked, eyebrows shooting up. Then he cleared his throat, shaking his head. “I mean, I’m sorry to hear that. If it’s too personal, we don’t have to talk about it.”

“No, it’s okay,” you sighed, twirling your bracelet a few times as you thought back on your last failed relationship. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt as much as it normally did. Maybe time really did heal all wounds. You took a deep breath before you elaborated. “Andrew and I were together for four years. For a long time, I really thought he was the one. Katie was convinced that he was going to propose on our trip to Greece. It was a dream vacation for me. I had the whole thing planned out for months and months. And I really started to let myself believe that it was going to happen.”

Bradley sat quietly, watching you carefully as he attentively took in every word you uttered.

“We were in Athens, and I had the whole day planned—all these tours and museums. But Andrew insisted that he was too tired since we had just traveled from Rhodes, and he begged me to let him stay behind at the hotel. Being the idiot that I am, I thought that maybe he wanted to put the finishing touches on his big proposal. So I went on the tours by myself. But the last tour ended early, so I came back to our hotel room a little sooner than expected.”

Your throat began to tighten as the story continued, the pain of what had happened next eclipsed only by your embarrassment that Bradley would soon know how pitifully your last relationship had ended. Why had you brought all this up?

“I’ll spare you all the details, but suffice it to say, I found Andrew in bed with one of the cocktail waitresses from the hotel bar. And to no one’s surprise, there was no ring and he never had any intention of proposing. So I flew home from Greece minus a boyfriend and with very little remaining of my dignity. Leaving everything behind and starting fresh in San Diego seemed like a really good idea, so when the Midway contacted me, I jumped at the offer. And here I am,” you finished with a self-conscious laugh, shrugging your shoulders awkwardly.

Bradley didn’t say anything at first, just continued to stare at you in a way that had you feeling distinctly exposed. Your fingers immediately went to your bracelet once again, nervously fidgeting and waiting for him to say something.

Reaching out, he placed his hand over yours and stilled your movements gently. “First of all,” he began slowly, looking directly into your eyes. It seemed as though he was peering directly into your soul. “Andrew is a complete and total loser. If he didn’t know what he had in you, then he never deserved you to begin with. It’s his loss, and trust me, he’ll be regretting it for the rest of his life if he has even an ounce of sense.” His thumb brushed lightly against your knuckles, making your legs suddenly feel like Jell-O. “Second of all, I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that, and I hope you know that the way that idiot treated you in no way says anything about you. I’ve only known you for a few hours, but I can see that that guy never deserved you to begin with.”

Feeling bashful, you lowered your head, trying to escape the intensity of Bradley’s dark eyes. It didn’t matter though—you could still feel his gaze.

“You don’t have to say that,” you murmured, not wanting him to think you had just unloaded all of this on him for sympathy points.

“I’m not just saying it,” he insisted, his voice serious. “You’re a special girl, and you deserve to be with someone who treats you that way.”

Someone like you?

The thought sprang unbidden to your mind, causing you to grow flustered. “Th–thank you,” you stammered, worried for half a second that Bradley could actually read your mind.

You were saved from having to make any further comment in that moment when the stewardess suddenly appeared with the food cart, asking you if you wanted any snacks or beverages.

You opted for a Diet Coke and popcorn, while Bradley took a Sprite and a bag of potato chips.

“What do you say? A little toast to my new flight buddy?” Bradley suggested teasingly, holding his can of soda out towards you.

You couldn’t help but smile, lightly tapping your can against his. “Cheers to us,” you laughed, taking a small sip.

“To us,” Bradley grinned. “You know,” he went on, after taking a gulp of his Sprite, “if you ever want to think about getting your pilot’s license, I’d be happy to have you as my wingman—er, woman.”

You laughed aloud at the notion, shaking your head. “Um, did you already forget about how well I handled takeoff? I’m not so sure anyone would trust me behind the controls of a plane.”

“I could teach you,” he shot back, waggling his eyebrows until you laughed again. “Or at the very least, take you up for a little joyride. I’d make sure to keep you safe.”

Your heart warmed at his words, and you found yourself wondering what it would be like to walk through life with this man, to have him be the one you came home to every day.

To have him be the one to make you feel like the most special girl in the world.

“I would like that,” you confessed, pushing your self-consciousness to the side as you looked into his eyes. “I would like that a lot.”

“So would I,” Bradley replied, his expression earnest.

For the next hour or two, you and Bradley shared some of the snacks you’d packed in your duffel bag and talked about everything and nothing at the same time. You had never felt so instantly at ease with someone who had been a complete and total stranger just a few hours earlier. The fact that he had been in San Diego all this time, right under your nose, and that it had taken a flight home all the way from Virginia for you two to actually meet felt like more than just a coincidence. It felt like this was exactly where you were supposed to be.

At some point, you must have finally succumbed to your exhaustion and fallen asleep because when the captain announced that you were making your final descent into San Diego International Airport, you were lifting your head off Bradley’s shoulder and blinking in confusion.

“Hello there, sleepyhead,” Bradley grinned, wiping a hand down his face and rubbing the sleep out of his own eyes.

“How long was I asleep?” you asked, stretching your arms over your head. “I never sleep on planes.”

“Well you definitely slept on this one. I’d say you were probably out for at least an hour and a half,” he told you, running a hand through his hair, which made his sunkissed curls stand on end. “I nodded out, too. Guess we both needed it, huh?”

“Yeah, guess so,” you nodded, smiling at him.

By the time you finally deplaned—after Bradley, of course, had insisted on taking down your carry-on suitcase from the overhead bin and rolling it through the airport for you—you were growing both eager and anxious with anticipation of what the end of your journey would look like.

You and Bradley technically already had each other’s phone numbers, so should you say something about getting together? Would that seem too brazen? Should you just text him tomorrow and hope that whatever spark had been ignited during your travels today wouldn’t be extinguished by the time you both got home?

All of those thoughts and more were running through your head as you and Bradley took the escalator down to baggage claim and the terminal exit.

“Do you, um, do you have somebody picking you up?” Bradley asked as the two of you stepped off the escalator. He stepped to the side to avoid the flow of the crowd, and you stepped with him. “Mrs. Flores perhaps?” he added with a teasing spark in his eye.

“No,” you giggled, shaking your head. “I was just planning to call an Uber.”

“No need,” he said, his chest puffing out ever so slightly. “Mav and I will give you a ride home. He should actually be here already,” he mumbled, almost to himself, as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his messages.

“Oh, you guys don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t want you going out of your way,” you hurried to tell him, noticing that Bradley still had his hand on the handle of your suitcase.

“Who says it would be going out of our way?” Bradley retorted with that impossibly charming smile of his. “Unless, of course, you’re more comfortable taking an Uber. I don’t want to make you feel like—”

“No, no, you’re not,” you interrupted, wanting to make it clear to him that you appreciated the offer.

Seemingly at an impasse, the two of you just looked at each other and started laughing.

“I would love a ride, thank you. If it’s not too much trouble,” you told him.

“Never,” Bradley insisted. “Besides, you put up with me all day. I owe you.”

“I could say the same thing,” you grinned, reaching into the front pocket of your duffel bag and pulling out your cell phone. “In the meantime, I should text Katie and let her know I landed safely and that you haven’t abducted me or anything,” you teased jokingly.

Too late, you realized your mistake.

“Ah, so you told Katie about me, huh?” Bradley smirked, looking just a tad too pleased with himself. “What did you say?”

“Oh, um, nothing, just that I made a friend while traveling,” you stammered in humiliation, your cheeks feeling like they were on fire. “I’m just, um, I’m going to step over there while you get your bag.”

“Sure, sure,” he laughed, winking at you as he hurried over to the baggage carousel to search for his suitcase.

“Oh my God, how stupid are you?” you muttered to yourself, mentally kicking yourself for your careless words as you sent off a quick message to your best friend to let her know you were alive.

A moment later, she texted you back.

YOU BETTER CALL ME THE MINUTE YOU GET HOME!!! I WANT EVERY. SINGLE. DETAIL!!!

Smiling, you dropped your phone back into your bag and looked up to see Bradley walking towards you, his suitcase in hand.

“Ready to head out?” he asked with a smile, watching as you grabbed the handle of your carry-on and did one quick scan to make sure you hadn’t dropped anything.

“Ready,” you nodded, following him outside to where a slew of Ubers and other cars were waiting to pick up their passengers.

“There’s Mav,” Bradley told you, pointing with his free hand towards the end of the pick-up line, where a handsome older man with dark hair and an easy smile was waving at you.

“Your godfather drives a Porsche?” you asked, your eyes nearly bugging out of your head at the sight of the vintage car. It was in pristine condition and you were certain it must have cost a small fortune.

“Technically, it’s his fiancée, Penny’s car, but she lets him drive it when he’s been good,” Bradley joked, resting a gentle hand on your back as he guided you through the crowd.

Bradley was quick to embrace his godfather when the two of you finally reached the Porsche, slapping him on the back before stepping back and holding out a hand to you. “Mav, I’d like you to meet my new travel buddy,” he grinned, introducing you by name.

Mav, as Bradley kept calling him, offered you one of those easy smiles as he held out his hand, which you took with a smile of your own.

“Ah, so this is the girl from the plane I’ve been hearing so much about,” Mav smirked, shooting a pointed look in his godson’s direction.

“Mav!” Bradley hissed through gritted teeth, his complexion instantly turning pink, even in the shade.

“Ah,” you smirked, feeling vindicated from your earlier blunder. “So you told Mav about me, huh?” you asked, nudging his side. “What did you say?” you teased, tossing back his question from before.

“Oh, he said plenty,” Mav jumped in, clearly enjoying watching Bradley squirm as he opened the passenger side door for you.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s crazy. All those Gs he’s always pulling have finally gone to his head,” Bradley protested, although he was smiling as he said it.

“Oh, I think I’m going to enjoy this car ride very much,” you giggled, winking at Bradley as you slid into your seat.

“Promise you’ll still like me by the time we get home?” Bradley whispered, leaning in close as he climbed in beside you.

You grinned up at him, thinking about how, for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel so alone. San Diego suddenly felt much more like home than it ever had.

