#jkcu

Halloween weekend started with rain, cold freezing sheets of rain that seemed endless. Just a steady downpour that painted the streets silver and turns the world outside into a hazy watercolor. It was kind of weather that makes staying home feel less like a choice and more like a requirement. And for once, neither you nor Gator have anywhere to be. No shifts, no overtime, and no emergencies, just two days off together.

You spend most of Saturday curled up on the couch in one of Gator's hoodies while he sprawls beside you in a pair of grey cargo sweatpants with his boots kicked off onto the floor. A collection of low grade horror movies is stacked on the coffee table. Some empty takeout containers already littering the floor surrounding the couch.

Gator grabs another DVD from the pile, smirks at you and wiggles his eyebrows. "This one next." You squint at the cover, it looks like it was designed by someone with a low budget, way too much fake blood, and a deep love of slasher movies from the early 2000s. The killer stands front and center on the cover, an almost comically large kitchen knife covered in what looks like red paint held above his head. "Nope, not that one." Judging by the cover, the movie is poorly made but for some reason, fear still starts to bubble low in your gut. Gator pouts at you playfully. "Gator, no. The last three movies involved people getting stabbed by some freak in a mask." He moves so that he’s laying almost entirely on top of your body, his head rubbing against your chest through your sweatshirt. "Yeah doll, that’s kinda the point." You roll your eyes at him lovingly while shaking your head. "You're impossible." As he looks up at you, a smug grin spreads on his handsome face. "Love you too."

The movie marathon continues well into the evening. At some point his hands wander under the hem of your sweatshirt and settle just above your ribs, right below the swell of your breasts. You feel goosebumps start to rise all over your body as his hands move higher, cupping your breasts in his large hands. A small, breathy sigh leaves your lips as he takes your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, rolling them until they form hard peaks. 

He looks up at you, an innocent smile gracing his lips, while tugging lightly on the hem, you nod, biting your lip and moving to take the hoodie the rest of the way off. Once your top half is bare, he looks down at you with lust filled eyes, pupils blown wide. “So perfect for me, baby” He leans down and without breaking eye contact, licks a stripe from the bottom of your breast until he reaches your nipple. Greedily, he takes it into his mouth and starts his process of sucking, biting, and licking all over, kneading the other with his hand, before switching to the other side, making sure to give both equal attention. You let out a low moan as he harshly sucks a mark onto your chest, he responds by rolling his hips into yours in a way that almost has you seeing stars.

You feel yourself growing wetter and more desperate each second that he grinds his achingly hard cock against your clothed core. He’s lets out a surprised noise when you grab his head and pull his mouth up to yours, no longer able to keep yourself from licking into his mouth. As you reach down between your bodies and begin to palm his bulge, Gator breaks away from your kiss to rasp against your lips. “I guess those scary movies got you all worked up too, that right?” You nod against his lips and move to pull your shorts and underwear off while he tears his shirt from over his head. 

Before you can reach to start pulling his pants off too, he grabs you by the jaw and forces your mouth open. You know what he wants without having to say anything else, and god, you want it just as badly. He lets a string of spit fall from his mouth into yours, and lets out a filthy groan as you swallow it without hesitation. “You like that mama?” Your hand slips under the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers to find him rock hard and leaking precum from his tip. “Yeah, but not as much as you seemed to, baby.” You start to slowly stroke him from root to tip, smearing his precum along his length as you do so. He lets out a choked sound and then chuckles breathily, nodding down at you. 

His fingers find their way to your dripping core, absolutely desperate for some friction and attention. Your cunt clenches around nothing as he slowly runs the tips of his fingers through your soaked folds. He hums against your mouth “Mmm so wet. This all for me?” Before roughly thrusting two of his fingers into your aching hole. A shaky moan is punched out of your lungs. The two of you stay like that for another minute, maybe two, just feeling each other and letting moans and sighs travel between your mouths. 

As his fingers curl inside, he hits a spot in you that causes you to gasp against his lips. “Gator, I need you” That’s all it takes for him to pull his soaked fingers from you and slurp them clean, moving to prop your thighs open. He pushes into you in a single, rolling thrust, making pornographic moans fall from both of your mouths. Your breath catches in your throat as you adjust to his thick cock splitting you open. 

The crappy slasher movie plays on, the killer finally making his big reveal, but it falls on unlistening ears and unseeing eyes. All you can see, hear, or feel is Gator above you, inside of you, murmuring filthy praises into your ear as he thrusts into you incessantly. He was right, you were so worked up that you’re reaching your end much faster than expected, and he can feel it. You wrap your legs tighter around his hips, forcing him to go in even deeper, hitting that spot that nobody and nothing else had ever reached. With each thrust, your moans and his groans are growing louder and louder, bouncing off the walls. 

His thrusts start to grow faster and slightly erratic, and before you can do it, one of his hands reaches down and starts rubbing fast circles against your clit. “Come on baby, I want to see you cum on my cock.” His dirty words are the final push you needed to fall apart, as your walls clench and pulse around him you can feel him fighting off his orgasm. You reach up and take his face in your hands, your voice comes out breathy and broken up by moans as he helps you continue to ride out your orgasm. “Please Gator, I need you to fill me up baby” He lets out a ragged moan, kisses you roughly and immediately buries himself deep as your cunt milks his cock. 

The two of you lay just like that a while, lazily kissing each other and basking in the afterglow. You break the kiss to look into his eyes. “I love you, Gator” He’s smiling down at you with that lovestruck look he gets sometimes, just in complete awe of you. “I love you with all I got. How’d a screw up like me get someone as perfect as you, huh?” You just shook your head at him with a soft smile and gave him one last kiss to his lips before he moved to pull out and settle behind you on the couch. 

You feel completely content, you’re safe, happy, naked and warm in the arms of the man you love. Which is exactly why Gator decides to become a menace. The first prank happens around midnight. You pull Gator’s baggy sweatshirt back on and leave the living room to grab another drink.

When you return with a glass of water for yourself and a beer for Gator, all the lights are off. The television has gone dark, the house is utterly silent and still. "Very funny," you call out sarcastically. There’s no response.

You narrow your eyes in the darkness, but all you can make out is the empty couch with the blanket crumpled by the armrest and your clothes still scattered on the floor. "Gator." You drawl out his name in a warning tone, as a way to tell him ‘enough, I'm not playing this game’. But there’s still nothing. The hairs on the back of your neck raise as you feel a chill flow over your body. You know he's just messing with you. You know it. But the darkness still feels wrong, the stark silence feels wrong. You carefully step into the room, tiptoeing as if that will keep everything from slipping into chaos.

"Gator?" A hand reaches out and grabs your ankle from beneath the couch. You scream so loudly your own ears ring, your whole body jerks and somehow you manage not to spill either of the drinks in your hands. Gator bursts into a gasping, howling laughter. You immediately kick him, hard. "OW!" He shimmies out from under the couch, clad in his black boxers and socks. "You asshole!" He continues laughing while clutching his shoulder. "Oh my God, you should see your face." You glare at him with glassy eyes, still shaking from his little jumpscare. "I seriously hate you." He looks at you with a nearly sympathetic smile, still finding some humor in how scared you were. "You absolutely do not." And unfortunately, he's right. That only encourages him.

Over the next two weeks, Gator becomes increasingly creative and, in your opinion, very annoying. First a large plastic spider in your lunch bag, then a fake severed hand in the bathroom sink, complete with enough fake blood to fill the bathtub. The motion-activated skeleton hidden inside the closet scared you so badly, you swore your heart stopped in your chest. And every time you think you've survived the worst of it, another prank appears. You threaten murder, and he finds that hilarious.

One evening you come home after a grueling twelve-hour shift to discover a figure standing motionless in the hallway. You nearly have a heart attack, but then the figure begins laughing, and Gator removes the cheap Halloween mask. You throw a pillow at him, groaning in annoyance. "You fucker! What if I actually died?" He chuckles lowly at your wide eyed panic. "You didn't." If looks could kill, Gator would be six-feet under because of the glare you had fixed on him. "What if I did?" He shrugs, pulling off the mask fully and tossing it onto the table in the hall. "Then I'd feel real bad." You cross your arms over your chest and keep your glare fixed on his eyes. He pulls you against him and his laughter softens. "You'd haunt me." He plants a firm kiss to the crown of your head as you lean into his chest. "Damn right."

You meant it as a joke, but neither of you realize just how much those words will bother him later. By the second week of November, the pranks have become a little routine. It would almost be endearing if you didn’t find them so annoying and predictable. But you know Gator, you know the way he thinks and moves, and how he can’t stop himself from laughing before he can fully pull off the prank. You know every one of his stupid tricks, all of his ridiculous scare tactics. You’ve already seen every exaggerated attempt to make you scream.

So when the night arrives, your first instinct isn't fear, it's irritation. The double shift nearly kills you. The emergency department at Stark County Memorial Hospital is overflowing. You're already short-staffed, then someone calls out sick. Just when your night is starting to feel like it can’t get worse, a trauma patient arrives twenty minutes before your shift ends. Then another, then somehow another. By the time you've finally clocked out, the exhaustion has settled in you bone deep, like someone injected wet cement into your veins.

It is nearly midnight when you leave the hospital and make your way into the parking deck next door. Everyone on your shift had already left, making the section of the parking garage almost completely empty. Concrete pillars stretch into the shadows, and the flickering fluorescent lights buzz overhead. Your footsteps echo loudly through the desolate concrete structure, you pull your jacket tighter around yourself. All you want is sleep, food, and your big, warm boyfriend’s arms around you. Preferably all of those things, but not necessarily in that order.

Your car is parked on the fourth level of the parking deck. As you step off the elevator and walk in the direction of your car, you root through your purse to grab your keys, trying to make the process of getting home as fast as possible.

When you look up you stop walking, because a figure stands beside your vehicle. Motionless and waiting. Your eyes immediately narrow. "Oh come on, you've got to be kidding me." The figure doesn't move a muscle. The familiar black-and-white mask gleams beneath the overhead lights. Jack Skellington. The same stupid mask Gator bought weeks ago, the same mask he wore to scare you twice already. You bark out a sarcastic laugh, not because it's funny, but because it's ridiculous.

You pull out your phone and the figure remains completely still. The screen reflects your tired face as you go to call Gator, he answers on the second ring. "Hey, baby." You can hear the smile on his face, you roll your eyes and snort. "Real funny." There’s a long pause. "What?" Gator sounds confused and maybe just as tired as you are. "Seriously?" You’re growing annoyed and a little impatient. "What are you talking about?" He sounds even more lost than before. 

You start walking toward your car, toward the figure. "You really followed me to work for this?" He sounds almost dumb in his confusion, like he really doesn't have a clue what you’re talking about. "Followed you?" Irritation seeps through your tone. "You know what? This isn't even scary anymore." He makes a dejected noise before scoffing confused into the phone. But the figure remains silent, completely still and watching. Your irritation grows. "I'm serious, Gator. That's creepy as fuck."

Gator sounds almost annoyed when he asks, "What is?"

"Take off that mask or I swear I'm not touching you for a week." Several seconds pass between the two of you. Then: "...What mask?" You come to a complete stop. Something about his tone feels wrong. Not playful or teasing, like he’s really genuinely confused. You laugh again, less confidently, nerves starting to seep in and cloud your mind. "Okay, enough."

Concern immediately fills the space that confusion was taking up in his voice. "Baby, what's going on?" You stare at the figure. The figure stares back. "You're in that damn Jack Skellington mask standing by my car." Silence, just a heavy, terrible silence. Then you hear Gator inhale sharply. "Baby..." The irritation immediately drains from your body, a strange chill replaces it. "Gator?" You can hear him sit up straighter in the seat of his patrol car. "That isn't me." You don't respond yet, you can’t, your body is paralyzed with fear.

The figure still hasn't moved, still hasn't spoken. Your pulse begins climbing and your mind begins racing. If that isn’t Gator by your car… "Gator?" His tone is deep and authoritative when he answers. "Go back inside the hospital." For a second, you think you’re imagining all of this, that somehow Gator’s pranks have reached your subconscious and this is all a bad dream you need to be woken up from. "What?" You can hear the sirens from his patrol car coming through the phone, the rev of his engine as he speeds to get to you. "Go. Now." A knot forms in your stomach, your blood runs cold in your veins. "What are you talking about?"

"Get back inside." His voice sounds different, it’s sharper, scared. "Gator–"

"Do not go near your car." The figure tilts its head, very slowly, like a predator locking in on its prey just before the hunt begins. The movement is unnatural, curious and animalistic. Every instinct in your body suddenly screams. Run, you need to run, you need to move. "Gator..."

"Listen to me." The panic in his voice is unmistakable now. "Go back into the hospital and don't leave until I come inside to get you." You slowly take a step backward. The figure takes one forward, matching the pace you’ve set. Your heart stops in your chest, your voice comes out small and afraid. "Gator–" A tear runs down your cheek before you can even register that you’ve started crying. "Run."

The figure lunges forward aggressively. Everything happens at once. You scream as the hand grabs your arm so tightly you’re sure there will be fingerprints left behind. You twist violently in the hold, managing to slip your arm through your sleeve. Concrete rushes beneath your feet. The scream of his name tears from your lungs violently. "GATOR!" His voice explodes back through the speaker. "BABY?!"

You fight, at least you try to. Your instincts takes over, trying to do anything to free yourself and get out of this situation. There aren’t many thoughts going through your mind just pure survival instincts. You drive your elbow backward, it connects with something solid. The figure grunts, it’s not a monster, not a ghost, just a person, a real person. Terror floods through your body alongside adrenaline. You manage to rip free and start running like your life depends on it, because it does. Footsteps thunder behind you, gaining on you, getting closer every second, faster with every breath that escapes you.

Your shoe catches on a patch of uneven concrete, and you stumble hard, ankle twisting unnaturally in the process. Pain erupts through your foot and your phone falls from your hand onto the concrete beneath you, it skids a few feet away. Your steps falter for just a second but it’s enough, a hand grabs your the back of your scrub shirt.

You scream again, a deep, desperate sound that echoes in the space around you. Somewhere through the chaos you hear Gator’s muffled voice shouting your name through the phone. Then nothing, the line dies. All you can hear are your own desperate sobs and the heavy breathing of the person attacking you from behind the mask. And your world suddenly goes dark.

Gator breaks nearly every traffic law on the way to the hospital. The drive feels like hours even if it was probably only five minutes, maybe even less. Every slow-moving vehicle becomes an obstacle, every turn becomes a setback.

He calls your phone repeatedly, but there’s no answer. Again. No answer. Again. Nothing.

The fear building inside him is unlike anything he has ever experienced. And Gator knows fear, he's spent his entire life around violence, surrounded by threats, surrounded by people who disappear, and people who can make other people disappear. But this is different, this is you, Gator’s girl. The person who somehow became the center of his universe, his everything. The person who turned a house into a home. The person who taught him what peace felt like. But now you're gone, whoever took you away from him took his peace, and it won’t come back until you’re safe in his arms again.

By the time he reaches the parking garage, his hands are shaking violently. He speeds through the floors so quickly that he nearly crashes into parked cars and concrete pillars. Level one. Level two. Level three. Level four. Then he sees it.

