#Hello Nice to Meet You Let's Divorce

[cherubfae]

Hello! I love your writing, it's so cute! Here's an Idea bouncing around in my head: Reader is a shy and easily flustered individual who's developed a crush on Alastor. However they try to keep their distance as they know he's Aro/Ace and doesn't want to overstep boundaries. They go to Lucifer a (somewhat) expert on romance and feelings of longing to vent, also developing a crush on Lucifer- (Reader is a hopeless romantic lol)

Anyway, hope you have a nice day and remember to drink water!

𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔠𝔢 𝔣��𝔯 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 || {𝔞𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯, 𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔦𝔣𝔢𝔯}

tags: gn!sinner!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, love triangle, miscommunication, blood/injuries, mild nudity mention, divorced!Luci, I had to make it a bit comical, I made this too angsty for my own liking now I'm sad 😭, protective bois

This is a one shot. I won't be writing a part two. Thank you! :)

A dreamy sigh echoes from your lips, swirling down the empty hallway. You're sitting on your bed with your knees pulled to your chest with a clawed hand over your heart. Sometimes you miss the thrum of your heartbeat against your fingers. With all of the people occupying Hell, you didn't expect to feel quite this lonely.

You stare down at the pocket watch in your hands. Such a tiny device cost quite a fortune, but it was a true antique having been manufactured in the 1920s. Your intention was to give it to Alastor. Yet, you never did.

Despite everything in your being wanting you to give him the simple gift, a token of your love and your friendship, you just couldn't. You were already internally setting yourself up for a failure that may not even come. You weren't sure Alastor would ever be into someone, let alone you. So, allowing these thoughts to fester you withdrew yourself from him. Forcing smiles when around him and the others, faking laughter; all of which Alastor could see right through. Every time he tried to seek you out, to confront you, you were already engaged with someone else or another task for the hotel.

You were actively allowing your depression to swallow you whole all the whole not realizing that if you had only asked, Alastor's feelings are the same as yours. He just didn't know how to approach you and Rosie thought it best to let you come to him; yet you never did. Even Alastor was finding it a bit hard to keep that smile on his face. Why won't you just approach him? He...He can't do it. Please.

A dreary day in Hell with violent lightning and thunderclouds and acidic rain brought you into the company of Lucifer Morningstar himself. He could smell your sadness from miles away and like clockwork, he instantly pulls you under his wings.

"Now then, sweetling, what brings you to see the Big Boss Man Himself?" Lucifer grins, crossing his leg over his knee nursing an apple martini with an apple slice hanging off the sugar-dusted edge. He serves you whatever drink you may like, alcoholic or non-alcoholic.

"I'm in love with Alastor and I don't know what to do! I'm scared to get too close to him because I'm not even sure he's into me like that and I don't want to get hurt!" You sob, the words come pooling out of your mouth like a waterfall and so do the tears.

Lucifer visibly bristles at the mention of his rival, almost choking on his drink. With a snap of his fingers, his martini glass vanishes with a poof! His full attention now on you. Gently, he takes your hand in his gloved one.

Softly, he begins. "Getting hurt is unfortunately part of the risk of being in love. It lets you know what you feel is or was real. It's not the end of the world, not by a long shot. Everyone who we meet and who we love crosses our paths for a reason. To teach us something, either for a short chapter or they'll be lifelong companions. Even in the afterlife, there are still people worth risking the hurt for." Smiling wobbly, Lucifer embraces you close. "Take a few deep breaths. If this is truly how you feel, talk to him about it. We may be magic down here in Hell but not all of us are mind-readers, darlin'."

For the first time in a long while, you smile too. Embracing him again with a laugh.

Standing to leave, you turn to your friend. "May I see you again?"

Lucifer let out a tiny gasp, a slight pink hue coating his cheeks. "I'd like that a lot!" He jumps up. "I can show you how to paint rubber ducks!"