“Promise.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #bradley bradsaw x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #miles teller

[jaysgirlx]

❝ 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ❞

❥ pairing: valentines jason todd x f!reader

❥ summary: this is your first valentine's day with jason after well he died and came back, he needs everything to be perfect for you to make for all the lost time.

❥ warnings: bit of angst, mentions of abuse/torture, tons of fluff & smut, unapproving dad Bruce Wayne

❥ wc: 4.3k

"Jason stop it, c'mon Bruce is going to catch us" you squealed, while your boyfriend pressed kisses all over your neck. "I don't want you to get banned from seeing me again, especially with Valentine's upcoming!"

Jason groaned and lifted his head up from your hickey-stained neck. "Even if Bruce does ban me, there's no way in hell I'm missing our first Valentine's," Jason says, laying his head on your chest. The two of you comfortably lay in your bed, cuddling while your parents were asleep a couple doors down.

You'd grown up with Jason, you'd always known him as a troublesome kid but that didn't stop you from developing a crush on the guy. You never thought of saying anything until you learned he'd gotten adopted after his dad kinda just disappeared.

For weeks you'd missed him, you missed how dumb antics, you missed the way he was always following you around and you missed his dumb smile. God, you loved that cheesy grin he always gave you..

Until one day he appeared on your doorstep, telling you that Bruce, his new dad was finally allowing him to visit his old friends. You thought he'd forgotten you but it was far from it and you knew then and there you definitely had a thing for Jason Todd.

It still took a while for either of you to confess your feelings. You thought you would crack first but Jason did instead when he learned that some guy from your school had a crush on you. He didn't mean for it to come out but he was just so jealous, "Why go out with him when you have me huh? I'd make a much better boyfriend. Just go out with me"

He wasn't wrong because he did, a week later you were on the best date of your life. Jason took you to this amazing amusement park that was happening in the middle of Gotham City. The whole night was spent on games and junk food, and Jason Todd got his kiss on the cheek that wasn't from Barbara.

Over time your relationship developed into something more, you couldn't help but spend more and more time with him. He eventually asked you to be his girlfriend and you've been his ever since.

"Well, I don't want to risk it okay? You need to get home before Bruce notices, don't you guys have patrol tonight"

"Okay fine, fine but first, I have something for you princess"

You watch as Jason pulls out what looks to be a ring box. "Woah, wash slow your roll buster, we are only 15 you can't freaking propose!" you whisper scream, praying that your shock wouldn't wake up your parents.

"Princess calm down, it's just a promise ring," Jason said rolling his eyes as if this was normal. "I wanted to give it to you before our date tomorrow, so you'll already be wearing it"

Jason sat up a bit and cleared his throat while he looked at you nervously, "I'm not sure if I've made this clear but…I love you y/n. Like really love you and you're the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with. So I got this promise ring, it's like a sign of me promising myself to you if that makes any sense"

"You love me?"

"Yes, I love you y/n and you don't have to say it back okay? We're young, I have years to come to hear you say it"

You were silent as he slipped the ring on your finger. You could tell from the moment he opened the box it wasn't cheap but you couldn't complain he bought it for you. Because he loved you. And you wanted to say it back but you were scared, scared to fully accept that you loved him.

Jason didn't care if you said it back or not because, in his eyes, you were the only one who accepted him. He looked at you sweetly and gave you a soft smile before getting out of your bed and heading towards your window. Now was the time to say it, to tell him you loved him but you just couldn't m

"I'll see you tomorrow okay sweetheart? I'll pick you up at 7" He says climbing out the window with one of his cheesy grins.

At the age of 15, you'd never be happier to be young and stupidly in love with Jason Todd. Ever since he moved in with Bruce, the two of you didn't get to see each other a lot, and that caused tension between him and Bruce. Jason believed he deserved a later curfew so he could visit you but Bruce was against it, he didn't think it was safe.

Tonight Jason snuck out to see you, the two of you had Valentine's Day plans and wanted to confirm them and we'll spend time with you. You were his world, you were one of the biggest reasons he became Robin. You were the one he wanted to protect no matter what and you knew that.

What you didn't know was this would be the last time you'd ever see Jason at least until you saw his casket. The two of you never celebrated your first Valentine's and you never got to tell Jason how much he meant to you. You never got to tell him how stupid he was for sneaking out, how much you didn't deserve this wrong, and that you did love him back.

7 years later

Everything had to be perfect.

Currently, it was February 14th and Jason had woken up with what was probably the worst news he could've gotten over a phone call.

Dear Mr.Todd, we're sorry to bother you on such a busy day but your reservation at Gotham Restaurant has been canceled due to a surge of higher-paying customers. We can reschedule your reservation for free at any time. We are sorry for this inconvenience.

"You're kidding me right!" Jason yelled, banging his fist against the wall. Out of a day, it had to snow today huh? Your first Valentine's since the two of you got back together. The first Valentine's since he died. Jason had never been able to give you the Valentines you deserved and when the two of you got back together, he immediately started planning.

"No Sir, we are very sorry for this inconvenience and we can try and get you another reservation elsewhere but-"

"Nowhere else is going to have any free spot and even ignoring that my girlfriend wants to go the Gotham Restaurant not anywhere else"

Well, that is what you had told him when he asked what restaurant would you like to go to that you hadn't been to yet. This wasn't how today was supposed to go. Jason had the whole day planned out. What should've been waking up in his followed by breakfast in bed, shopping, lunch, more shopping, dinner at your favorite place, a movie, dessert at your favorite ice cream shop, and ending with hopefully some cuddling if you didn't mind was now all ruined.

Jason had needed today to be perfect especially after you got over the fact that your dead boyfriend was not only alive but also vililangte who was formerly a crime lord. The fact you still wanted to be with him after all this time bewildered him this led him to believe he was probably on thin ice with you so today had to be perfect.

Since it was already Valentine's Day he knew no other restaurant would have any space for a reservation so that meant he'd probably have to cook the two of you dinner. Jason had quite the stocked fridge so he didn't see it as a bad idea but he knew you'd be disappointed for sure.

His entire relationship was riding on today being perfect and it was already failing. While Jason tried to get dressed he quickly noticed that it was already passed 8 o'clock. He was late, He said he'd make you breakfast in bed at 8 which made him late. Could today get any worse?

And it did when you told him you wouldn't eat breakfast with him because your boss really needed you at work for a couple of hours and he had already been on his way to your apartment. "I'll be back early enough for us to go shopping, and go to the restaurant. mkay? I guess we'll have to miss the movie" you said through the phone while simultaneously getting dressed for work. "Can't wait to go the Gotham Restaurant, can't believe you got us a reservation babe."

"Yeah about that…" Jason couldn't do this, he couldn't tell you that actually, you guys weren't getting dinner anywhere and that he was going to cook at home. You sounded so excited and so happy and he didn't want to be the reason that went away. "You'll love it alright. I'll pick you up from work around 6 for your shopping spree and then we'll get dinner"

"Jay I don't need to go shopping, dinner is enough really-"

"I want to take you shopping okay? I have enough saved up to spoil you and that's what I plan to do sweetheart"

Your heart hummed at the word sweetheart. It had been so long since Jason had called you that. It felt surreal because at times he didn't feel like Jason, well not like your Jason. The Jason who kissed you like his life depended on it, the Jason who was obsessed with holding your hand, the Jason who told you he loved you.

When Bruce called you and told you Jason was alive you didn't believe him. Jason was dead, you were at the funeral just like everyone else and knew how he died. A small part of you blame Bruce, this wouldn't have happened to Dick and even if it did he would've found him. Bruce tried telling you a couple more times but you ignored him. Your boyfriend, no your Jason was dead. The next time you hear about it was from Dick because Jason was out for blood. Joker's if we had to be specific.

You didn't want to believe him but Dick had loved Jason like they were biological brothers and you knew he wouldn't lie. He warned you that Jason was different and that I should be wary of him.

You took his advice and made sure not to walk home alone and tried not to go out at night but one day you had a rough day at work and you decided to visit Jason's grave. You left red dahlias on his tombstone and sat down next to it. You started talking to it about how your boss yelled at you and called you incompetent. "You would have called him an asshole for that if you were here," You told him how much you missed him. You knew he was alive but it felt so much easier talking to the tombstone because it felt like he was really there.

You did this consistently for about 2 months, you had caught on that someone was watching you. It was Dick because when you did actually see the figure they were much taller than Dick and they stayed hidden, Dick wouldn't have a reason to do that. It made sense to alert Dick but you didn't because you knew who it was and you weren't ready to face him.

Eventually, you heard from Dick that Jason had changed and that maybe you should talk to him but you still needed time. That didn't stop Jason from approaching you at your apartment. You were startled because your little high school boyfriend was suddenly 6 feet and over 200 pounds. He was practically all muscle and you were kinda scared. That didn't stop you from crying in his arms.

It took a while for the two of you to adjust to being in each other's lives especially when you never stopped having feelings for him. When you admitted that to him, he asked for a second chance. That he'd be yours even if you weren't his. So you let him be yours.

"Okayyy, I'll see you at 6 hun," you said just as you cut off the call.

Jason paces around his bedroom trying to figure out how the hell he was going to get the reservation back.

The two of you arrive at the mall, and you wait while Jason parks his motorcycle. It was shocking how there were barely any cars in the lot. Jason assumed that maybe people were just busy cause of Valentine's. You were so excited to go in that you ran over to the doors to get inside except you couldn't.

Closed for Construction, the sign read.

Jason didn't think today could get worse but it did. "No no no! This wasn't supposed to be Damn it!" He said angrily. He had even called the building, they were supposed to be opened. Construction wasn't for another 2 weeks, it was just his luck that they decided to start early. "Jason it's fine, I told you I don't need to go shopping. It was very thoughtful of you though to want to spoil me but you're already getting me dinner at the best restaurant in the city"

"There is no dinner! Our reservation got fucking and canceled and…Today is ruined y/n. Let me just take you home."

"Jason why didn't you tell me, I can promise you today is not ruined. Jay, are you even listening to me?"

Jason was hardly processing your words though because all he could think was losing you. You would dump him and he would go back to hating himself and his very existence. Would life go back to being a reminder that he died? He was tortured endlessly until he was finally out of his misery. No matter how hard the Joker tried to convince him that you hated him he wouldn't believe him. The part of you wearing his promise ring is what kept him going. What got him through the beating. What made it easier to look at the scars.