Your phone, completely shattered. Parts lying crushed across the concrete. For one terrible second his brain refuses to process what he's looking at. Until he sees your purse. The contents are scattered everywhere. Your keys, wallet, lip balm, even your hospital badge with your cute little smiling face in the center. All thrown haphazardly across the ground.

"GOD DAMMIT!" His voice echoes through the empty garage. There is no response and no movement. Nothing but his own voice bouncing back at him like a cruel taunt.

Then he notices something else, in his stupor he hadn’t seen it before. One shoe, lying on its side, your shoe. Sitting several feet away, abandoned. Like evidence, proof, or the remnants of something awful happening to the woman he loves. The sight nearly destroys him. He picks it up with trembling fingers and the parking garage suddenly feels enormous, endless, a silent void. It feels like there are threats looming in the shadows, every corner feeling like someone in lurking just behind it waiting to trap him. His chest tightens. Not because he doesn't know what happened to you, but because he does. Someone made a plan, watched, waited, and then took you from him. And now you're gone.

The realization settles like poison. Gator stares at your shoe. His jaw clenches. His breathing becomes erratic and uneven, starting to quickly spiral into a full blown panic.

Then he notices something painted on one of the concrete pillars nearby. A small black symbol, nearly hidden and drawn in fresh paint. It’s crooked smiling face. Jack Skellington. For a moment his entire world stops, because Gator knows that mask. What he had been treating as dumb jokes, little things to scare you. Someone had been watching the two of you, someone knew your routine.

A cold pang of horror and dread shoots down his spine. He knows the timing, knows the weeks of stupid pranks. This wasn't random at all, it wasn’t some insane coincidence. The sicko waiting for you by your car had chosen that mask on purpose, they wanted you to think it was just your boyfriend. They wanted you to lower your guard, come in closer, make it easier to capture you. It had worked, and it was all Gator’s fault. Gator feels sick, the guilt hits harder than fear. Harder than the anger. Because if he hadn't spent two weeks turning everything into a joke, scaring you just to have you jump into his arms for comfort afterwards…

If he hadn't made the masks and jump scares normal– Maybe you would have run immediately. Maybe you would have recognized the danger sooner. The thought nearly crushes him. "No." His voice is raw and broken. "No." 

He closes his eyes.

For one brief second he sees your smile, hears your laugh, feels your hand slipping into his. And as quickly as the comfort of you came, the image disappears, and he’s back to the hellscape that is his new reality. Your sweet laughter is replaced by silence, your hand holding his is replaced by the emptiness between his clenched fingers, the image of you and the love he has for you is replaced by the unbearable emptiness of not knowing where you are.

Gator opens his eyes again. Something has changed within him, the panic and fear remains, but beneath it sits something colder, something much sharper, much more dangerous. Determination. The person who took you made one mistake, they left you alive long enough to fight, long enough to scream, long enough to leave evidence for Gator.

And that means they must still be out there. Still breathing your air somewhere, still walking around thinking they might have gotten away with it. They are wrong. Gator stares into the darkness of the parking garage and his grip tightens around your shoe. For the first time all night, his expression becomes completely emotionless. The kind of expression people fear instinctually, it’s the kind of expression that appears when something inside him shuts off.

"Please be okay."

His words are a desperate plea to the universe and the words disappear into the darkness and no answer comes back. Only the buzzing of the flickering fluorescent lights overhead, only empty concrete, only that heavy silence.

But somewhere beyond the garage walls, beyond the city lights, beyond the reach of anyone searching for you, someone is holding their breath. Because they have no idea what they've just started. Gator would go to hell and back to have you safe in his arms again.

part 2

You had barely settled into bed after finishing your skincare routine when your phone started vibrating on the nightstand.

It was late enough for Joe and the boy's to have finished their set and you half expected a drunken call from your boyfriend, or Wesley, because he too loved pestering you when they were drinking after a gig, but the second you saw Javi’s name across the screen, you blinked.

A faint crease already started forming between your brows as you accepted the call. “Hey Jav, what’s up?”

The noise on the other end was enough to make your stomach tighten before anyone even spoke properly. There was too much happening at once, overlapping voices, laughter that sounded almost uncontrollable, the scrape of movement and somewhere beneath all of it, Joe’s voice cutting through every few seconds.

Not clearly enough for you to understand what he was calling out, but enough to hear the strain in his voice. He was somewhere in the room, you're not sure where they were, but at least they were all together.

“Okay”, Javi started and despite the fact he sounded like he was trying very hard not to laugh, there was something cautious in his tone too. “Before you freak out—”

Your pulse spiked instantly. “Why would I freak out?”

“No, listen, listen”, he said quickly. “We’re going to the ER right now just to make sure everything’s okay”

You sat upright so fast the blankets tangled around your legs. “You’re taking who to the ER?”

In the background, Joe groaned loudly enough for you to hear it clearly this time. “Javi, give me the phone, you’re making it sound worse—”

Then came a sharp inhale, like even reaching for it hurt. A long hiss and you could tell that whatever hurt, Joe was cradling by now.

“What happened?”, you asked, already pushing yourself out of bed.

“It’s nothing serious”, Javi insisted, though the fact everyone around him still sounded amused to no ends was making none of this any better. “He just hurt himself during the show.”

That explained absolutely nothing.

“How?”, you asked quickly, already moving around your bedroom looking for clothes.

You had just cleaned the apartment that night, the kind of proper cleaning neither of you had time for the past few weeks. Laundry folded and put away, blankets fixed, every discarded hoodie and pair of sweatpants finally off the floor and back where they belonged.

“He can barely stand up”, Javi admitted finally and you froze for a second, your stomach dropping hard enough to make you feel sick.

“What do you mean he can barely stand up?”

“It sounds worse than it is”, Javi tried again, but now you could hear Wes laughing in the background too, along with Teddy’s unmistakable wheeze and Adam repeatedly saying, “I told him not to do it man”

None of this felt reassuring and while you adored their humour most times, right now you wanted to strangle all of them. Instead, you pulled open the dresser a little harder than needed, keeping the phone pressed to your ear, before switching to speaker.

Usually you could throw on whatever was closest, something abandoned on the armchair or tangled somewhere in the sheets. Your boyfriend liked to re-wear his stuff a few times before ultimately deciding to chuck it in the laundry bin.

Tonight, you actually had to open drawers and search for clothes, which suddenly felt like the worst timing imaginable.

“Can somebody tell her I’m fine?”, Joe called out somewhere in the background before immediately hissing through his teeth. “Fuck, okay don't touch me, you dickhead”, he continues, clearly speaking to someone near him. Your bet was on Wesley, again.

“Which hospital, Javi?”, you asked, cutting through the noise as you tugged on a pair of yoga pants in the dark. Your movements were frantic enough that you clipped the edge of the dresser and stumbled slightly before catching yourself, the glow from your phone the only thing lighting the room.

“Baby”, you could hear Joe groan, “seriously, don’t come all the way out here. I’m okay.”

“You’re going to the emergency room!”, your voice raised immediately, not out of anger, but panic. Real panic that made you fidgety, even if you were trying to keep it under control. None of these idiots were speaking in coherent sentences.

“It’s embarrassing more than anything. Don't come”, Joe insisted quickly which only made your stomach twist harder because Joe only ever called things embarrassing when he was trying to make them sound less serious than they actually were.

“Which hospital?”, you pressed, your voice sharp enough that the noise around him quieted slightly. Most of them knew better than to push you when you sounded like that.

Except Joe, obviously, because being difficult was practically hardwired into him. “Don’t tell her, she’ll panic.”

“She’s already panicking, dude”, Adam pointed out.

“Exactly why she should stay home.”

“Hello?!”, you call out exasperatedly, your voice sharp as you pulled a random sweater over your head. For a second your face got completely stuck in the fabric, hair falling everywhere until you managed to shove it back behind your ears while reaching for your phone.

The arguing on the other end slowed just enough for Javi to give in, despite Joe's protest. Then you hung up and hurried out of the apartment.

Without all of them talking over each other and filling the space, your thoughts filled the space instead, spiraling further with every red light and empty stretch of road and by the time you reached the hospitals parking lot, your hands ached from how tightly you’d been gripping the steering wheel.

You all but rushed through the entrance, only to get stopped at the front desk and dragged into a frustrating back and forth of questions, names and awkward explanations before they finally allowed you through after confirming you were, in fact, Joe Keery’s girlfriend.

By the time you reached the waiting area your heart was still hammering, which made the sight in front of you feel even more confusing, because none of them looked half as worried as you.

Wes was slouched in his chair, grinning like an idiot, Teddy was holding his phone out showing Adam and Trent something that immediately made all three of them start losing it again and Javi was holding onto Joe's stuff patiently, but he didn't look concerned in the slightest bit.

You stopped in front of them. “Where is he?”, you ask, your voice trembling, though the sight of them made you question your own reaction.

Five heads turned toward you at once and Javi looked almost apologetic. “Oh, man”, he muttered. “Now I actually feel kinda bad.”

Your stomach twisted again instantly. “Why are you all laughing?”

“He’s okay”, Adam said quickly, though he was still grinning, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Like genuinely okay.”

“Then why is he in the emergency room?”

The second you said it out loud, Wes buried his face in his hands laughing again. You could've sworn right then and there that he'd be the next one to land in one of the rooms.

Javi, noticing the pointed glare on your face, patted the empty chair beside him with a gentle smile. “Okay, listen. You know how Joe gets after a few pre-show beers"

You narrowed your eyes immediately. “Get to the point”

“He was trying to entertain the crowd”, Trent cut in, already smiling again. “Started doing way too much”

“Way too much. He was bouncing around like a ping-pong ball”, Teddy repeated.

“He did this whole dramatic rockstar drop to the floor”, Adam continued, gesturing vaguely with his hands. “Like fully committed to the bit.”

“And then”, Wes interrupted, barely holding himself together, “his back gave out.”

You blinked at them. You couldn't even speak, but if you did, you surely wouldn't have gotten a proper response from any of them, because they immediately started laughing again.

“He couldn’t get back up”, Javi finally managed to wheeze out. “Like at all.”

You stared at them for a long moment, the fear that had been suffocating you for the last half hour finally starting to unravel into sheer disbelief.

“You’re fucking kidding me”, you breathe out, letting your head fall back against the wooden paneling behind you.

“We wish”, Wes said with a smirk, patting your thigh with a chuckle. “He was so hellbent on finishing the last song he probably made it worse”

Almost on cue, Joe’s voice suddenly echoed from down the hallway. “I can hear every single one of you”

That made your head snap to the side instinctively.

Joe appeared a moment later, moving with one hand pressed against his lower back and a posture so stiff it almost made you wince in sympathy. He was being guided by a nurse who kept scanning his movements, ready to support him if only he'd let her.

“Would you look at that”, Wes said as soon as Joe came into view, getting up from his seat to stand beside you. “Gramps is mobile again”

You immediately turned and smacked him across the chest before he could keep going, somewhere between irritated and relieved enough to be emotional about it.

“You're such an asshole”, you muttered, but Wes only laughed harder, stepping back as Joe finally reaches your side. He ignored everyone else completely, probably tired of their teasing, so instead his hands settle around your waist the second he was close enough.

“Baby, are you—?”

He chuckled, though his face pulled into a slightly pained grimace. "I'm fine. Promise", he presses a kiss to your head, but pulls back with a hiss.

"Stop, stop. Be careful, Joe!", you squeal and the nurse steps up with a nod, telling him to take it easy.

Despite that, relief hit you so suddenly it almost made you cry, because now that he was standing in front of you, alive and mostly unharmed, all the panic from earlier finally had somewhere to go.

No scratches, no blood or open wounds. That was at least something. But it almost made you furious how Joe was right, Javi did make it sound far worse. Just because he couldn't get to the point.

“You scared me half to death, throwing your back out trying to impress a crowd? Are you out of your mind?”

His face twisted immediately. “When you phrase it like that, it sounds humiliating”

Behind you, Teddy snorted, while Adam nearly fell out of his chair laughing and he's usually the composed one.

“It is humiliating”, you said, unable to stop yourself from smiling as you reached up to cup his face. “You injured yourself like somebody’s retired dad trying to relive his youth.”

Joe let his forehead drop against your shoulder with the most exhausted groan yet. "Jesus Christ, I'm 34, not ancient"

The nurse next to you cleared her throat, trying and failing at keeping her composure. "It happens more than you think", she speaks to him, before she turns to you.

"You're his partner?", she asks and you nod immediately. "The injury is mild, don't worry. A week of prescribed medication and rest usually does the trick. But you need to be stern with him, rest means rest. From what I've gathered this one here doesn't really get much"

You wanted to snort, but you pressed your lips together instead in favour of Joe's already fragile ego right now.

"Will do, thank you for taking care of him. Do I need to sign something?", you watch her nod, motioning for you to follow and just like that the entire group moved.

The boys stayed with Joe, adjusting to his snail pace once more as you skipped ahead, letting the nurse explain everything properly. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything serious, just a badly strained lower back that he’d clearly aggravated trying to push through the rest of the set instead of stopping when he first felt it.

Typical Joe move you'd say.

By the time you were signing the release documents, the boys had gathered around again with Joe standing in the middle of them looking exhausted, uncomfortable and deeply humiliated all at once.

“Alright”, Adam said after a moment, glancing between everyone. “So obviously he’s not doing anything for the next week.”

Joe immediately frowned. “A week is dramatic.”

“Yeah, uh, you went to the emergency room because your back gave out”, Wes replied. “You don’t really get a vote here.”

You shook your head as a breathy, slightly disbelieving laugh escaped you, the sound slipping out somewhere between relief and sheer exhaustion. The boys were still going back and forth, with Joe trying to defend himself only to regret speaking every time laughing made his back hurt again.

The nurse glanced past you, at the group of boys she knew her own daughter adored, a knowing little smile on her lips, before reaching over to gently squeeze your arm.

“Quite the group you got there, honey.”

Your head dropped onto the arm you had resting against the counter, a groan escaping you before you finally looked back up at her with the kind of exhausted expression that made it very clear that you were painfully aware.

You were thanking god and any higher power above that Dalton, Jake and Matt weren't here to witness it too.

“You have no idea”, you murmured.

The nurse gave you one last smile before heading off to print the remaining paperwork. You turn back toward the chaos waiting a few feet away and trudge over tiredly.

“We’ll deal with management and move things around tomorrow. Cancel rehearsals, figure out the schedule, all that”, Trent was saying, practical as always.

“We can grab his stuff too”, Javi added easily, before turning to you. “You just get him home before he somehow makes it worse.”

At the mention of going home, Joe’s eyes found yours again and without all the adrenaline from earlier, he just looked tired, uncomfortable too and very obviously embarrassed, considering every single person around him was making jokes at his expense.

Everyone but you, of course, you just stepped closer and grabbed his free hand, the one that wasn't cradling his own back. “Will you be alright tonight? Should I get something from the corner store?”

Joe gave you a long look. “That depends. Are they coming with us?”

“Home?”, you repeated with a breathy laugh. “Definitely not. I’ve had enough chaos for one night.”