When you finally return from your outing, you're in a much more visibly happy mood. With eyebrows raised, Alastor watches from the shadows as you whistle a happy little tune and make your way up the stairs and veer to the left towards your bedroom. A familiar scent clings to your own, one that makes his lips curl back in a vicious snarl. Lucifer.

"Now darling, I think it's time that we have a talk--" Alastor materializes from the shadows, fully manifesting into your bedroom. You shriek in surprise.

Immediately, you snap. "Alastor, what the fuck! OUT."

Alastor, who has been turned away from you, spins to face you aghast that you'd speak to him in such a manner as you never have before, only to quickly cover his eyes. You were standing in the privacy of your bedroom, almost entirely naked except for those flimsy bottoms you called your underwear. Alastor swallows thickly at the sight of your bare skin, even when you wrap your blanket around your body. He feels lightheaded.

"My apologies, dearest. Ta-ta!" In a plume of smoke, Alastor fades out of the room. By the time he returns to his radio tower, he's gasping with his palm covering his face which was now nearly as red as his hair. He's ashamed he hadn't shown more decorum and instead witnessed you in such a state. Even when angry with him, you had never looked more alluring.

Lucifer swung by the hotel rather unexpectedly, surprising Charlie with a new plant for her bedroom and crushing Maggie into a huge hug! The place was really coming along, he had to admit. There was a more inviting atmosphere to the hotel now since it was rebuilt. It almost felt cozy.

"Dad, what brings you by?" Charlie smiles, carefully handing the plant over to Vaggie.

Lucifer smiles. "I'm here to pick up a friend for a little coffee date and I figured I'd say hi to my favorite daughter and my favorite soon-to-be daughter-in-law!" He coos, squishing Charlie's cheeks between his gloved hands.

On queue, you're walking down the stairs into the foyer. "Lucifer!" You beam, a large smile crossing your cheeks. His tummy flutters at the sight. The outfit you had on was darling, suiting you to a T.

A crackle of static explodes into the front lobby, the Radio Demon taking form between you and the Morningstars. Alastor's eyes immediately narrowing at the unwelcomed guest, at least in his mind.

Laughing nervously, Charlie wedges herself between her father and friend. The air rippled with electricity as the two stared the other down.

"Okay, you two, calm down. Let's not start anything, ok?" She glances at Vaggie for help who simply shrugs her shoulders; setting Charlie's new plant baby aside. Approaching slowly you stand by Lucifer's side. Placing a hand on the King's shoulder, Alastor nearly explodes with radio feedback. An eerie green glow consuming his form.

Static voice dripping with malice spits out, "You're going out with him." It wasn't a question.

Casting a look over your shoulder, you nod at Alastor. "We're going out for coffee."

The Radio Demon is practically seething with venomous rage--not at you, but at the puny little shortstack of a King who thinks he can meddle with those in his life. "You don't deserve their attention, Morningstar."

Lucifer balks. "You had your chance, pal! You snooze, you lose." Alastor's expression turns to one of confusion.

"What do you mean?" The radio filter is gone from his voice.

Snarling, Lucifer glowers at him. "They were in love with you! And now I'm here to pick up the pieces-- oh, fuck, you didn't tell him did you, sweetling?" His gaze is gentle as he regards you. You're begging for the ground to swallow you up.

Fighting back tears, you fidget on the spot. You're looking everywhere but at the two men who have held your heart captive. There was the love you held for Alastor, pure and genuine. How you got together like pieces of a puzzle. And then there was your love for Lucifer, intimate and loving. He was able to teach a part of you that you'd long forgotten. He helped you smile again.

Alastor shoves Lucifer out of the way, his clawed hands cupping your face. He wipes away those tiny tears with a gentleness no one in the hotel had seen. "Je t'aime tellement, mon cour."