What left did he have if he wasn't able to love you. He was yours, he didn't know how to love others and he didn't want to because he would always love you. When he was watching you he realized that even though it had been 7 years you were still the same.

Still had the pretty smile and that contagious laugh, still had a knack for books and enjoyed it. You were still his, at least he believed so. And the one thing you asked him, he couldn't deliver. You messed up your first Valentine's and now he was going to mess up this one too.

"Jay for fucks sake, would you look at me!!"

Jason wasn't sure if it was that cursing that made him snap out of his spiral or maybe it was the fact that you were holding his hands. It had only been 2 weeks since he reintroduced himself into your life, and had been avoiding affection. He knew it was cause he was so big now and you were a bit scared. But right now you weren't. You were holding your hands with his. You were looking at him with what looked like pain and so much regret but you were smiling at him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Just shut up okay? And listen to what I have to say"

After you had finally managed to calm him down you knew you needed to tell d him how you had felt. "When I lost you, I regretted so much Jay but what I regretted most was not telling you that I loved you and it hurt. It hurt knowing Joker had you and that you were in pain but what hurt more was that you were really gone."

You paused and slowed your breath a bit.

"I know it seems like you owe me something like you need to make up for lost time or show me you're worth love but I already know that Jay. I've been yours since we were kids, m'kay? "

"But I do owe you, I owe you the goddamn world if possible"

"For what Jay?"

"Accepting me again I know I'm different than I'm used to be. I'm more shut out and I know I definitely look different. There is so much you accepted just cause I love you"

You groaned annoyingly and raised your hand up and shook it in his face, "Have you even noticed that I'm still wearing this promise ring? The one you gave me?"

Jason had, you wondered why you still wore it. It was so tiny and was probably uncomfortable. It was a tiny gold band, he had paid Selina for that had a diamond on it. To others, it clearly looked like it could be an engagement ring and you still wore it because you still, did being to someone whether was dead or alive. People tried to convince you to move on and take off the ring but you didn't listen.

"You still have it..."

"Mhmm, believe me now?"

"How about we get dinner to go at some random place, come to my place and we'll eat and cuddle while watching some movies"

"You're okay with just that?"

"I'm okay with anything as long as I'm doing it with you Jay, that's the whole point"

Jason smiled and held you in his arms, "can't believe you're still all mine"

"C'mon let's go to the movie theater and see what they've got"

And that's exactly what you did.

The two of you were cozied up on your bed, with a bunch of food. Jason bought himself chili dogs and got you pancakes to make up for breakfast. Who knew pancakes tasted better at night?

Jason also bought 2 tubs of Ice Cream to substitute as dessert. You may not be eating at that fancy restaurant but you were still having the time of your life.

" I swear you hated chili dogs when I was alive?!"

"I always liked them I just never wanted to admit it else that would've been the only food we'd ever eat"

While the TV played in the background you looked over at Jason who looked the happiest he'd been all day. There he was, your Jason. He was there, under all those scars he was still there. Jason noticed you were staring you looked over at you, and leaned in to place a soft kiss on your lips. "I've missed the taste of your lips" he whispered quietly

He kissed you again and this time you wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. "I've missed you, Jay," you said in response. Jason didn't hands on his way to your hips and he pulled you closer, right onto his lap. You still hadn't adjusted to Jason being so big, so when your hands found your way to his muscles you were surprised to feel him groan while you felt him up a bit.

"Sweetheart, if you keep this up I'm going to do something you might regret"

"I didn't regret my first time with you, I'm not going to regret it now babe"

He groaned again this time grinding his hips upwards against yours. Jason swiftly switches your position, putting you underneath him. His kisses quickly became more eager while his hips rutted into you, "Baby, I don't have any-"

"Don't need it, got on the pill a couple years back" you said softly, gripping his shirt. "I promise I want this, so let's get these out for he was please?"

Your pleas were enough for Jason to take off your dress, you'd worn a red satin dress. He'd always liked you in red, especially when it was just for him. Jason had on a tux except he replaced the jacket with his favorite leather one. Regardless, he still looked so good, as he always did.

His leather jacket was already on your bedroom floor, you tried to undress him but he stopped you. "The scars…I don't want to scare you again"

"You won't, I promise. I'll even kiss them, they're a part of you Jay and you're mine" you say tugging on his shirt. With a sigh, he silently takes off his shirt. You raise your hand to touch him but stop and make sure it is okay. He doesn't verbally answer but he gives you a nod. You trace his scars with your finger but one sticks out the most, his neck scar.

You move your face closer to his neck, and kiss his scar, "You're still as beautiful as ever, you're still my Jason" you say while you pull away from his neck. Before you can even read his reaction, Jason kisses you again, rough and with more of a need. Jason had told you he'd met other people but in the end, he could ever think of you. You were the only person who made it just for him.

You'd had your own set of boyfriends which all seemed to end up the same, they'd get too close and you'd dump them. You couldn't imagine loving anybody the way you loved Jason. Jason's body pressed against yours with his hand on your back, pushing you into him. Your hands made your way to his pants, tugging at the waistband. "Patient baby, I'll take em off for you"

The sound of a belt hit your floor but you didn't care, you kept kissing him like your life depended on it. You didn't fully remember when Jason took off your underwear but you remember him, "Jay when did get so..."

"big?" he finished for you with a chuckle, "Yeah, there's a lot you're going to have to get used to with me" His tip pressed at your cunt, earning a disapproving groan for you. You didn't like how slow he was going, you knew he was doing it because he didn't want to hurt you but you weren't 15 anymore you could take it.

You wrap one leg around his waist pushing against his back. Jason liked the way you squirmed underneath him, practically begging for him to fuck you. After a couple minutes, he gave in and sunk his cock right into you. Your nails dug into his back, feeling the stretch of his cock inside you. You felt so embarrared you came on his cock from just him entering"

"Did you just-"

"Shut up please"

Jason looked down at you, his cheeks flushed red, while he was breathing very quickly

"Jay why aren't you moving"

"Can't baby"

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I mean if I move, I'm going to cum on the spot sweetheart so please bare with me" he groaned out, trying to adjust to your warm cunt hugging his cock. Slowly he began to move, using one hand to grip the sheets in hopes he wouldn't blow his load too quickly. His other hand was on his hip, trying to steady your body. Your hands were on his face, caressing his cheeks. Whenever he blushed it was so obvious, you used to tease him all about it even though you loved it.

He down to capture your lips again, allowing your arms to find themselves around his neck. Each thrust was messier than the last, getting rougher after each second. Sex now was so much more different than when the two of you were teens. Jason did things you didn't even know he could do. Once he'd found your g-stop he began to abuse it, earning a chocked moan from you every time. He was studying what you liked, what made you feel good and you loved him.

He let go of the sheets and placed both hands on your hips, giving you even tougher thrusts and even biting on your neck. Your entire body was on fire, you were overwhelmed notnonkynfrom his size but the feeling of Jason's body pressing into yours. You couldn't feel so good.

You always knew Jason was a bitter, also long as he didn't draw too much blood you were alright with it. A soft moan left your mouth as you came again, cum running down your thighs while Jason continued to fuck you. Jason thought about overstimming, making you beg for him to stop because you'd feel too good.

"Didn't know my girl was into biting" He said, while lifting up one of your legs to push deeper into you. You'd cum for tbr second time but he needed you cum one last time at least before he came. The rough slaps of skin and moans filled the room. Making it hard for you to not cum again on the spot. You felt so good you couldn't even complain that he was teasing you "Fuck you're really sensitive sweetheart"

You hid your face in the crook of his neck while his hips pounded into yours. Your legs shook while you whispered in his ear, "If you don't stop m'gonna cum again, Jay pleaseeeee"

He didn't stop though, instead, you came another two times. Makes a mess of cock. "Such a good girl f'me, just let me fill you up and we'll be done. I promise sweetheart" He gripped your hips tightly before releasing inside you. The two of you exchanged a couple more kisses while you both rode out your orgasms.

You whimpered while he pulled out of you, missing his warmth already. He watched as his cum poured out of you, dripping on the sheets. You laid back on the bed, while he hovered over you for a brief moment.

Once he laid down next to you and though he was panting he pulled your body onto his lap. You rested your head on his chest just as he used to do to you. That reminded you, there was something you needed to say, "Jay can I say something I've been holding in for a long time, yeah?"

"Mhmm, what is it, sweetheart?"

"Jason Peter Todd, I love you"

❥ a/n: happy valentine's to all my lovelies!! i hope everyone enjoys this fic and also has a nice valentines day, whether it's with someone or by themselves. this also is a gift to my bf who is my sweetheart.

❥ taglist: @meowkn, @kazzattack, @woodenanemone, @yourlocalcringydaydreamer , @orchidsangel, @jason-anon , @millyhelp, @gleasonlovesjasontodd

#✩ kleo's kollection ✩ #✩ oh you just love me don't you ✩ #jason todd valentine's day #jason todd #jason todd angst #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd is red hood #red hood x fem!reader #red hood x female reader #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood x y/n #red hood angst #red hood fluff #red hood smut #dc comics #dc x y/n #dc x you #dc x reader

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘

ㅤㅤjoel miller x plus size!f!reader

genre: romance, flowershop au, jackson era, minors dni

word count: 7k

summary: you own a small flower shop in Jackson, when Ellie comes to visit, your life inevitably becomes tangled with the man who cares for her; joel miller.

warnings: age gap, piv in the middle of a flower field, no one sees, praise kink, some angst because joel, oral (fem receiving)

a/n: hello everyone! it's been a while and honestly, life has been kicking me in the gut lately with everything its got.

This originally was a commission, reader had a name and I've been working at it for months but sadly the person who commissioned be backed out last second saying they weren't interested anymore meaning I'm not getting paid for this work. Again, it's on me. Admittedly I've been slow on commissions due to my living situation and work and I should've taken half the payment upfront but trusting it was a joel fic I didn't really take extra precautions.

I decided to share it anyway, and the person who commissioned me said that I could. Any kind of writing has been hard for me to do lately and I really like how this one turned out. But since now I'm not getting paid for this work I decided to take out readers name and make some changes to the overall plot that I was given.