Wes gasped dramatically like you’d deeply wounded him. “Wow. After everything we’ve been through tonight? We hurled his ass here”

"And made fun of him all the way here like pubescent little shits", you call him out and Joe immediately starts grinning as Wes retreats, hands raised and a grin so sheepish you almost laughed yourself.

The nurse returned one final time to hand you the discharge papers and explain the medication schedule again before bidding all of you goodbye, sending you one last reassuring nod.

The guys all made their way over to the van as you lead Joe over to your car instead, followed by Javi, who was still holding on to Joe's jacket and other belongings.

“You know this is never leaving the group chat, right?”, Trent called after you and Joe lifted his hand weakly, not even turning around as he showed him the finger. “I need all of you to find hobbies.”

Then, you helped Joe into the passenger seat after spending a solid two minutes arguing with him about why he was absolutely not driving himself home in his current state. Thankfully, Javi supported you and talked Joe down. By the end of it, he was grumbling under his breath while carefully lowering himself into the seat.

You were genuinely one comment away from threatening to leave his ass at the hospital.

Once he was settled properly, you closed the car door and pulled Javi into a tight hug. “Thank you for calling me”, you said quietly, “and for taking care of him.”

“Always”, he replied just as gently, squeezing you once before letting go. “Now go get him home safely and get some rest too, alright?”

Then he bent down toward the open passenger window with a grin. “Night, Grandpa”, he teased, turning to you with a wink, before he jogged back over to the van without waiting for Joe's reaction.

You sat down next to Joe, starting the engine and switching on the seat warmer for him without thinking much about it. Joe let out the most relieved sound you’d heard from him yet, sinking further into his seat.

“Oh my god”, he groaned, closing his eyes for a moment. “I love you.”

You glanced over at him with a small smile as you pulled your seatbelt on. “Funny. A few hours ago you were trying to convince me not to come.”

“What? Who, me?”, he muttered, already sounding sleepier now that the constant warmth on his back welcomed him.

You leaned over then to press a soft kiss against his lips and for a second he smiled into it, chasing after you like he always did when he felt like one kiss wasn't enough.

Only this time his body immediately disagreed with the movement. Joe stopped abruptly, followed by a quiet hiss through his teeth before sinking back against his seat in defeat.

You tried hard not to laugh as you pulled out of the hospital parking lot, though Joe certainly wasn’t helping. The drive home was mostly quiet, except for the occasional snort from Joe whenever another meme about his dramatic onstage collapse appeared on his timeline. There were videos, gifs and screenshots all over Instagram, most of them joking about Joe Keery discovering he was “too old” to perform, calling him a grandpa like his bandmates did earlier, or how he was surely gonna injure himself in a few years time. He took it all in stride.

Thankfully, none of them seemed to realize he’d actually injured himself though. To everyone online it just looked like an overly committed rockstar moment gone wrong and honestly, both of you preferred it that way.

By the time you finally got him home, exhaustion had settled into your body so deeply it almost felt numbing. Joe looked even worse now that the adrenaline had completely worn off.

Every few steps a quiet “fuck” slipped out, one hand constantly hovering near his lower back while he grimaced through simple things like walking up the stairs or down the hallway. Despite how tired you were yourself, your attention was fixed entirely on him without even thinking about it.

The apartment still smelled of fresh laundry and your beloved room spray and for a second you almost laughed at how differently the night had turned out compared to what you imagined it to. You assumed Joe would drag his tipsy ass home at night, shower and crawl into bed with you, probably waking you accidentally and yapping on about his evening, depending how drunk he'd be.

Now you had to play nurse to a rockstar ready for retirement.

“Okay”, you exhale softly after locking the door behind you. You let your bag drop onto the kitchen island along with the documents, the entire apartment designed in an open floor concept that made it easy for you to navigate, before walking back over to Joe.

You guided him towards the bathroom and lowered him onto the closed toilet lid before disappearing briefly to grab some clothes, a towel and a washcloth. Usually, the first thing Joe did when he came home after gigs was to jump under the shower, mostly to please you, but one look at him now made it obvious that trying to stand long enough to wash himself properly would probably end up with another hospital visit.

So when you step back into the bathroom, Joe looked up at you tiredly, almost helpless in the way he keeps glancing at the shower. “I feel gross”, he admitted quietly.

“I know”, you smiled softly, settling yourself between his legs. “Lift your arms for me.”

This time he obeyed immediately, too exhausted to argue or pretend he wasn’t hurting. You carefully pulled his shirt off before wiping away the sweat still clinging to his neck and chest, the washcloth damp and warm against his skin.

He recognized the scent the second you soaked it again, sweet and familiar in a way that instantly made him think of you. Honestly, he should’ve known you’d use it on him tonight.

If he pointed it out, you’d probably argue that it had oils in it or that it was gentler on his skin and would help him relax, something practical enough to sound believable.

Realistically though, Joe knew you just liked the idea of him smelling like you afterwards.

And right now, with you kneeling between his legs quietly taking care of him while he was too exhausted and sore to argue about anything, you were very obviously holding all the reins anyway.

Every now and then your fingers brushed against his warm skin and you could feel him relax into it more and more, tension slowly leaving his body now that he was finally home.

“You’re really good at this”, he murmured eventually, watching you through sleepy eyes.

You glanced up briefly, an amused smile on your lips. “Cleaning you up?”

A small smile of his own tugged at his mouth and he brushed your hair back slowly, his fingers gliding through the soft strands. “Taking care of me.”

Your movement slowed as your eyes locked, because no matter how amused you were now, you still remembered the panic from earlier. Hearing emergency room over the phone. Driving there terrified something awful had happened.

“You scared me”, you admitted quietly.

Joe’s expression softened immediately. “I know. M'sorry. I told Javi not to call you, but now I'm really glad he did”

For a moment neither of you said anything. Then Joe rested his forehead against your stomach as you leaned up to the sink to grab the dry towel.

“My favourite nurse”, he murmured sleepily and you could tell his pain meds were finally kicking in. He was almost drowsy. You laughed quietly under your breath, fingers brushing through his curls. “You’re never living this down, you know that?”

Joe sighed dramatically. “Wes is probably making merch already.”

By the time you finally got him into clean clothes and carefully guided him over to your bed, you could have fallen asleep on the spot. Joe lowered himself onto the clean sheets you’d changed earlier that evening and immediately let out the deepest, most relieved sigh of the entire night.

“Fresh sheets too?”, he asked, sounding genuinely emotional about it now the way he almost sighed happily, fisting the sheets gently.

You smiled tiredly, taking off your sweater and climbing into bed beside him. “Call it a sixth sense for your wellbeing”

The apartment had gone completely still by then, warm and quiet around the two of you while Joe carefully pulled you closer against his chest.

“Thank you for taking care of me”, he murmured into your hair softly.

You curled into him as far as you could and his body allowed, finally letting your eyes close now that he was home and okay.

“Somebody had to”, you whispered back.

°❀.࿔ steve

yes. absolutely. steve is very attentive, he gets off on his own partners pleasure.

“right there,” you mewl, “harder!”

steve shifts his hips, throwing your leg over his shoulder, “you want it harder?”

you nod desperately, tugging your lip in between your teeth. steves hips drive into you with more force, all while maintaining the same pace as before. your jaw falls slack. steves curls have fallen loose from his hair and bounce with each powerful thrust he gives you.

“just like that,” you moan

“yeah? you like that baby?” he smirks down at you, all smug because he knows exactly how to fuck you

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

°❀.࿔ gator

IMMEDIATELY NO. i feel like if you tell him to go harder he just starts speeding up and pistoning in and out of ur pussy. hes really focused on his pleasure more than anything.

gator has both of your legs over his shoulders, practically folding you further into the mattress.

“give it to me,” your nails scratch down his back, “harder”

“you asked for it, mama.”

gators hips snapped forward, fucking into you frantically.

“take it,” he grunts right in your ear. his nails are digging into your hips with each brutal thrust of his hips. the bed bangs against the wall while he chases his own high.

its not exactly unpleasurable.. it just wasnt what you had asked for. and because of that, the coil that was tightening in your stomach had practically vanished. it didnt take long for him to spill inside of you, swearing its the best sex hes ever had.

i can totally imagine afterward you try correcting him on it and he would get so defensive about it 😭 get all petty and be like “i think i know how to please a woman,” , “made you cum, didnt i? so quit yer naggin’.” you dont have the heart to tell him you had to fake your orgasm…

arrogant little shit smh 😒

°❀.࿔ kurt

no. hes soo inexperienced that in his brain, harder means to go faster, thats all hes ever seen in porn, so to him, it must be right! poor baby doesnt know any better :( it makes things so much harder for him bc u just feel so good. he becomes a whimpering babbling mess on top of you cause he rarely ever tops :(

hes trying to stifle his own whimpers and whines, his fists are bunched up and pressed into the mattress while hes on top of you. his arms shaking ever so lightly as he fucks into you.

“baby, can you fuck me harder?”

“uh-huh,” he nods bashfully.

instead, kurt just starts increasing the speed of his thrusts, hoping it does something for you. the veins in his neck strain, his hair is flopping wildly in time with his needy thrusts.

“harder, baby,” you moan softly, “not faster.”

“c-cant stop,” he whines, “just feels so good, ohmygod.”

°❀.࿔ travis

yes he does, but i feel like hes such a blabber and gets caught up in it that he accidentally starts going faster.

“travis,” you whimper, further arching your back, “harder, please.”

his hands knead the fat of your ass before moving back to firmly hold your hips.

“oh fuck,” he groans lowly

another sharp thrust. his eyes are glued to the way your ass recoils against him, “mygod– you take it so good baby.”

a broken moan falls from you, he gives another deep thrust, “pussys so good, can feel you squeezing me.”

“gonna milk me dry”

“so tight”

“fuck me, your ass is perfect”

whiles hes rambling on and on about how good you feel and how perfect you are, he subconsciously starts fucking you faster.

“n-not so fast, baby,” you gasp out, reminding him gently

“wha–? oh shit,” he chuckles, “sorry.”

°❀.࿔ keys

yes he does!!!! and hes very similar to steve. super sweet and caring boy!!

your eyes flutter as keys thrusts rhythmically into you, filling your pussy up just right.

“talk to me, pretty,” his glasses are perched low on his nose, “what do you need?”

“want it harder, please,” you beg, looking at him with gentle eyes.

his gaze softens at your request, he moans with you as the power behind his thrusts becomes deeper, reaching that one spot that practically shuts your brain off. keys brows furrow in concentration as he studies your face, watching the way you're engulfed by the pleasure.

“like this?” he waits for an answer from you before assuming hes right.

“mhm– keys,” you breathe, “keep going, dont stop.”

It had been about three months since you started dating Travis, three months of giggles and butterflies in your stomach. You felt like a kid again, which was quite an achievement, considering most of your time together was spent with Lucy. Travis never complained; it never bothered him. He did things on your terms, and he understood that a mom would be busy a lot. So instead of trying to force you to just dump Lucy off at the nearest babysitter, he wanted her involved, he wanted to make your days easier in any way that he could. It meant more to you than he could ever imagine.

There was one thing you hadn't done with Travis yet, something that you were both terrified about and also dying to do. You hadn't slept with him.

Sex was a touchy subject, it had been over two years since you slept with anyone, the last person being Lucy's dad. You knew your body could look worse, but you weren't exactly happy with it, you were extra self conscious about showing it to Travis for the first time. Not to mention it was hard to have the alone time, you wanted to do it right, wanted both of you to be as loud and take as long as you want. Obviously, with a toddler in the apartment, things were a little tricky.

After putting Lucy to bed one night, you and Travis quickly move from cuddling and lazy kisses to full blown making out. Messy open mouthed kisses, as his tongue dominates yours, exploring your mouth. Your fingers tangle in his soft hair, tugging him towards you as if he can get any closer while you sit in his lap. His hand just began moving up your thigh when a loud wail comes from down the hall.

You pull away quickly, shifting off of Travis's lap so you can get off the couch.

He's up before you are, already turning on the light in the hallway as you stand behind him.

"I can get her—" you start to protest but your boyfriend gives you a quick kiss, smiling as he pulls away.

"You do enough honey pie…just give me five minutes and I'll be back." The warm light from the hallway casts a golden glow on his hair, "Then we can continue where we were." He says with a final wink before making his way to Lucy's room.

With a hesitant sigh, you sit back down on the couch. "Okay, okay." mumbling to yourself as you grab your phone off the arm of the couch. You weren't used to this kind of help, it made you a little antsy to not go and tend to every cry Lucy made.

You didn't want to get too comfortable just yet, not that you didn't trust Travis but you knew your daughter, and as helpful as he is he'd have to be a miracle worker to soothe her back to sleep in under five minutes on the first try.

"Hey Monkey Lu, what's the matter?" He coos. a soft smile curling up the ends of your lips as you hear him echo on the monitor.

"You look awfully scared, did you have a bad dream?" Travis keeps his voice soothing and light, you can hear the mattress creek as he picks her up.

Apparently your boyfriend is a miracle worker, in less than five minutes Lucy's cries stop, and the only thing you can hear are Travis's sweet whispers.

You quickly get lost on your phone, scrolling through post after post until a whispered "hey" catches your attention.

What you see when you look up should've made you roll your eyes and scold him, but instead you couldn't help but smile.

Travis stands in the entry way, the hall light casting a warm orange shine off his earring, his cheek gently resting on top of your daughter's messy bedhead as she snoozes on his chest.

"Sorry doll, we'll have to continue later." a sheepish grin resting on his face as he slowly makes his way to the couch.

You groan, playfully rolling your eyes. "If I had known my kid would've interrupted our makeouts this much, I never would’ve introduced you two."

A quick dramatic gasp leaves Travis's lips, looking at you with feign horror, "But look at her!"

"Look at me!" you pout, batting your eyelashes. His eyes move back and forth between you and your sleeping angel on his chest, this man was going to make your heart explode you just knew it.

Travis smiles down at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "How can I say no to a mini you?"

You lay your head on his shoulder, brushing your fingers gently through Lucy's curls. You were always told she was your mini me, it made you feel proud, it actually made you appreciate your own features because you saw them differently now. It was also a bit of a relief that she didn't resemble her father, that was one face that you were happy to never have to see again.

The warmth from Travis engulfs your body as you sat there curled into him as best as you could, you take in every detail of his face as he watches whatever old sitcom played on the tv. His honey brown eyes you love so much, one of the first things you noticed about him, aside from his hair and the 'howdy' tattoo on his neck that always makes you giggle. His nose is prominent, easy to kiss, or boop with your finger as you love to do. He laughs softly over something on the tv, his face lighting up into a smile…that damn smile, the same one that makes your heart flutter every time you saw it. You couldn't believe he was yours, regardless of everything that you thought would've made him give up…he stays.

Slowly you lift your head, gently kissing his cheek, jaw, and then neck feeling the goosebumps form under your lips.

"What are you—?" He began, careful of moving too quickly and waking up Lucy.

"Shh…" you hush, continuing to kiss his jaw, each kiss lasting a little longer, a little more tongue playfully swiping at the stubble.

Travis sighs, "Okay okay…" pulling his arm away and getting up from the couch as you grin, "I'll put her back."