Lucifer, now in his Full Demon form, shoves Alastor aside and grasps your arm. You let out a cry of pain, making the two males jump. With the appearance of his full form his claws had accidentally sunk too deep into your skin. Red leaked from the four deep gashes slashed across your skin, staining the sleeve of your lovely shirt. Your pretty eyes pooling with tears.

Like a true beast, Alastor explodes into his demonic form, arms outstretched to shield you behind him. Lucifer can only fixate on the blood dripping down your arm. Vaggie and Charlie are tugging you away while Husk prepares the First-Aid kit.

Lucifer is only able to stare at the tiny pool of blood you had left behind and the pain in his eyes. And then there was Alastor, ever the gentleman, always the one fighting for your honor, looking damn well ready to devour the entire fucking Earth for you.

And Lucifer felt he deserved whatever he had coming to him. His own words echo in his head: "Getting hurt is unfortunately part of the risk of being in love. It lets you know what you feel is or was real."

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[junghelioseok]

miss taken.

↳ you pride yourself on being a professional, but sometimes your students' parents really test your patience.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ fluff | smut | teacher!au | single parent!au | e2l ◇ 20.3k [1/1]

❛❛ our kids are bitter rivals and the only time we ever meet is when we’re both called to the principal’s office and whatever maybe i think you’re kind of cute but your kid’s a monster and ALSO someone keeps buying the last everything bagel at my favorite coffee shop 2 minutes before i get there in the morning and has heard about my plight and has started leaving me bragging notes about it ❜❜

notes: fic number two in the serendipity series is here at last!!! this took me like a million and a half years to finish because Real Life happened but here we finally are! also, i changed the type of bagel that the story is centered around, because i honestly didn’t come to like everything bagels until relatively recently and i will still only eat it if it’s part of a bagel sandwich because? just having cream cheese or whatever on an everything bagel feels kind of unhinged to me! but that’s neither here nor there and no one is here for my bagel opinions so! hope you enjoy the story!!! 💕

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dilf!jk, some kissing and hand stuff, ✨sexual tension✨ but nothing too terribly explicit tbh

Silence has never sounded louder. 

You drum your fingers against the armrest of your chair, nails clacking against the cheap plastic. On the wall, the second hand of the clock completes yet another revolution, and you glance over when your companion sighs, plucks off her reading glasses, and sets them down on the desk beside the placard that houses her title: Principal Pamela Baker, Hybe Academy. 

A woman nearing her fifties, Pam has sandy blonde hair cut into a neat bob and an enviable ability to pull off any lipstick color, no matter how bold. You’re lucky enough to call her both a friend and a mentor, and when she mutters a curse under her breath, you chuckle. “Late again,” she huffs, offering you a wry smile before leaning back in her seat and casting her gaze skyward. “Typical.”

“You know what these corporate types are like, Pam,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “They have zero regard for anyone else’s time. He was twenty minutes late to our parent-teacher conference last semester, so don’t take it personally.”

“Believe me, I know plenty of men like Jungkook Jeon,” Pam says with another sigh, this one heavier and longer than the last. “I even married one, you know. But that was before I came to my senses and divorced his ass. Best decision of my life, right after getting my tubes tied.”

“Three kids was enough for you?” you tease, and Pam snorts out a laugh. 

“More than enough,” she replies. “What about you, though? Thinking of having another kid anytime soon?”

“I don’t think so… well, not anytime soon, at least. Ask me again in—” 

The sound of a doorknob turning stops you in your tracks, and a moment later, the door to the office swings open with a dull click. 

“Principal Baker. Miss {L/N}.” Jungkook Jeon is standing at the threshold in a wool coat the color of charcoal, the buttons of which are undone to reveal the undoubtedly designer suit underneath. His dark hair is parted neatly across his forehead, still sprinkled with lingering snowflakes from his journey here, and you bite back the urge to remark on his tardiness. Instead, you stand when your boss stands up, mustering up every ounce of professionalism you possibly can.

“Mr. Jeon,” Pam says, giving his hand a firm shake before gesturing to the empty chair beside you. “It’s nice to see you again. Please, take a seat.”