Sadly, I can't take any more commissions at the moment before finishing the ones I have left, but I'd be grateful for any kind of support you guys can give. I need to move out this summer (if I don't, I don't have a shadow of a doubt that my aunts will tell me to leave anyway) and I've been trying to save up as much as I can. Everything just has been a lot lately and I'm feeling anxious about my decisions and lost.

Again, any kind of support is greatly appreciated even tho I know I don't deserve it at this time:

my kofi

**dividers by @saradika-graphics 💜

You unlock the door to your quaint flower shop, the antique bell that you found and Tommy fixed chiming softly in greeting. Stepping outside, you're immediately embraced by the warmth of the morning sun, its golden rays dancing playfully on your skin. The air carries the unmistakable scent of spring, a delicate blend of fresh blossoms and earthy notes that fills your lungs with every inhale.

Dressed in a flowing dress, you feel perfectly in tune with the season as you begin arranging the colorful array of flowers on display outside your shop. The fabric of your dress sways gently in the breeze, a soft symphony of movement that mirrors the graceful dance of the petals.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and tilt your face towards the sky, basking in the gentle caress of the sun's rays. Above you, the cerulean expanse is dotted with fluffy white clouds, their shapes shifting and morphing with each passing moment.

With practiced hands, you arrange the blooms with care, each stem finding its place in the intricate tapestry of colors and textures. The vibrant hues of the flowers contrast beautifully against the backdrop of the weathered brick walls of your shop, creating a scene that's both inviting and enchanting.

As you work, you can't help but smile at the thought of the joy these flowers will bring to those who pass by. It’s been hard adopting to a new and broken world, but ironically, you have found your passion. Something to make you eager to get up in the morning. Of course your heart still ached for those you had lost, the suffering, but working on flowers, something living and growing and adapting just like you managed to lighten the weight on your heart. Whether it's a simple bouquet to brighten someone's day or a thoughtful arrangement for a special occasion, your creations have a way of spreading happiness and light wherever they go.

With the last of the flowers arranged to perfection, you step back to admire your handiwork, a sense of pride swelling within you. With a contented sigh, you turn to head back inside, ready to greet the day with open arms and a heart full of gratitude.

That is, until, you hear a surprised gasp. 

“Holy shit—” 

Turning around at the sound, you're met with the sight of a familiar face. A young girl you've seen around town quite frequently. You haven’t officially met her yet, but you know her name: Ellie. 

Realizing that the young girl has never visited your flower shop before, you understand the source of her surprise. With a warm smile, you approach her and greet her by name. "You're Ellie, right? Tommy's niece?"

Ellie nods enthusiastically, her eyes bright with excitement. "Yeah, that's me! Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I've just never been here before. The flowers are... fucking amazing—"

She suddenly claps a hand over her mouth, looking towards you apologetically. The gesture makes you laugh.

"I'm glad you like them," you reply, feeling a sense of satisfaction at her reaction. "Feel free to take a closer look if you'd like."

Her eyes light up at the invitation, and she eagerly follows you inside the cozy flower shop. The atmosphere inside is warm and inviting, with shelves lined with potted plants and bouquets of flowers in various stages of bloom. Sunlight filters through the windows, casting a soft glow over the space and illuminating the vibrant colors of the blooms.

As you lead Ellie further into the shop, you can't help but notice the curious glances she casts around, taking in every detail with a sense of wonder. The air is filled with the subtle fragrance of flowers, a delicate scent that lingers in the air and adds to the charm of the space.

"So, Ellie," you begin, breaking the comfortable silence as you approach a display of freshly cut flowers, "Anything you like? I’d be more than happy to gift you some."

Ellie's eyes sparkle with excitement as she looks around the shop. "Really? But there’s so many, how can I even choose?"

"Well, you're in luck," you reply, gesturing towards the colorful blooms around you. "I can just make you a bouquet of everything. Just pick out your favorites."

Ellie's gaze drifts over the display, her expression thoughtful as she considers your question. "Hmm, that's a tough one, they all look so fucking cool," she muses, her brows furrowing slightly in concentration. "How about sunflowers and. . . daisies? There's just something about them that feels... I don't know, hopeful, I guess."

You nod in understanding, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Sunflowers are a wonderful choice. They symbolize warmth, happiness, and positivity. Definitely a fitting choice for someone as vibrant as you, Ellie."

She grins at the compliment, "Thanks,. So, what about you? Do you have a favorite flower?"

“That’s a tough one, but I’d had to say daffodils. They just make me feel right at home. . . even though home has become a difficult word.” 

She doesn’t answer you, at least not in a way that you would expect. She nods and says,

"Let's add some daffodils to the mix too. If that’s okay.”

“If course it is. I said any flower didn’t I?”

With Ellie's choices in mind, you set to work gathering the blooms she selected, expertly arranging them into a vibrant bouquet. Your hands move with practiced precision, the gentle rustle of petals and stems filling the air as you weave the different flowers together.

Each blossom is a work of art in its own right, vibrant hues mingling together in a harmonious dance of colors and textures. Sunflowers, with their golden petals reaching towards the sky, stand tall and proud at the center of the bouquet, symbolizing warmth and happiness. Daisies, with their delicate white petals and cheerful yellow centers, add a touch of innocence and purity to the mix. And finally, the daffodils.

Beside you, Ellie watches with rapt attention, her eyes shining, "It's so pretty," she remarks, her voice filled with awe.

You smile at her words, feeling a sense of pride swell within you at the sight of her delight. "Flowers have a way of bringing joy and beauty into our lives," you reply, your voice soft with reverence. "They remind us to appreciate the simple things and to find beauty in the world around us."

Finally, the bouquet is complete, a stunning masterpiece that radiates warmth and joy. You present it to Ellie with a flourish, a sense of satisfaction washing over you at the sight of her delighted expression.

"It's perfect," Ellie exclaims, her eyes shining with excitement as she admires the bouquet in her hands. "Thank you so much. This is amazing."

"It was my pleasure," you reply, your heart swelling with happiness at her words. "I'm glad you like it. And remember, if you ever want to learn more about flowers or need some help with anything, you know where to find me."

Ellie nods eagerly, her enthusiasm infectious. "Definitely. Thanks again. This means a lot."

As Ellie turns to leave, a sudden thought seems to strike her. She pauses, her hand on the door, before turning back to face you with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Hey," she begins, a playful smile dancing on her lips, "do you need a flower assistant? I mean, I’d be nice to work here, and you seem really cool."

"Well, Ellie," you reply with a teasing grin, "If you're serious about helping out around here, I'd be more than happy to have you on board."

Ellie's eyes widen,. "Wait, really?" she asks, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You mean it?"

You nod, your smile genuine as you reassure her. "Of course. I could use all the help I can get, especially during busy times. And besides, it'll be fun having you around. Consider yourself officially hired as my flower assistant, Ellie."

A grin spreads across Ellie's face, her eyes sparkling with excitement at the prospect of working alongside you in the flower shop. "Wow, I don't even know what to say," she admits, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. 

"No need to say anything," you grin. "Just don’t be late."

As Ellie nods, a sense of anticipation fills the air, signaling the beginning of a new chapter in both of your lives. With a shared sense of excitement and determination, you and Ellie set to work, ready to take on whatever challenges and adventures the future may hold for your blossoming partnership.

The next day unfolds with a golden hue, promising another beautiful day in Jackson. As you prepare for the day ahead, a sense of excitement tingles in the air knowing that you'll be mentoring Ellie, your newfound flower assistant. Ellie arrives earlier than you expected, her eyes oozing with sleep.

"Good morning, Ellie," you greet her with a warm smile, gesturing for her to come closer. "Ready for your first day?"

Ellie grins back, nodding enthusiastically. "Absolutely. I’m just not used to waking up so early."

With a chuckle, you lead her to the work table, where several potted plants await repotting. However, before diving into the day's tasks, Ellie's curiosity gets the better of her.

"How do you find all these flowers?" she asks. "I mean, with the infected and everything, it must be hard."

"I have a few spots outside of Jackson where I like to go to collect flowers. There's a field not too far from here that's brimming with all sorts of blooms."

Ellie's eyes widen and you can tell she's intrigued by the idea of venturing beyond the safety of the town's walls. "That sounds amazing," she breathes, her voice filled with wonder. "Do you go there often?"

You nod, a fond smile playing on your lips as you recall the countless trips you've taken to the flower field. "Yes, whenever I need to restock or find something special," you reply. "But I've also started growing some flowers myself. It's a work in progress, but it's been rewarding to see them bloom."

"That's so cool," she exclaims. "I'd love to see the field sometime, if you're up for it."

With a grin, you nod, "I'd be happy to take you," you reply. "But for now, let's focus on getting these plants repotted. We'll save the field trip for another day."

As if on cue, the shop door swings open, and a customer steps inside, a worn backpack slung over their shoulder. They approach the counter with a friendly smile, their eyes scanning the colorful array of blooms on display.

"Good morning," you greet them with a smile, your attention shifting to the customer. "How can I help you today?"

The customer returns your smile, reaching into their backpack to retrieve a small item wrapped in cloth. "I have something to trade," they explain, placing the item on the counter before you.

You unwrap the cloth to reveal a delicate piece of jewelry, a handmade necklace adorned with intricate beads and charms. It's a beautiful piece, clearly crafted with care and attention to detail.

Ellie watches with interest as you examine the necklace, her curiosity piqued by the exchange taking place before her eyes. "What are you trading for?" she asks, her voice filled with curiosity.

You glance at Ellie with a smile, impressed by her keen observation. "Well, Ellie, sometimes customers trade items in exchange for flowers," you explain, turning back to the customer. "It's a way for them to get something they need while also supporting the shop. As for how I decide what the flowers are worth, it's based on a few factors—like the rarity of the flowers, the time and effort it took to grow them, and of course, their beauty."

With a nod, you accept the necklace, carefully placing it aside before selecting a beautiful bouquet of flowers to offer in exchange. As the customer leaves the shop, their smile brighter than before, you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that you've made another person's day a little bit brighter.

“Ellie, I’m not sure me bargin’ into your new workplace is the best introduction,” Joel says.