About a week later, you decide it was finally time. Despite feeling terrified, there was an opportunity for your friend to take Lucy overnight and you knew you to take advantage of a rare free night. So, you and Travis planned a proper date, which had become a rarity since he met Lucy. You didn't mention the sex part to him; you were honestly too nervous. In your mind, it was a given when you asked if he wanted to spend the night.

Travis had carefully picked the perfect restaurant, a nice neighborhood bistro that was the right balance of upscale enough to feel special, yet relaxed enough that it felt comfortable for both of you. All you had to do was be ready and dolled up for when he arrived at your door, and boy were you ever.

His jaw actually drops when you open the door, revealing the flowing sundress that perfectly hugs your body in all the right places, made of soft chiffon that fluttered with every movement. Perfect for a breezy spring evening like this.

“Wow…" he mutters, swallowing hard as he struggles to keep his gazing from lingering too long on your legs, which were accentuated by the dress and lit by the cotton candy sunset behind him. You could feel the heat rise to your chest as his eyes explore every nook and cranny of your figure.

"A good wow I hope?" you tease, giggling at how quickly he nodded.

"God, yes!" he blurts out, a wide grin spreading across his face.

Everything about the night was incredible, Travis couldn't keep his eyes or hands off you, and it really made you feel good about. His lips found the crook of your neck, sending a shiver through your body as you fumble with the key to unlock your door. You stumble inside, his strong hands gripping your waist and flipping you around so that his lips meet yours in a passionate kiss.

With a swift motion, he kicks the door shut with his foot, then gently guiding you backwards to the couch. As your calves brush against the soft cushions, you sink down with a gasp, overwhelmed by the sensation. Travis had pulled back, then kneels down between your legs, which you spread open eagerly. One of his large hands rests firmly on your thigh as his tongue explores your mouth hungrily, deepening the connection and causing a warmth between your thighs.

You instinctely knew where this was heading and for once, you desperately wanted the voice in your head to shut up. Your desire to be with him was overwhelming, you longed to sleep with him, to feel him close. God, how much you wanted that. Gently your hand lays flat on his chest, pushing just a little, as the two of you pull apart for air. Travis looks up at you, his pupils so blown his eyes almost look black. Your eyes drifting downward, they settle on his swollen lips, your lipstick leaving a smudge of color lingering at the corner of his mouth.

"C-can we go to the bedroom, please? If that's okay with you?" His voice sounds so small it makes your heart ache, like he's scared for some reason you'd say no.

You swallow hard, nodding. "Please…" you whisper faintly, feeling your stomach plummet to the floor. Travis cups your face with one hand, his thumb gently brushing a lock of your hair behind your ear before pressing his lips to yours again. This time, the kiss is so soft, so…chaste, like a fragile promise.

Gently, you take his hand, feeling the roughness of his palm as he responds with a tight squeeze before he gets up off the floor. You lead him into your room, where the bed seems to mock you, when was the last time this mattress was used for anything besides sleeping? Nervously, you begin to chew on your lip as Travis presses his lips into your neck, his fingers tugging cautiously at the silver zipper on your dress.

You think of all the women he's been with—whether they're around your age, younger, or even older. Most probably had little responsibility to anything besides themselves, working their various jobs. Their bodies remain otherwise flawless because they didn't grow a baby. No man had seen your naked body except doctors, which is a completely different situation.

Quickly, you turn to face Travis, your movement causing his hand to slip away from the zipper. Taking a deep, steadying breath, you look into his eyes, dark with hunger and desire. "Why don't you go into the bathroom…I, uh, need to get ready, okay?" you ask, aiming for a calm, seductive tone, disguising your nervousness and the urge to throw up all over your pretty dress.

His eyebrow arches slightly, eyes reflecting a glint of mischief. "Of course, baby. Whatever you need," he replies, his voice smooth and reassuring.

As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut, you begin to scurry around your room, your heart beat pounding faster with each step. You quickly turn off the overhead light, and instead switching on a small bedside lamp that cast a dim glow that you were more comfortable with.

Your hands tremble as you wrestle with the zipper that ran vertically between your shoulder blades. The last thing you wanted was to call Travis back in just to unzip your dress, only to come up with some weak excuse for why he couldn't simply just take the dress off for you.

Your mind wandering to the thought of his warm, gentle hands sliding over your bare skin, lips pressing softly against the crook of your neck as he carefully eased the dress down your frame. You couldn't remember the last time a man's touch had made you feel so alive, the thought of Travis touching you like that, of him exploring your body with such reverence, made your desire flare and pool between your thighs.

God, you wanted him.

A deep breath you hadn't even realized you were holding, pushes out of your lungs. Your fingers successfully find the zipper, gripping it firmly. You sigh with relief as you feel it glide down, the metal teeth pulling apart.

Quickly, you push the dress down to the floor and step out of it, grabbing it like a wad of material and flinging it over the back of a nearby chair. Earlier, you had purposefully picked this matching lingerie set, it's simple but one of your favorites, almost always making you feel good about yourself. Your eyes catch sight of your reflection in the nearby mirror, it feels like someone knocked the air right out of you.

You look at yourself carefully, the stretch marks on your soft belly, the faint silver lines on your breasts, the way your thighs still lack the toned definition they once had, your belly still bears a slight roundness, which at this point you've unfortunately just accepted as your new normal. You hate it. You despise everything about it. The anger it sparks inside you makes your chest tighten, you hate yourself for feeling this way.

So instead of leaving the lingerie on for Travis, you peel it off, squeezing your eyes shut as you caught sight of your reflection in the full length mirror again, You grimace, God. you needed to get rid of this fucking thing. You felt disoriented, unsure of how to sit or lie down, how to pose casually enough for when you call your boyfriend to come back. The mirror seems to mock you, the distorted image of yourself making tears well in your eyes. This was not how you wanted the night to go, you just want to enjoy yourself without these intrusive thoughts loudly echoing in your mind.

As a last resort, you slide under the soft sheet of your bed, pulling it up over your chest, and flick off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. You could feel the cold sweat glistening on your skin, your could hear the pound of your heart. "O-oh okay, I'm ready!" you call out faintly, wincing at the crack in your voice.

When the door swings open, a sudden rush of nerves makes your stomach tighten. The nightlight in the bathroom casting light on his strong frame. You could see he was only in boxers, the fabric clinging to his hips, highlighting the muscles in his thighs. Your eyes trace slowly upward, taking in his toned arms, his chest dusted with dark hair that was still visible. His presence was captivating, so much so that your gut twisted into a knot, a mixture of desire and anxiety.

Travis pauses and squints his eyes, trying to adjust to the sudden darkness of the room. "Honey pie?" he calls out softly, tilting his head as he looked around. "I can't even see the bed, where are you? Why ya hidin'?"

His voice sounds so sweet and caring, and you could just imagine the furrow of confusion creasing his brow. You open your mouth to respond, but no words came. Instead, a small, pathetic whimper slips out as you cover your face with your hands.

A soft click of a switch sounds nearby, and you know that Travis has found the switch for the lamp. A gentle light begins to spread across the room. His eyes immediately flicker toward you, noticing how you're tucked under the thin sheet, trying to hide. For a moment, he assumes you're doing this to tease him about what he's about to see. His gaze lingers on the shadowy outline of your naked body, and he can't help but salivate at the sight of your curves

"There's my baby…" he mutters softly, his voice husky and low, causing your thighs to squeeze together despite the slamming of your heart in your chest.

He stands over you, his hand gentle but steady as it reaches out to grab the edge of the sheet, slowly beginning to pull it down. You tighten your grip on the fabric, a rush of nerves flooding through you. "G-get the lamp," you stammer, your voice trembling as you kick yourself for the hesitation, noticing how his eyebrows knit together in confusion and concern.

"I wanna see you, sweetheart. You're teasin' me like crazy, hidin' under there," he murmurs softly, a playful smile lingering on his lips. Yet, his eyes, fill with tenderness, softening as he looks at your face, searching for some indication for how you're feeling.

Tears well in your eyes, shame tinting your cheeks and shadowing your features. "I-I thought I c-could do this…" your voice soft and cracking with each word.

You watch as Travis presses his lips into a deep frown, concern flickering in his eyes. "Do what, muffin?" he whispers, leaning over you, his hand lightly tracing the curve of your side.

Taking a deep breath, you try to blink the tears away before you speak again. "I got undressed…h-hid under the blanket…and now I-I'm too ashamed to show you.." you whisper, tears stream down your face as you clutch the frayed end of the sheet, unable to bear looking him in the eye.

"Ashamed of what?" Travis asks softly, tilting his head with a concerned frown. His brow furrows as he studies your trembling form, genuinely confused and scared he might have pushed you into something you didn't want.

Bringing your hands to your face, you take a shaky breath. "M-me…" you whimper, voice cracking as sobs wrack through your body. This was not how you wanted tonight to go, not at all. You thought you could handle this.

Travis's heart aches visibly as he looks at you, verging on the edge of tears just from hearing how harshly you feel about yourself. You were truly beautiful, he hadn't even seen you completely naked, yet he knew you were the only girl he could ever want.

He sits down on the edge of the bed, the mattress softly dips under his weight. His hand gently slides over the cool sheet and rests on your belly, warm and reassuring in his touch. To him, it feels like a simple, tender gesture until he notices the way your muscles tense beneath his fingertips.

"Oh sweetheart…" he coos, moving his hand from your stomach to gently hold your wrists. He lowers your hands so he can cup your cheek, his thumb carefully catching the tears that slide down your face.

A loud sob rattles out of you, wrenching through your body as you squeeze your eyes shut to block out the world. "I don't look like other girls. My body is disproportionate, my stomach isn't flat like it used to be…there's stretch marks, dips a-and-" struggling to speak through your crying. Your breath hitching, you gasp, unable to control your tears.

When you meet his gaze, you're taken aback by how large and glassy his eyes are, as if what you're saying is piercing his very soul, breaking his heart.

You take a deep, quivering breath and try to continue. "No one has seen me, like this since I got pregnant," you whisper, your voice hoarse. "And I know I don't look like all the other girls you've slept with." You pause to draw another shaky breath, locking eyes with him, "It's not pretty…like it used to be. My boobs are shot, my stomach is—" little whimpers and hiccups slip out as Travis briefly interrupts you with a delicate, lingering kiss against your lips. He pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

"Don't say those things about yourself, sweetheart. You're beautiful, absolutely, mind blowingly beautiful." He looks at you earnestly, each word leaving his mouth in a firm but careful tone, his eyes locking onto yours. He means every single word he says, not just saying it to make you happy but because he truly believes it. "You amaze me every day, you're the strongest person I know. You're stunning, the prettiest thing I've ever seen." His hand cups your cheek again, thumb brushing your skin, ensuring your eyes stay fixed on him. "I don't give a fuck what other girls look like. You're here right now, with me, and I am dying to show you just how beautiful you are, inside and out."

His words sit heavy on your chest, as you let out another sob, staring up at him while you try to blink away the tears.

Travis frowns, leaning over to softly kiss the tears away. "Sweet baby, your body has made and pushed out another human; that's nothing to be insecure about.". He presses kisses on each of your cheeks, then on your nose, and finally against your lips. "Lemme see, honey girl. I wanna remind you…"

His voice is calm and soothing, not pressuring or seductive, but soft and understanding. It makes you feel vulnerable, with an overwhelming warmth spreading in your core. Your hands instinctively find his soft, blonde hair, fingers tangling in the curls as you press your lips to his again. This one is different, its hungry, filled with want and need.

Travis gently breaks the kiss just as his hand reaches out to touch the smooth sheet. ""Is it okay?" he asks, voice still soft, waiting for your permission. Taking a deep, steadying, breath you nod, closing your eyes as you feel him delicately peel back the fabric.

"Oh baby," he mutters, in shock. For a second, a wave of panic rises within you and you momentarily panic. "Oh my God…oh my God…oh my God…" he moans…actually moans as his large hands touch your hips, then slide up your waist, over your belly, and settling on your breasts. He presses several kisses onto the valley of your chest before his eyes flash up to your face, "Open your eyes sweetheart."

When you do, his warm loving eyes lift, brimming with tender adoration, as if you're a cherished piece of art.

"Absolutely breathtaking." Travis whispers, a sweet smile spreading across his lips.

His knee nudges your legs apart as he lowers himself down. He groans when he sees how wet you are, pussy glistening in the dim light.

"Baby, when did you get this wet? Was it my words?" He asks, as his fingers massage into your plush thighs.

You smile shyly, slowly nodding as your hands go up to your face again, "That and when I was waiting for you…thinking about what you were gonna do to me when you saw me, and then I panicked."

Travis moves up again, his eyes are a mix of love, longing, and deep sadness. "Baby, I'm obsessed with you. I cant even begin to—fuck baby…"

His gaze wanders down your body, taking in every curve, every inch. You blush so hard that heat blossoms on your cheeks.

Travis chuckles, eyes twinkling with amusement as he leans down to kiss your cheek once more. "Turnin' all pretty and pink on me." he teases warmly, his voice a smooth whisper against your soft skin. The unexpected comment making you giggle, and he follows with a kiss on your nose, then your lips before effortlessly moving back down again.

"You were worried about your boobs? Babydoll, these are…" Pressing a slow, lingering kiss against each one, tongue swiping at your nipples, making you sigh. "Incredible, I'm comin' back here later."

Next, his hands gently touch your belly, fingertips softly caressing the supple skin as he traces the faint stretch marks that map your abdomen. He leaves sloppy open mouthed kisses across your plush flesh, warm and lingering. “This belly grew that beautiful baby," his words softly tremble, bringing tears to your eyes again. "This was her home." he whispers reverently, leaving one last tender kiss, before moving down between your legs.

Your breath hitches as you feel the heat of his breath hitting your core, sending shivers up your body. He bites his lip, jaw clenching tight, groaning softly as his eyes darken with lust.

"And this…this pretty pussy, fuck baby." He leans in, kissing the top of your mound right above your swollen clit. "This is not only the prettiest I've ever seen, but also the strongest." He coos, his thumbs gently caressing your inner thighs.

You feel yourself clench around nothing as you whine softly, he's right he’s truly making you feel beautiful…and undeniably horny.

"I get why someone got you pregnant, this addicting body." He smirks, eyes still locked on your dripping pussy.

You roll your eyes but can't hide a smile as you squint down at him, "Hey, don't get too crazy…not doing that for a while."

Travis lifts his head up quickly, eyes wide. "So you're saying it's in the cards?"

Giggling, you nudge him playfully with your knee. "We'll see how good you make me feel…"

He lowers his head back down, a devilish grin across his face. You can feel his nose lightly nudge against your clit, a soft whimper leaving your lips as you struggle to hold back, resisting the urge to buck your hips against his face.

His tongue drags slowly down your slick folds, exploring every crease with deliberate strokes before darting in and out of your opening. Your whines grow louder, a trembling emotion in the back of your throat as your hands tangle in his hair. He laps up the arousal that's seeping out of you and directly entering his mouth. He moans, lips vibrating against you as you feel him pull you closer.

