Basking in the warm spring sunlight with boyfriend!Sukuna.
The sun gilds the roofs of the neighboring houses, scattering little sparks of light across the tops of the still-bare trees before its warmth finally reaches you.
Sitting on the porch steps already warmed by the morning, elbow propped on your knee and chin resting in your palm, you let your gaze drift lazily across the yard — over the barely budding greenery and the shallow puddles of melted snow reflecting the sky.
The warmth spills over your face, making your eyes fall half-closed, and your lips curl into a lazy, happy smile you don’t even try to hide.
Something inside your chest aches and warms with quiet happiness.
Beside you, Sukuna has settled in with his legs spread wide, taking up space like he owns the place, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket.
His face is as gloomy as ever.
But right now the sunlight catches in his peach-colored hair, turning it into golden flame. The reddish strands flare and shimmer, like every strand holds a tiny spark inside it.
The light slides over his skin, sharpening the cut of his cheekbones, the hard line of his jaw, gliding along the dark lines of his tattoos before finally reaching his eyes.
Sukuna squints, frowning even harder, almost annoyed, but he doesn’t turn away. As if he’s letting the sun — and you — do whatever you want with him.
You lean closer, closing the small space between you.
Your cheek comes to rest against his solid shoulder.
Sukuna freezes for a second, then his face smooths out. The frown disappears like it was never there. He lowers his gaze to you, and when your eyes meet his, you see how his pupils narrow slightly.
He watches you closely, almost greedily, taking in every little detail: your smile, the way you press against him like a cat looking for warmth and affection, completely certain it will be given here.
You wrap your arms around his elbow, pressing closer, trying to soak up more warmth. A soft, satisfied hum slips out of your throat. You stretch slightly, still tucked against Sukuna, and mumble with your eyes closed:
“Mmm… finally… the sun’s out… it’s so warm…”
Your voice is sleepy and slow.
Sukuna stays silent.
He never really liked unnecessary words anyway.
You feel the arm you’re hugging tense slightly before he slowly pulls it free from your embrace. For a moment you feel cold, a little hurt — but it only lasts a second.
His hand immediately settles on your waist and Sukuna pulls you toward him without effort, like you weigh nothing at all. He lifts you onto his lap sideways, trapping you there like a plush toy he’s oddly protective of.
“Sukuna!” you breathe out with a laugh, kicking your feet in the air and planting your palms against his chest for show, because in reality you’re not even thinking about resisting.
“Sit still,” he grumbles in that low, rumbling voice right above your head.
Sukuna adjusts you until you’re more comfortable, one arm holding you by the waist while the other shifts your legs so you can sit better.
You feel the solid warmth of his chest behind your back, his ribcage rising and falling with each slow breath, the calm, steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
You stop struggling, exhale softly, and relax completely, settling into the perfect place in the curve of his body.
Your place is right here. Pressed against him.
Sukuna lowers his chin onto the top of your head. His arms close around you, pulling you closer. Firm. Secure. You sit there, comfortably tucked against him, watching the sunlight play over your intertwined hands, over his fingers resting on your stomach.
Your thoughts drift slowly and lazily…
“Nice,” Sukuna murmurs quietly, eyes half-closed, and you hum in response.
In return you only feel the faintest brush of his lips against your hair. Goosebumps run down your back, nothing to do with the cold, scattering sparks along your spine. Your smile widens and you place your hands over his, threading your fingers through his.
Sukuna stays silent as his thumb begins slowly, thoughtfully stroking your ring finger. Slow circles, again and again, as if he’s trying something on for size, as if he’s thinking about something he hasn’t quite decided to say out loud yet.
Somewhere in the distance a bird chirps. The sun climbs higher. And the two of you sit there on the porch, while time itself seems to pause, soaked in quiet, overwhelming happiness.
Do not repost, copy, plagiarize, translate, or feed my work into AI in any form!) Divider credit: @ithemes
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
A parent-teacher consultation should have been a normal evening. Discussing grades, answering questions, and helping students improve.
It was not supposed to end with a parent assuming you and Ryland Grace were married. Unfortunately, neither of you could really blame them.
Grover Cleveland Middle was hosting parent-teacher consultations in the gymnasium, which meant the usually quiet space was now filled with conversations, stacks of student reports, and the occasional nervous parent. Tables were lined across the room, each one occupied by teachers waiting to meet with families.
You had been paired with Mr. Grace for the Science-Math consultations.
It wasn’t surprising. If there was one teacher everyone knew at Grover Cleveland, it was Ryland Grace. The science teacher was practically adored by the students—partly because of his enthusiasm, partly because he had a way of making every lesson feel like an adventure.
You arrived ten minutes early, mostly because you knew Mr. Grace’s definition of “early” was dangerously close to “exactly on time.”
Not that you were surprised.
Ryland Grace was brilliant—there was no denying that. He could explain complicated scientific theories to a room full of twelve-year-olds and somehow make them sound like the most fascinating things in the world. But organization? Scheduling? Remembering where he placed his own materials?
That was another matter entirely.
“You’re early.” Ryland finally shows up, two coffee cups in hand
You look up from arranging the student reports. “You’re late.”
He glances at the clock. “I’m three minutes early.”
“You’re three minutes late to my version of early.”
He pauses, considering this. “That sounds like a math teacher answer.”
“Because it is.”
“Fair.”
He sits down next to you and sets a coffee cup beside your papers.
"What's this?" You turn to him.
"Coffee."
"I can see that."
"Then I'm glad we're both starting strong today."
You give him a look he knows the meaning of. He smiles lightly before pointing at the cup. "It's yours."
You blink. “How did you know my order?”
Grace looks genuinely confused by the question.
“You get the same thing every morning.”
“You noticed that?”
“I notice patterns.”
The parent meeting event at Grover Cleveland Middle finally starts. The gymnasium, which had been filled with the quiet shuffling of teachers preparing their materials moments ago, quickly became alive with conversations. Parents moved from table to table, carrying questions about grades, assignments, and their children's progress.
The first few families approached your table with the usual concerns. Missing assignments. Upcoming projects. Test scores. Questions about how their child could improve before the end of the term.
And somehow, despite having never officially planned out how you would handle the consultations together, you and Grace fell into a rhythm.
You handled the details.
Grace handled the explanations.
When a parent asked about their child’s recent test grade, you were already flipping through the organized stack of reports in front of you, pointing out areas where they had improved and where they still needed practice.
“Their calculations have gotten much better,” you explained. “The main thing they need to work on is slowing down and checking their work before submitting.”
Grace leaned forward, adding, “Which is actually a really common issue in science as well. They understand the concepts, but sometimes they rush because they’re eager to get to the answer.”
The parent nodded, visibly relieved.
“So they’re not struggling because they don’t understand?”
“Not at all,” Grace said immediately. “They’re curious. That’s a good thing. We just need to help them build the patience to match that curiosity.”
You glanced at him briefly.
That was something you had noticed about Grace since you started working with him. He never spoke about students as if they were problems to solve. He always spoke about them like they were people still learning how to grow.
Another parent arrived before you could dwell on it for too long, and the cycle continued.
Question after question. Student after student.
By the time the next family approached, you realized something.
Working with Ryland Grace was surprisingly easy.
Annoyingly easy.
The next family approached your table just as you finished discussing a student's recent science project.
The parents had come in with a few questions about their child’s grades, but the conversation quickly shifted into something much easier. Their child had improved significantly over the past few months, and both you and Grace were more than happy to explain why.
You pointed out the areas where they had grown academically, while Grace added small details about their curiosity during experiments and class discussions.
By the end of the conversation, the parents looked more relieved than when they first sat down.
The mother smiled, looking between the two of you. “You two make a wonderful team.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but Grace beat you to it.
“Thank you,” he said sincerely.
You glanced at him. Of course, he would accept that like it was a scientific observation rather than a compliment.
The parent gathered her things, still smiling.
“So, how long have you two been married?”
The silence that followed was immediate.
For a moment, you wondered if you had misheard her.
Grace blinked.
Once.
Twice.
His expression shifted into the same look he had whenever he encountered a problem he couldn’t immediately solve.
“We’re not—”
“No,” you quickly interrupted, perhaps a little too quickly.
The parent’s eyes widened slightly.
“Oh! I’m sorry, I just assumed.”
“It’s alright,” you said, forcing a small laugh. “It’s a common mistake.”
A common mistake.
You weren’t entirely sure why you said that.
Because really, it wasn’t the first time someone had commented on how well you and Grace worked together.
Just never quite like that.
Beside you, Grace adjusted the papers in front of him, seemingly unaffected.
“We do collaborate well,” he said thoughtfully. “Our teaching approaches complement each other.”
You turned to him. “That is a very Grace way of saying we work well together.”
He looked at you, confused. “Is that inaccurate?”
You stared at him for a moment before shaking your head.
“No. It’s not.”
The parent laughed softly, clearly amused by the exchange.
“Well, either way, your students are lucky to have teachers who care this much.”
After she left, you looked down at the reports in front of you, trying very hard not to think about the fact that a complete stranger had looked at the two of you and immediately assumed—
No.
Absolutely not.
You were coworkers.
Friends, maybe.
Good coworkers.
That was all.
“Do you think we give off a married impression?” Grace suddenly asked.
You nearly dropped your pen.
“Why would you ask that?”
“Because she assumed we were.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
Grace tilted his head slightly.
“Statistically, people usually make assumptions based on observable patterns.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Are you analyzing our relationship right now?"
“Not relationship,” he corrected. “Our teamwork.”
You stared at him.
A small smile appeared on his face. “Though I suppose the distinction is important.”
And somehow, that made it worse.
~
a/n: HIII!! It has been a while since I posted somethingg huhu. I've been busy with college and moving into a dorm and stuff. Super sorry about that and the short fic for today. But I promise once everything has settled, your Ryland Grace fanfics will be back into its regular program
Requests are still open!! A reblog and like will be greatly appreciated. Thankyou so much for all of the support everyone. See you next fic!<3
Summary: Morning comes, and Jack is still there. Unfortunately, so is the reality of telling Carter and Robby what happened over the weekend. Fortunately, Carter has absolutely no intention of making that difficult. Okay. Maybe a little difficult.
Warnings: implied sexual content, references to sex, grief and discussion of Laura’s death, military injury/amputation/prosthetic, second-chance romance, excessive amounts of kissing, Carter being physically incapable of keeping a secret, Jack Abbot experiencing approximately twenty years of repressed affection all at once.
Author’s Note: We made it, lovelies. 🥹 After all the missed timing, letters, photographs, almosts, and years between them, I really wanted this chapter to be about something much simpler: what happens when Jack and Reader finally get to stay. They get coffee. They tell their family. Jack discovers he apparently has twenty years of kisses to make up for. Carter takes full credit for everything. There is still one very special epilogue to come. 🤍
For a few seconds, he did not know what had pulled him from sleep.
The guest room was quiet. Morning light had begun to gather around the edges of the curtains, pale and soft enough that the room still felt suspended somewhere between night and day.
Then Jack felt the weight against his chest.
He looked down.
You were asleep against him.
One arm rested across his stomach, your cheek tucked against his chest. Your hair had fallen across his skin sometime during the night, soft and disordered from sleep. One of your legs was tangled loosely with his beneath the blankets.
Jack stopped breathing for a moment.
You were here.
Not nineteen. Not a photograph. Not a memory he had carried folded inside his wallet for more years than he cared to count.
You.
Warm and sleeping in his arms.
His chest ached.
The feeling was so full that it almost hurt.
Jack lowered his hand to your back.
He moved carefully, barely touching you at first, his palm tracing slowly over the fabric of your shirt. He felt the steady rise and fall beneath his hand.
You shifted closer in your sleep.
Jack closed his eyes.
That nearly finished him.
His arm tightened instinctively around you, drawing you more securely against his chest.
Last night returned in pieces.
Your face when he told you the truth about the letter.
The hurt in your voice when you told him he should have let you choose.
The hospital.
The lake.
The years neither of you had ever managed to put completely behind you.
Then your voice asking him the question that had finally stripped away every excuse he had left.
Is it over now?
Not even close.
Jack opened his eyes again.
You were still there.
His fingers moved carefully through your hair, brushing a strand away from your face.
He studied you in the weak morning light.
Time had changed you.
There were faint lines at the corners of your eyes that had not been there beside the lake. Your face had softened in places. Your hair fell differently against your cheek.
Jack wanted to know every change.
His heart ached thinking about how many mornings he had missed.
For once, he let it.
He did not turn the feeling into a reason to step away.
His hand moved slowly down your back again.
He loved the weight of you against him.
Loved the warmth of your body.
Loved that you had fallen asleep with your hand spread over his stomach as though some part of you had needed to keep contact even after sleep took over.
Jack looked at your face.
He could still hardly believe the two of you had finally said it.
I love you.
He had said it.
You had said it back.
After all the years he had spent convincing himself that loving you meant knowing when to leave, you had looked him in the eye and told him you loved him now.
Jack’s thumb moved gently along your back.
He knew what this was.
That certainty should have frightened him.
Instead, it settled somewhere deep inside his chest with the weight of something that had been waiting years to come home.
Jack had loved you since he was twenty-one.
He had loved you when he boarded that bus.
He had loved you through every letter.
He had loved you through years in which both of you built lives that did not belong to each other.
He loved you now.
And lying there with you asleep against him, Jack knew something else with a clarity that left no room for argument.
This was the woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with.
Jack stared at you.
Then, with absolutely no warning, the thought became even more specific.
I would marry her.
Jack went still.
Not eventually.
Not after six months of behaving sensibly and pretending the two of you had not already known each other for most of your lives.
Right now.
He would wake you up, pack both your bags, throw them into his truck, and drive straight to Vegas if you opened your eyes and said yes.
The thought should have alarmed him.
Instead, Jack found himself considering how quickly he could get you to Nevada.
His mouth curved.
Completely ridiculous.
Robby would kill him.
Carter would be worse.
Jack could already picture the outrage on the kid’s face.
After everything Carter had done to get the two of you into the same house, there was no chance he would accept being excluded from the wedding.
He would probably produce an itemized list of his contributions to the relationship.
Breadsticks would be on it.
Jack’s smile widened.
Vegas was probably out.
Probably.
You made a soft sound against his chest.
Jack immediately looked down.
Your nose scrunched slightly before your face relaxed again.
He brushed his knuckles gently over your hair.
You shifted beneath his touch and slowly opened your eyes.
For a second, you only blinked at him. Then recognition softened your face.
“Hi,” you murmured.
Jack’s heart did something deeply inconvenient inside his chest.
“Morning,” Jack replied.
Your eyes moved over his face.
“You’re staring at me,” you said.
Jack’s thumb continued its slow path along your back.
“I know,” Jack replied.
A sleepy smile pulled at your mouth.