“You’ll be fine,” she says, dragging Joel by the arm. “Besides, weren’t you the one grumbling about not liking me spending all my time with a stranger? What else was I fucking supposed to do?”

Joel lets out an elongated sigh. “Language.”

He can’t see it, but he knows she’s rolling her eyes at him. The tiny, rundown flower shop soon comes into view and Joel can’t help but think of all the improvements he could make: the crooked step, the splintered door, the moss growing from the bottom of the woody exterior—

This shop won’t last next winter, he thinks with furrowed brows. And even though he’s been skeptical about Ellie spending all of her time here, he’s seen the improvement in her mood. Things just haven’t been the same since their return from the hospital, he couldn’t shake the distant feeling between him and her no matter how hard he tried. It had become something even he couldn’t fix.

But then, one day, she’d come home with the most beautiful bouquet of flowers he’d ever seen, with a wide smile plastered across her young face. Then she mentioned the keeper of the shop. Ever since then, his interest had been piqued.

Approaching the shop, he notices a figure outside arranging flowers, your silhouette bathed in the warm morning sun. You appear younger than he anticipated, your beauty catching him off guard. The way your dress contours your curves adds to your allure, a sight unexpected yet captivating. A gentle breeze tousles your hair as you work, momentarily leaving him speechless.

Contrasting his hesitation, you bound up to the shop with your usual cheerfulness. "Hey there!" Ellie calls out. The woman turns at her greeting, a genuine smile gracing her lips as she sets down the flowers. "Good morning!" 

He hangs back, observing as Ellie effortlessly initiates a conversation with you. Your interaction flows with ease, suggesting a familiarity beyond your brief acquaintance.

While you chat, an unsettling feeling settles within him. There's an inexplicable pull towards the shop owner, despite his attempts to resist. Watching Ellie interact with you stirs a strange longing within him, leaving him more unsettled than before.

Before he can dwell on his thoughts further, Ellie snaps him out of it. "Joel, don’t be a stranger! Introduce yourself, she's the one I've been telling you about."

With a sigh, he steps forward, his approach cautious. As your eyes meet, a peculiar sense of recognition passes between you, as if you've crossed paths in another life.

"Hi," he manages to say, his voice gruff yet not devoid of warmth. "I'm Joel."

As he clasps your hand, a spark ignites between you, a connection unfurling with each passing moment.

“Joel?” you say slowly, as if tasting his name in your mouth. “Joel as in Tommy Miller’s brother?”

Your hand feels soft and delicate as it clasps his own, and he can't help but notice the subtle tremor in your fingers. It's a small detail, but it speaks volumes, hinting at a vulnerability that he hadn't expected from this beautiful stranger.

"Yeah, that's me," he responds with a nod, offering a friendly smile in return. "Tommy's my brother."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Joel. Ellie speaks very highly of you."

As you exchange pleasantries, he finds himself drawn to the warmth in your gaze, a warmth that seems to seep into his very soul. There's an openness about you, a genuineness that he finds both refreshing and disarming.

While you talk, he can't help but be captivated by the way your lips move, the gentle cadence of your voice. It's a strange sensation, this sudden fascination with a woman he's just met, but he finds himself unable to look away.

Your conversation is interrupted by Ellie's playful interruption, and he reluctantly tears his gaze away from you, feeling a pang of disappointment at the thought of leaving your side. But as they follow Ellie into the shop, he can't shake the feeling that meeting you has stirred something within him, something that he can't quite articulate.

Entering the shop, he can't help but notice even more things wrong– the creaky floorboards, the peeling paint, the flickering lights overhead. It's evident that the place is in dire need of renovations.

Despite the less-than-ideal surroundings, Ellie's excitement is contagious, and he finds himself getting swept up in the moment. She points out various flowers, their vibrant hues and delicate petals bringing a welcome burst of color to the dreary environment.

"These lilies are my absolute favorite," Ellie exclaims, thrusting a handful of flowers towards him with a mischievous grin.

He can't suppress a surprised sneeze as the pollen tickles his nose, and they both dissolve into laughter,and momentarily, all his concerns seem to fade away.

But just as they're catching their breath, you enter the room, your presence once again capturing his attention. There's something about you that intrigues him, a warmth and kindness that draws him in effortlessly.

A sheepish smile spreads across his face as your eyes meet. You return the smile, your gaze gentle and understanding, and for a fleeting moment, it feels as though you're the only two people in the room.

“Who helped you fix the place up?” Joel asks you as Ellie runs off to change the water of the vases. “

"Tommy actually," you explain. "He's been a tremendous help, especially with all the repairs."

Joel’s brows knit together and he ignores the way your smile falters as he speaks, “Well, leave it to my brother to do a shit job. This shop won’t last next winter.”

“O–Oh. . .” you hug yourself, thumbs moving along the contours of your arms. His heart sinks in, leave it to him to make someone feel bad.

“Not to say it can’t be fixed,” he continues abruptly. “I can help you out. Wouldn’t want Ellie’s new favorite spot to get buried under the snow.”

“Really?” you gasp, smile returning. “You would do that?”

“‘Course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I just. . . I just wasn’t expecting such an offer thank you. It means the world to me.”

Suddenly Joel feels stiff from how deeply you stare at him, and then he realizes how close they are, only a breath away between their lips. He turns his head, grunting, “Don’t mention it,” a stuttered breath leaves him. “Really. Don’t.”

Your growing smile surprises him, as does your not backing away.

“You got it, Mr. Miller.”

Watching Joel work on fixing the roof of the shop, you can't help but feel a flutter of warmth stir within you. His muscles ripple with each movement, his arms bulging with strength as he lifts heavy beams and hammers nails into place. Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead, catching the sunlight and creating a halo of light around him.

You find yourself mesmerized by the sight, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of him. His white tank top clings to his chest, damp with sweat, and the short-sleeved flannel he wears hangs open, exposing the tank top underneath. Every movement sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but feel a flush of heat rise to your cheeks.

The sound of his grunts fills the air, low and guttural, and it sends a thrill through you that you can't quite explain. There's something primal about the way he works, a raw energy that draws you in and leaves you feeling breathless.

You watch as he reaches up to adjust a beam, his muscles flexing with the effort, and you can't help but imagine what it would feel like to run your hands over his warm, sweaty skin. The thought sends a shudder coursing through you, and you quickly look away, feeling flustered and embarrassed by the intensity of your thoughts.

But no matter how hard you try to focus on something else, your gaze keeps drifting back to Joel, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. And as you watch him work, you can't help but feel a strange sense of longing stir within.

But for now, all you can do is watch and admire from afar, content to bask in the warmth of Joel's presence as he works tirelessly to repair the roof of the shop. And as you watch him, you can't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over you.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself with determination as you clutch the bowl of freshly picked black mulberries and raspberries in your hands. With a quick glance up at Joel, who is perched precariously on the ladder, you gather your courage and make your way outside.

"Hey, Joel!" you call out, your voice tinged with nervousness as you approach the ladder. "I brought you some fruit and iced tea. Thought you could use a break."

Joel looks down at you with a grateful smile, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Thanks. That sounds great."

As he descends the ladder, you can't help but feel a surge of excitement mingled with nervousness. With each step he takes, you steal glances at him, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of him.

But it's when he reaches the bottom of the ladder and stretches upwards to take the bowl of fruit from your hands that you feel your breath catch in your throat. The movement causes his tank top to ride up slightly, revealing a sliver of his stomach, and you swallow thickly at the sight.

As Joel settles down to enjoy the fruit and iced tea, you find yourself drawn to the empty spot next to him on the porch. With a nervous glance in his direction, you take a seat beside him.

The warmth of the wooden porch beneath you contrasts with the cool breeze that sweeps through, and you can't help but feel a sense of calm settle over you as you sit beside Joel. The silence between you is comfortable, broken only by the occasional sound of birds chirping in the distance.

“Lovely day, ain’t it,” Joel takes a bite of the freshly picked black mulberries, the deep purple juice stains his lips, a stark contrast against the ruggedness of his features, and you find yourself mesmerized by the sight.

The juice glistens in the fading sunlight, tracing a vivid trail along his lips as he savors the sweetness of the fruit. Each movement of his jaw seems deliberate, each bite a study in pleasure as he indulges in the simple pleasure of the moment.

A soft breeze rustles through the trees, lifting strands of his hair and sending them dancing in the golden light. But your gaze remains fixed on his lips.

The silence and sight makes you light-headed and eager to say anything, no matter how idiotic it might be. 

“Aren't you a little old to be doing this much heavy lifting?” 

“Aren't you a little too young to be lookin’ at me like that?” 

Your shoulders rise, blood rushing to your head as you look down. Your heart thuds loudly in your chest. Butterflies flutter madly within you, the wings tickling the insides of your stomach. You only swallow. “Your lips are stained from the mulberry.” 

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” 

He takes another one, biting down with his lips, he finds your gaze. You watch a tiny drop go down his chin. The two of you are close. So incredibly close. It’s been like this since he started working on the shop. A pull that is too hard to ignore. 

“Well,” he breaks the silence. “Better finish up before the sun sets.” 

Joel stands and your heart breaks a little. You blink from where you’re sat, staring at him, yearning for him. 

“Yeah. Wouldn’t want you trying to find your way home in the dark.” 

“You know, I could’ve come here on my own. I always do.” 

“I know. Just wanted to make sure you have someone lookin’ after you.” 

“For someone to be known as a grump, you’re quite a softie.” 

“I’m leavin’.” 

“No—!”

Your fingers close around his arm, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver down your spine. For a moment, you find yourself frozen in place, your pulse quickening as you realize just how close you are to him.

Joel's gaze meets yours, and you can see a flicker of something in his eyes, something that makes your heart race even faster. His eyes drop to your lips, lingering there for a moment before snapping back up to meet your gaze. You notice the hints of a fading smile, “You were joking,” you say slowly, letting go of him. 

“That I was, wildflower,” he doesn’t move away and neither do you. Your breath catches within your throat, the moment stretching between your two like rubber. Before you can say anything Joel’s eyes flicker to something behind you and he smiles. “I think we’re here.” 

As you turn around, your heart skips a beat. The field of flowers stretches out endlessly, a sea of color and beauty that seems to go on forever. The grass has grown taller since the last time you were here, swaying gently in the breeze and creating a soft, rhythmic rustle that fills the air.