You incline your head in Jungkook’s direction as he lowers himself into the plastic chair, the legs scraping against the tiled floor in protest as he adjusts his position. “Hello, Mr. Jeon. Thank you for finally joining us.”

If Jungkook notices the snarky inflection of your tone, he doesn’t let it show. He merely levels you with a cool gaze, blinking lazily before turning to your boss. “Excuse my tardiness,” he says, smoothing down the lapels of his black jacket and straightening his slate blue tie. “I got here as fast as I could. Where is my daughter?”

Pam gestures toward the door. “Daeun is down the hall in the library, under Mr. Kim’s supervision. I thought it best if we spoke without the children first.”

The dark-haired man hums. “What happened, Principal? You were rather vague on the phone.”

Pam nods, and you exchange looks before she turns her attention back to Jungkook. “Yes, well, as I explained on the phone, there was an incident. Daeun forcefully took her classmate’s book during the free reading period, and refused to return it when asked.”

At that, Jungkook casts you another glance. “I see. And I presume the classmate was Miss {L/N}’s daughter?”

“It was,” you confirm, taking care to keep your tone even despite the irritation simmering in your belly. “This is the second time Trixie’s been targeted by your daughter, Mr. Jeon. Do you think that’s a coincidence?”

Jungkook’s eyes narrow, his lips twisting into a displeased frown. “I'm not sure I like what you’re implying, Miss {L/N}.”

The iciness in his voice is unmistakable, but you have fifteen minutes’ worth of annoyance festering in your belly—annoyance that has amplified with every second that he made you wait. That, combined with his behavior last semester is enough to stir that annoyance into full-blown anger. He’s been short with you every time you’ve called to talk about his daughter’s progress in class, and you very nearly canceled his eight o’clock appointment to meet with you during December’s parent-teacher conferences. You remember pulling up his contact information nineteen minutes after eight, thumb hovering over the call button on your phone when he finally burst into your classroom. No preamble, and no apology. He just sat down, as if nothing was amiss, and began asking about Daeun’s grades in math.

It’s no wonder you’ve never heard so much as a word about a Mrs. Jeon. The nosy part of your brain wonders about Jungkook’s home life on occasion, and the more vindictive part relishes in the fact that he’s no doubt a single parent. Any woman would have to be a saint to put up with Jungkook Jeon, you reason, because as far as you’re concerned, he’s the devil. 

The devil dressed in head-to-toe Armani, who is currently fixing you with a look that could temper steel. 

“Mr. Jeon.” Pam, as always, is quick to diffuse the sudden tension that’s settled over her office. “No one is implying anything here. We just want to have a frank, civil discussion about Daeun’s behavior, and see if you can think of anything that may be causing her to act out. A recent change in her life, perhaps? Something new that she hasn’t quite adjusted to yet?”

You take a deep breath, releasing it through your nose before putting your professional mask back on. “Her shift in behavior was extremely sudden,” you chime in, watching out of the corner of your eye as Pam inclines her head in agreement. “Laughing when Trixie and another classmate slipped and fell on the ice, and now this? I don’t believe for a minute that this change came out of nowhere—something must have caused it. Daeun is a smart girl, Mr. Jeon. She’s outgoing and a little rambunctious, but she’s always been kind to her classmates in the past. Today’s behavior was incredibly out of character for her.”

A beat of silence passes, as your words fade into silence. Then Jungkook shifts in his seat, crossing one leg over the other as he turns his full attention to you. “We keep talking about Daeun as if she was the only child involved in this incident, Miss {L/N}. Why don’t we talk about your daughter instead? Trixie, is it?”

And just like that, your mask begins to splinter at the edges. “Trixie was reading quietly at the table when Daeun approached her,” you reply coolly. “She didn’t instigate anything, Mr. Jeon.”