“How long?” you asked.
Jack considered lying.
“Long enough to become concerned about it,” Jack admitted.
Your smile widened.
“That sounds healthy,” you murmured.
Jack bent and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
“I’m a doctor,” Jack said. “I’ll monitor it.”
A quiet laugh escaped you.
You settled closer against him and rested your cheek over his heart again.
Jack’s arm tightened around you.
Neither of you spoke for a moment.
Then your fingers moved lazily against his stomach.
“You’re still here,” you said.
Jack lowered his mouth to your hair.
“I’m still here,” Jack replied.
You tipped your face up toward him.
“Tomorrow too?” you asked.
Jack’s thumb brushed slowly over your back.
“Tomorrow too,” Jack said.
Jack kissed you before he could start thinking about Nevada again.
The kiss stayed soft.
Lazy.
Unhurried in a way neither of you had managed the night before.
When Jack pulled back, you kept your hand against his chest.
“We should probably figure out what we’re telling Carter,” you said.
Jack exhaled through his nose.
“There goes the morning,” Jack replied.
You smiled.
“We cannot just let him figure it out,” you said.
Jack gave you a look.
“He arranged half of this weekend,” Jack replied. “I think he has already figured out most of it.”
“Still,” you said. “We should tell him.”
Jack’s fingers moved slowly along your back.
“Together,” Jack said.
You nodded. “Together,” you agreed.
Jack looked toward the ceiling for a moment.
“And clearly,” Jack added.
You lifted your head.
“Clearly?” you asked.
Jack looked back at you.
“No vague language,” Jack said. “No ‘we’re seeing where this goes.’ No ‘something happened this weekend.’”
Your mouth curved.
“You really have thought about this,” you said.
Jack’s expression stayed serious.
“He’s nine,” Jack replied. “He deserves to know what’s actually happening.”
The tenderness in his voice softened your smile. You traced one finger over his chest.
“So we tell him we’re together,” you said. “That it’s serious.”
Jack nodded.
“That it isn’t temporary,” Jack added.
You held his gaze.
“That it isn’t temporary,” you repeated.
Jack’s hand settled at your waist.
“And Robby?” you asked.
Jack groaned quietly.
“You tell him,” Jack said.
You laughed.
“Absolutely not,” you replied. “You’re doing this with me.”
Jack closed his eyes.
“He is never going to let this go,” Jack said.
“No,” you agreed. “He absolutely is not.”
Jack opened his eyes again.
“He’s going to be relieved,” Jack said.
You smiled softly. “And happy,” you added.
Jack’s expression eased.
“Yeah,” Jack replied. “Happy too.”
You rested your cheek against his chest again.
For another minute, neither of you moved. Then your eyes shifted toward the clock on the nightstand. You lifted your head.
“What time is Carter coming home?” you asked.
Jack followed your gaze. His expression changed.
“An hour,” Jack said.
You stared at him. “An hour?” you repeated.
Jack nodded once.
You pushed yourself upright.
“We need to get up,” you said.
Jack’s arm tightened around your waist before you could move far.
“We need showers,” you continued. “Coffee. Clothes. We should probably make the bed.”
Jack looked toward the tangled blankets.
“He is nine,” Jack said.
“He has eyes,” you replied.
Jack’s mouth twitched. You tried to pull away again. Jack did not let go.
“Jack,” you said.
His hand slid along your waist.
“We have an hour,” Jack replied.
You looked down at him.
“Yes,” you said slowly.
Jack’s gaze dropped to your mouth. Your stomach flipped. You narrowed your eyes.
“No,” you said.
Jack’s eyebrows lifted.
“I didn’t say anything,” Jack replied.
“You didn’t have to,” you said.
His mouth curved.
You stared at him for another second. Then your own smile betrayed you. Jack noticed immediately.
“That is not a no,” Jack said.
You lowered yourself back over him.
“We really should get up,” you murmured.
Jack’s hands settled at your hips.
“In a minute,” Jack replied.
You kissed him.
The shower could wait. So could the coffee.
Carter still had fifty-eight minutes.
By the time you and Jack made it downstairs, Carter was due home in less than fifteen minutes.
The coffee maker hummed on the counter while Jack opened the cabinet above it and reached for two mugs.
You watched him pull yours down without asking.
Something about that caught at you.
It was such a small thing.
Jack knew which mug you used at your brother’s house. He knew how much coffee you poured before adding cream. He knew you would steal the first sip from his if yours took too long.
There were decades tucked into the ordinary parts of knowing each other.
Jack set your mug beneath the machine.
“We need a plan,” you said.
Jack glanced toward you.
“I thought we had one,” Jack replied.
“For telling Carter,” you clarified.
Jack’s expression shifted.
“Right,” Jack said.
Jack poured coffee into his mug, then slid your mug toward you. You wrapped both hands around it.
“So what do we say?” you asked.
Jack considered the question.
“We tell him we’re together,” Jack said.
You nodded.
“We tell him we decided this weekend,” you added.
Jack’s gaze lifted to yours.
“We tell him we love each other,” Jack said.
The words still did something to you.
Your fingers tightened slightly around the mug.
Jack noticed.
His expression softened.
“That too,” you said with a smile.
Jack stepped closer to the counter.
“And we tell him this isn’t temporary,” Jack added. “It isn’t just something that happened because we were here.”
You held his gaze.
“No,” you said. “It isn’t.”
Jack reached for your free hand. His fingers slipped through yours easily.
“We should make sure he knows nothing changes with him,” you said. “You’re still Uncle Jack. I’m still Auntie. We both still love him exactly the same.”
Jack nodded.
“Absolutely,” Jack said.
You took a sip of coffee.
“And then we let him ask questions,” you said.
Jack went still.
You lowered the mug. “What?” you asked.
Jack studied you.
“How many questions?” Jack asked.
You laughed.
“He’s nine, Jack,” you reminded him.
Jack raised his eyebrows.
“That did not answer my question,” Jack said.
“We answer whatever he needs to ask,” you replied.
Jack stared at you for a moment.
“That feels dangerously open-ended,” Jack said.
“You’ve handled mass casualties,” you reminded him.
Jack stepped into the space between you and the counter.
“I have never treated a mass casualty capable of asking follow-up questions,” Jack replied.
A laugh escaped you. Jack smiled. The sight still felt new somehow. Not Jack smiling. Jack smiling at you like this. Without pulling it back afterward. Without remembering that there was somewhere else one of you was eventually supposed to go.
You set your coffee down. “We’ll be fine,” you said.
Jack’s hand settled at your waist.
“You seem very confident,” Jack replied.
You rested your hand against his chest.
“I am,” you said.
Jack tilted his head.
“About Carter?” Jack asked.
You shook your head.
“About us,” you replied.
Jack’s expression changed.
The teasing disappeared, leaving something warmer behind. His thumb brushed once over your side.
“Yeah,” Jack said quietly. “Me too.”
Jack leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
The front door opened.
“I’m home!” Carter called from the entryway.
Jack froze.
Your eyes closed.
A brief thud came from the front of the house, followed by the sound of shoes against the floor.
Jack slowly lifted his head.
You looked at him. “So much for the plan,” you whispered.
Jack’s mouth twitched.
“We still have a plan,” Jack murmured.
You looked toward the doorway.
Carter stood there with his overnight bag hanging from one shoulder.
His eyes were enormous.
His gaze went first to Jack. Then to you. Then to Jack’s hand still resting at your waist.
Carter’s mouth fell open.
The overnight bag slipped from his shoulder and hit the floor with a thud.
For one suspended second, Carter simply stared.
Then both of his arms shot into the air.
“YES!” Carter yelled.
You burst out laughing.
Carter took off across the kitchen.
Jack barely had time to brace himself before Carter threw himself into the space between you, wrapping both arms around your waist and twisting enough to catch Jack too.
“I knew it!” Carter shouted as he squeezed both of you.
Jack’s arm came around him automatically.
“Easy,” Jack said through his laugh. “Easy.”
Carter only squeezed harder.
“It worked!” Carter announced.
You wrapped your arm around his shoulders.
“I take it you’re okay with this?” you asked.
Carter pulled back far enough to stare at you.
“Okay with it?” Carter repeated incredulously. “Are you actually together?”
Jack looked down at him.
“Yes,” Jack said. “We are.”
Carter’s entire face brightened.
“Like boyfriend and girlfriend?” Carter asked.
You smiled.
“Like boyfriend and girlfriend,” you confirmed.
Carter looked toward Jack.
“For real?” Carter asked.
Jack nodded.
“For real,” Jack replied.
Carter’s eyes darted between the two of you.
“Did you kiss?” Carter asked.
You opened your mouth to answer, but Carter immediately turned toward Jack.
“Who kissed who?” Carter asked.
Before Jack could respond, Carter looked back at you.
“Did Uncle Jack tell you he likes you?” Carter asked.
Carter’s gaze jumped to Jack again.
“Or did Auntie tell you first?” Carter asked.
Jack stared at him.
Carter continued without taking a breath.
“Are you going to go on dates?” Carter asked.
His eyes widened with another thought.
“Are you going to live together?” Carter asked.
Carter pointed toward you.
“Would Auntie move into Uncle Jack’s house?” Carter asked.
Then he pointed toward Jack.
“Or would Uncle Jack move into Auntie’s house?” Carter continued.
Carter dropped his hands.
“Can I sleep over there?” Carter asked.
You pressed your lips together.
Carter looked between the two of you one more time.
“Are you getting married?” Carter asked.
Silence finally fell over the kitchen.
Jack stared at him.
Carter stared back expectantly.
You bit the inside of your cheek.
Jack slowly turned his head toward you.
“You said whatever questions he has,” Jack reminded you.
You lost the battle and laughed.
Carter looked between you again.
“So?” Carter prompted.
You reached down and rested a hand on his shoulder.
“Sit down,” you said. “We will answer some of these questions.”
Carter immediately turned toward the living room.
“Which ones?” Carter asked as he hurried away.
Jack bent to pick up Carter’s abandoned overnight bag.
“That depends on how quickly you stop asking new ones,” Jack replied.
Carter reached the couch and climbed onto it.
“I really want to know the house one,” Carter called from the living room.
You followed him. “Of course you do,” you said.
Jack came behind you carrying the overnight bag. Carter settled against the couch cushions.
“And the married one,” Carter added.
Jack stopped.
You looked back at him.
For the briefest second, his expression went carefully blank.
You raised an eyebrow.
Jack recovered quickly and set Carter’s bag beside the couch.
“We’re starting with the easy questions,” Jack said.
Carter frowned at him.
“I thought that was an easy one,” Carter replied.
Jack lowered himself onto the other side of Carter.
“It is not,” Jack said.
You sat beside Carter, trying very hard not to smile at Jack.
If only Carter knew just how much thought Uncle Jack had already given to that particular question.
Carter sat between you on the couch, looking from your face to Jack’s like he had just been granted permission to conduct the most important interview of his life.
Jack rested one arm along the back of the couch.
“All right,” Jack said. “One question at a time.”
Carter nodded seriously.
“Who kissed who?” Carter asked.
You pointed toward Jack. “He kissed me,” you said.
Jack tilted his head.
“Technically, you kissed me first,” Jack corrected.
You turned toward him. “On the cheek,” you said.
Jack shrugged. “A kiss is a kiss,” he replied.
You stared at him.
“That does not count,” you said.
Jack’s mouth twitched.
“It counted to me,” Jack replied.
Carter’s eyes widened.
“When was this?” Carter asked.
You looked back at him.
“On our first date,” you said.
Carter leaned forward.
“You had a first date?” Carter asked.
Jack nodded.
“We did,” Jack confirmed.
Carter looked delighted.
“So Auntie kissed you first?” Carter asked.
Jack pointed toward him.
“Exactly,” Jack said.
You gave Jack a look.
“On the cheek,” you repeated.
Jack looked completely unbothered.
“Still counts,” Jack replied.
You shook your head.
“Then you kissed me for real,” you said.
Jack’s gaze shifted toward yours.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “I did.”
Something warm passed between you. Carter looked back and forth between your faces.
“And last night?” Carter asked.
You smiled.
“Jack kissed me first,” you replied.
Carter turned toward him. “Again?” he asked.
Jack nodded once.
“Again,” Jack said.
Carter sat back against the cushions.
“Okay,” Carter said. “So Uncle Jack is the kisser.”
Jack stared at him.
You burst out laughing.
“I am not the kisser,” Jack said.
Carter’s eyebrows lifted.
“You kissed her first twice,” Carter pointed out.
Jack looked toward you.
“This line of questioning is over,” Jack said.
You were still laughing.
“I think the evidence is pretty strong,” you teased.
Jack gave you a betrayed look.
“You are supposed to be on my side now,” Jack said.
You leaned closer.
“I am,” you replied. “You’re still the kisser.”
Carter grinned. Jack sighed.
“Next question,” Jack said.
Carter immediately sat straighter.
“Did Uncle Jack tell you he likes you?” Carter asked.
You glanced toward Jack.
“He told me considerably more than that,” you replied.
Carter’s attention snapped to him. Jack shifted slightly beside you.
“I told your aunt I love her,” Jack said.
Carter’s mouth fell open.
“You did?” Carter asked.
Jack nodded.
“I did,” Jack replied.
Carter turned toward you so quickly his shoulder bumped yours.
“Did you say it back?” Carter asked.
You smiled.
“I did,” you confirmed.
Carter made a delighted little noise and sank backward into the couch.
“This is so much better than I thought,” Carter said.
Jack looked toward you.
“I’m beginning to regret agreeing to questions,” Jack muttered.
Carter popped upright again.
“Are you going to go on dates?” Carter asked.
You nodded.
“Yes,” you said. “We are definitely going to go on dates.”
Carter smiled. Then his expression turned thoughtful.
“Are you going to live together?” Carter asked.
You and Jack exchanged a look.
“That one we don’t know yet,” you said.
Carter frowned.
“Why not?” Carter asked.
Jack leaned forward and rested his forearms against his thighs.
“Because we just decided to be together last night,” Jack explained. “We don’t have to decide everything else today.”
Carter considered that.
“But you might live together?” Carter asked.
Jack glanced toward you.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “Someday, we might.”
Carter perked up immediately.
“Would Auntie move into your house?” Carter asked.
Jack’s mouth opened.
Carter turned toward you before he could answer.
“Or would Uncle Jack move into your house?” Carter asked.
You laughed.
“We definitely don’t know that yet,” you replied.
Carter thought for a moment.
“Uncle Jack has the bigger TV,” Carter said.
Jack nodded slowly.
“Good to know that will be a factor in negotiations,” Jack replied.
Carter looked toward you.
“But Auntie has the better couch,” Carter added.
You nodded. “Obviously,” you said.
Jack looked offended.
“My couch is fine,” Jack said.