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm golden light over the landscape and setting the flowers ablaze with color. Reds and yellows, blues and purples, a riot of hues that dance and swirl in the gentle breeze.

You take a step forward, the grass crunching beneath your feet as you walk further into the field. The scent of poppies and blue hyacinths fills your nostrils, sweet and intoxicating, and you can't help but close your eyes and breathe it in.

The wind sweeps across the field, sending waves of grass rippling in its wake. The sound is soothing, a gentle whisper that seems to carry you away on a tide of tranquility.

For a moment, you forget about everything else – the worries and the doubts, the uncertainties and the fears. All that matters is the beauty of this moment, the beauty of this place, and the beauty of being here with Joel. 

With a rush of emotion swirling within you, you turn to Joel, your heart pounding in your chest as you meet his gaze. He's still standing close, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that takes your breath away.

Without thinking, without hesitating, you lean forward and press your lips to his. At first, Joel is taken aback, his body stiffening in surprise. But then, he caves, his lips moving against yours in a slow, tender rhythm.

His hands come up to cradle your face, his touch gentle yet firm, as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go. You feel his tongue on your bottom lip and open up for him eagerly, the taste of him feels like electricity shooting through you. Heat pools between your legs, Your breasts tingle with the mere thought of having his hands on them, nipples aching and hard. 

Joel breaks away briefly, then closes the distance again. Small hisses against your swollen lips over and over until neither of you can breathe. He hungers for it almost. And so do you. “Joel,” you whisper, eyes cloudy. “Please.” 

“Is that what you want, wildflower?” he drags his nose down the side of your cheek, facial hair scratching delightfully against the sensitive skin of your neck. “For me to fuck you here? Right out in the open?” his voice trembles. “Like animals?” 

“God, yes—” your insides clench. “I would want nothing more. Been thinking about you since the day I met you, your hands, your mouth, you as a whole.” 

His hands drop to your ass and he gives the tender flesh a strong squeeze, “You want me?” 

“I do.” 

You suddenly find yourself on the ground, the grass tickling your exposed legs and arms, the skirt of your dress rolled up to your waist. Joel’s weight is a welcoming comfort on top of you, another gust of warm wind blows. With a groan, he pulls down the sweetheart neckline of your dress, exposing both your breasts. While holding one, he kisses the other, drawing the stiff nipple into his mouth. He sucks harshly, your body jolting with pleasure. The soaking mess between your legs grows. 

“Joel,” you moan, back arching. “Fuck—” 

He swirls the tip of his tongue around the nipple and grazes his teeth against it. Calloused fingers play with the other. Your mind is swimming in pleasure. He brings the skirt of your dress further up and traces his lips down the fabric, when you look down, you see him between your legs, his eyes darker than normal as he stares into your soul. The tips of his fingers dance along the elastic of your panties, asking for permission. 

You breathe out a yes, barely audible, but he nods and tugs the fabric down. When he latches his mouth on to you, the world stops. His mouth feels divine. His tongue delves between your folds, the bridge of his nose rubbing against your clit. You shudder against him and he moans into you. The reverberations of the sound force a gasp out of you and you swear you feel him smiling. 

His fingers trace patterns along your thighs, teasing and stroking as his mouth works wonders between your legs. You're on the edge, the pleasure building up with each flick of his tongue. You reach down and bury your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, guiding him where you need him the most.

Joel picks up the pace, his tongue moving faster, his fingers slipping inside of you. You can feel your body starting to tighten, the coil in your stomach about to unravel. You grip onto him tighter, your hips bucking against his mouth, and with one final flick of his tongue, you come undone.

You cry out his name, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. Joel continues to lightly lick and suck, drawing out your pleasure until you're completely spent. He makes his way back up to your lips, kissing you deeply as you both catch your breath.

“That was…” you trail off, unable to find the right words for the mind-blowing experience you just had.

“Amazin’,” Joel finishes for you.

You nod, still a little breathless. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your body against his. Joel's hands roam over your back, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You can feel his erection against your thigh, and you know that he needs release just as much as you do.

“Been so long since I’ve tasted somethin’ this sweet,” he rasps. “Thank you.” 

You hear the blood rushing in your ears, “You’re the sweet one,” you mumble, tenderly touching the scratchy surface of his cheek. “So sweet.” 

He smiles and as he kisses the curve of your palm, shuffles above you, starting to get up. A deep frown forms between your brows. “And where are you going?” you pout, wrapping your arms around him. You feel the outline of his length as he lowers himself once more, the tips of your noses brushing against one another.

“I thought you wanted to gather some flowers.” 

“Not yet,” you murmur, eyes glazed. “At least, not before feeling you inside me.” 

“Fuck, darlin’,” he lets out a whimpering breath, grinding himself against your bare cunt. “You really know how to get a man goin’.” 

“Prove it.” 

His eyes flicker with an emotion you can’t quite describe. His breath stutters, then, without even looking, he unbuckles himself, never breaking eye contact. Joel’s hair ruffles with the wind, yet he doesn’t even blink. The head of his cock catches against your clit, ripping a moan from your throat. He fills you with one sloppy thrust, the length of him stretching you enough to have your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. 

“Joel—Oh my god—” 

“That’s it, good girl, takin’ my cock so well. Feels good?” 

Slack-jawed, you nod. He goes deeper. “Want you to feel me for weeks, wildflower. And I want you to think of me every time you come to this god—” thrust. “—damn” thrust. “—field.” 

You can only moan at his words, his hands grip your lovehandles, squeezing and pulling you closer to him every time he rocks forward. His head falls into the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin, he sucks. Your body convulses, shaking against him. 

Sparks ricochet through every limb of your body as you feel the heat pooling in your core. Joel moves his hand from your lower back to cup your breast, his fingers teasing and plucking at your nipple. The pleasure ricochets through your body, making you feel like you're on fire.

“Come for me, darlin’.” Joel growls into your ear, his voice rough and primal. “Come on my cock.”

His words send you over the edge, your body shaking and convulsing beneath him as he continues to thrust into you relentlessly. The world blurs around you, all your senses consumed by the feeling of Joel's body against yours.

"Joel—" you moan, your voice lost in the wind as you reach your peak. 

He groans in response, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his own release. After one final, deep thrust, he pulls out and spills over your stomach, his body shaking against yours. You both ride out the waves of pleasure until finally, you collapse against each other, panting and spent.

You lay in the flower field, a tangled mess of limbs and sweaty bodies. Joel's arms are still wrapped tightly around you, his face buried in your neck as he tries to catch his breath. You run your fingers through his hair, feeling the warmth of his body.

"I've never felt anything like this before," you say quietly, almost to yourself.

Joel lifts his head to look at you, his eyes softening. "Me neither, wildflower. Me neither."

As the sun begins to set, you both lay there, entwined in each other's arms. The field has become a symbol of something more than beauty. And as long as those flowers bloom, you know your love for each other will continue to grow.

A week. 

A week without hearing from him, seeing him, touching him. 

A painful week. 

It’s almost as if he never existed. As if the moment in your favorite field was nothing but your imagination. The only reason why you know it's real is because Ellie still comes by every day, and despite knowing it’s impossible, you still feel him deep inside. It only heightens whenever you have to travel back to the field to gather flowers for the shop. 

You watch as Ellie places more daisies into a vase. She’s been her usual self, joking around, telling you about all the details of her life. It’s hard not to ask her about Joel and how he’s been. 

Some nasty part of your mind whispers words of discouragement, telling you he only wanted you for your body, for your charm, and got what he wanted. Your heart clenches. It might be true. You were young after all, emotional, broken. He’d already gone through all that, killed to stay alive, for loved ones, gone through grief—why would he want to take on another’s problems as well? 

“Hey, Ellie?” 

She turns to you, eyes slightly wide due to the rasp of your voice, “Yeah boss?” 

“Can you watch the shop for a second, I have something I need to do that I forgot about.” 

You don't wait for her nod as you exit the shop. You know he’s home. He has to be. 

Luckily it doesn’t take you long to reach their house, your knock is loud and swift. You know you’ve taken him by surprise by the expression when he opens the door. His mouth is slightly ajar, his brows knit together. 

“What are you—” 

“I came to talk,” you brush past him, heading inside. Joel lingers at the door but soon after follows you inside anyway. 

He sighs, “What do you want to talk about?” 

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what's to come. "Us," you reply, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you. "I need to know what happened, Joel. Why you've been avoiding me."

Joel's jaw clenches at your words, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet yours. "I ain't good for you," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "You deserve better than someone like me."

You feel a surge of anger rising within you at his words, frustration bubbling up to the surface. "That's for me to decide, Joel," you say, your voice tinged with defiance. "I'm not some fragile flower that needs to be protected. I can make my own choices, and right now, I choose you."

Joel's expression softens slightly at your words, but there's still a hint of sadness in his eyes. "You don't know what you're saying," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm a mess, a broken man with too much blood on his hands. You deserve someone who can give you the world, not someone who can barely keep himself together. You’re young. You still have so much ahead of you—"

“No! That’s not what I want. I want you, you’re the only person who’s made me feel like. . . like myself. . .before. And wanted.” 

Your voice begins to shake, you see the hesitation within his body, hod his hand slightly moves forward to hold you, to touch you, but he doesn’t. 

“I can’t do this to you,” his hands slide into his pockets, he gestures to the door. “Get out.” 

The blood freezes in your veins, your eyes grow wide, your chest constricts, “What?” 

“I said to get out,” he repeats, a little louder this time. “Get out, please.” 

And you do. 

“You need to get your shit together.” 

“Language, Ellie, dammit.” 

She glares at him from across the table. It’s an early morning, earlier than he’d liked. He’s been feeling hallowed out ever since your visit. He could see the hurt in your eyes, the betrayal. He knew that he’d broken something when avoiding you, something tender and not so easily fixable. 

But what was he supposed to do? You were young, he didn’t want to trap you, didn’t want you to throw the best years of your life for an old man like him. 

Briefly, he squeezes his eyes shut. His head hurts. All he can think about is you, your body, how eager it was to take him, the delectable curves he couldn’t get enough of. 

He misses your taste on his tongue. 