"T-Trav..need more…" You whimper, and that seems to trigger a reaction inside him. His tongue moves faster, tasting and exploring as he works diligently. His spit and your fluids mingle, spreading all over his face before he takes your clit between his lips.

A passionate cry leaves your lungs, as your hips buck against his face. "S-so good…oh fuck…so good." You moan, your back arching off the mattress as his hands explore every inch of your body, warm and firm against your supple tits and belly. A reminder of his presence and intense obsession with you courses through the moment. Tears prickle at your lash line as the pressure rises in you, you swear you start to see stars.

Travis groans, his voice muffled as he whispers, "So sweet…so beautiful." He slides a finger inside, curling it just right to hit your most sensitive spot, causing you to moan so loud you're convinced the neighbors must have heard.

"Want another, baby?" He asks, tongue swirling around your clit fast enough to make you stop abruptly and gasp for breath.

"Please!" you cry out, nodding frantically as you feel a second thick finger stretch and fill you, the sensation intense and precise in all the right ways.

It doesn’t take long before you lose control, succumbing to his tongue, your body trembling and thighs quivering around his head. You cry out his name, feeling yourself clench around his fingers as you soak his chin and hand. Travis laps up every drop, drinking you down with loud greedy slurps as you writhe under him. He moans against your sensitive clit, the sound vibrating through you as he lick you clean, making you whimper and jolt through the aftershocks. You hadn't even noticed Travis had been rutting against the mattress this whole time.

Your body shivers as you pant breathlessly, coming down from your high, the rush gradually fading as your muscles relax. Travis moves back, but not before pressing a soft kiss against your clit before moving up. Your head rolls back against the pillow as he kisses up your body, burying his slick covered face against your belly and then chest.

He's painfully hard, feeling the way his cock strains against his boxers on your thigh but what he says next astonishes you.

"That was just day one baby, I don't wanna overwhelm you." he hums, "Wanna take it slow."

Your eyes fly open, looking at him in disbelief. "You're not gonna fuck me?"

He smirks, giving you a little wink, and then slots his lips firmly against yours, the warmth of his mouth making your belly flutter. You moan in to it, letting his tongue slip past your lips, tasting yourself on him. He pulls away suddenly, just as your fingers hook under the waistband of his boxers.

"We need to take it slow, its been so long, you're sensitive." Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his lips grazing your forehead.

You whine, crossing your arms tightly over your chest in a huff. You're touched by how sweet he is, considering the pain caused by the tent in his boxers, but you're also pissed off. The sexual frustration makes you want to scream. You need him desperately, craving the feeling of him deep inside you, stretching and filling your pussy completely.

The mattress shifts as Travis stands up, his feet shuffle across the carpet as he begins to walk toward the bathroom. Your hand quickly shoots out to catch his forearm, stopping him before he got out of your reach.

"No way, mister!" you call out, causing him to spin around, eyes wide in shock.

"Honey, it's been so long I don't want to—" he starts, but soon you cut him off.

You lean up on your elbows, breath shallow as the heat between your thighs screams for attention. "Travis," you say, trying to sound as calm as possible, but your voice wobbles. "I need you…I need you really, really bad." The words escape in a whimper, and tears start to gather in your eyes. You need him.

He freezes, expression softening into an empathetic look. Slowly, he reaches out to put a hand on your cheek. "I don't wanna hurt you, angel."

You wish you had a reply; you really wish you did, but you're desperate. "Travis…I. Need. You." pausing after each word, your eyes fixed on his. "And if you turn me down, you have one miserable night coming because if I wait one more second, I might explode."

With determination you shift on the bed, tucking your legs under yourself so you can kneel in front of him. You eyes grow wide and watery as you focus on him. They linger momentarily on the unmistakable outline of his cock against the stretched material of his boxers, then flick upward to meet his gaze.

"Travis…mama needs your cock, real bad." Sticking your lower lip out as you whisper a final plea. His wrist remains in your grasp as you gently guide it downward between your thighs, the air thickening with tension. A faint whine fills the room as you slide his finger through your soaked lips, "Need your thick cock.."

He shudders, eyelashes fluttering as he rubs the pad of his finger against your clit, you moan in a long exhale.

"Don't wanna hurt you." Travis mutters, you can see how conflicted he feels, your heart skips a beat.

You lazily ghost your lips over his neck, another whine leaving your lips, "You won't, you'll make me so happy…so full of you." you whisper seductively, as you nibble at the shell of his ear. "Unless you don't want that?" Pulling back just enough to look in his eyes, tilting your head to the side, pouting.

Travis shakes his head, swallowing hard. "No, no…I want that," he protests, desire flickering in his eyes. You lean closer to his neck, feeling the warmth of his sticky skin, and lightly drag your tongue over his pulse point, feeling it quicken.

Then laying back down, with a slow deliberate motion, your eyes never looking anywhere but at him. You spread your legs, looking at him with a playful smile. "Then take me…"

You weren't sure if you had ever seen a man pull his underwear off so quick, almost causing himself to stumble as he kicked them to the floor. You try not to giggle, biting your lip as you watch him crawl up the bed, toward you, his bare knee padding against the sheets.

His large cock rests against his stomach, you moan at the sight of his red tip dotted with precum that smears onto his happy trail with each movement. You bite your lip, hips bucking against air. "Oh fuck…I need you."

Grinning, Travis wraps his strong arm around you, his palm pressing steadily against your back as he pulls you closer. He takes his cock, sliding the tip through your slick folds, your juices smearing together on both of you. "Please…please…" you shudder, trembling under him as you grip onto his shoulders.

"Easy sweet thing, I got you." Travis coos, lips grazing over your skin as he leans down to drop a tender kiss to your forehead. His warm breath brushing softly against your skin as he slowly sinks into you.

You mewl, back arching as his thick cock stretches you. Each inch of him gliding against your walls just right as you gasp beneath him, gripping his shoulders. You moan sinfully as he stills for a moment, letting you adjust to the delicious stretch. "S-so big…need more." you sigh, nails scratching his back as you dig your heels into his waist, pulling him closer,

Travis chokes out a strangled groan, filling you to the hilt. He tightly grips onto the sheet, trying to keep the steady pace as he slow as possible he fucks into you. But you want more, you need more. "P-please…p-please hmmph Trav…need more." You cry pitifully, bucking your hips up against his.

He lets go of the sheet, finding your hand that had flopped next to your head. His fingers lace together with yours as he quickens the pace, grunting as his hips slam into yours. The wet sound of skin slapping fills the room, as Travis lets out a pleased hum. "Taking my cock so good baby…such a good girl…" he pants, squeezing your hand.

"S-so full," needy little whines leaving your parted lips with each thrust.

Travis nips at your neck, moving down to the skin by your collarbone, sucking on the sweet spot, and then running his tongue over it. "You're so tight…fuck." Pressing his forehead against yours, mouth hanging open, his breath ghosts over your lips.

You're stretching with each thrust, crying out while every grind of his hips catches his hair on your puffy clit. Pleasure pulsing quickly inside you, faster than it ever had before. "Travis, I-'gonna…fuck!"

The coil in your belly snaps, dissolving into toe curling pleasure. Eyes rolling back as your climax tears through your body. You tremble in his arms as your muscles tense, clinging to his back as your nails leave dents in his skin. His name rolls off your tongue in loud moans followed by a sharp gasp when you feel your release squirt out of you.

Travis digs his fingers into your hips, "Oh..my God..fuck." His babbles low and raspy, sending shivers down your spine. His eyes shut tightly, groaning in your ear, as your pussy clenches around him.

Once your haze fades a little, it dawns on you how quickly you came and a blush shrouds your face, "I'm…I-m sorry I came so f-fast, I just haven't done that in a while." you stutter, hiding your face in his neck.

Travis stops mid thrust, still deep inside you, holding off with a shaky breath. Eyes opening as he lifts his head up, gently rubbing his thumb against the spot he had been gripping.

"No, no, that's good baby, that's so good. I wanna make you feel good and that felt like you felt damn good." He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your damp shoulder.

You pull away from his neck, still out of breath, face flushed. "You can finish in me." You whisper shyly and his eyes go wide.

"Ya sure?"

You nod, "I've been on the pill since Lucy, might as well make use of it."

Travis smashes his mouth into yours in a hungry, messy kiss, teeth clicking as his tongue swirls around yours. His thrusts begin again, rough, and sloppier than before, you can tell he's getting close.

Your fingers tangle in his hair tugging hard, feeling him snap his hips against yours. Panting out little whines every time his cock pulses against your sensitive g-spot, it feels intoxicating.

"You look so pretty…all fucked out…creaming all over me." Travis coos, looking down at where you're connected. Streaks of your cream coating his cock every time he draws back, you feel him twitching inside you.

"Wanna feel you cum in me," You whine softly, "Want you to fill me up…it's been so long Trav. Want you t'claim me."

The little pleads just egg him on, bringing him closer as he shudders out a broken moan, babbling your name as his hips lurch forwards, spilling inside of you with a low breathy growl. Some of his cum drips down his shaft, there's so much of it as he periodically jerks his hips, pushing more inside you just for it to spill back out.

You whimper, body trembling from the warmth as your mouth hangs open, "Fuck, Travis." feeling him smirk against your neck, a low groan rasping from his throat.

"So good, you took me so well, you were so good for me." his babble comes out a little hoarse as he comes down from his high. Breath uneven, his body limp, and boneless against you; making you feel safe.

"Evidently you needed some release too." You tease, twirling his hair around your fingers.

Travis's breath tickles your damp skin as he chuckles, a sigh leaving his lips. He pulls back just enough so he can look you in the eye, nose rubbing against yours. "You did so good for me honey pie." the gentle sound of his voice almost making you want to cry…again.

His lips slot against yours once more, weaving together slow tentative adoration as his hands explore your body. "Feel so good against me, feels so good to be inside you…feels so good to hold you."

Blinking away tears, you cup his face in your hand, "Thank you." you whisper, watching Travis smile wide. His thumbs rubbing up and down your ribs, holding you close to him like if he let go you'd disappear, and he can't have that happen.

The two of you stay in that deep embrace, Travis laying on top of you, head tucked under your chin in sweet contentment. Every few minutes he sprinkles kisses all over your jaw and collarbone, making you giggle.

Your eyelids gradually start to feel heavy under the warmth of his body, but you feel him start to stir. Whining as he pulls out, the emptiness aching more than the fullness did. Keeping your eyes shut you hear him pick his boxers up off the floor, followed by his feet padding against the carpet to head to the bathroom.

The next thing you know he's gently tapping your knee, making your eyes flutter open. He's standing over you with a lovesick smile on his face, a damp cool cloth held in his hand. Shining a sleepy smile, you spread your legs to let him clean you up. A whimper falls from your lips, making him freeze.

"I didn't hurt you did I?" He asks hesitantly, carefully searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

You smile, slowly blinking the sleepier you got. "No, no, its just been a long time and we…enjoyed ourselves a lot." Breaking out in a giggle, feeling so giddy it hammers in your chest and you love every bit of it.

Travis takes your hands and carefully pulls you up to a sitting position on the bed, picking up his t-shirt that was thrown on the floor earlier and slipping it over your head. The shirt was big and soft, wrapping your tired muscles in a sense of security.

You began to stand up, feeling your legs start to wobble once you put weight on them.

"Need my help?" He asks, arm instantly wrapping around your waist.

"I think I got it." Taking a small step as you slip out of his grasp, your legs feeling a little more like part of your body and a little less like jelly.

"But if you do need me-"

"You'll be the first to know." Turning to look over your shoulder before entering the bathroom, a smirk toying at your lips.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as you settle back into bed, pulling the cool sheets over your tired legs. Travis presses a tender kiss to the top of your head, lips lingering, as his arm instinctively pulls you closer.

You curl up comfortably against him, resting your head on his broad chest, the steady beat of his heart thumping in your ear.

"Thank you for being so good to me." you mumble, eyelids beginning to flutter, as the exhaustion begins to take over.

joe keery

you wake up slowly, the kind of soft, unhurried waking that only happens when there’s nowhere to be and nothing pressing waiting for you. the air feels different here, lighter somehow, warm even in the early morning and for a second you forget where you are.

joe had flown you to italy for the week. he was here to shoot a movie once and the minute he landed he knew he wanted to come back here with you so why not bring you for your birthday?

then you feel it, an arm draped over your waist, familiar and steady, pulling you just a little closer whenever you shift.

and then his lips.

they’re warm and barely there at first, brushing against your cheek, your temple, the corner of your mouth like he’s testing if you’re awake. when you stir, he smiles against your skin and presses a few more deliberate kisses across your face, uncoordinated and soft, like he can’t decide where to land.

you let out a quiet laugh, still half asleep, turning your head so your nose bumps into his. “joe…”

“good morning” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep, but there’s this quiet excitement under it.

you open your eyes properly then, and he’s already looking at you, hair a mess, eyes soft, that small, crooked smile that always feels like it’s just for you.

“happy birthday, baby” he says, like it’s something he’s been holding in all morning.

your chest tightens a little at the way he says it. you lean in, kissing him once, twice, slow and warm. “thank you.”

“i love you” he adds, almost immediately, like it’s just part of the sentence.

“i love you too.”

for a moment neither of you moves. it’s just quiet, the soft light coming through the shutters, his thumb absentmindedly tracing patterns on your hip while you stay tucked into him. then, suddenly, he pulls back.

“wait- don’t move” he says, already halfway out of bed.

you blink at him, amused. “what are you doing?”

“just- stay there” he insists, grabbing something from his bag, then something else, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process.

you push yourself up onto your elbows, watching him with a small smile. “you’re being weird.”

“i’m being prepared” he shoots back, though he’s clearly a little flustered. then he turns back to you, holding a small bundle of things, and for a second he just stands there, like he’s trying to figure out how to start.

it’s.. kind of endearing.

“okay,” he exhales, sitting back down on the bed. “so. presents.”

“joe-” you start, already shaking your head, but he cuts you off.

“nope. let me do this. please.”

you hold up your hands in surrender, smiling. “okay, okay.”

he hands you the smallest box first.

it’s simple, but wrapped neatly, like he actually took the time to do it himself instead of just handing it to you in a bag. you peel it open carefully, glancing up at him once. he’s watching you way too closely, like your reaction matters more than anything.

inside is a ring.

you pause for a second, then pick it up. it’s delicate, a soft pinky ring with his initial on it, small but clear.

“joe…” your voice comes out quieter than you expected.

“wait,” he says quickly, already pulling something from his own hand. “i got one too.”

you look up, and he’s holding his hand out, on his pinky is a matching ring, but with your initial instead.

“i just-” he lets out a small breath, suddenly a little shy. “you always do that thing, you know? with the pinky promises. like it’s… serious to you. so i thought-” he shrugs, a little helplessly. “we could have one that’s, like… permanent. like a forever pinky promise or whatever.”

for a second, you don’t say anything.

your throat feels tight, your eyes stinging just slightly as you look between the ring in your hand and the one on his finger.

“that’s… really-” you stop, laughing softly because you can’t quite get the words out. “that’s really sweet.”

“yeah?” he asks, watching you carefully.

you nod, slipping it onto your pinky. it fits perfectly.