Carter shook his head.
“It’s scratchy,” Carter replied.
You reached across Carter and patted Jack’s knee.
“This is valuable feedback,” you said.
Jack gave you a look. Carter’s eyes widened with another thought.
“If you live together, can I sleep over?” Carter asked.
Jack’s expression softened immediately.
“You can sleep over whether we live together or not,” Jack said.
Carter looked toward you.
“At both houses?” Carter asked.
You nodded.
“At both houses,” you confirmed.
Carter smiled. Then he looked between you again.
“Are you getting married?” Carter asked.
Jack went very still beside you. You felt it. You looked toward him. Jack kept his expression carefully neutral.
“We are not planning a wedding twelve hours into dating,” you said.
Carter shrugged.
“You already dated before,” Carter pointed out.
Jack slowly turned toward him.
“That is an aggressive interpretation of the timeline,” Jack said.
Carter frowned.
“But you did,” Carter insisted.
You bit back a smile.
“He has a point,” you told Jack.
Jack looked toward you.
“Do not side with him,” Jack said.
Carter leaned forward.
“So maybe?” Carter asked.
Jack rubbed one hand over his jaw.
“Maybe is the most you are getting out of us today,” Jack replied.
Carter smiled.
“I’ll take maybe,” Carter said.
You laughed.
Of course he would.
Carter shifted against the cushions.
“Does Dad know?” Carter asked.
You shook your head.
“Not yet,” you replied. “We’re going to tell him when he gets home.”
Carter’s entire posture changed.
“I can tell him,” Carter offered immediately.
Jack shook his head.
“No,” Jack said.
Carter’s shoulders dropped.
“Why not?” Carter asked.
Jack looked at him.
“Because it’s our news,” Jack explained.
Carter pointed toward himself.
“I helped,” Carter argued.
Jack narrowed his eyes.
“You contributed,” Jack allowed.
Carter grinned.
“That means I should get to tell him,” Carter said.
“It does not,” Jack replied.
Carter turned toward you for support.
You shook your head.
“Uncle Jack and I are telling him,” you said.
Carter sighed dramatically.
“Fine,” Carter replied.
Nothing about his face suggested he intended to handle that information calmly.
For a few seconds, he was quiet.
Then his expression changed. The excitement softened into something more thoughtful.
Carter looked down at his hands.
“I think Mom would be happy,” Carter said.
The room seemed to still.
Your breath caught.
Jack’s expression changed beside you.
Carter looked toward him.
“Dad says Mom loved you,” Carter said.
Jack swallowed.
“I loved her too,” Jack replied quietly.
Carter turned toward you.
“And she loved Auntie,” Carter added.
Your eyes burned.
“She was my best friend,” you said.
Carter nodded.
“I know,” Carter replied.
He looked between the two of you.
“So I think she’d like this,” Carter said. “Us being a family like this.”
Your throat tightened.
You reached for him and pulled him against your side.
Carter came willingly.
“I think she would too,” you said softly.
Jack moved closer. His hand settled gently against the back of Carter’s head.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “I think she’d be pretty happy about it.”
Carter rested against you for a moment. Then he tipped his head back to look at Jack.
“Would she make fun of you?” Carter asked.
Jack’s mouth curved.
“Relentlessly,” Jack replied.
You laughed through the tightness in your throat.
“She absolutely would,” you agreed.
Carter smiled.
“Good,” Carter said.
Jack looked toward you over Carter’s head.
For a moment, the three of you stayed there.
Then Carter abruptly sat up.
“What time does Dad’s plane land?” Carter asked.
Jack exhaled.
“There he is,” Jack said.
Carter looked toward the clock.
“How long until he gets home?” Carter asked.
“A few hours,” you replied.
Carter groaned and collapsed backward against the couch.
“A few hours?” Carter complained.
Jack leaned back beside him.
“You will survive,” Jack said.
Carter sat up again.
“Can we call him?” Carter asked.
“No,” Jack replied.
Carter turned toward you.
“Can we FaceTime him?” Carter asked.
You shook your head.
“No,” you said. “We’re waiting until he gets home.”
Carter looked back at Jack.
“Can I at least text him and ask when he’ll be here?” Carter asked.
Jack considered it.
“You can ask when he’ll be home,” Jack allowed. “You cannot tell him why.”
Carter was already scrambling off the couch.
“I’m texting him,” Carter announced.
Jack caught the back of his shirt before he made it two steps.
“No clues,” Jack warned.
Carter twisted around.
“I know how to keep a secret,” Carter said.
Jack stared at him. Carter stared back. You burst out laughing.
Jack released his shirt.
“That statement is not supported by the evidence,” Jack said.
For the next few hours, Carter became nearly impossible to contain.
He checked the time. Then the flight status. Then the time again. Then he stood at the front window despite knowing Robby was nowhere near the house yet.
Jack tried to ignore him.
He failed.
“You checking the driveway is not going to make his plane land faster,” Jack said from the couch.
Carter let the curtain fall.
“It could make the ride from the airport faster,” Carter argued.
Jack looked over the top of his book.
“That is not how transportation works,” Jack replied.
Carter groaned and wandered back toward the kitchen.
A few minutes later, you passed behind Jack on your way upstairs. His hand caught yours automatically. You stopped and looked down at him.
“Jack,” you said.
Jack lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.
“What?” Jack asked.
You smiled.
“Nothing,” you replied. “You’re just very clingy today.”
Jack looked completely unapologetic.
“I missed twenty years,” Jack said. “I’m catching up.”
Your heart squeezed. You leaned down and kissed him. Jack caught the back of your neck and kept you there for another second.
“Love you,” Jack murmured against your mouth.
You smiled.
“Love you too,” you replied.
From the front window, Carter groaned.
“Dad is taking forever,” Carter complained.
Jack let his forehead fall against yours.
“Your nephew has terrible timing,” Jack murmured.
You smiled.
“Our nephew,” you corrected.
Jack went still. His eyes lifted to yours. Something warm moved across his face.
“Yeah,” Jack said softly. “Our nephew.”
Carter called from the other room. “I can hear you!”
You laughed and pulled away. Jack kept hold of your hand for another second before letting you go.
“Of course he can,” Jack muttered.
You headed upstairs to shower.
Jack lasted twelve minutes.
He told himself he was looking for his phone charger. Then he told himself he needed the shirt he had left in the guest room. By the time he reached the hallway, even Jack had stopped pretending. The bathroom door opened. You appeared in the doorway with a towel wrapped around your body, another twisted loosely around your damp hair.
Jack stopped in the middle of the hallway.
You looked up.
His gaze moved slowly over you.
“Seriously?” you asked.
Jack did not even attempt innocence.
“Fuck,” Jack said.
You laughed.
“You have seen me naked,” you reminded him.
Jack stepped closer.
“That does not appear to have helped,” Jack replied.
You adjusted the towel at your chest.
“Did you need something?” you asked.
Jack’s eyes flicked briefly toward the guest room.
“I had a reason for coming upstairs,” Jack said.
You raised an eyebrow.
“And now?” you asked.
Jack looked back at you.
“I have a different reason,” Jack replied.
Your mouth curved.
“Jack,” you warned.
He reached you and rested both hands lightly at your waist.
“I’m looking,” Jack said.
“I noticed,” you replied.
Jack leaned down and kissed the corner of your mouth. Then your cheek. Then your temple. You laughed and tried to push him back.
“Carter is downstairs,” you reminded him.
Jack pressed another kiss just beneath your ear.
“I am aware,” Jack murmured.
“You are behaving like a teenager,” you added.
Jack lifted his head.
“I behaved better as a teenager,” Jack replied.
You stared at him.
“That is deeply concerning,” you said.
Jack kissed you again.
A shout came from downstairs.
“UNCLE JACK!” Carter shouted.
Jack closed his eyes. You started laughing against his chest.
“What?” Jack called.
Carter’s voice carried up the stairs. “Dad’s flight landed!”
Jack rested his forehead against yours.
“Wonderful,” Jack muttered.
You smiled.
“You should go congratulate him,” you said.
Jack’s hands stayed at your waist.
“I’m busy,” Jack replied.
You laughed and pushed gently at his chest.
“Go,” you said.
Jack reluctantly stepped back. His gaze dropped over you one more time.
You pointed toward the stairs. “Jack.”
Jack looked at you.
“Fuck,” Jack repeated.
You shut the bathroom door in his face.
Jack stood there for a second.
Then he smiled to himself and headed downstairs.
By the time he returned to the living room, Carter was holding Robby’s flight information on the tablet like breaking news.
“He landed,” Carter announced.
Jack lowered himself onto the couch.
“You have mentioned that,” Jack replied.
Carter sat beside him.
“So how long now?” Carter asked.
Jack checked the time.
“Long enough that staring out the window still will not help,” Jack replied.
Carter sighed.
A few minutes later, you came downstairs dressed and still drying the ends of your hair.
Jack looked up.
And forgot whatever Carter had just been saying.
You caught him staring. Again.
“What?” you asked.
Jack shook his head.
“Nothing,” Jack replied.
You narrowed your eyes.
“That was definitely something,” you said.
Jack’s mouth curved.
“Damn it, Robinavitch,” Jack murmured.
You smiled.
“What am I doing?” you asked.
Jack stood and crossed toward you.
“That,” Jack said.
He leaned down and stole another kiss. Quick. Soft. Still enough to make you smile against his mouth.
When he pulled back, his hand remained at your waist.
“I can’t stop looking at you,” Jack admitted.
“You’re doing a pretty bad job of trying,” you replied.
“I’m not trying very hard,” Jack said.
You brushed your thumb along his jaw. “I noticed.”
Jack kissed your forehead.
“Love you,” Jack said.
Your expression softened.
“Love you too,” you replied.
From the couch, Carter made an exaggerated sound of disgust. You both looked toward him. Carter was grinning.
“You guys are weird now,” Carter said.
Jack pointed at him.
“You did this,” Jack replied.
Carter’s grin widened.
“I know,” Carter said.
An hour later, the sound of a key turning in the front door sent Carter flying out of the living room.
Jack looked up from the couch.
“Easy,” Jack called after him.
Carter ignored him.
The front door opened.
Robby stepped inside with his conference bag over one shoulder and his suitcase rolling behind him.
“Dad!” Carter shouted.
Robby barely had time to let go of the suitcase before Carter threw himself at him.
“Hey, buddy,” Robby said, laughing as he caught him.
Carter wrapped both arms around his middle.
“You’re home!” Carter said.
“I’m home,” Robby confirmed.
Carter pulled back.
For one second, he simply grinned up at his father.
Then his entire body seemed to remember the secret. His eyes widened. His shoulders lifted. He bounced once on the balls of his feet.
“I have to tell you something,” Carter announced.
You appeared behind him.
“Carter,” you warned.
Jack came up beside you.
“Let him get through the door,” Jack said.
Carter looked back at both of you.
“But it’s important,” Carter argued.
You pointed toward Robby’s suitcase.
“Your father has been traveling all day,” you reminded him. “Give him a minute.”
Carter groaned. Robby looked between the three of you.
“What did I miss?” Robby asked.
Jack reached for the handle of Robby’s suitcase.
“Nothing that can’t wait a minute,” Jack replied.
Carter made a frustrated sound. You smiled at Robby.
“How was the flight?” you asked.
Carter stared at you in disbelief. Robby shrugged off his conference bag.
“Fine,” Robby said. “Long.”
You nodded.
“And the conference?” you asked.
Carter threw his head back.
“Come on!” Carter groaned.
Robby looked toward him, laughing.
“What?” Robby asked.
Carter bounced again.
“I have something important to tell you,” Carter repeated.
Jack gave him a warning look. “Give your dad a second.”
Carter pressed his lips together. He visibly tried. His shoulders rose with one breath. Then another.
You watched him hold it in. Three seconds. Maybe four.
Then Carter exploded.
“UNCLE JACK KISSED AUNTIE AND THEY LOVE EACH OTHER AND THEY’RE GOING TO MOVE IN TOGETHER AND GET MARRIED!” Carter shouted.
Silence filled the entryway.
Jack closed his eyes.
You covered your mouth with one hand.
Robby stared at Carter.
Carter grinned up at him.
Jack opened his eyes.
“We did not say the last two things,” Jack said.
Carter turned toward him.
“You said maybe,” Carter argued.
Jack pointed toward him.
“Maybe does not mean announce it to your father,” Jack replied.
Robby slowly looked toward you. Then toward Jack. His expression changed.
“You two are together?” Robby asked.
Jack’s hand found yours.
“Yeah,” you said. “We are.”
Jack squeezed your fingers.
“We are,” Jack confirmed.
Robby stared at both of you for a second. Then his face softened.
Not surprised.
Relieved.
Happy.
“Finally,” Robby said.
Carter threw both arms into the air.
“I did it!” Carter shouted.
Jack turned toward him.
“You contributed,” Jack said.
Carter pointed between you and Jack.
“You were not together before,” Carter argued. “Now you are.”
Jack stared at him. Carter grinned.
“I got them together,” Carter announced to Robby.
Jack’s eyebrows lifted.
“We are grown adults, Carter,” Jack said.
Carter shrugged.
“You needed help,” Carter replied.
You burst out laughing. Robby looked toward Carter.
“He has a pretty strong case,” Robby said.
Jack looked at him.
“Do not encourage him,” Jack replied.
Robby laughed.
“I leave for one conference,” Robby said.
Carter beamed.
“And I fixed everything,” Carter replied.
Jack rubbed one hand over his face.
“That is not what happened,” Jack said.
Carter looked toward you.
“It kind of is,” Carter argued.
You bit back a smile.
“I am staying out of this,” you said.
Jack gave you a betrayed look.
“Coward,” Jack replied.
Robby’s attention shifted back to the two of you. His amusement softened.
“So this is it?” Robby asked.
The question quieted the room.
You looked toward Jack.
“Yeah,” you said softly. “This is it.”
Jack’s thumb brushed over your knuckles.
“It is,” Jack confirmed.
Robby nodded slowly.
Then he stepped forward and pulled you into a hug. You let go of Jack long enough to wrap both arms around your brother.
Robby held you tightly for a moment.
“About time you two got together,” Robby murmured.
You smiled against his shoulder.
“Yeah,” you said. “It really is.”
Robby pulled back and looked at you.
“Took you long enough,” Robby replied.
Then he looked toward Jack. Jack lifted one eyebrow. Robby stepped closer and clasped a hand around Jack’s shoulder.
“You good?” Robby asked.
Jack glanced toward you. His gaze softened.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “I’m good.”
Robby studied him for a second. Then he smiled.
“Good,” Robby replied.
Carter tugged on Robby’s sleeve.
“And they might get married,” Carter reminded him.
Jack groaned.
“Carter,” Jack said.
You pointed toward Carter.
“That part is currently under review,” you said.