“She’s miserable too, you know.” 

Joel’s eye snap wide open. “Who?” 

“You know who,” she shakes her head. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but she’s definitely upset and so are you—Just fix it. Don’t be an asshole” 

He let’s out a sigh, she’s right. He needs to fix this somehow. Joel stares at Ellie, her words hitting him harder than he expected. He hadn't realized just how much his actions had affected not only you but also Ellie. The weight of his own guilt settles heavily on his shoulders, a constant reminder of the mess he's made.

"Yeah," he mutters, his voice rough with emotion. "I know."

He runs a hand through his hair, the tension in his muscles making every movement feel heavy and strained. He knows he needs to make things right, to somehow find a way to mend the rift he's created between you and him.

But how? How could he possibly make things right after everything that's happened?

"I'll talk to her," he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll fix it."

Ellie nods in approval, her expression softening slightly as she looks at him. "Good," she says, her tone gentle. "Because I don't want to see either of you hurting anymore."

She was right and he knew it. 

“The shop’s closed today,” Ellie says as he grabbed his jacket. “I don’t know where she is.” 

But he did. He knew exactly where you would be. The place he tasted you, the place he felt your body against him. 

Joel's heart sinks as he approaches the flower field and sees you sitting there, your shoulders hunched over as you hug your knees to your chest. He can hear your sobs from a distance, the sound echoing through the quiet morning air.

For a moment, he hesitates, unsure of what to do or say. But then, with a heavy sigh, he pushes aside his doubts and makes his way towards you.

As he draws closer, he can see your whole body trembling with the force of your emotions. His heart aches at the sight, knowing that he's the cause of your pain. He kneels infront of you, gently touching your wrists.

"Hey," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's me, Joel."

You startle at the sound of his voice, lifting your head to look at him with tear-streaked eyes. For a moment, there's a flicker of surprise in your gaze, followed by a wave of raw emotion.

"Joel?" you choke out, your voice thick with tears. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to find you," he says, his voice filled with regret. "I couldn't stand the thought of you hurtin’ like this."

"I thought... I thought you didn't care," You sniffle, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand. 

Joel reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch light and tender. "I care more than you know," he says. "I made a mistake, a big one, and I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I just didn’t want you to. .  .I didn’t think I deserved someone like you."

"I missed you," you admit softly, tears still streaming down your cheeks.

Joel's heart clenches at your words, a rush of emotion flooding through him. Without hesitation, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close as you bury your face against his chest.

"I missed you too, wildflower," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "And I promise, I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy."

He hears the smile in your voice. 

“You already do.” 

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #plus size!reader #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic

[norrisleclercf1]

They're My Future, You're The Past

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader x Lando Norris

Rating: PG

Warnings: Light Angst, fluff

Words: 3.6K

A/N: I can't believe this series is over, I think I've cried 4 times over writing this and I just, wow, the love it got and how patient you all have been waiting for this, I could never thank you enough for the support. Thank you! Peace Out

Our Boy Series Masterlist / Prev: Just Come Home To Us

The sun's glow casts on your face, warming your cold body. It was customary for you to sit here and watch the people move along the cobblestone. "Would you like some more?" Craning your head, you nod to the waiter, who smiles as they fill your mug with fresh tea. You turn back, watching the people as they pass the cafe. The same restaurant that was the one you met Charles at. Right up the road was where he asked you out, and now you're waiting for your past to catch you.

"You're actually here," The voice behind you sounds out of breath like they ran here, but you knew it was due to the cold. His blonde hair looks like silver strands, and his blue eyes look like bright orbs of stars. "Nico, sit." You open your hand to the chair across from you. Nico shifts his weight from side to side, wondering if he should. "Nico, we're not going to argue, we're not….we'll. I'm not who I used to be. Now, please, sit." You urge, wanting to put this to rest.

You initially didn't want to meet with Nico; you were perfectly fine with just leaving things as they were, not talking. But Elijah wants you to speak to him, having given you his letter, and all it left you with was annoyance and pain. It's been 16 years. Why did your son want you to deal with this now?

"Elijah called me," Nico clears his throat, looking everywhere but you. "He told me Lando was next to him the entire time." It was one of Lando's new rules: no more secrets and Lando wanted to be there when Elijah talked to Nico. He didn't want his boy exposed to whatever hatred Nico had to spill. "I wouldn't trash talk you to our son." You scuff and look into the sun, letting it warm your skin. "My son, he's not yours." You held no anger or venom in those words, more so truth.

"He is, my blood, my," "Nico Rosberg, stop right now." Your voice holds a stern edge that has Nico sitting up straight. "Let me make this clear," You lean onto the table, staring deep into those blue eyes your son mirrors. "Charles and Lando are his father's. You either accept that or will have no part in Elijah's life. And I don't care if Elijah wants to be a part of it; you will respect the two men who stood up and supported me from the moment they knew me." You hiss, keeping your voice low so you don't draw any attention to you two.

"Y/n," Nico huffs, tugging at the once vibrant blonde, now dull with specks of grey lining. "I don't have a problem with them, but that respect needs to go both ways," Nico pleads, but you roll your shoulders back, refusing to back down. "No, Nico, it doesn't. They will be "respectful" in front of Elijah, and I will only stand beside them if you give my husbands any reason to cut ties." Nico and you fall silent, staring each other down.

Nico cuts his eyes away, and you get a little thrill at how you could make Nico Rosberg back down. "Nico, we'll never be what we used to be. You taught me many lessons and some I didn't deserve to learn, yet they landed me two men I should've valued and trusted more. I damaged our relationship because of the lies I carried from us, and I won't do that anymore. I won't carry this hate we both hold into my life." You whisper the last part, fiddling with your tea.

"You're drinking tea?" Nico notices, and you look up, his eyes locking with yours. "Yes," Looking away first and watching a new yacht dock. "That's….good." He smiles at you softly, and you feel your lips curl slightly. "Um, Elijah texted me; he wants to come over and meet Vivian and the girls; is that okay?" Nico seemed happy about his son meeting his daughters and wife. You remember Vivian. She was a wonderful person and always so sweet to you.

"It would be wonderful; Vivian is a wonderful person. I just want Elijah to have another place he can go to. I want him to be welcomed, Nico; he deserves it. Elijah is a wonderful boy," Nico nods and sighs deeply. "I know we'll have to work on our communication, but we're going to the Alpes, and if Elijah wants to come, he can even bring Cecile." Nico smiles brightly at the thought of the two Leclerc-Norris children joining.

"I'm not going to replace Charles or Lando, Y/n. But I want to be a part of my so- of Elijah's life. However much you let me be there, I won't cross any boundaries or parent him, but I will be…..firm." You nod and sip the tea, letting it warm your bones. "We'll figure something out; I must get home now." Nico nods, stands up, and moves to hug you but stops. You smile; you have no ill will toward him; stepping forward, you let him hug you, and all those memories of being in his arms come rushing back.

"Do you think you could do a favor?" You give him a confused look, and Nico looks almost ashamed to ask you this. "Do you think you could talk to Lewis?" You raise an eyebrow, and Nico groans, rubbing the back of his neck. "After what happened to us, we haven't talked in a while." You admit, and your eyes grow wide. "Are you serious? He stopped talking to you because of you and I?" You couldn't believe this.

"Yeah, I didn't really appreciate me hurting you." You have to cover your mouth to stop laughing and sigh. "I'll see what I can do; he's coming over for lunch anyways." Nico nods, and you both stand there, unsure what else you could say. "I'll see you later, Nico." Nico nods and lays down some money, more than enough for the both of you.

"I love Vivian, Y/n, but you were the one thing I regret getting away. But," Nico takes a deep breath and smiles. "I think it was for the better, don't you?" You smile, a genuine smile that made Nico always stop and stare. "It was all worth it,"

"Cece baby, you can't give up just because it's hard," Lando begs, really hating that they're in the stage where if something was hard, Cecile would just stop working on it. "But, I don't understand it, Dad. Can't I just stop?" She whines, and Lando sighs, rubbing his hair. Sometimes, Lando really hates being a dad because he remembers what it was like growing up and how hard things were, but he just takes a deep breath and tries again.

"Cece, sit down. You need to know how to do this for your school. Now, you and I do it, or I get Papa or Uncle Max to help you. Now, which one do you want?" Lando asks, trying hard to keep his stern voice. "You," She whispers and throws herself down into her chair beside him. Chuckling, Lando fixes her hair and kisses her temple. "Math wasn't easy for me either, baby," Cecile whines and shakes her head.

"It's not that, Daddy. All the words get jumbled when I read them." She whispers, casting her head down, and Lando freezes. He tries to wipe off the panic look on his face and clears the knot in his throat. "What do you mean the words get jumbled?" He asks, not wanting to jump straight to his first thought. "I mean, the letters move across the paper, and it doesn't make sense. I try my best, but it makes it harder, and then it gets harder when I get frustrated. What's happening?" Cece turns, eyes wide and filled with tears.

"Nothing is wrong; we just need to schedule an appointment with your doctor. There's nothing wrong with you, Cece; your brain is wired differently, like mine. It's called dyslexia, I have it, and after we talk to your doctor, then I can teach you tricks on how to deal with it?" "Does that mean we can stop with the homework?" Lando chuckles and, kisses her forehead and nods. "Yep, go." Lando smiles as he watches Cecile run off into the house.

Lando sighed and buried his face in his hands and tugged his hair gently, "Shit," Lando didn't want Cecile to be trouble in school; he remembered and still how hard it is for him sometimes to read, but taking a deep breath he leans back in the chair and smiles at the doorway. "How long have you been there?" Charles chuckles and steps into the room, holding a tray of snacks, clearly about to go to waste. "Not long; you think she has dyslexia?" Charles places the tray down, and Lando scoops up an apple slice and munches it.

"Yeah, she said the same words I said when I was her age and finally admitted to having trouble." Charles hums, reaching up and tugging on his husband's signature curls, making him groan from the slight pressure. "You're stressing, stop stressing." He whispers, and Lando chuckles, swallowing down another apple slice. "She's our little girl, Charles. I don't want her to struggle." Charles sighs and sits in Lando's lap, who smiles and pulls him closer.