“yeah,” you say again, softer. “it’s perfect.”

the smile that spreads across his face is immediate, wide and relieved and so genuine it makes your chest ache a little.

“okay, good,” he says, like he’s been holding his breath. “good.”

he leans in, kissing you again. slow this time, a little deeper, his hand coming up to cradle your face.

“happy birthday” he murmurs against your lips.

you laugh softly. “you already said that.”

“i’ll say it again.”

he hands you the next few things after that. small painting kits, the kind you’ve pointed out before but never actually bought. you raise an eyebrow at him.

“really?”

“what?” he shrugs. “you like them.”

“i’m terrible at them.”

“that’s not the point,” he says immediately. “you like doing them. and for the record, everything you make is… objectively great.”

you snort. “objectively?”

“yeah,” he nods seriously. “award-worthy, even.”

you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling.

there are a couple of shirts too, ones you’d mentioned offhand weeks ago, and a small bouquet of flowers he must have picked up the day before.

“and,” he adds, almost as an afterthought, “there’s more stuff. back home.”

you stare at him. “joe.”

“what?” he grins. “i didn’t bring everything with me.”

“this is already too much.”

“no, it’s not” he says easily. “it’s your birthday.”

you shake your head, but there’s no real protest behind it. “this is perfect.”

his expression softens at that, something quieter settling in. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

-

the day unfolds slowly, like it’s stretching itself out just for you.

you get dressed without any rush, his attention constantly drifting back to you, pausing mid-conversation just to look at you, like he keeps getting distracted.

“what?” you ask at one point, catching him staring.

“nothing,” he says, but he’s smiling. “you just- look really good.”

“i just put on a t-shirt.”

“yeah,” he nods. “and you look really good in it.”

it doesn’t stop there.

breakfast is long and easy, the kind where you talk about everything and nothing. half-finished stories, random thoughts, little jokes that don’t make sense to anyone else. he keeps reaching across the table, touching your hand, your wrist, like he needs to stay connected.

after, you walk through the town, no real plan in mind. the streets are warm, the buildings glowing softly in the sunlight, and every now and then he lifts his camera.

“stop moving” he says, already focusing.

“i’m literally just walking.”

“yeah, and you look- hold on-” click. “there. perfect.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “you’re ridiculous.”

“i’m right” he corrects, lowering the camera just long enough to grin at you.

shopping is chaos, but in the best way. every time you pause for even a second, he notices.

“you like that?” he asks casually.

“it’s cute,” you admit, already stepping away. “but i don’t need-”

“we’re getting it.”

“joe-”

“it’s my special girl’s special day,” he says, already handing it to the cashier. “give me a break.”

you groan, but you’re laughing, and he looks entirely too pleased with himself.

by the time you head back to the airbnb to drop everything off, your hands are full and your heart somehow even fuller.

-

dinner is different.

quieter, softer, a little more dressed up. you catch him looking at you again when you step out, and this time he doesn’t even try to hide it.

“what?” you ask, smoothing your outfit self-consciously.

he just shakes his head, stepping closer. “you’re… yeah. you’re unreal.”

the restaurant is beautiful, the kind of place that feels almost too pretty to be real, and the night outside is warm, the air buzzing softly with distant conversation and music.

after, you walk again, past monuments lit up against the dark, quiet streets that feel like they belong to just the two of you.

he takes more photos. of you laughing, of you not looking, of you just existing.

“you’re gonna run out of film” you tease.

“worth it” he says without hesitation.

-

by the time you’re back in bed, everything feels soft again.

you’re tucked into him like you were that morning, his arms around you, his face buried briefly in your shoulder before he pulls back slightly.

he’s quiet for a second.

“hey” he says, a little hesitant.

“yeah?”

“was today… okay?”

you blink at him. “okay?”

“yeah. like- i don’t know. i just, i wanted it to be good.”

you prop yourself up slightly, looking at him properly. “joe.”

he watches you, a little unsure.

“today was perfect,” you say, gently but firmly. “like- actually perfect.”

his shoulders drop just a little, relief washing over his face as a smile spreads slowly.

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you nod. “one of my favourite birthdays.”

he lets out a soft laugh, leaning in to kiss you, slow, lingering, like he’s savoring it.

“good,” he murmurs. then, softer, “i really hoped so.”

he reaches up, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your skin.

“we’ve got more stuff planned this week, though” he adds, a hint of excitement creeping back in.

you groan, rolling your eyes. “of course we do.”

he grins. “what? i’m not done.”

“you’re impossible.”

“and you love me.”

you huff out a small laugh, settling back into him. “unfortunately.”

he laughs quietly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“happy birthday" he whispers again.

this time, you just smile, closing your eyes as you sink into him, warm and steady and entirely yours.

steve harrington

you wake up to chaos.

“mom! mom- wake up!”

“shh- no, don’t jump yet-”

“can we jump now?”

and then, too late.

two small bodies launch onto the bed at the same time, one landing somewhere near your legs, the other climbing straight onto your stomach with absolutely no hesitation. you let out a surprised laugh, eyes still half closed as you instinctively reach out to steady them.

“okay, okay-i’m up, i’m up” you mumble, already smiling.

“happy birthday!!” they both shout at once, voices overlapping, way too loud for this early but impossible to be annoyed at.

you finally open your eyes properly and there they are, your son practically bouncing in place, your daughter already trying to shove something into your hands.

and behind them, steve.

he’s standing in the doorway for a second, tray in hand, just watching. there’s this soft, almost disbelieving look on his face, like this, right here, is everything he’s ever wanted and he still hasn’t quite gotten used to it.

then he walks over, setting the tray carefully on the bed.

“easy, easy” he says, laughing under his breath as he sits beside you. “let her breathe first.”

“but it’s her birthday!” your daughter insists.

“i’m aware,” he says, glancing at you, eyes softening immediately. “i’ve been aware.”

you smile at him, reaching out to touch his arm briefly. “good morning.”

“happy birthday” he says, quieter now, leaning in to kiss you properly.

it’s quick because the kids are right there, but it still lingers just enough to mean something.

then the moment is gone again because your son is already grabbing a card.

“open this one first!”

breakfast ends up being less about eating and more about everything else. the four of you piled into the bed, plates half-forgotten as the kids hand you their cards. messy handwriting, too many stickers, drawings that don’t quite make sense but mean everything anyway.

you laugh, you thank them, you kiss their heads.

steve watches the whole thing like he’s memorising it.

there are little presents too. perfumes, moisturisers, things they clearly picked out with way too much enthusiasm. you make a show of loving every single one, and they beam at you like they’ve just nailed it.

at some point, your daughter curls up against your side, your son sprawls across the end of the bed, and steve shifts closer behind you, his arm wrapping loosely around your waist.

it’s warm. easy. full.

and for a second, everything just settles.

-

getting ready takes longer than it should, mostly because the kids keep coming back in to “check on you,” which really just means interrupting.

by the time you’re finally dressed, steve’s already in the room, leaning against the doorframe like he’s been waiting.

his eyes flick over you once, and then again, slower this time.

“what?” you ask, a little amused.

he pushes himself off the wall, walking over until he’s right behind you. his hands settle on your hips, then slide around your waist as he pulls you back against him.

“nothing,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss just below your ear. “you just look… really good.”

you huff a small laugh. “it’s just a dress.”

“yeah,” he says easily. “and you look really good in it.”

he says it like it’s obvious. like it always is.

“happy birthday” he adds again, softer this time, his chin resting briefly on your shoulder.

“you’ve said that like five times already.”

“i’m gonna keep saying it.”

you turn your head slightly, just enough to kiss him. “thank you.”

“love you” he says immediately.

“love you too.”

-

dropping the kids off is… a process.

there’s hugs, last-minute reminders, your daughter insisting on one more kiss, your son pretending he doesn’t care but still hovering close.

your parents wave you off eventually, laughing, promising everything will be fine. and then it’s just the two of you.

the car feels quieter. different.

steve glances over at you as he starts driving, one hand on the wheel, the other reaching over to rest on your knee.

“okay,” he says. “weekend officially starts now.”

you smile. “yeah? what’s first?”

he grins. “second breakfast.”

you raise an eyebrow. “we literally just ate.”

“doesn’t matter.”

it’s ice cream, of course it is. you don’t even question it when he pulls up, just laugh as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“you’re ridiculous.”

“you love it” he shoots back.

and he’s right.

there’s something about it, something that still feels a little like the beginning. like late nights and cheap uniforms and him leaning over the counter trying to make you laugh.

he watches you take the first bite, like he’s waiting for your reaction.

“good?” he asks.

“obviously.”

“yeah,” he nods, satisfied. “thought so.”

-

shopping is a lot, not in a bad way, just in a very steve way. you pause for half a second in front of something and he’s already clocked it.

“you like that?”

“it’s nice, but i don’t need-”

“we’re getting it.”

“steve-”

“it’s your birthday,” he says, like that explains everything. “don’t argue with me today.”

you roll your eyes, but there’s no real resistance behind it.

he just wants to take care of you, and you let him.

-

by the time you get back home, your arms are full, your cheeks ache from smiling, and steve still somehow looks like he’s not done.

“okay,” he says, setting everything down. “now- actual presents.”

“steve…”

“nope,” he cuts you off, already reaching for a bag. “sit.”

you laugh, but you do it.

the first thing is a stack of books.

you blink at him. “you remembered all of these?”

“you talked about them,” he shrugs. “i listen.”

“sometimes” you tease.

“all the tim,” he corrects.

next you pull out the bra and just stare at him. he’s already grinning.

“really?” you ask, trying not to laugh.

“what?” he shrugs, completely unapologetic. “it’s my favourite color.”

“of course it is.”

“and it’ll look good on you” he adds, like it’s obvious.

you shake your head, but you’re smiling.

then comes the necklace.

you don’t realise what it is at first, just that it’s delicate, simple. but when you turn it over your breath catches.

one side, in slightly uneven engraving, clearly his handwriting, 'i love you'. the other, two tiny thumbprints, pressed into the metal, shaped into a heart.

for a second, everything goes quiet.

“steve…” your voice is barely there.

“yeah” he says softly, watching you.

your eyes sting before you can stop it.

“hey-” he’s already moving closer. “hey, c’mere.”

you don’t even think about it. you lean into him, and he wraps his arms around you, pressing kisses to your temple, your cheek, wherever he can reach.

“you okay?” he murmurs.

you nod against him, laughing a little through it. “yeah. it’s just- this is… a lot.”

“good a lot?” he asks.

you pull back just enough to look at him. “perfect a lot.”

his grin comes back instantly, wide and a little proud.

“okay,” he says. “good.”

then-

“there’s one more.”

a camera.

you stare at it, then at him. “steve-”

“you’ve been talking about it forever,” he says. “and you’re always taking pictures anyway, so- figured you should have a good one.”

you don’t even try to argue this time.

you just climb into his lap, hands on his face as you kiss him properly, slow and full and a little overwhelming.

“thank you,” you murmur against his lips. “for everything.”

he laughs softly, arms tightening around you. “yeah, yeah- i’m great, i know.”

“shut up” you mumble, kissing him again.

“you love me.”

“unfortunately.”

he grins into the kiss.

-

his card is last.

you open it slower this time, already a little emotional.

inside, his handwriting again, messy, a little uneven, but so him.

happy birthday. thank you for making my life complete, for giving me everything i ever wanted, for making me the happiest, luckiest guy in the world. i love you.

you blink a few times, but it doesn’t really help.

“you’re trying to make me cry today, aren’t you?” you say, voice soft.

“maybe” he admits.

you look up at him. “it’s working.”

he smiles, softer now. “good.”

-

dinner ends up being exactly what you’d expect.

you order in, of course you do, but steve disappears for a bit while you’re waiting, and when you step outside-

the backyard is lit up.

soft string lights draped overhead, a blanket spread out, pillows thrown around like he didn’t overthink it too much but still cared enough to make it feel right.

you look back at him. “steve…”

he shrugs, suddenly a little shy again. “figured it’d be nice.”

“it’s more than nice.”

he watches you sit down, then joins you, pulling you into his side almost immediately.

you eat there, under the lights, under the quiet sky, your legs tangled together, his arm warm around your shoulders.

at some point, you stop talking.

you just sit there.

together.

“you happy?” he asks after a while, voice low.

you lean into him a little more. “yeah.”

he presses a kiss to your hair. “good.”

“this is perfect” you add.

he smiles against you, not saying anything for a second.

then, quietly, “you deserve it.”

gator tillman

you wake to the quiet first, not the kind that feels empty, but the kind that hums like something’s already started without you. the other side of the bed is cold, sheets tugged loose, and for a second you just lie there, blinking at the ceiling, listening.

then you hear it, muffled cursing from downstairs. cabinets opening, something clattering, a low “shit-” under his breath.

it makes you smile before you even sit up.

you pull on one of his shirts, sleeves swallowing your hands, and pad your way down the stairs, still half-dreaming. the house smells faintly sweet, like fruit and something toasted just a little too long.

he doesn’t hear you at first. he’s at the counter, back to you, shoulders tense like he’s squaring up to a fight instead of… whatever’s in front of him. there’s a bowl on the table. a knife abandoned halfway through something. a carton of yoghurt left open.

“gator?”

he startles. actually startles. shoulders jump, head snapping toward you like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. for a second there’s that familiar guarded look but it melts quick when he sees you.

a small, crooked smile replaces it.

“hey” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck like he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with himself.

his eyes flick to the table and he points at the bowl, a little sheepish, a little annoyed at himself. “kinda fucked up, but i tried, babygirl.” he huffs a quiet breath. “happy birthday.”

the bowl is messy. yoghurt piled uneven, fruit cut in chunks that are definitely too big, a drizzle of honey that’s pooled more than spread. it’s not pretty.

it’s perfect.

you grin so wide it almost hurts and cross the room before he can say anything else, wrapping your arms around him. he stiffens for half a heartbeat but then he folds into it, arms coming around you, firm and grounding.

he smells like soap and sleep and a little bit like toast.

“thank you” you mumble into his shirt.

he shrugs like it’s nothing, but his hand lingers at the back of your head just a second longer than usual before he pulls away. “yea, well.”

you sit together at the table, knees brushing. you eat your yoghurt, and he picks at his toast like it personally offended him. his free hand finds your thigh without thinking, resting there, thumb tracing absent little patterns.

you start rambling about the dream you had, something strange and disjointed about horses and a road that didn’t end, and he listens. really listens. doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t tease. just nods sometimes, eyes on you, like every word matters.

it still surprises you, sometimes.

“took the day off,” he says after a while, like it’s an afterthought. his thumb presses a little firmer against your leg. “so. it’s all… ‘bout you today.”

you glance at him, catching the way he avoids your eyes, like he’s bracing for you to think it’s stupid.

it warms something deep in your chest.

when you first met him, this version of gator didn’t exist. back then, he wouldn’t have slowed down for anyone, wouldn’t have even considered it. everything was sharp edges and forward motion, no space for softness, no room for anything that didn’t fit the path laid out for him.

now he’s here, making uneven yoghurt bowls and taking days off work.

you reach over, squeezing his hand. “sounds perfect.”

he grunts, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.