Carter nodded seriously.
“I’m optimistic,” Carter replied.
Robby laughed.
Jack looked toward you. You looked back at him. His mouth curved.
And for once, neither of you looked away.
By the time you and Jack finally left Robby’s house, the afternoon had begun to soften toward evening.
Carter had hugged both of you twice before letting you go.
Robby followed you to the front door while Jack reached for his jacket.
Carter hovered beside him.
“You know I’m still taking credit for this,” Carter said.
Jack pulled on his jacket.
“We know,” Jack replied.
Carter grinned.
Robby opened the door for you, then looked between you and Jack.
His expression softened.
“I’m really happy for you guys,” Robby said.
You smiled.
“Thanks, Robby,” you replied.
Robby looked toward Jack. Jack met his gaze.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “Thanks.”
Robby nodded once. There was something almost relieved in it.
“About damn time,” Robby added.
You laughed. Jack sighed.
“There it is,” Jack said.
Robby’s grin widened.
“You knew it was coming,” Robby replied.
Carter leaned around his father.
“I got them together,” Carter reminded him.
Jack pointed toward the driveway.
“We’re leaving now,” Jack said.
Carter laughed. You hugged Robby once more before stepping outside.
“Love you,” you said.
Robby squeezed you.
“Love you too,” Robby replied.
Jack waited beside you until you pulled away.
Then the two of you headed down the driveway toward your separate cars.
You stopped beside yours while Jack crossed toward his truck. For a moment, neither of you opened a door. Jack looked across the driveway at you.
“Any big plans tonight, Robinavitch?” Jack asked.
You rested one hand on the roof of your car.
“Very big,” you replied. “Laundry. Takeout. Reality television in my sweatpants.”
Jack nodded slowly.
“Hot,” Jack said.
You laughed.
“Try to contain yourself,” you replied.
Jack leaned against the side of his truck.
“Not going particularly well today,” Jack admitted.
Your smile softened. Jack looked at you for another second.
“You want some company?” Jack asked.
The question sounded casual.
Almost.
But you heard everything underneath it.
Not only tonight.
Not only the weekend.
The ordinary parts too.
You smiled.
“Yeah,” you said. “I do.”
Jack’s mouth curved.
“Your place?” Jack asked.
You nodded.
“My couch is better,” you reminded him.
Jack smiled.
“I know,” Jack admitted.
You stared at him.
“Oh, now you admit it?” you asked.
Jack reached for his truck door.
“I’m trying to get invited over,” Jack replied.
You laughed.
“You're buying dinner,” you said.
Jack nodded.
“Done,” Jack replied.
You paused before getting inside.
“Jack?” you called.
He looked over the roof of his truck.
“Yeah?” Jack asked.
You smiled.
“Love you,” you said.
Jack’s expression softened immediately.
“Love you too, Robinavitch,” Jack replied.
You climbed into your car.
Jack got into his truck.
And when you pulled out of Robby’s driveway a few minutes later, Jack’s truck stayed behind you all the way home.
Description : Jermajesty accompanies his family to Abu's parent teacher conference, where he meets you Abu's kindergarten teacher.
Sunday mornings were usually horrible. The school decided that the second Sunday of every month was the perfect day for parent-teacher conferences.
You stood in front of your bedroom mirror, buttoning up your shirt before smoothing down your skirt with a small smile.
The classroom was quiet when you arrived.
Tiny colorful chairs sat neatly around miniature tables. Finger paintings decorated one wall, while alphabet posters, counting charts, and little handprints covered the others. You straightened a few crooked drawings before smiling at one in particular.
Abu's.
It was mostly blue scribbles with what he insisted was a dinosaur.
You carefully placed each student's progress folder onto your desk before glancing at your schedule.
Abu Jackson.
Sweet.
Polite.
Curious.
The kind of child every teacher secretly hoped for.
Always eager to help another classmate clean up.
Always saying "please" and "thank you."
Always asking questions.
He absolutely loved dinosaurs.
The morning passed quickly as different parents came and went.
Then
Your classroom door opened again.
"Miss!"
Abu came running toward you with the biggest grin on his face.
You laughed, kneeling down to hug him.
"Hi, sweetheart!"
"I told everybody you're my favorite teacher!"
You smiled.
"I'm honored."
Standing up, you looked toward the doorway
and immediately froze.
There wasn't one adult.
There weren't two.
There were...
a lot.
Jermaine.
Janet.
Jaafar.
Randy Jr.
Prince.
Paris.
Bigi.
And standing near the front, Jermajesty.
For a brief second, your brain completely stopped working.
Jermaine laughed.
"Sorry. We might've brought a few extra people."
"A few?" Janet teased. "Half the family wanted to come."
You couldn't help laughing.
"Well... everyone's welcome."
Everyone settled into the tiny preschool chairs, which looked absolutely ridiculous considering they were all full-grown adults.
You tried your hardest to remain professional.
"First of all... Abu has been doing wonderfully."
Jermaine smiled proudly.
You opened his folder.
"Academically, he's exactly where he should be. He's recognizing colors, numbers, and letters really well."
You flipped another page.
"Socially, he's one of the sweetest children in the classroom."
Janet smiled.
"Aww."
"He always shares with the other children, he's incredibly polite, and if another student is upset, he's usually the first one to go comfort them."
Jermaine looked down at Abu.
"I'm proud of you, buddy."
Abu grinned.
You continued.
"He also loves dinosaurs."
The entire family laughed.
"Oh, trust us," Jaafar said. "We know."
"And" you smiled, "...he's convinced he's going to discover a brand new dinosaur someday."
Abu nodded seriously.
"I am."
"I believe you," you replied.
As everyone continued asking questions...
Jermajesty remained unusually quiet.
Every time you looked up
He was already looking at you.
Whenever your eyes met, he'd quickly pretend to be studying Abu's folder instead.
Jaafar noticed first.
Then Janet.
Then Randy Jr.
The three of them exchanged knowing looks.
Janet leaned slightly toward Jaafar and whispered,
"He's cooked."
Jaafar bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing at the fact that his aunt was using internet slang and majesty's staring.
By the time the meeting ended, you stood and smiled warmly.
"It was really lovely meeting all of you."
Everyone thanked you before slowly making their way toward the hallway.
You began organizing Abu's folder.
When you realized somebody was still standing there.
Jermajesty.
He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
"So..."
You looked up.
"Yeah?"
He took a small breath.
"I know this probably isn't... very professional."
You waited patiently.
"But..."
"Would you maybe wanna get coffee with me sometime?"
You smiled.
"I'd like that."
The relief on his face was almost immediate.
"Really?"
"Really."
He smiled so brightly it made your heart flutter.
"I'll... um..."
He laughed nervously.
"I'll see you soon then."
"I'll be looking forward to it."
As he walked toward the door...
A tiny face peeked around the corner.
Abu.
He looked between the two of you
Then gave you the biggest thumbs-up imaginable before disappearing back into the hallway.
Tag list : @cocomilaa @blcknebula @stiflersbabymama @callmeoncette @needjoekeery @nuttyrebelflower @1eliana123-blog @ladyearthsea @rastharex @darkgreengrl @bananajoeclone @violet0182 @minghaossv @melynex @thebabykashmere @ghoulxeg @simply-lovley44
hii!!! can I please ask law fic with female reader fluff where reader hums and sings around while doing chores or getting ready and law is in awe of her sweet voice and sometimes would join in to hum with something wholesome and tooth achingly sweet pls!!! thank u so so much!!
AWW YES!! 🥹🤍 This is so soft, I adore this idea. Law secretly melting every time she hums around the house and eventually humming along with her?? Domestic fluff is my weakness. I'll happily write this! Thank you for the request! ♡
⊹ ࣪ ˖ ───────── ♡ ───────── ˖ ࣪ ⊹
Humm... along:)
Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader
Warnings: none — pure fluff, established relationship, domestic moments, soft Law, excessive sweetness ♡
Word count: ~1.2k
Summary:-
Law never expects something as simple as your habit of humming while doing chores to become his favorite sound. As he quietly falls into the rhythm of your melodies, the two of you create a small, unspoken tradition of shared hums and quiet mornings aboard the Polar Tang—proof that love is often found in the softest moments.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
The first time he hears it, he almost drops the stack of medical reports in his hands.
It's early morning on the submarine, that quiet hour before the crew stumbles out of their bunks, when the only sounds are usually the hum of the engine and Law's own pen scratching against paper. But today there's something else threaded through it — soft, unhurried, a little off-key in the most endearing way. You're in the galley, sleeves pushed up, humming some tune he doesn't recognize while you stack clean mugs back onto their shelf.
He stands in the doorway longer than he means to.
It isn't even a song, not really — just a melody you're clearly making up as you go, drifting from one note to the next like you're not thinking about it at all. Which, he realizes, you probably aren't. You're just happy. Doing something as mundane as putting away mugs, and happy, and letting it spill out of you in sound because you don't know anyone's listening.
He should say something. Announce himself. Instead he leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed and lets himself have this a moment longer.
"You're staring," you say without turning around, and he startles — actually startles, Trafalgar Law, feared surgeon of death, caught flat-footed by a girl with dish soap on her hands.
"I was passing by."
"For four minutes?"
"I have excellent hearing. I was assessing structural integrity of the shelving." He nods at the mugs. "It looked unstable."
You laugh — that easy, unbothered laugh of yours — and go back to humming like he isn't even there, and something in his chest does an entirely unprofessional thing.
After that, he starts noticing it everywhere.
You hum while you braid your hair in front of the small mirror bolted to the wall, hair tie between your teeth so the tune comes out muffled and ridiculous. You hum while you sort bandages in the infirmary, alphabetizing supplies that don't need alphabetizing just to have something to do with your hands. You hum while you're halfway into your boots, one shoe on and one shoe forgotten, like getting ready is a background task to whatever song is playing in your head.
Sometimes it's a real song. Sometimes it's nothing at all, just melody for its own sake. He starts to be able to tell your moods by it — a slow, low hum when you're concentrating, something brighter and quicker when you're in a good mood, an absent little trailing-off when you're tired and don't quite realize you're still doing it.
He would never admit — not to Bepo, not to Shachi, certainly not to you — that he's started listening for it. That the sound of you humming down the corridor is how he knows you're close before he even hears your footsteps.
It happens by accident, the first time he joins in.
You're in the middle of getting ready, humming something soft while you fix your collar in the mirror, and he's sitting behind you at the small desk, ostensibly reading a chart. The melody loops back around on itself, familiar now after weeks of hearing it, and before he's really decided to do it, a low answering hum slips out of him — just a few notes, pitched to match yours, barely audible under his breath.
You go still.
He realizes what he's done half a second after you do, and for a moment neither of you says anything, your eyes meeting his in the mirror.
"That's the first time I've heard you sing."
"I wasn't singing."
"You were humming."
"There's a difference."
"Uh huh." But you're smiling, that soft private smile you don't wear for anyone else, and you turn back to the mirror and pick the melody back up right where you left off — leaving space in it, this time, like you're waiting to see if he'll fill it in again.
He does. Quietly. Just a thread of sound woven under yours, following where you lead because he doesn't know the tune well enough to lead it himself. It's clumsy and a little flat and it is, without question, the most content he's felt in longer than he can remember.
It becomes a thing, after that. Not every day — he's not going to serenade you over breakfast in front of the whole crew, and you seem to understand that without being told — but in the quiet in-between moments. Late at night when you're brushing out your hair before bed and he's pretending to read in the same room. Early mornings in the galley before anyone else is awake. The two of you, half a melody each, filling in what the other one starts.
Bepo catches them once — walks into the infirmary to find Law stitching a sleeve and humming so quietly it's almost subvocal, matching a tune you're singing properly this time, actual words and everything, some old lullaby you must have learned as a kid. Bepo backs out of the doorway without either of you noticing and doesn't say a word to anyone, mostly because he doesn't trust himself not to smile about it all day.
"You know," you say one evening, weeks later, your head on his shoulder while he reads and you hum something slow and drowsy into the quiet, "you have a nice voice. For someone who insists he doesn't sing."
"I don't sing."
"You've been humming the same four bars for ten minutes."
"It's stuck in my head. That's involuntary."
"Sure it is." You tip your face up, smiling at him, and he can't help the small, helpless curl of his own mouth in answer. "Involuntary Trafalgar Law, hopeless romantic."
"I'll have you removed from this submarine."
"You'd have to catch me first." You settle back against him, humming again, and after a moment — after only a moment, because he's stopped pretending he can resist it — he hums along, low and quiet and entirely, hopelessly happy to be doing it.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
It had come up during your first sleepover as a couple as you laid side by side in Steve’s bed, “You haven’t had your first kiss yet?” Steve asked as he sat up, a shocked tone to his voice. You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment, “No,” you mumbled from behind the fortress your hands created in front of your face. “I mean to be fair, as far as I’m aware no one has ever been romantically interested in me before you.” you told him as you slowly moved your hands away and heat flooded the tips of your ears.
“Hey, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Let me teach you.” he quickly said, making your breath hitch in your throat, you could tell that he was a little nervous too even though he’d kissed more people than you ever would. You knew that this topic would come up eventually, it was just so nerve-wracking. But you knew that you were ready to finally have your first kiss and you were glad that it would be with Steve. He was the one person you trusted the most on this planet. “Okay.” you quietly told him as your nervousness increased.
He lovingly placed his hand on your face and you leaned into it, “It’s okay. We’ll take it slow, I promise.” he told you, soothing some of your worries but more easily filled your mind. What if you were a bad kisser? What if your breath smelled bad and you didn’t know? “It’s easier than you think, just put your lips on mine and I’ll take it from there. Just follow what I do.” he instructed as he gazed into your eyes, making goosebumps appear on your arms at the thought of kissing him.
You nodded in response then kissed Steve really quick before you pulled away and he had the chance to kiss you back, “Like that?” you asked, hoping you did at least a decent job. But Steve didn’t respond. He simply stared at you in silence as his cheeks quickly turned bright red and his breathing became noticeably heavier. “Are you okay?” you asked as you furrowed your eyebrows.
Steve nodded, “Yeah, I’m okay. You did good, you just made me flustered is all,” he explained, making you smile at the fact that you were able to make him feel like this after he’d been making you feel that way for so long. “Let’s try again, sweetheart.” he murmured as he started to lean his head toward yours, his breathing still heavy.