"Lando, she's not going to struggle, she's got you, me, Elijah, and Y/n. She'll be good." Charles whispers and wraps his arms around his husband's neck, who hums and rests his head on Charles's chest. "How's Elijah? Is he doing okay?" Lando asks, knowing your relationship with Elijah has been challenging since you returned. He's been a little stand-offish with you, something Charles has been trying to fix.

"Fine, he's with Arthur and Mama and wants to spend the night, but I told him he's coming home. I think he's worried that Y/n will be gone again when he comes home." Charles's fingers tangle in those curls he loves so much, and he takes in the hint of lemon in his shampoo. It was a weird scent, but Lando loves his lemon and mint shampoo. "Good, he needs to be home. We can have a movie night or something," Lando's words trail off as you step into the house laughing, and Lando tenses, hearing the familiar laughter of his fellow Brit.

"Be nice," Charles whispers; Lando grumbles and pats Charles's thigh so they can stand as you and Lewis come into view. "Hey guys," Lewis smiles, and Charles happily hugs his old teammate, and Lando stands there glaring. "Lando," Lewis smiles, and Lando bites his tongue but fails. "You knew everything, didn't you?" "Lando!" You and Charles blurt, having wanted lunch first before Lando jumped Lewis.

"What? He's in our house and probably knew where you were and didn't tell us! Why should I be nice?" Lando asks, and Lewis chuckles and lays his coat over the back of the chair. "Lando, let's sit this straight. She is my family, and you and I are friends, but she is my baby sister, and I'll toss everything away between us for her. Understand?" Lewis's eyes narrow at Lando, who stands there, trying to make himself look bigger.

"I don't like that," Lando grumbles, and you roll your eyes and fix your sweatshirt as Charles comes over and kisses you gently. You smile and pray he doesn't notice, but he doesn't and kisses you again. "They're going to kill each other," You whisper, but Charles rolls his eyes at Lando's childish antics. "Lando, I don't give a fuck if you don't like it. She's my sister, fucking deal with it." Lewis rolls his eyes but stops seeing his niece's dirty blonde hair.

"Uncle Lewis!" Cecile screams and comes barreling at him. "Hey, gorgeous." He smiles and picks her up a little bit as she giggles and hugs her uncle tighter. "Guess what?" Cecile asks as Lewis sits her down. You notice him wince, his back still hurting him. "What?" "I'm just like Daddy!" Lando turns and looks at his daughter, and you notice his eyes grow a little shiny.

"Yeah? How are you like Daddy?" Cecile gets the biggest smile on her face as she bounces around. "Daddy and I both see letters moving! How cool is that?" She laughs as Lando turns and clears his throat. "I think that's very cool, gorgeous; you and Lando are very good to each other." Lewis smiles, and Cecile gives a big, toothy grin. "Yeah, I think so too! I'm even going to work for McLaren one day." She smiles up at Lando, who walks over and pulls her close, hugging her.

"Hey! I'm home, Pa!" You smile and turn, greeting Elijah, who stops and stares at you like a deer in headlights. "Hey Ma," Your smile drops slightly, hearing the hesitancy in your boy's voice. "Hi, honey, um, your Uncle Lewis is here." Elijah seems to relax at that. "Sweet, I want his advice about my driving in F4." Elijah brushes past you and eyes Lando and Cecile weirdly. "Why is Dad crying?" "I'm not crying! Lewis stupid ass cologne is burning my eyes!" Lewis scuffs and hugs Elijah as they walk deeper into the house, discussing F4.

"Daddy, can you let go of me now? I'm hungry." Lando sniffles pulls back, and rubs the top of her head. "Yeah, go. I'll join you in the kitchen soon." Cecile nods and stops at you and Charles, kissing your cheeks. The silence around you three grows, and you smile at Charles and Lando.

"So I might've told Nico he can come over later tonight," You blurt, and Charles and Lando whip their heads your way. "Why?" Charles sputters, and you laugh gently and fix the back of his hair. "Elijah wants a relationship with him and his half-sisters; who am I to stop that?" "His mother," Lando groans, sitting down as he knows arguing with you is useless. "Lando, that is Elijah's fat," You stop yourself, knowing calling Nico Elijah's father before Charles and Lando wasn't the wisest thing in the world.

"I think it's a good idea," Lando whips around, staring at his husband in shock, but Charles has a delicate smile. "Of course, if he still comes home to us, yes?" Hearing such vulnerability and raw emotion, your throat tightens, and you waver momentarily. Charles was still scared that you and Elijah would be gone without notice one day. He'd come back from a race, and you're just gone. It's been his nightmare since he's gotten you back. "Yes, Charles, he won't stay the night there." Charles nods, the tension soaking out of his shoulders while Lando turns and scuffs.

"Dad, I want this." Lando turns and sees Elijah standing there, bag in hand, ready to go to Nico's place. Elijah, ducky, I know you do, but it scares me." Lando whispers; Elijah places his bag down and sighs. "I know, Dad, but I'm not a kid anymore. I know my real parents, but I deserve to see the man who could've been my Dad. I get that right, but you, you're the one who raised me, Dad. That's never going to change." Lando rubbed his hair hard, a sign that he was getting anxious. "I don't want you to be hurt." Lando mummers, and Elijah moves closer.

"Come here, old man." Lando chuckles, and Elijah hugs his Dad, kissing his cheek too. You smile, noticing they hug the same way by burrowing their noses in the person's neck. "I love you, not him. You and Pa raised me, my fathers, and that will never change." Lando nods and tightens his arms before dropping them as Elijah steps back. "I got the girls gifts. Nico says they like dress-up, and pink and mint blue are their favorite colors." You giggle, seeing the way Elijah lights up talking about his half-sisters. Elijah's phone buzzes, and he looks at his watch, smiling. "Nico's here. See ya'll later." You wave and walk outside, seeing two little blonde heads run up and hug your boy. Your husband walks out and glares at Nico.

Nico, taking it like a champ, waves and walks toward you. You step forward, and Nico goes, still seeing Lewis step out of the house with Cece. "Ignore them so he can stay as late as he likes, but he's not spending the night. Also, please be careful with nuts; he's allergic." Nico nods, listening intently as Elijah groans, the girls crawling over him. "Sometimes he gets anxious and hides it well, but he pulls his hair or runs his hands through it pretty hard. So if he does get anxious, just ask him to run an errand, and he'll be okay." Nico smiles and stops you by placing a hand on your shoulder.

"I've got it. You have to let me learn. But I'd rather ask him what he needs than hear it from you." You smile and move, hugging Nico back. You take a breath and start to giggle. "God, you still wear that god-awful perfume." Nico begins to laugh, and you shake your head. "Jesus, man, get a better perfume." Nico rolls his eyes and turns to his girls. "Girls, leave your brother alone," Elijah laughs and lifts them up, making them squeal. "Come on, little Rosbergs, in the car." Elijah opens the door, helps them in, and even buckles them in.

Your breath catches as you notice how similar Nico's girls and your boy look alike. "Bye-bye, Eli!" Cece yells from Lewis's side, and Elijah turns, smiling brightly. "Bye-bye, Cece." Elijah laughs and climbs into the car, and Nico smiles and nods at the men behind you and jogs to the vehicle. You hear giggles as the car drives off slowly.

You smile while watching Lando and Charles follow a recipe, something you've been craving from home. You miss how your relationship used to be, but you know you'll never get that back and must embrace the new dynamics in your life. Lando giggles when Charles kisses his nose, and you lean back, barely sipping from your wine glass—something Lewis clocks immediately.

"Y/n, can you show me the new flowers you planted?" You turn and nod, and Charles and Lando smile at you. You leave the wine behind and walk outside into your small private garden. You got lucky in Monaco to build an actual home and have a little bit of land. No one really wanted to live in the mountains anyway. "How far along?" He asks softly, turning you to smile brightly at your best friend.

"For a couple of months, I haven't told them yet," you whisper, touching your stomach and feeling happiness wash over you. "Lando or Charles's?" You laugh and hook your arm with Lewis's, staring at the fading tattoos, remembering all the nights you'd come to his room crying and tracing them as he nursed your broken heart all those years ago. "Charles's," There was no doubt in your voice.

When you returned from Finland, Charles and you were all over each other as Lando had to go to Mercedes headquarters and take the kids with him to visit his parents. You and Charles didn't leave the bed and may have gotten through a pack of condoms and said screw it, laughing as you both didn't care if you had another baby. Your therapist might judge, though.

"Great, just what the world needs, another one of you," Lewis teases, and you giggle, walking up to the gorgeous new butterfly bushes you had planted. "What do they mean?" Lewis asks, and you rock back and forth, sighing. "New beginnings. I think we all deserve a clean slate, don't you?" Lewis smiles, touching the flowers gently, admiring the vibrant purple. "Yeah, I think it's time to forgive the past," Lewis turns, running a hand over his braids before taking back your hand. "So, who'll be the godfather of this one?" You slap his chest, which makes him snicker.

"Nico," "I'll fucking sue!" Lewis barks, and you throw your head back laughing, seeing the smoke coming from his ears. "What happened to forgiving the past?" "Not for him! He's dead to me," Lewis lets go of you and storms inside, and you hear the giggles of Cece and Lewis grumbling as they come back out and head towards the karts. "Be careful!" "We will, Mama!" Cece waves, and you shake your head, like her father, with wild curls.

Stepping inside, you kick off your sandals and enjoy the cool tiles as you enter your open kitchen. The same kitchen you told them about, Cece. The memory makes you get choked up, but you quickly push it down, not wanting to worry the boys. Stepping deeper, you see Lando pull away, smiling as Charles chases him for another kiss and blushes to see you. You move between them and hug Charles, melting into Lando when he presses you into Charles more.

It's silent, and you enjoy it, hearing Charles's calming heartbeat and Lando's hums, which make you shiver. He chuckles, kissing your bare shoulder. "Did you not like the wine?" Lando asks, knowing you usually had a glass as they cooked. "Nah, it doesn't sit well with the baby," Charles chuckles. "Yeah, babies normally don't, wait." He pushes you back, his face filled with joy.

"Wait, what, baby?" You burst out laughing at those exact words said from the beginning. You knew this was the last chapter of your old life, your new one beginning. And you're going to love this new chapter.

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