-

the walk is quiet in that easy way, boots crunching over dirt, the air crisp and clean. he keeps close, not hovering, just there. steady. the kind of presence you can lean into without thinking.

you head out toward the back fields, where the neighbor’s horses graze. he knows you like them. you’d mentioned it once, offhand, and he’d remembered.

of course he had.

you stop by the fence, watching them for a while. one of them wanders closer, curious, and you reach out, letting it sniff your hand before brushing your fingers along its nose.

“you’re gonna try takin’ one home one day” he says, arms folded over the fence.

“don’t tempt me.”

he snorts.

by the time you turn back, your legs are already starting to feel it. you make it halfway before slowing, breath hitching just a little.

he notices immediately.

“c’mere.”

you don’t even argue. you step closer and he crouches slightly, hands hooking under your thighs as you climb onto his back. he stands easy, like you weigh nothing, adjusting his grip.

“comfortable?” he asks.

“very.”

he hums, starting forward again, pace steady. you rest your chin against his shoulder, watching the world pass in slow, gentle motion.

it doesn’t last.

because he gets bored.

you feel it before he says anything, the shift in him, the way his posture changes, like he’s winding up.

“hold on” he mutters.

“gator-”

too late.

he breaks into a run.

you yelp, then laugh, arms tightening around his shoulders as he takes off across the field like an idiot, boots pounding, breath coming sharp but controlled.

“what are you doing?” you’re laughing so hard it’s hard to get the words out.

“provin’ to ya,” he shoots back, voice rough with amusement, “that i’m still strong as shit.”

you roll your eyes against his shoulder, laughing again. “you’re ridiculous-”

“yeah?” he grins, even if you can’t see it. “you love it.”

you do.

by the time he slows, both of you are breathless, laughing, the kind of lightness that sticks with you long after it’s over.

-

the truck ride is quieter, sun warming the windows, the hum of the engine steady beneath you. he hands you one of the sandwiches he made, messy, uneven, and glances over like he’s bracing for judgment.

you take a bite, it’s actually good.

you raise an eyebrow at him. “look at you.”

he scoffs, looking back at the road. “don’t make a thing outta it.”

he drives you out farther than usual, to a hillside that overlooks open land stretching out in soft waves. he parks, hops out, and moves around to the back without a word.

by the time you join him, he’s already spread a blanket out in the truck bed, smoothing it down with rough hands.

you climb up, settling beside him, legs tucked under, shoulders brushing. you eat, talk in bits and pieces, fall into quiet without it feeling awkward.

after a while, he shifts, mutters something under his breath, and hops down.

you watch him go around to the front, rummaging for a second before he comes back holding a small bundle of flowers, your favourites, and a little bag.

he doesn’t make a big deal of it. just holds them out, a little stiff. “yeah. uh.”

you take them carefully, something soft catching in your throat.

“gator…”

he shrugs, already looking away. “ain’t- don’t.. yeah.”

you don’t let him brush it off. you lean forward, wrap your arms around him again, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“thank you.”

he huffs, but his hand comes up to the back of your neck, holding you there just for a second. “yeah.”

he’s trying not to smile.

he fails, a little.

-

back home, you set the flowers in a vase, watching them settle into place like they belong there. like he does.

the shower turns into a shared thing without discussion. steam fills the space, water running warm over both of you. you use the new soaps, lathering them into your skin, into his.

he makes a face almost immediately.

“i smell like… flowers,” he mutters, clearly offended. “girly n’ shit.”

you laugh, rinsing your hands. “you’ll survive.”

he grumbles something under his breath, but he doesn’t move away when you press closer, doesn’t pull back when you rest your forehead briefly against his shoulder.

if anything, he leans in just a little.

by evening, you’re curled up on the sofa, the day settling into something slow and quiet. your feet are in his lap, his big hands wrapped around them, thumbs pressing into the arches with surprising care.

you laugh, trying to pull away. “what are you doing?”

“hold still” he mutters, though there’s a smirk tugging at his mouth.

he keeps going, working out the tension like it’s just another thing he’s decided to do for you, no hesitation. you shake your head, still smiling.

“you’re weird.”

he scoffs softly, but when his eyes lift to yours, the smirk fades into something softer. something real.

“happy birthda,” he says again, quieter this time.

you soften right back. “thank you, gator. i had the best day.”

he nods once, like that’s all he needed to hear. like it settles something in him.

then, because he is who he is, he leans down and presses a quick, almost absent kiss to your foot.

you stare at him. “you did not-”

he snorts, grabbing your ankle before you can pull away, and then he’s leaning forward again, hand sliding up to your jaw, pulling you into a proper kiss this time.

warm. steady. certain.

he's not soft with anyone else but with you, he doesn’t hold back.

keys mckey

the morning starts slow and warm, the kind of soft, golden quiet that feels like it was made just for the two of you. sunlight spills through the curtains in thin, sleepy streaks, catching on the edges of the room and settling gently across the bed. you’re half awake when you feel him shift beside you, the familiar weight of him pressing closer, an arm slipping around your waist like it belongs there, like it always has.

keys isn’t exactly graceful in the mornings. he’s all soft edges and quiet murmurs, hair a mess, but the way he looks at you, sleepy, fond, like you’re the first good thing he's ever seen, makes your chest ache in the best way.

“happy birthday” he mumbles, voice still thick with sleep, pressing a slow kiss to your shoulder.

you hum, smiling into the pillow, turning just enough to meet him. “you remembered.”

he huffs softly, like that’s ridiculous, like there was never a world where he wouldn’t. “of course i did.”

what follows is slow and unhurried. soft kisses that linger, the kind that don’t rush anywhere. his hand traces lazy patterns along your arm, your side, your back, like he’s memorising you all over again. you stay tangled together for longer than you mean to, wrapped in blankets and warmth and him, until the day starts pressing in around the edges.

eventually, though, he shifts again, this time with purpose.

“okay” he says, a little more awake now, though there’s a hint of nervous energy under it. “i have something.”

you squint at him, propping yourself up on one elbow. “something?”

he nods quickly, already pushing himself up, running a hand through his hair in that distracted way he does when he’s thinking too many things at once. “yeah. uh- don’t get up yet, i mean, well, actually, get up, but- just- come with me.”

you laugh softly, sitting up. “you’re being weird.”

“i’m always weird,” he mutters, but there’s a small smile tugging at his mouth, something a little shy, a little excited. “just- trust me?”

you do. you always do.

now you’re standing just outside his office, still a little drowsy, still wrapped in that soft, lingering feeling from the morning. he hesitates at the door like he’s second guessing himself, fingers hovering over the handle before he finally pushes it open.

“okay,” he says, stepping aside for you. “go sit.”

you blink. “your chair?”

he nods, suddenly very intent on not looking directly at you. “yeah. just- sit there.”

you raise an eyebrow, but you do it anyway, crossing the room and settling into his chair.

he moves quickly after that, slipping behind you, hands hovering awkwardly near your shoulders like he wants to steady you but isn’t sure if he should. the computer screen flickers to life as he wakes it up, fingers tapping nervously against the desk.

“so,” he starts, then stops, then tries again. “i’ve been working on something. for a while.”

you glance back at him, he looks nervous. more nervous than you’ve ever seen him about something like this, it makes your chest tighten a little.

“keys,” you say softly, “what is it?”

he exhales, then finally meets your eyes. there’s something bright there, something hopeful. “just look.”

he clicks, and the screen changes.

at first, it looks like a simple game environment. unfinished, clearly still in development, but alive in that particular way his work always is. soft lighting, a small, cozy space carved into a larger world. your eyes scan over it, taking in the details, the way everything feels intentional, personal.

and then you notice.

“…is that-”

“yeah,” he says quickly, almost tripping over the word. “it’s- it’s yours. i mean, not yours, but- it’s for you.”

you lean closer, heart starting to beat a little faster.

it’s a corner of the game, your corner. small, tucked away, but detailed in ways that make it feel like home. there are little references everywhere, things you’ve mentioned offhand, things you love, things he’s remembered. and then you see them.

two characters.

one of them is unmistakably him, slightly exaggerated, a little softer, animated in that endearing, slightly awkward way that feels so keys. and the other-

“…that’s me” you whisper.

he nods, watching you carefully. “yeah. i- uh. i tried to get it right.”

it’s not perfect, it’s not meant to be, but it’s you. softly stylised, animated with these small, thoughtful details that make your chest ache. the way the character moves, the tiny expressions, the way it interacts with his, it’s all so carefully done.

he clicks again, and the characters move, little looping animations. the two of you walking together. sitting side by side. your character leaning into his.

it’s simple.

it’s everything.

“i made it so it’s just… there,” he says quietly. “like- no quests, no objectives. just us. a place you can go to.”

you don’t realise you’re tearing up until your vision blurs.

“keys” you breathe.

he shifts, suddenly unsure again. “i mean, it’s not finished or anything, i just, i wanted to show you, and i thought- i don’t know, it’s probably dumb-”

you cut him off by turning in the chair and pulling him down into a kiss.

it’s not delicate. it’s not hesitant. it’s full and warm and immediate, your hands coming up to frame his face as he makes a surprised sound against your lips before melting into it.

when you pull back, he looks a little dazed.

“i love it,” you say, voice soft but certain. “i love it so much.”

something in his expression shifts, relief, pride, something softer underneath it. he smiles, small at first, then wider, like he can’t quite help it.

“yeah?” he asks.

you nod, brushing your thumb along his cheek. “yeah.”

he leans into your touch without thinking, eyes soft. “…good.”

there’s a beat of quiet between you, warm and full.

and then, “i’m not done” he adds.

you laugh softly, shaking your head. “of course you’re not.”

that makes him grin, a little more confident now. “okay, but- this part, this part is different.”

he turns back to the computer, opening a browser. your curiosity spikes immediately.

“what did you do?”

“just wait.”

a website loads. it’s simple at first glance, but you can already tell it’s been built from the ground up, by him, for you.

“it’s a quiz,” he says, almost sheepish. “a custom one.”

you look at him, then back at the screen. “a quiz?”

“yeah, but not like a normal one,” he adds quickly. “just click around.”

you do.

the first question pops up. something silly, something only the two of you would understand. you laugh immediately, covering your mouth as you read it aloud.

“oh my god, you did not.”

he shrugs, trying and failing to hide his smile. “answer it.”

you click an option and instead of a generic response, it opens into something else. a photo. a memory. a little caption in his words.

you freeze.

“…keys.”

“keep going” he says softly.

you do.

each question unfolds into something more. inside jokes, moments you’d almost forgotten, things he clearly hasn’t. photos of the two of you, little notes tucked into the corners, fragments of your shared history stitched together in this strange, beautiful, interactive way.

it’s playful. it’s thoughtful. it’s so deeply, unmistakably him.

by the time you reach the end, your chest feels full to the point of bursting.

the final screen loads slowly.

happy birthday.

there’s a pause.

i love you.

you stare at it for a long moment, your vision blurring again.

“keys…”

he’s watching you carefully, that same nervous hope from earlier creeping back in. “i know it’s kind of overkill, i just- i wanted to make something you could, you know, keep.”

you stand suddenly, turning to him, and he barely has time to react before you’re wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into another kiss, softer this time, but just as full.

when you pull back, you rest your forehead against his.

“can you send me the link?” you ask quietly.

he blinks. “the link?”

“to the website,” you say, smiling. “i want to go back to it. whenever i want.”

for a second, he just stares at you.

and then he lights up.

it’s not subtle. it’s not contained. it’s this open, unguarded expression. pride and love and something almost disbelieving, like he can’t quite believe how much this means to you.

“yeah,” he says quickly. “yeah, of course i can.”

he looks at you like you’ve just given him something, instead of the other way around. like he got it right.

you reach up, brushing your fingers through his hair, smiling softly.

“best birthday ever” you murmur.

and the way he looks at you then, warm, a little awed, completely in love.

it’s something you wish you could capture, keep, return to whenever you wanted.

but maybe you don’t need to.

maybe you already have it.

travis meacham

he showed up earlier than you expected.

you hadn’t even finished making coffee yet when there was a knock. quick, uneven, like he forgot halfway through how knocking was supposed to work. you already knew it was him. nobody else knocked like that.

when you opened the door, travis was mid-sentence.

“-i swear it just came out of nowhere, like full wingspan, massive thing, i don’t even know what kind of bird it was but it looked pissed, like properly offended that i was on the road at the same time as it-”

he stepped inside as he talked, shrugging off his jacket, eyes everywhere but on you. he was animated, hands moving, voice a little too fast, like his thoughts were tripping over each other trying to get out first.

“-and i thought, okay, this is it, this is how it ends, taken out by some mutant pigeon-”

and then he looked at you.

really looked.

it stopped him mid-thought. like someone had cut the wire.

you were smiling, soft, sleepy, a little amused, and for a second he just… stared. then he huffed under his breath, shook his head like he was trying to reset himself, and stepped forward, pulling you into him.

“happy birthday, sweets.”

his voice dropped when he said it, quieter, warmer. his arms wrapped around you tight, one hand coming up to the back of your head, holding you there for just a second longer than necessary.

you could feel his heartbeat, fast, but steadying.

when he pulled back, he didn’t go far. just enough to reach into his jacket pocket.

“right- okay, so, i got you something,” he said, already starting to ramble again as he pulled out a small box, a little scuffed at the edges like he’d been carrying it around all morning. “and before you say anything, i know it’s a bit- well, you’ll see, but i thought it made sense because you always, like, you’ve got all those little things, you know? the trinkets and bits you keep everywhere, and you actually use them, which i don’t understand but i respect-”

you opened it.

inside was a small, intricate silver keychain, tiny, delicate charms hanging off it. little tools, a miniature compass, a fold-out blade no bigger than your fingernail, all detailed and slightly worn like it had history.

you blinked. “oh?”

he lit up immediately, like he’d been waiting for that exact reaction.

“yeah- see, okay, so, you remember that shop? on our first date? the one with the weird window display? like antiques but not really antiques-”

you did.

“this was in there,” he went on, words picking up speed. “and you stopped for like- i don’t know, a full minute, which is a long time for you, by the way, and you didn’t say anything but you kept looking at it, and i thought, right, that’s a thing. that’s a thing she’d actually use. and then i saw it again the other day and, well. yeah.”

he shrugged, suddenly a little unsure.

“figured it might come in handy. you know. eventually. statistically speaking.”

you didn’t let him spiral any further.

you leaned in, kissed him, quick, soft, cutting right through the noise.

when you pulled back, you were smiling wider.

“thank you, baby.”

he blinked, like he’d forgotten what he was saying entirely, then gave a small, crooked grin.

“yeah. yeah, okay. good.”

he cleared his throat and reached into his jacket again.

“also- card. which i did write in, properly, before you accuse me of anything.”

you took it, already noticing the way his handwriting crowded the inside, messy, uneven, like he’d had too much to say and not enough space to say it neatly.

you read it slowly.

it wasn’t polished. not even close. words scratched out, sentences crammed into margins, a few lines slanted where he’d clearly run out of room.

but it was him.

about how you were “his angel” (with angel underlined three times, like he’d argued with himself about writing it and then committed anyway). about how he’d “do just about anything” for you, no hesitation. how proud he was of you, for things you didn’t even think he noticed.

it made your chest ache a little.

your eyes stung before you could stop it. you didn’t say anything right away, he noticed, of course. he always did.

his arm came around you again, pulling you into his side, his chin resting lightly against the top of your head. he pressed a small kiss there, absentminded, like it was second nature.