✦ ──── SEVEN MINUTES
virgin! will graham x virgin!f!reader
masterlist — taglist
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
wc. 9.2 k
premise.
based on this ask!
smuttier request.. college student will and reader, maybe both having their first time together? maybe he’s a bit more submissive in these days (think of his s1-self amped up), trying oral for the first time, p in v etc
You and Will are both seen as the local 'nerds', which led to the two of you being friends pretty early on in colllege. Parties are usually neither of your things, but after your other friends insist you come, you bring along Will for mental support. After a game of 7 minutes in heaven game that makes you question a lot,... things escalate.
warnings.
smu!, oral (f receiving), unprotected pinv., hair pulling, kind of sub!will, will coming early because you feel too good... :(
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Will let out a quiet sigh as he dropped into the old desk chair in his dorm room. The wood groaned beneath him, followed by the familiar squeak as he leaned back for a moment, rubbing tiredly at the bridge of his nose.
Classes had dragged on longer than usual, and Professor Adaway's reminder about his overdue report was still echoing around in his head.
He reached down and unbuckled the leather satchel resting beside his chair before pulling out a plastic container. Cold pasta. No sauce. No seasoning. Just plain noodles he'd made in bulk two nights ago.
It was simple and predictable.
Exactly the way he liked it.
He peeled the lid off the container, already lifting his fork when footsteps approached his dorm door.
Will closed his eyes for a brief second.
Please don't let someone need notes.
Without looking up, he spoke in the tired voice of someone who had spent the entire semester being everyone's unofficial tutor.
A knock sounded on his door.
“What do you need?” he muttered, piercing a few noodles with his fork. His tone wasn't rude so much as exhausted.
His brow furrowed as it was no professor and no frantic student asking him to explain the same thing again.
Slowly, he looked up.
You slowly opened his door and peaked in through the doorway, your backpack hanging from one shoulder while a notebook rested against your chest. A small smile tugged at your lips when your eyes met his.
“Hey, Will,” you greeted softly.
The tension in his shoulders eased almost immediately.
“Oh.” his expression softened before he could stop it. “Hi.”
He lowered his fork into the container and sat up a little straighter, brushing an absent hand over the front of his sweater as though suddenly aware of how slouched he'd been.
“You need help with something?” he asked.
You smiled a little wider and shook your head, “No, actually… I just handed in my report.”
“...Professor Adaway mentioned you still haven't turned yours in,” you added, giving him an amused look.
Will's face pinched into a grimace.
He let out a long sigh before dropping his head back against the chair.
“I know,” he groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “He's mentioned it three times today.”
You laughed quietly.
“I'll finish it.” Will sighed again, glancing toward you and he noticed you still hadn't come inside.
“You busy?” you asked, nodding toward the room. “Or... can I come in?”
Will looked around his dorm as though checking it for the first time.
Books were stacked in uneven piles across the floor. Papers covered half his desk. A flannel jacket had been abandoned over the back of his chair sometime earlier that week.
It wasn't exactly tidy.
Still...
“It's not exactly presentable,” he admitted with an awkward smile.
His eyes drifted back to yours.
“...But, yeah.” He gestured toward the room with his fork. “Come in.”
You slipped inside, carefully closing the door behind you.
His dorm looked exactly as it always did.
Aside from a crowded bookshelf, a few novels, and stacks of class notes, there wasn't much that made the room feel lived in.
Your attention shifted toward the open container sitting on his desk.
You tilted your head, “...Cold pasta again?”
Will followed your gaze before looking back at you, a sheepish smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, “...Yeah.”
You couldn't help but laugh, “No sauce?”
He glanced down at the noodles as if genuinely considering the question.
“...No.”
“No cheese?”
“...No.”
You stared at him for a second before shaking your head with an amused smile.
“Will…” you huffed
Will leaned back in his chair, balancing it carefully on its back two legs as he studied you across the room.
His eyes lingered for a moment longer than he'd intended.
You were adjusting your glasses, you always did that when you were thinking, or when you were nervous. The small movement had become so familiar to him that he barely noticed he'd started recognising it.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, “You look awfully pleased with yourself... knowing my lunch.” he observed.
You chuckled “I earned myself that title.”
“The title?” he asked, furrowing his brows.
“Professional Will Graham Observer.” you laughed, he let out a quiet snort at that, shaking his head.
“...That's a terrible title,” he said, though the smile never quite left his face.
“I know,” you admitted with a laugh. “I'm still working on it.”
Will reached for another bite of pasta while you absentmindedly fiddled with the cuff of your sleeve.
His eyes flicked down, there it was again, that nervous habit.
Slowly, he lowered his fork.
“You okay?” he asked gently, giving you his full attention now. His head tilted ever so slightly, concern softening his features.
You hesitated, “...Can I ask you something?”
“You just did,” he replied automatically before immediately realizing how that sounded.
His ears turned pink.
“I… I mean…” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “Go ahead.”
You smiled despite yourself.
“There…” you took a small breath, looking down at the folder clutched against your chest before meeting his eyes again. “There's a dorm party tonight.”
Will blinked, a party?
His expression gave away exactly what he thought of that idea.
You hurried on before he could say anything.
“I know,” you said quickly, “You don't really go to parties.”
“And neither do I, but... I was thinking…”
You fidgeted with your sleeve again.
“...Maybe we could go together?”
Will stayed quiet for a moment, and once again you rushed to fill it.
“Just so it's less awkward,” you explained, words tumbling out faster now. “We could stay for a little while, and if it's terrible, we leave!”
You gave a nervous smile, “And if you don't want to go, that's completely okay. I just thought I'd ask.”
Will stared at the floor for a second giving it an honest thought.
A crowded dorm, loud music, many strangers and people talking over each other… the thought alone made his shoulders tense.
Normally, his answer would've been immediate, No, absolutely not.
But then he looked back at you.
You were still there, trying not to look embarrassed for asking.
He knew you well enough to recognise that expression, you expected him to refuse.
He sighed quietly, dragging a hand through his already messy hair.
“...Okay,” he said after a moment.
Your eyebrows shot up, “What…?”
“I'll go.” he said, almost too casually.
You blinked, “...Really?”
The surprise in your voice made him glance away, suddenly feeling oddly self-conscious.
“You don't have to,” you repeated quickly. “Seriously, Will. I don't want you agreeing just because–”
“I know.” he looked back at you with a small, tired smile, “I know I don't have to...I want to go with you.”
The words slipped out before he could think about them.
For a split second, his own sentence seemed to catch him off guard.
He cleared his throat, “I mean… I'd rather go if you're there.”
Your smile softened, and a warm feeling settled in his chest at the sight of it.
You stepped backward toward the door, already reaching for the handle.
“I'll text you the place,” you said with an encouraging smile. “We can walk over together?”
“I'd like that,” he replied without hesitation, meeting your eyes.
You nodded, “Okay… thanks, Will!”
He gave a tiny shrug, suddenly finding his pasta container very interesting.
The words lingered in the room for a moment after you disappeared into the hallway.
Will sat perfectly still.
Then, slowly, a shy smile spread across his face.
He looked down at his pasta before letting out a quiet breath through his nose.
For someone who hated parties...
He had agreed awfully quickly. And somehow, he had the feeling it had very little to do with the party itself.
A few minutes later, his phone buzzed.
> Meet me outside then? :)
He stared at the smiley face for a moment, then he typed back.
> Okay.
> See you soon!
The next half of the day consisted mostly of Will pacing the length of his dorm.
He couldn't concentrate, he even tried working on his report, but he managed exactly three sentences before deleting two of them.
Eventually, he stood in front of the tiny mirror hanging on the back of his door.
His sweater looked fine.
His hair… hopeless as ever.
He ran his fingers through it anyway, only succeeding in making it stick up even more.
“...Good enough,” he sighed.
He grabbed his keys and stepped out into the cool evening air.
The music was audible before he even reached the party. Bass thumped through the walls hard enough that he could almost feel it beneath his shoes.
His stomach sank.
Maybe this was a mistake.
Then he spotted you, you were waiting just outside the door with your hands tucked into your jacket pockets, absentmindedly rocking back and forth on your heels.
When you noticed him approaching, your face brightened.
“There you are,” you said warmly, pushing yourself away from the wall.
Will couldn't help returning a small smile, “I said I'd come,” he replied, slowing to a stop beside you.
“You did.” You looked at him for a moment before smiling to yourself. “I was only about... seventy percent convinced.”
He let out a quiet laugh.
"...Ready?" you asked after a moment, though there was uncertainty in your own voice.
Will glanced sideways at you, “You don't sound very convinced.”
You sighed a bit, “That’s because… I am… as ready as I'm going to be.”
He nodded once, “...Me too.”
Together, you stepped inside, immediately overwhelmed by the loud noise inside.
Students packed every available space.
Some were dancing.
Others shouted over the music with red plastic cups in hand.
A couple was already making out against the kitchen counter.
Will instinctively stiffened, his shoulders tensing.
You offered him a reassuring smile.
“We're okay,” you said gently, raising your voice just enough for him to hear.
He leaned slightly toward you so he wouldn't have to strain over the music.
“This was definitely a terrible idea.” he said quietly, glancing around the room with wide eyes.
A folding table had been turned into a makeshift drinks station.
You returned a minute later carrying two red plastic cups.
“I found the mystery punch,” you announced, offering him one.
Will accepted it cautiously, glancing into the red cup, “Mystery…?”
You lifted your cup first, an awkward smile on your lips, “Here goes nothing.”
Taking a careful sip, you immediately scrunched up your face, “Eugh… oh” you coughed a bit into your sleeve, “Oh… that’s...that's mostly straight alcohol.”
Will frowned, suspiciously glancing at his cup, “That bad?”
Against his better judgment, he took a sip, his face twisted as the strange mix of alcohol burned down his throat.
He swallowed with visible effort before staring into the cup, “I see…” he deadpanned.
You looked down at the drink for another second.
Then, before he could say anything else, you tipped your head back and drank the entire cup in one go.
“...You…” Will blinked once in disbelief. “...You just drank all of that.”
You lowered the empty cup, “Yeah…”
He reached out almost instinctively, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist before you could take another step.
The gesture was tentative, as though he wasn't entirely sure he was allowed.
“Slow down–” he said, searching your face.
“Are you actually okay?”
You looked up at him, “I’m okay…” you insisted.
Will held your gaze for another moment before letting out a quiet sigh.
“...I'm keeping an eye on you tonight,” he murmured.
You smiled, your heart warming a little at the quiet promise,“I was hoping you wo–”
“There you are!” a familiar voice squealed over the music.
You stumbled half a step before you turned around seeing your friend, “Jenny…” you smiled.
She squeezed you tightly before finally letting go, “I've been looking everywhere for you!” she exclaimed, practically bouncing where she stood.
Will instinctively took a small step back at Jenny's loud ringing voice.
He tightened his grip around his cup, quietly watching the two of you greet each other.
“Hi,” he offered politely when Jenny finally noticed him standing beside you.
“Oh!” Jenny's eyes widened. “Will!”
Will felt oddly self-conscious.
“...Yeah,” he said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck.
You noticed the slight tension creeping back into his shoulders.
Jenny, blissfully unaware, launched straight into another story, “Oh my God, you have to hear this, so there's this guy from my sociology class–” she began without stopping for even a breath.
You smiled patiently, nodding along as she rambled about party games, embarrassing stories, and a new crush she'd apparently developed sometime that week.
Will tried his best to follow the conversation.
He really did.
But between the music, the voices, and the alcohol warming his head just enough to make everything feel louder, the words blurred together.
His attention drifted instead toward you.
You kept smiling politely.
Every now and then, your eyes flickered toward him, almost checking to make sure he was still okay.
Each time, he'd give the smallest nod.
Then Jenny clapped her hands together.
“Oh!” she made, her grin growing wide, “You two have to come with me!”
Before either of you could protest, she grabbed your wrist.
Will looked helplessly in your direction, following you now like a lost dog.
But you looked equally confused.
“Jenny,” you laughed nervously, trying not to trip as she pulled you through the crowded room. “What exactly did I just agree to?”
“You'll love it!” she reassured you, but it frankly did little to calm your nerves.
The four of you stopped near a circle of students sitting cross-legged on the floor.
An empty bottle rested in the middle.
Beside it, the storage closet.
Jenny accepted two tiny plastic shot glasses from someone nearby before handing one to each of you.
You frowned down at the clear liquid, “Vodka!” Jenny answered before you had even asked.
“And we're playing…” You glanced between the bottle and the closet before slowly looking back at her.
“...Seven Minutes in Heaven?”
“Exactly!”
Will went very still, his fingers tightened around the tiny cup, his pulse quickening.
A cramped closet.
Seven minutes.
Usually with a stranger.
His mind supplied every awkward possibility,... absolutely not.
He opened his mouth to decline, then he looked over at you, your expression mirrored his almost perfectly, eyes just a little wider than usual and a nervous smile that wasn’t fooling anyone.
You looked every bit as overwhelmed as he felt.
Jenny was already cheering, “Come on!”
You glanced at Will.
“...We don't actually have to do this,” you whispered so only he could hear.
Will looked around the circle, “Do you want to?”
You immediately shook your head, “Not really…”
“...Me neither.”
You sighed before tossing the shot back in one swallow, Will did the same.
Your face scrunched up as the vodka burned your throat.
The two of you settled onto the floor beside the others.
Will sat close enough that your shoulders nearly brushed.
Someone reached forward and spun the bottle.
Round and round it went.
Conversation faded into the background as Will watched it slow.
Please don't be me.
Please.
The bottle wobbled once.
Twice.
Then stopped.
Its neck pointed directly at him.
Will stared at it, this really had to be his unlucky day.
“...Oh.” his voice came out barely above a whisper.
Around the circle, a few laughs and cheers erupted.
His stomach sank.
Slowly, he looked toward you.
Your eyes met his immediately.
“...I'm sorry,” you mouthed instinctively, though you weren't entirely sure what you were apologizing for.
Will managed the smallest, most resigned smile.
He wasn't blaming you.
“Well… I guess that's me.” Will said after a long pause, forcing a nervous smile as he looked around the circle.
He rubbed the back of his neck, already feeling the heat creeping into his cheeks.
Someone reached forward and spun the bottle again.
You watched it turn with your stomach in knots.
The bottle slowed, wobbled and then came to a stop, pointing at …you!
“...Uhh.”
The sound escaped you before you could stop it.
You stared at the bottle as though it might somehow change directions.
Your face immediately grew warm at the whispers and cheers of other students.
Will looked just as stunned, his eyes met yours and you almost laughed, not because this was particularly funny, but because it was somehow the least terrible outcome imaginable.
If you had to be locked in a tiny closet with anyone here...
You were relieved it was him.
“I…” You looked back toward the group before awkwardly standing. “Well…”
You smoothed your hands over your pants, trying to give yourself something to do.
“I guess this could've gone worse.”
Will stood a moment later, “...Yeah”
Jenny was already clapping excitedly, “Go on!”
Someone opened the small storage closet beside the group.
It was barely large enough for two people.
You exchanged one last helpless glance with Will.
So together, you stepped inside.
The door clicked shut behind you.
It was… small.
Much smaller than either of you had expected.
Shelves lined one wall, filled with forgotten cleaning supplies and cardboard boxes.
The only light came through the thin gap beneath the door, leaving the tiny space bathed in soft shadows.
There wasn't enough room to stand comfortably without almost touching.
You instinctively took half a step backward.
Your shoulder bumped into the wall.
Will shifted to give you more room.
There wasn't any...
“...Sorry,” he murmured automatically.
For a moment, neither of you spoke in the dark silence, from outside you could hear the slightly muffled laughter and music.
Will shifted his weight.
In the cramped space, his shoulder lightly brushed yours.
He immediately stilled. “Sorry–” he said again.
You couldn't help smiling, “You don't have to apologize every time we accidentally touch.”
He looked away for a second, “Alright…”
Something about that made him relax just a little.
After a moment, he cleared his throat, “...It could've been worse.”
You tilted your head.
“I mean… you could've ended up in here with someone you don't know.” he clarified.
You laughed quietly, “Or some guy who thinks this game is an excuse to shove his tongue down my throat.”
Will visibly grimaced, “Yeah… that would've been awful.”
“It would've.”
You shifted your feet, trying to get comfortable.
There wasn't enough room.
Your balance faltered slightly, “Oh–”
Before you could stumble into one of the shelves, a hand gently caught your forearm.
Will had reached out instinctively.
His fingers rested lightly against your sleeve, steady enough to keep you upright.
“You okay?”
You looked down at where his hand rested on your arm, then back up at him.
“...Yeah, thanks”
Only then did Will seem to realise he was still touching you, holding you, his eyes widened, “Sorry–”
You laughed under your breath, feeling the slight awkwardness ease a bit.
Because… you were simply alone with your friend, … something that, to both of you, was becoming far more precious than either was ready to admit.
Will let out a slow breath, “...How long do you think we've got left?”
“...Five minutes?” you guessed with a small shrug. “Maybe.”
He sighed, “...Right.”
There was nowhere to look without looking at each other.
Nowhere to step without brushing shoulders.
“...Why do people actually enjoy this?” he wondered aloud, glancing toward the closed door.
“I think… most people probably spend these seven minutes making out.” you pointed out.
Will felt his ears burn red, “Oh– right.”
You noticed the faint flush creeping up his neck, a smile tugging at your lips, “You didn't think about that?”
He gave the smallest shake of his head, “Not really–”
“What were you thinking about?”
“Mostly… about how small this room is.” he glanced around the tiny closet.
His shoulders rose in a tiny shrug and you couldn’t help but chuckle at that.
“Will… if it's too much… we can just leave,” you said with a reassuring smile.
Without really thinking, you reached out through the darkness.
Your hand found the front of his sweater first, you halted, “Sorry– I was aiming for your shoulder.”
Will looked down.
Even through the fabric, he could feel the warmth of your hand resting lightly against his chest.
Then you slid your hand upward until it rested gently on his shoulder.
“There,” you chuckled, “Found it.”
You gave his shoulder a reassuring pat and instead of pulling away immediately, your hand lingered there for another moment.
Almost without thinking, his own hand lifted, carefully resting lightly over yours.
Your eyes drifted down to where his fingers covered yours.
Then back up to him.
Neither of you said anything.
There wasn't really anything to say.
The dim strip of light beneath the door caught the side of his face, soft enough that you could finally make out his expression.
His cheeks were pink.
His eyes refused to stay on yours for more than a second before darting away again.
Your fingers curled gently around his, making his heart give a slow, unfamiliar thud against his ribs.
Will looked back at your face.
Even in the darkness, he could just make out the outline of your features.
The way a loose strand of hair had fallen across your cheek.
The softness in your eyes whenever you looked at him.
His chest felt strangely tight.
You looked toward the door for a moment before speaking again, you laughed nervously under your breath, “This is probably going to sound really stupid.”
Will perked up hearing that, and you took a deep breath, continuing, “I was just thinking...if everyone outside expects us to... you know…”
Your cheeks warmed at even the thought of it, “...Kiss.”
The word came out barely above a whisper. Will's heart skipped and you hurried to explain yourself, but it didn’t really help your case.
“I'm not saying we have to.” you laughed awkwardly, “Actually– I'm not even sure why I said that out loud.”
You looked down at your shoes, “I just…I wondered what would happen if we did.”
The tiny room fell completely silent.
Will stared at you.
He wasn't sure he'd heard you correctly.
His pulse was suddenly loud enough that he could hear it in his ears.
Slowly, he took half a step closer, not enough to crowd you, but enough to try and make out your expression.
“...you would want that?” he asked quietly.
“I wouldn't have asked if I didn't.”
He swallowed, a small little “Okay…” barely making it past his lips.
Awkwardly the two of you moved just the tiniest bit closer, you leaned forward first, your lips brushing his, softly. Will froze completely at first, his mind seemingly blank for a long moment.
Then, very cautiously, he kissed you back.
He wasn't particularly skilled.
If anything, he was almost painfully careful.
As though he was terrified of doing something wrong.
You smiled into the kiss.
His hand, still loosely holding yours, squeezed gently.
The kiss lingered for another second.
Then another.
Without thinking, he lifted his free hand.
“...Can I?” he whispered against your lips, his voice almost inaudible.
You looked at him for a second before realizing what he meant.
“You can,” you whispered back with a smile.
Only then did his fingertips settle lightly against your waist.
When you shifted your weight, the cramped space forced you both backward.
Will's shoulders bumped lightly against the wall with a muted thump.
You instinctively steadied yourself by resting your hands against the front of his sweater.
Eventually, you pulled back just enough to catch your breath.
You smiled shyly, “I don't think anyone's ever going to believe we spent seven minutes in here just talking.”
“...Probably not.” Will muttered, “I should probably admit something…”
He rubbed the back of his neck “...That was my first real kiss.”
The confession hung in the air.
Your expression softened immediately, “It was?” you asked.
He nodded once, looking almost painfully bashful, “...Was it that obvious?”
“...No.”
You gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
Will searched your face for a moment, almost as if he were trying to convince himself that the kiss had actually happened.
"...Can I kiss you again?" he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I was hoping you would," you admitted.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leaned in once more, the kiss coming easier than the first.
His free hand found your arm before sliding, almost absentmindedly, to rest lightly against your waist again.
His heart felt like it might beat straight out of his chest.
You reached up, gently brushing a curl away from his forehead before letting your fingers linger in his hair.
Will's breath caught almost imperceptibly, he'd never really been touched like this before.
Without thinking, he leaned ever so slightly into your hand.
“...This is… very new..” he breathed against your lips, clearly nervous.
You nodded in agreement.
A loud knock rattled the closet door.
“Time's up!” someone called from outside, laughter carrying through the wood.
Before either of you could react, the door swung open.
Bright light spilled into the tiny closet.
Both of you instinctively stepped apart.
Will immediately ran a hand through his already messy hair, trying to look as though nothing had happened.
His cheeks were unmistakably flushed.
Yours probably were too.
A chorus of teasing cheers erupted from the group gathered outside.
“There they are!”
“Took you long enough!”
Neither of you had any idea what expression you were supposed to make.
You stepped out of the closet first.
The music hit you all over again.
The lights suddenly felt much brighter than before.
So many people were looking at you.
Your stomach flipped.
For a second, you simply stood there, unsure what to do next.
“...You okay?” Will asked gently, concern written plainly across his face.
You startled slightly, then you looked at him and nodded.
“Yeah,” you said, though your voice sounded quieter than usual, “I just…”
“I think I need a minute.”
He nodded in understanding.
You glanced toward the front door, “...I'm going to go outside.”
He frowned slightly, “For some air?”
“...And maybe a cigarette.”
The words surprised even you a little. You hardly ever smoked. Only when you were especially stressed.
Will's eyes lingered on you for a moment.
He knew that.
In the two years he'd known you, he'd only ever seen you smoke a handful of times.
Usually after a terrible exam.
His brows drew together.
“...Okay,” he said gently, giving a small nod. “Just... be careful.”
You looked at him for a second.
There was something almost disappointed in the way he'd said it,as though he thought you wanted to be alone.
“I thought…” you said carefully, “...you'd come with me.”
Will blinked, then nodded, almost shy.
“...Yeah,” he answered a little too quickly.
Then, realising how eager he'd sounded, he rubbed the back of his neck, “I mean… I’d like that.”
The two of you quietly slipped away from the students.
“Don't disappear!” Jenny called after you.
“I'll be back later!” you promised, waving over your shoulder before pushing open the front door.
The music disappeared the moment it closed behind you. You descended the stairs in silence until you pushed out of the main entrance, and the cool evening air greeted you instead.
The sudden quiet felt almost startling after the chaos inside.
Then, you wandered toward a weathered wooden bench outside.
You sat first and Will settled beside you, leaving just enough space between you to be polite.
You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out a slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes.
Will recognised it immediately. He was sure you'd had that same pack since autumn.
There were still only a few missing.
You tapped a cigarette free before lighting it.
The end glowed orange.
You took a slow inhale.
Almost immediately… you coughed.
“...Every time,” you muttered, laughing quietly at yourself.
Will smiled a bit, “You'd think it'd get easier…”
You leaned back against the bench, letting the smoke drift into the cool evening air.
“I'd rather never get used to them.” you mumbled.
For a little while, you simply sat together.
You looked down at the cigarette between your fingers.
“I…” you began quietly. “I don't know why I kissed you.”
The confession came out in a rush.
“I mean– I know why I kissed you.”
You looked away toward the campus lawn.
“I just…” you smiled awkwardly, “I hadn't planned to.”
Will was quiet for a long moment.
He watched the smoke curl into the night before speaking.
“...Neither had I…” Will said quietly.
After a moment, Will glanced toward you again, “...For what it's worth… I'm really glad it was you.”
You felt your cheeks warm, “...Yeah?”
He nodded, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“I don't think…” He looked down for a second before meeting your eyes again. “...I would've wanted it to be with anyone else.”
Your smile softened until it almost hurt.
You reached over without thinking, your fingers finding his hand where it rested on the bench between you.
This time, when your fingers intertwined, Will looked down at your joined hands before smiling quietly to himself.
“...Me neither,” you admitted.
After another drag from your cigarette, you glanced sideways at him.
“I'm guessing you don't really want to go back to the party after this?” you asked, a small smile tugging at your lips.
Will looked back toward the dorm building, where the muffled bass still vibrated through the walls. He didn't even have to think about the answer.
“...Not really,” he admitted, shaking his head.
He leaned back against the bench, looking up at the darkening sky for a moment before continuing.
“...Can I ask you something?” you asked suddenly.
Will turned to you immediately.
“Yeah,” he answered without hesitation.
You hesitated, rolling the cigarette slowly between your fingers.
“You haven't…” you paused, searching for the right words, “...Done it yet.”
You looked over at him carefully, “Right?”
The question caught him completely off guard, colour creeping into his cheeks almost instantly.
He looked down at his hands, rubbing his thumb absently across his knuckles before giving a small, embarrassed nod.
“...No,” he admitted quietly, “I just...never met the right person."
The confession left him feeling strangely exposed.
He glanced toward you, half-expecting you to laugh, instead you looked just as flustered as him.
“...Me neither.” you admitted.
He blinked, almost confused, he knew you were… a bit more on the socially awkward side, but he surely thought you…
“You haven't?”
You shook your head, “No. I guess we're both a little behind everyone else…”
“...Maybe.”
There wasn't an ounce of judgment in either of your voices.
You took another slow drag from the cigarette before letting the smoke drift lazily upward.
Will found himself watching the pale wisps disappear into the night, though his attention kept wandering back to you instead.
The soft glow of the streetlamp caught the side of your face.
He wondered if you were thinking about the kiss.
He knew he was.
It kept replaying in his head whether he wanted it to or not.
The way you'd smiled at him afterward.
The warmth of your hand in his.
The fact that you'd kissed him at all.
“...We should probably head back,” he said eventually, though there wasn't much conviction behind the suggestion.
You nodded, taking one last drag before stubbing the cigarette out beneath your shoe.
“...Probably.”
You both stood.
Your shoulders nearly brushed every few steps, neither of you making any effort to increase the distance.
The music grew louder as you approached the entrance.
Will reached the door first and instinctively held it open for you.
You hesitated in front of the door, “...We don't actually have to stay.” you said with a shrug.
“...My room?” Will suggested immediately.
Then, worried he'd sounded too eager, he quickly added, “I mean– if that's alright with you.”
“I was hoping you'd say that.”
Something warm settled in his chest, he smiled back without even realizing it.
The walk across campus felt much shorter this time.
“It was way too loud in there anyway,” you said with a relieved sigh, slipping your hands into the pockets of your jacket as you walked beside him.
Will glanced over at you and nodded in agreement.
“It really was.”
After a brief pause, you smiled to yourself.
“I actually downloaded this new research paper earlier today.”
You looked over at him, your eyes brightening with familiar enthusiasm.
“It's about post-mortem decomposition in freezing temperatures!” you told him excitedly, “I haven't finished reading it yet, but it looked really interesting.”
Will couldn't help smiling.
Somehow, after everything that had happened tonight, the idea of sitting together and reading forensic research felt oddly comforting.
It was familiar.
A few minutes later, Will unlocked the door to his dorm.
The room greeted you with the same familiar quiet it always had, and looked just exactly how it did that morning when you visited him.
He quietly slipped off his shoes before sitting down on the edge of his bed.
Closing the door behind you, you slipped your own shoes off before settling beside him on the mattress.
The space between your shoulders was noticeably smaller than it would've been that morning.
You unlocked your phone and opened the article.
“Look…” you said, immediately slipping back into the animated tone Will knew so well.
“The researchers compared decomposition rates in sustained sub-zero environments with bodies recovered during seasonal thawing.”
You scrolled through the introduction as you spoke.
“They're arguing that freezing doesn't stop decomposition nearly as much as people assume… it mostly delays certain stages.”
Will leaned closer, his attention immediately captured.
“What sample size?”
“Forty-three documented cases.”
He nodded thoughtfully, “That's actually better than I expected.”
“I thought so too.”
The conversation settled into a familiar rhythm almost effortlessly.
You explained the methodology while he occasionally interrupted with questions and remarks.
Neither of you even noticed how close together you'd become while looking at the phone.
“Look at this,” you said excitedly, enlarging one of the figures on the screen.
“They graphed the decomposition rates over time.”
You angled the phone so he could see it better.
“The curve changes completely after prolonged freezing.”
Will leaned in until your heads were nearly level.
His eyes followed the graph carefully, “Hm.”
He reached over to scroll farther down the paper, reading through it with genuine interest.
“They even controlled for clothing insulation,” he murmured.
“And burial depth…” you added.
He nodded approvingly.
After a while, you looked up from the article.