“don’t cry,” he muttered, softer now. “it’s not- i mean, it’s good crying, i assume, but still-”

and then, without missing a beat,

“you know, the woman at the card shop, completely unrelated, but she told me this whole story about this dog she’s getting? like full life plan for the dog, i swear it had a better schedule than i do-”

you laughed into his chest.

of course he did.

he kept going, describing the dog in unnecessary detail, mimicking the woman’s voice badly, getting distracted halfway through to comment on the shop layout.

you could’ve listened forever.

a lot of people didn’t. a lot of people got tired of it, of him, the constant motion of his thoughts spilling out. you never did.

you leaned into him, smiling, letting his words wash over you like background music.

after a while, he shifted slightly.

“oh- also, before i forget,” he said, like it had just occurred to him. “i fixed your radio. it was the wiring, by the way, not whatever you thought it was. and your camera, had to take it apart, which was risky, but it’s fine now. and i sorted that basket of clothes you kept ignoring. and, yeah. other stuff. probably.”

you looked up at him, smiling in that quiet, fond way that always made him falter for a second.

he scratched the back of his neck, suddenly awkward.

“what? it needed doing.”

eventually, miraculously, he went quiet.

just for a second.

then his expression shifted again, like he remembered something important.

“right. okay. last thing—actual plan for today,” he said, pulling out two slightly crumpled tickets. “outdoor cinema. tonight. figured… you’d like it.”

you did, of course you did.

the rest of the day blurred in that easy, comfortable way it always did with him.

he cooked, properly, for once, which he reminded you of at least twice. you visited your parents, where he was oddly polite but still managed to go off on a tangent about garden tools with your dad.

by the time evening rolled around, you were both a little tired, a little full, and very much still wrapped up in each other.

you stopped for snacks on the way, completely unnecessary amounts of them. most of it terrible. all of it perfect.

at the cinema, you didn’t even bother pretending you’d watch the film properly.

you stayed in the car, curled up together, sharing food, talking over half the dialogue.

at one point, mid-sentence, you realised he’d gone quiet.

you looked up, he was already looking at you. not distracted. not halfway somewhere else in his head. just watching you.

there was something softer in his expression. something a little stunned. like he still couldn’t quite believe it, like he’d spent so long assuming people would get tired of him and then you didn’t. you were still there.

his girl.

you nudged him lightly. “what?”

he blinked, then huffed a quiet laugh, leaning in to kiss you, slow this time, unhurried.

when he pulled back, he stayed close.

“sorry,” he murmured. “wasn’t- i mean, it’s not exactly… big. today. but-”

you shook your head, smiling against him.

“it was amazing. thank you, t.”

he studied your face for a second, like he was checking you meant it then he smiled and pulled you closer.

kurt kunkle

he’d text you earlier that morning, something simple and a little awkward, like “hey!! come over today? i have something planned. it’s not a stream thing. promise.” which immediately made you suspicious, because kurt never did anything off camera if he could help it.

so when you showed up, you were half-expecting a tripod set up somewhere, a ring light, maybe even a “birthday special” title waiting to go live.

but when he opened the door, it was just him.

no camera. no setup. just kurt, standing there in one of his own hoodies, hair slightly messy like he’d been running his hands through it too much, smiling in that nervous, lopsided way he always did.

and that alone made you smile.

“hey- hi. you, uh… you look really good” he said quickly, stepping aside to let you in, like he forgot that was the more important part.

the apartment smelled faintly sweet, like syrup, and when you walked into the kitchen you saw why. on the table sat a plate of pancakes, stacked a little unevenly, with a wobbly smiley face drawn in syrup that looked like it had taken a lot of effort and still didn’t quite cooperate.

next to it was a gift bag.

with a unicorn on it.

you couldn’t help it, you laughed, soft and surprised, and when you turned back to him he looked both embarrassed and hopeful at the same time.

“they didn’t have- i mean, they had other bags, but this one was… like, brighter? and i thought you’d- yeah” he rambled, rubbing the back of his neck.

before you could say anything, he stepped forward and pulled you into a tight hug, a little too tight, like he’d been waiting to do it all day. he pressed a quick, messy kiss to your lips right after, a little off-angle, a little rushed.

“happy birthday, baby. i love you.”

“i love you too” you murmured, still smiling, and you could feel the way he relaxed just a little at that.

he nudged the gift bag toward you like he couldn’t wait any longer. “okay- open it”

inside was, of course, his merch.

but it was in your favourite colour, neatly folded like he’d actually tried, and tucked under it was a gift card to your favourite restaurant, the one you’d mentioned once, casually, weeks ago.

you looked up at him, a little softer this time.

“you remembered.”

“yeah, well… i- i write stuff down” he admitted quickly, like it wasn’t a big deal, even though it clearly was.

you leaned forward and kissed him, slower this time, deliberate. he made a small surprised sound against your lips before kissing you back just as messily as before, hands unsure but eager where they settled on your waist.

“thank you” you whispered.

he ducked his head a little, smiling.

the two of you sat down and shared the pancakes, and he watched you take the first bite like it was some kind of final exam.

“they’re good” you said, laughing a little.

“really?” his eyes lit up immediately. “okay, good, because the first batch was, like, really bad.”

after a while, he nudged the shirt toward you. “you should try it on. just to- like, see if it fits. for quality control.”

you rolled your eyes, but stood anyway, slipping it on over what you were wearing.

it fit perfectly.

when you turned back to him, he froze for a second, then very obviously tried to act normal and failed.

you laughed.

“kurt.”

“i- i’m normal. this is a normal reaction. it’s, yeah,” he said, smiling nervously, looking anywhere but directly at you.

you stepped closer, bumping your shoulder into his. “you’re so weird.”

“you like it” he shot back, a little more confident now.

“i do.”

later, he took you out.

he insisted on going into town first, and before you even knew where you were heading, he was pulling you toward a photo booth like it was the most important stop of the day.

“it’s- it’s a thing. couples do this” he said, already digging for coins.

inside the cramped booth, he got even more awkward, trying to figure out where to put his hands, how to smile, glancing at the camera like it might judge him.

the pictures came out slightly chaotic. one of you laughing, one where he blinked, one where he was clearly mid-sentence.

and the last one, he kissed you. soft, quick, but real. he stared at that strip for a second longer than the others, then, of course, took a picture of it on his phone.

you didn’t even have to ask.

“don’t” you warned lightly.

he was already typing.

“too lat,” he said, showing you the post: My worlds birthday 😍

you groaned, but you were smiling.

-

the park was quieter.

he’d set up a small picnic, nothing overly fancy, but thoughtful. your favourite snacks, a blanket, drinks he knew you liked.

“you said you liked this. picnics. so… i did one” he explained, like it needed justification.

it didn’t.

you sat together, talking, eating, the afternoon stretching easy and warm around you. at some point, he reached into his bag again, a little more hesitant this time.

“okay, this one- this one’s like… i don’t know if it’s too much or-”

he pulled out a small charm bracelet.

your expression softened immediately.

“kurt…”

“i did a bunch of pr stuff to afford it,” he rushed to explain. “like, extra. more than usual. i saw something like it on your pinterest and i wanted to get you something, something special.”

that hit harder than anything else he’d done that day. you wrapped your arms around him without thinking, hugging him tight.

“it’s perfect.”

he let out a small breath against your shoulder, like he’d been holding it.

later, he leaned back against a tree, and you settled in front of him, your back against his chest, his arms wrapped loosely around you.

he kept pressing small kisses to your cheek, your temple, your jaw, soft, absent-minded, like he couldn’t help it.

for once, he wasn’t talking.

he’d actually made the whole day about you and he’d done it right.

“as a reward,” you said eventually, tilting your head back slightly to look at him, “i’ll join your stream later.”

he blinked. “what? baby, it’s your birthday. you don’t have to do anything for me.”

“i want to,” you said simply. “we can play minecraft.”

his expression softened in a way you didn’t see often.

“are you sure?”

“i’m sure.”

you paused, then added, “if you also play animal crossing with me.”

he laughed softly, almost breathless. “yes. baby, anything.”

then, like he couldn’t help himself, “i’m also- i’m saving up for the new tomodachi thing? so we can stream that. i think people would really-”

you just smiled, letting his voice fade into the background as you sank back into him, warm and steady and real.

--------

Gator's favourite position is doggy. He likes the way you feel tighter from that angle, he likes the dominance, the sounds for your ass slapping against him as he thrusts. He likes to hold your hands behind your back as your face presses against the mattress, or hold your wrists to pull you back against each snap of his hips, or to grab your hair in his fist and pull your head back so he can see your eyes rolling back when he buries his cock as deep as he can inside you. He likes to flip you over into a mating press before he cums though, he likes to see your face, and feel as though he's cumming as deep as possible into you.

Keys's favourite position is missionary, he likes the way you feel pressed against each other, he likes to be able to kiss you, and watch your face as he rolls his hips. He likes to be pressed right against you, your bodies growing slick with sweat, breathing into each others mouths, moaning softly as you run your hands all over his shoulders and back. He likes when you scratch him, not too hard but enough to leave a little mark, it lets him know he's made you feel good. Alternatively, he also likes the speedbump position, his chest pressed against your back, whispering absolute filth into your ear. It's the only time he does dirty talk, but you wish he'd do it more because he sounds so good.

Kurt's favourite position is cowgirl (surprise). He likes to watch you do your thing, loves the way you look as your tits bounce in his face, or when your head is thrown back as you roll your hips. He likes the different paces you can set depending on how you move, and he likes when you surprise him by changing it up. When you start slow, grinding your hips against his with his cock buried deep inside you, then change it up by leaning forward to bounce your hips harder, that has his squirming underneath you, blunt nails digging into your hips. Bonus; he also really loves just fingering you. Whether you're sat on his lap with your legs spread over his, his hand reaching around to slowly pump his fingers into you, or whether you're laying down and his palm is slapping against you with every movement on a desperate mission to get you to squirt. He loves it.

Travis is a weird one, he's super adventurous so likes to try out all different positions, it's hard for him to pick a favourite because you've done so many, but he finds himself having the most fun when he's doing anything where you're standing. He likes hiking your legs up over his arms, and resting your back against a wall, or shower tile. Or, if you're sat on a table or counter and he can stand between your legs after he's successfully distracted you from cooking. If he's really locked in and you're doing some kind of roleplay cough cough mask kink cough cough, he's a fan of putting you in a headlock while in doggy, not squeezing hard enough to cut off air, but just enough so you can feel his bicep against your throat.

Steve likes spooning. Especially when you've just woken up, and his hand slips between your legs, your head tipping back against his shoulder when he guides himself in. He likes the slow, lazy pace and your soft little morning moans. He'll lift your thigh over his arm so he can reach your clit, rubbing circles in time with his thrusts. He moans down the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine as you rock back against him to meet his thrusts. He likes to press soft kisses along your shoulder, and whispers sweet praises into your ear between kisses.

"Goddamnit dude, could you watch where you're going next time?" You groan as you jack the WSQK van up high enough to work on the decimated tire. Steve rolled his eyes behind you, his good hand on his cocked hip and his other arm tucked neatly in its sling. He 'd broken it horsing around with Dustin about a week and a half ago.

When he slammed into that pothole on Mirkwood just a few minutes earlier, and you both heard and felt the tell-tale signs of a blown out tire, he immediately cringed in his seat and gave you a painfully awkward, apologetic smile.

You would have to be the one to change it, and luckily you knew how. But you still weren't happy about having to do it at 11:30 at night.

"It's pitch black out here, babe. How was I supposed to see that tiny hole?"

"Tiny?! Steve it was at least a foot and a half wide. It blew our tire."

"For the last time, I'm sorry. For what it's worth, you're doing a great job."

You scoff as you start loosening lug nuts one by one. "Gee, thanks."

"No, really. The view from here is great."

You peek over your shoulder and sure enough his eyes are raking over you, on your knees with your back slightly arched, ass on full display in your little cut-off shorts. He chews his lower lip, trying to show some modicum of self-restraint.

"You are such a guy. Girl can't even change a tire without -- oh, hey!" You squeal as a huge, rough hand smacks your denim-clad ass cheek. "What was that for, asshole??"

"Being so mean, I'm a broken man, baby. Can you be a little sweeter, please?" He kneads the plush skin, imploring you to play along. You glance down either end of the road, the night swallowing everything and no lights on the horizon.

"We're alone baby, I'll be quick. You don't even have to stop what you're doing, okay? Can I just -- can you--?" He tugs at the waistband of your shorts pitifully, unable to rip them off the way he usually would (with your go ahead, of course).

You sigh and roll your eyes, feigning absolute inconvenience as you shimmy your shorts off, leaving you in just your thin cotton underwear.

"Fine. Now what are you --"

He lays on his back in roughly the area directly below where your cunt would be if you were to resume your work on the tire. You suck your teeth, smiling down at him, him smiling right back up at you.

"C'mon, Mama. Sit down, get to work. I've got my own stuff I need to get to."

You step over his head and stand directly above him, sneakered feet on either side of his lovely, luscious mop of hair, and as you sink back down to your knees you feel his free hand reverently grip the back of your thigh and guide you straight onto his waiting lips.

He kisses you chastely through the fabric, grinning at the already damp spot forming there. He licks the edge where the lace meets your skin and takes in your heady scent.

"God, you're so pretty baby. Can you tell me what you're doing up there?" He calls to you, slightly muffled by your thighs around his ears.

You softly sigh, but manage to compose yourself enough to tell him how you're just loosening the rest of the lug nuts to take the busted tire off. 3 to go.

"Mm, so smart. You know just how to work those lug nuts, don't you?"

"Oh. My God." You look down at him between your legs, and he's trying to look innocent, but his eyes are glittering wildly. "We're not doing this."

"Okay, okay. I won't -- I'll pull it back, I'm sorry. C'mere." He urges you back down to his face and licks across the seam of your cunt with the point of his tongue, making the fabric of your underwear more slick and molded to your body.

Then you feel him slide your panties to the side, spreading your folds and blowing a cool puff of air on your glistening center.

"So, so pretty." He mutters to himself, sliding the back of his middle finger through your slit and making your breath hitch every time one of his knuckles catches at your sensitive spots.

"Steve, can you --" You whine, pressing yourself further into his hand to chase the sensation.

"Sure baby. Anything for you." He plunges his digit into your needy hole, curling it upward to thrust against the little spongy wall that has you gritting your teeth and bucking forward, grinding your clit against his perfect, straight nose.

He tilts his chin up, licking a pattern onto your swollen, sensitive clit that feels intentional. Your brow furrows, wondering what exactly it is he's doing. Steve eats you out all the time, knows exactly how to suck and lap at your pussy to have you coming undone on his mouth in minutes. This is...different.

It pulls you far enough out of your haze that you look down at him again inquisitively.

"What are you doing, baby?"