Will was still reading the screen with complete concentration, his brow faintly furrowed as he worked through one of the statistical tables.
A fond smile tugged at your lips.
Almost at the same time, he slowly looked up and turned toward you.
Neither of you had realised quite how close you'd drifted together while reading.
There were only a few inches between you now.
Close enough that you could see the tiny flecks of green mixed into his blue eyes.
Close enough that he noticed the small smile still lingering on your lips.
Will searched your expression carefully.
“You've gone quiet,” he murmured.
You giggled, “So have you.”
He let out a small breath through his nose, “...I'm thinking.”
“About?”
He hesitated for a second, “...Whether I can kiss you again.”
The question was so earnest that your heart almost melted.
“You don't have to ask every time.”
“I know.”
He smiled shyly.
“...I still want to.”
You reached over, gently leaning forward, your lips meeting in a slow kiss.
His fingertips rested lightly against your cheek.
You leaned into his touch.
The kiss lingered for several quiet seconds before you finally pulled back just enough to breathe.
“Will…”
You looked at him for another moment before gently brushing a curl away from his forehead.
“I like kissing you.”
The confession made his cheeks immediately flush.
Before he could overthink it, he leaned in once more.
This kiss was different from the others.
It was slower, more intimate. A sigh escaped him, a low murmur against your mouth that felt like an invitation.
You deepened the kiss, your tongue tracing the seam of his lips.
He parted them willingly, a soft groan escaping him. You tasted a hint of something sweet from the party punch, but mostly, you tasted him.
He fumbled a little, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer.
You lifted yourself, willingly so, planting yourself in his lap, one leg on either side of his hip.
Will moaned again, an almost pathetic sound leaving him as just the press of your hips against him caused him to let it out.
You felt a flutter of something hot bloom in your chest.
You pulled back just enough to look at him, his eyes closed, his breathing ragged.
He looked so… flushed. And.. desperate.The realisation of what was happening, of how quickly things had escalated, hit you with a flush of heat that had nothing to do with the passion of the kiss.
“I… I’m sorry,” Will stammered, his voice rough, his gaze falling away from yours, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson.
He looked more than flustered, almost panicked.
“I shouldn’t have… if you don’t want to, I understand. I just…” he trailed off, his hands leaving your sides, “I can stop. I didn’t mean to– I just…”
The vulnerability in his eyes, the slight tremor in his voice … it was a potent mix.
Without another thought, you leaned forward again, your lips finding his before he could spiral further into his own self-doubt.
The kiss was you telling him, without words, that this was exactly what you wanted.
And then, with an impulse you couldn’t explain, you shifted.
Before Will could fully process what happened, you were pressing him against the mattress, straddling his hips.
The movement was a little clumsy, a little awkward, but the effect was immediate.
Will let out a choked sound, his eyes flying open, wide with surprise.
His hands, which had been hovering uncertainly, now seemed to have nowhere to go.
“You can,” you breathed against his lips, your voice a little breathless, “put your hands on my hips.”
He hesitated for a moment, his breath catching.
Then, slowly, his hands began to move. They lifted, trembling slightly, and then settled onto your hips.
The initial touch was so light, you almost didn’t feel it. But then, as if gathering courage, he squeezed.
The pressure sent a wave of heat through you, a delicious contrast to his earlier nervousness.
You leaned into his touch, your own hands now tangling in his hair.
The kiss deepened, your lips moving against his.
His breath hitched with each movement of your hips, and you felt his hands tighten on your hips, a silent plea for you to continue.
Then, your fingers found the first button of his shirt.
That small movement seemed to electrify the air between you.
You fumbled slightly, your nerves finally catching up to the adrenaline coursing through you.
Will’s breath hitched again, a soft, questioning sound against your mouth.
His eyes flickered open, his gaze almost confused, fixed on your hands at his chest. “What… what are you doing?” he whispered, his voice a little rough.
You paused, your fingers still on the button.
“You don’t have to,” you said softly, your voice laced with a warmth you hadn’t expected. “But we can… do it together. If you want to.”
He looked at your hands, then back at your face, as if searching for an answer.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
He leaned in again, closing the distance between your mouths,
When you finally pulled back, gasping for air, his hands were still firm on your hips, his eyes searching yours.
“Can I… touch you?” he asked, his voice a low vulnerable rumble.
You met his gaze, your heart hammering against your ribs.
“Yes,” you breathed.
And with that, you began to pull your own shirt over your head, the fabric sliding away to reveal the soft skin beneath.
The cool air of the room was a stark contrast to the heat that radiated from your skin.
Will’s eyes widened as he drank in the sight of you topless, straddling him now.
He felt his entire face redden with colour and he drew a shaky breath, his voice barely a whisper as he asked, “I… I want to taste you. Properly.”
They almost slipped from his mouth, like he forgot he was so nervous just a moment ago.
It sent a jolt of heat right through you, leaving you momentarily breathless, blush creeping up your neck.
“I mean… I’ve… I’ve never…” he began, his voice trailing off, the uncertainty returning, “Done… that.”
You reached out, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, “You can try it,” you said softly.
With that, you shifted, carefully sliding off his hips and laying back on the bed, the sheets cool against your skin.
Will watched you, his eyes wide and a little anxious.
He moved, his fingers fumbling a little as he undid the button of your jeans, then the zipper. He slid them down your legs, followed by your panties, his touch feather-light.
He hovered between your legs for a moment, an awkward stillness in his posture.
You could feel his gaze on you, so exposed now, in front of him.
You pressed your knees together, unsure if you should open them for him, but the wetness suddenly dripping between your legs told you to spread open.
Very slowly you let your knees fall to the side, Will seemed to inspect you for a moment before he dragged a finger through your folds, his touch sent shivers up your spine.
He was clearly unsure of what to do.
Then, he scooted back slightly, leaning down, his breath now warm against your inner thighs.
You could feel the heat of his face, and a fresh wave of embarrassment washed over you.
He lowered his head, his lips brushing against your wet folds, hesitant at first.
You could feel his uncertainty, but his hot breath against your wet core made your hips twitch instinctively against his face.
He slowly leaned in and licked over your clit, a soft sigh escaping your lips.
The sensation was soft, surprising, and undeniably good.
You couldn’t help the small sound of content that escaped you.
“How does that feel?” he murmured against your skin, his voice muffled.
“Really good,” you breathed.
He did it again, his tongue circling your bundle of nerves, a slow, teasing movement.
You felt a flush of heat bloom deep within you.
You could feel him lean in more, his tongue now dragging a fat stripe over your wet hole, exploring and tasting.
“You taste… warm,” he mumbled after a moment, “And sweet.”
His words were lost in another slow, deliberate lick, and you arched against his face, a soft moan escaping your lips.
You could feel the slickness of his mouth, pleasure washing over you as his tongue circled your clit.
Your hands rested against his head, digging into the soft strands of his curls and giving a gentle tug.
Will groaned, a low, guttural sound that vibrated against your skin, and you felt him press closer, encouraged by your reaction.
Then, you felt his thumb brushing against your clit.
His lips glistened with your wetness as he pulled back slightly.
“Can I… put a finger inside?” he asked, his voice rough and low.
You nodded, your breath catching in your throat.
“Carefully,” you whispered.
He slowly circled your fluttering hole with one finger before slowly easing it into you.
You tensed for a moment, a small gasp escaping your lips.
The feeling was intensely new, even if the sensation wasn't entirely unfamiliar. You'd never had someone else inside you before.
“Is that… okay?” he asked, his thumb still stroking your clit.
“Yes,” you breathed.
He licked over your swollen clit again, a long, deep stroke that made you arch into him.
He gently began to move the finger inside you, while his tongue continued its blissful work.
The combination was almost too much. You felt yourself spiraling, the pleasure building like a white hot fever in your stomach.
You twisted in the sheets, Will slowly curled the finger inside you, his tongue lapping at your bundle of nerves, making you suck in ragged breaths as the pleasure became incredibly intense.
You gasped for breath, your hips bucking against his face, your hands gripping his hair tighter as you moaned his name.
“Will… oh– fuck– Will…”
Your orgasm crashed over you as Will finger fucked you, the sound of his tongue lapping up your wetness almost an obscene sticky sound.
He didn’t stop, pleasuring you through your orgasm, leaving you breathless and trembling, your body humming with residual sensation.
But, it seemed like Will was still focused on you, continuing, but you flinched back slightly.
“Will,” you gasped, your voice shaky, “I– I already came.”
He paused, his tongue still lingering, then pulled back, removing his finger from your clenching hole, his lips glistening.
A flicker of surprise crossed his face as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
He sat up and looked at you, you felt blush bloom across your cheeks as you tried to catch your breath, still melting from the intensity of your climax.
You could quite clearly see the tent straining against the fabric of his pants.
Despite that, he seemed almost oblivious, his attention solely fixed on you.
He looked utterly fascinated by you and your reaction.
After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Can I... do it again?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.
You let out a breathy laugh.
“Give me a second,” you managed, still trying to regain your composure. You patted the space on the bed next to your head, “Come here.”
He shifted, moving to lie beside you, his hip brushing against yours.
You nuzzled into his chest, burying your face in the soft fabric of his flannel shirt.
You pressed little kisses to his neck, inhaling his scent. Your fingers found the buttons of his shirt, and you began to unbutton them, one by one.
As you did, you looked up at him, “Don't you want to feel good too?” you whispered.
Will nodded a bit too eagerly, his gaze flickering down to his lap before he scrambled to pull off his jeans, leaving him in a pair of slightly worn, grey boxers with fish on them.
You couldn't help but smile, “Those are cute…”
He flushed deeper, a mortified look on his face.
“They're old,” he mumbled, trying to defend them, tugging at the waistband.
“If you don't like them,” you offered shyly, “you can take them off.”
He hesitated for a moment, then, with a quick movement, he slipped them off.
Softly you leaned in to kiss him again, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue.
Your hand moved over his side, carefully and hesitantly reaching between your hot bodies, you cupped his flushed cock, gently pumping it a few times when his hips moved closer to yours.
He felt impossibly electric, almost like it was… too much.
But, he didn’t feel like he could ask you to stop right there… how pathetic would it be for him to ask you for a break already. You had barely even touched him.
Softly he pushed your hand away, breaking the kiss as he gasped for air, “Will–” you interrupted, afraid you made him uncomfortable.
But Will just sat up, kneeling between your legs as he pushed them apart.
“Can I put it inside…?” he panted against the skin of your neck. You nodded carefully, “Yes…”
Your pussy was hot and inviting, slick from your orgasm. He was almost shaky, lining himself up with you, feeling your opening flutter around his already leaky tip.
“Will… you can go slow…” you tried to reassure him, your hand brushing over his jaw. He nodded wordlessly, eyes clenching shut as if he braced himself for something horrible.
He pushed forward, easing his tip in betweenUn your folds, causing you to both tense and moan at the stretch of his cock.
At first he seemed to go incredibly slow, trying to ease himself in inch by inch until about halfway through you let out a gasp.
You fluttered and clenched around him, your nails scratching into the skin of his shoulderblades.
Then, it was a blur, almost involuntarily, he buried himself to the hilt, a desperate, instinctive push inside of you.
He swore, in that moment, he'd never felt anything like your hot core around him.
You were so warm, so wet, so incredibly tight.
Fuck.
His head fell forward, landing in the crook of your neck, he was panting, gasping and whimpering already.
At the sudden fullness inside of you, you let out a loud moan, “Fuck– Will–”
And it wasn’t helping him…. at all.
Your nails dug deeper into his shoulder, the other one raking through his brown curls.
You clenched and unclenched around him, slowly getting used to the hot stretch that began to feel like pleasure and less like pain.
He had to pull himself away from you to stop the tentative pull of your hands through his hair, he didn’t even knowing having his strands pulled on had that effect on him but it made his head spin and his cock twitch dangerously.
He felt so unbelievably weak, a pathetic whimper escaping his lips.
“Will?” you breathed raspily, looking up at him through half lidded eyes and flushed cheeks.
You didn’t want him to feel bad, or like he was hurting you, maybe he thought you needed a moment to adjust.
“It feels good…” you encouraged him, your voice breathless.
“Feels really good…” you praised and the words had his cock twitch incredibly hard inside you.
“Ah– I–” he whimpered, feeling your hands grasp for him again, he braced one hand beside your head, trying to hold as still as he could, and not look at your pleasure filled expression.
“I just– I…” he sounded pathetic stumbling over his words again and again. “Just… need a minute…” he forced out.
He breathed hot and heavy, almost ragged and vulnerable. He really wanted to please you, and just moments before that had been easier than he anticipated, but now… it felt almost impossible.
He felt like if he just moved one bit he would feel… too good and come.
“Will…” you cooed gently, one leg wrapping around his hip, he had to bite his lip hard to not give in.
He whined at the sound of your voice, almost feeling stupid for how pathetic he was acting.
“Just– a bit–” he repeated, trying to block out the sense of warmth and tightness that enveloped him.
He stayed incredibly still, almost feeling bad for denying you, but if he moved now he would embarrass himself.
Will sucked in another ragged breath, his fist clenching the pillow behind your head, blinking away wet hot overwhelming tears that formed in his eyes.
“Ah… Will– it’s okay… come on–” you moaned, the leg around his hip pulling him closer.
Immediately his hips stuttered into you, he staggered, stilling again, feeling the heat of you clench around him.
“Wait–” he rasped, glancing down at where he sat buried inside of you.
The sight alone of his happy trail brushing against your lower stomach and the part where he connected with you, was enough to make him whimper again.
He clenched his eyes shut trying to focus on anything but how easy your wetness made it to slide into you. How you clenched around him, wanted him deeper.
“Maybe... maybe we could switch positions?” you suggested softly, your voice a little breathless, “If that would help?”
Will's eyes fluttered open, a flicker of desperate hope in them.
He nodded shakily, and with a groan he pulled out of you, his already flushed tip red and glistening with precum.
He used the moment of separation to press his mouth to yours, a desperate, almost frantic kiss.
He needed to calm down, still the raging pleasure inside him for a moment.
You kissed him back, lips and tongue moving together, and slowly the urgency in him began to calm to a more manageable level of desire.
He laid back down, the sheets cool against his skin, and you hovered over him.
Slowly you lined him up with you, and with a careful movement, you lowered yourself down on him.
His twitchy cock slid in much easier this time, but the initial stretch still made you tense for a moment.
Will felt a sliver of confidence return.
He was still… feeling good, but he felt more in control, less on the edge of an immediate, embarrassing release.
“Can I move?” you asked, your voice a low hum against his ear.
He nodded, a shaky exhale escaping him.
Slowly you moved on him, lifting your hips up and down in slow circles, the movements making your thighs burn delicately.
While at first he felt slightly more confident, that faded incredibly fast, not only was he objected to seeing your hot and flushed form move on him, that expression of pleasure etched onto your face, but also the feeling from before returned rather quickly.
After your first few movements, his hips snapped up into you, an involuntary reaction.
He gasped, a whiny sound, and stammered, “Wait, wait a second–”
But it was too late.
The building pressure, the exquisite friction, the sheer bliss of your puffy pussy clenching around him… it was too much.
You felt him buck his hips into yours again, and a sudden warmth filled you up.
“Ah– ah– fuck–” Will choked, his eyes squeezing shut as his hands clenched your thighs harder now.
His hips buckled and fucked up into you as he moaned and whined.
You halted, almost confused, and the warm leaking sensation made you flutter around him, still you were… surprised.
Will was… incredibly shaky and embarrassed, “I– I’m sorry–” he stuttered, looking entirely horrified.
“I'm so, so sorry–” he choked out, his face red.
“I didn't mean to... I just... you felt so good,” he gasped, a pathetic whimper escaping him as he tried to catch his breath, still feeling shaky from his sudden climax.
“You felt so good, I couldn't... I couldn't hold back anymore…” he tried to explain, utterly humiliated, the words tumbling out in a jumbled, pathetic mess.
He let out another broken whimper, still feeling the aftershocks of pleasure that only made his shame worse.
You frankly were… surprised how quick you even made him come, but your expression softened into understanding.
“It's okay, Will,” you murmured, your voice gentle as you leaned down, wrapping your arms around him.
He nuzzled into your chest, his body still trembling slightly.
You stroked his hair, letting him rest against you.
“Don't worry about it,” you continued softly. “Really. It happens.”
He let out a shaky sigh, his voice muffled against your skin.
“I'm sorry,” he whispered shamefully.
You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, a soft smile on your lips. “There's no need,” you said.
“But,” you added playfully, “we could go again anytime…”
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
hannibal nbc taglist . . .‧˚꒰🔦꒱༘‧ @ilovehorror-18 @kashimeowr @afw5 @andyinthemiddleofsixx @robertthehoover @sebbymybaby21 @luanniidae
a/n: what monster have I created here? girl idk... please take it with a grain of salt ive been writing this for ages now and I cant be asked to proof read it so... its #whatever
Tropes: Athlete x Athlete (Power Couple Energy)/ Secret Identity / Hidden Talent / "Teaching the Expert" / Domestic/First Date Fluff/ Ice Skating Date
Summary: Kimi Antonelli thinks he’s pulling the ultimate romantic move by renting out a private ice rink to teach you—a "beginner"—how to skate without the pressure of a crowd. It’s sweet, charming, and totally unnecessary because you’re secretly an Olympic qualifier desperately trying to act like a normal civilian. You play along with his "lessons" to protect his ego, but when a stumble turns into a near-disaster, your muscle memory takes over. Suddenly, the "clumsy beginner" is landing a perfect spin, and Kimi is left questioning reality (and his own coaching skills) on the ice.
Word Count: 2.4k
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 📼 masterlist. 🏎️ inbox. 🏁 taglist
The air inside the private rink was crisp, smelling faintly of ozone and Zamboni fumes. But tonight, it just made your stomach do a nervous flip.
Kimi Antonelli stood by the entrance, looking effortlessly stylish in a thick wool coat and a scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. He rubbed his gloved hands together, his breath puffing out in small white clouds. This was it. The first official date, and you were currently suffocating under the weight of a very stupid, very well-intentioned lie.
It hadn’t started maliciously. In fact, it started because you were desperate to be anyone other than who you were. To the rest of the world, you were an ice skating prodigy. You were currently the top qualifier for the upcoming Winter Olympics, carrying the weight of a nation’s gold-medal hopes on your back.
Then you met Kimi. He didn't know about the medals or the grueling schedule. To him, you were just a girl he met at a party who had a nice laugh and pretty eyes. You wanted to keep it that way. You wanted to know if he liked you, not the athlete on the Wheaties box.
The "lie" had happened a week ago, during a casual text conversation. You were lying on your couch with an ice pack on your knee, exhausted after a six-hour training block, when his name popped up on your screen. You were talking about holiday plans.
Kimi: I drove past that outdoor rink downtown today. It looks really cool with all the trees lit up.
You: Yeah, it’s really pretty this time of year.
Kimi: Have you been? We should go.
You had hesitated, your thumbs hovering over the screen. The last thing you wanted to do was tell him that the rink was your office, your torture chamber, and your sanctuary all wrapped in one. You didn't want to explain that you couldn't go to a public rink because you’d be recognized, or that skating on chopped-up public ice was a recipe for a twisted ankle.
So, you tried your best to shoot it down fast.
You: Honestly? I haven't gone skating just for fun in years. I’m probably totally out of the loop.
It was technically true. You hadn't skated for fun since you were six.
But judging by your current circumstance, he probably had interpreted that text very differently. He probably read “I haven't done this in years” as “I don't know how to skate, and I'm nervous.”
Kimi: That’s a crime. Everyone needs to skate at Christmas. Are you free on Friday?
Kimi: Don't worry about being rusty. I played a little hockey growing up. I’ll teach you.
You had stared at the phone, a laugh bubbling in your chest. Kimi Antonelli, offering to teach you, an ice princess, how to skate. It was the cutest, most ridiculous thing you’d ever heard. You didn't have the heart to correct him then because it felt rude to shut down his enthusiasm. You figured you’d tell him later.
But "later" never happened. And now, standing at the edge of the rink he had rented out specifically so you wouldn't be embarrassed by your “lack of skill”, you realized it didn't feel harmless anymore…in fact, it felt like a ticking time bomb.
"So," Kimi said, a boyish grin spreading across his face as he gestured to the expanse of white. "Surprise."
You blinked, looking around. The rink was silent—no screaming kids, no hockey practice, no other couples. It was just the two of you.
"Where is everyone?" you asked, clutching your tote bag tighter.
"I rented it out," Kimi said, looking proud of himself. "Two hours. Just us."
Your heart sank. It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for you, and it was also a tactical disaster.
"I figured we could use the space," he continued, leaning in conspiratorially. "Plus, I didn't want you to feel self-conscious if you fell. And... well, honestly, I know how the press gets. I didn't want you waking up to news articles micro-analyzing everything just because you were seen with me. I wanted to save you the burden."
He paused, the realization of his own words hitting him. He grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Wow. Okay. I realize I sound like a total ego-maniac right now. 'Oh no, the world is obsessed with me.' Please pretend I didn't say that. I just... I want this to be perfect."
A knot of guilt tightened in your stomach. He wasn't doing this to show off; he was genuinely trying to protect you. If you dropped the bomb now, you wouldn’t just be clearing up a misunderstanding. You’d be taking this incredibly thoughtful, romantic gesture and turning it into a punchline at his expense. You couldn't humiliate him like that, not when he looked so earnest.
"That's... that's amazing, Kimi," you managed, forcing a smile.
"Do you need rentals?" he asked, pointing to the counter.
You hesitated. Your custom Edea boots with the gold-plated blades were actually in the trunk of your car, hidden under a blanket. But walking in with professional gear would be an immediate confession. You had to commit.
"Yeah," you lied, forcing a cheerful smile. "I definitely don't own any."
You were officially a liar.
—————————————
Ten minutes later, you were sitting on the bench, watching Kimi lace up his rental skates. He moved with the easy physical confidence of a Formula 1 driver.
He stood up, wobbling only slightly on the hard rubber mats before stepping onto the ice. He wasn't a figure skater, but he had that natural athlete's center of gravity. He skated backward a few feet, rough and scratching the ice, then held his hands out to you.
"Come on," he beckoned, his eyes warm. "Grab my hands. The ice is slippery, but don't worry. I've got you."
You stepped onto the ice. Your body instantly tried to engage—knees bent, weight over the ball of your foot, shoulders aligned. You had to fight your muscle memory actively, stiffening your legs and letting your ankles wobble artificially.
You grabbed his forearms, clinging to him like a lifeline. "Okay," you squeaked. "Okay, I'm up."
Kimi beamed, taking his role as protector very seriously. He began to pull you forward slowly. "See? Not so bad. Just keep your knees bent more. You're too stiff."
"Like this?" You bent your knees, and you didn't want to ruin his moment.
"Yeah, exactly. And look where you want to go, not at your feet," he coached. His voice was soft, a stark contrast to your coach, who usually barked this specific instruction across a freezing arena at 6:00 AM. "If you look down, you fall."
"That makes sense," you murmured.
You stopped worrying about the lie for a moment and just looked at him. He was just... caring. For the first time in years, you weren't the expert everyone was critiquing. You were just a girl holding a boy's hand, and he was genuinely worried about you skinning your knees. It was surprisingly nice to let someone else take care of you.
As his confidence grew, he loosened up. He dropped your hand for a second, picking up speed. He did a quick lap around you, the wind ruffling his hair, before executing a loud, spraying hockey stop right in front of you.
He looked up, breathless and grinning, waiting for your reaction. He looked so proud of himself that your heart actually squeezed in your chest. He put his hand back with yours.
"See?" he beamed, eyes crinkling at the corners. "It's all about the edges."
—————————————
Kimi was skating backward, his eyes locked on yours, his smile confident and distracted. He never saw the deep, jagged rut left by a previous skater’s toe-pick.
His left blade hit the gouge and locked instantly. His legs flew out from under him, sending Kimi crashing down, his heavy wool coat hitting the ice with a dull, sickening thud.
But because he was holding your hands, he didn't just fall but also took you with him.
He jerked you forward with violent force. You were pulled off your center of gravity, your dull rental skates clattering against his as you stumbled over his prone form.
"Whoa!" Kimi shouted.
Instinctively, he let go of your hands to break his fall. It was the chivalrous thing to do, but physically, it was the worst possible variable.
You were launched.
The stumble propelled you like a stone from a sling, hurling you toward the rink boards. A true beginner would have flailed, panicked, and braced for impact, likely shattering a wrist or a nose against the unforgiving hard plastic.
But you didn't think. Your instinct took over.
You were falling forward, inches from the disaster. Instead of crashing, your core engaged with a violent, steel-trap snap. You slammed your right blade into the ice, forcing an edge out of the dull rental steel that shouldn't have been physically possible.
You turned a fatal stumble into a low, crouching lunge.
You were hurtling toward the wall at speed, but you punched your left toe-pick into the ice in time, whipping your body around in a blur of kinetic energy.
SCREEEEECH.
You spun out of the momentum—three rapid rotations on one foot, a blur of perfect axis and balance—before checking out of the spin with a sharp, professional snap of your arms.
You came to a dead, silent halt.
You were alive and safe, but you had just outed yourself completely.
You slowly slid into a graceful rest position and turned around.
Absolute, heavy silence, broken only by the low hum of the rink’s generator and the ragged sound of your own breathing.
Kimi was still sitting on the ice. He was propped up on his elbows, legs sprawled. His beanie had slid over his eyes, but he pushed it back with a trembling hand. He wasn't looking at his bruised knees. He was staring at you as if he’d just watched an abomination.
You stood there, the adrenaline crash hitting you, replaced instantly by a wave of hot mortification.
"Are..." Kimi’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," you breathed out, smoothing your coat.
Kimi pointed a gloved finger at you, then at the wall, then back at you.
"You just..." He mimicked a spinning motion with his hand, looking bewildered. "You just Matrixed that wall."
"I..." You scrambled for an excuse. Beginner's luck? Extreme Yoga?
But there is no explaining away a bracket turning into a scratch spin on rental skates.
Kimi scrambled to his feet, ignoring the snow clinging to his coat. He skated over to you. He stopped a few feet away, staring at your battered rental skates as if they were alien technology.
"That wasn't an accident," he said, his voice breathless. He pointed a trembling finger at your feet. "You just did a perfect axle.”
He looked up, searching your face like he was seeing it for the first time. The dim rink lighting cast shadows across his features as the gears in his head finally clicked into place. He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head.
"Kimi—" you started, trying to interrupt the train wreck.
"Who are you?" he asked, genuine panic bleeding into his tone. "Normal people don't do that. Are you a pro or something??”
"It started as a joke!" you said quickly, hands flying up in defense. "And then you were being so sweet, and holding my hand, and I didn't want to make you feel bad!"
"I literally explained to you how to balance on ice five minutes ago," Kimi said, his voice rising an octave. He ran a hand through his messy hair, looking genuinely distressed. "I was 'teaching' you. I was holding your hand so you wouldn't fall. And you... You're a pro. How deep does this go?”
"I qualified for the Olympic team last week," you admitted, wincing as the words hit the air.
Kimi made a strangled, dying noise. He turned around, skated a small, clumsy circle, and buried his face in his hands.
"I am never going to recover from this," came his muffled voice. "I felt so cool. I told you to bend your knees! I told an Olympian to bend her knees!"
"If it makes you feel better," you said, skating closer, smoothly now, and gently prying his hands away from his face. "My coach yells at me about my knees, too."
He peeked through his fingers. His face was flushed bright red, a combination of the biting cold and catastrophic embarrassment. "I looked stupid."
"You didn't look stupid," you said softly. "You looked gallant…until you tripped."
He groaned, finally dropping his hands to his sides. "I nearly killed you, and then you turned into a ninja."
"I have good reflexes," you offered with a sheepish smile.
"No," he shook his head, looking at you with a new, intense kind of awe. "You're just amazing."
———————————————
The power dynamic had shifted entirely, but the tension had evaporated. For the last twenty minutes of the session, the charade was dead.
"Okay, but seriously," Kimi said, watching you skate backward with effortless speed, his eyes filled with envy. "How did you find an edge on these? They're like butter knives."
"Fear is a great motivator," you laughed, spinning around to face him. "Here, give me your hands."
You took his hands. "Shift your weight to your heels and stop fighting the ice."
You spent the rest of the time actually teaching him. He was a quick learner; his driver’s brain understood weight transfer and instinct once you explained the mechanics.
As the overhead lights flickered, signaling the end of the session, you stepped off the ice. "You know," he said as you walked out into the biting cold of the parking lot, snow beginning to drift down around you.
"What?" you asked, wrapping your coat tighter against the wind.
He stopped at the car, opening the passenger door for you. He looked at you, his eyes dancing with a competitive spark that you recognized all too well. It was the look of an athlete who had just lost a round and was already planning the rematch.
"Next date," he declared, "we are going go-karting."
You laughed, pausing as you climbed in. "Why?"
"So I can regain my dignity," he said, dead serious.
"Deal," you grinned.
He leaned in then, the cold air between you vanishing. He kissed you. It was soft, sweet, and lingering under the falling snow. It felt better than any podium finish.
"But just so you know," you whispered against his lips, pulling back just an inch. "I'm a fast learner."
Kimi groaned, resting his forehead against yours, defeated but smiling. "Please, just let me win one."