“Oh, and I’m supposed to take your word for it?” Jungkook huffs out a humorless chuckle, leaning back in his seat. “I think you, of all people, might be a little bit biased.”

Fury flares in your belly, hot and bright. “I am a professional, Mr. Jeon,” you manage between clenched teeth. “I care about all of my students equally, and treat them as such. But I don’t expect you to understand that.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to retort, but your boss stops him before he can utter a single syllable. “I think that’s enough for today,” Pam says, rising to her feet and stepping around her desk to shake Jungkook’s hand. Even in heels, she only comes up to his chest, and you would have laughed at the height disparity if it weren’t for the rage still bubbling through your veins. “Like I said before, the girls are just down the hall with Mr. Kim. If you’ll follow me…”

Pam ushers Jungkook out of the office, chattering mindlessly about the cafeteria renovations that are underway—funded in large part by Jungkook himself, you’re certain. As much as you’ve grown to dislike the man, you know that he cares deeply about education and donates a rather large sum to your school every year. Trailing after them by a few paces, you listen as Pam points out a row of plaques hanging on the wall, honoring distinguished students and teachers alike.

The library, when you reach it, is empty save for three figures seated at one of several rectangular tables that occupy the middle of the room. Taehyung Kim, the copper-haired librarian, springs out of his seat upon your arrival, and you wave tiredly as he approaches with a warm, affable grin. 

“Welcome!” Taehyung says, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses before extending a hand for Jungkook to shake. “You must be Daeun’s dad. I’m Taehyung Kim, the librarian here at Hybe.” 

“Jungkook Jeon.” Then Jungkook’s gaze flits past him to where the two children are seated opposite one another. Daeun is a slender, petite girl with dark hair braided neatly down her back and round, brown eyes that are narrowed in concentration as she colors in a picture of a lion. Quietly, Jungkook strides over to his daughter, kneeling down beside her chair until he’s eye-level. “Hey, Daeun,” you hear him murmur. “What happened today, hmm?”

You, meanwhile, join your own daughter at the table, sitting down in the chair Taehyung abandoned and taking in the paper and coloring utensils scattered across the surface “Hey, jitterbug,” you murmur. “Were you nice to Mr. Kim while I was gone?”

“Tae read us a book about butterflies,” Trixie replies, shrugging her little shoulders. “He taught us about migration.”

You chuckle. “Migration, huh? That sounds interesting. You want to tell me all about it on the drive home?”

Trixie nods, her pigtails bobbing in time with the movement. Then she glances over to where Jungkook is instructing Daeun to pack up her backpack, tucking books and notebooks neatly inside while Daeun collects her crayons and puts them into a sparkly little pink case. “Are we going home now?”

“Soon, bug,” you promise. “I just have to finish up with Mr. Jeon and Principal Baker, okay?”

“Okay,” Trixie says agreeably, returning to her drawing. Pam gestures for you to join her and Jungkook near the library doors, and you meet Taehyung’s gaze as you brush past where he’s pulling a few books down for a display. Good luck, he mouths, and you suppress the urge to make a face. Instead, you mouth a quick thanks back, offering Daeun a quick smile as well before joining her father and your boss at the door. 

“Mr. Jeon,” Pam says, casting a surreptitious glance toward Daeun and Trixie before lowering her voice. “I don’t think you should ignore this behavior from your daughter. If there’s something in her home life that is making her act out, I can recommend a few counselors who would be more than happy to speak with the two of y—”

Jungkook shakes his head, a lock of dark hair coming loose from whatever gel he’s used to style it. “With all due respect, Principal Baker, I don’t appreciate my parenting abilities being called into question. I think it’s probably best if Daeun and I take our leave.”

Pam sighs. “Mr. Jeon, I don’t mean to offend. But Daeun did take a book out of Trixie’s hands.”

“And I’ll be sure to discipline her for that,” Jungkook replies. “But if this is all over a book, Principal, I think the solution is simple. I can easily buy her whatever book she needs.”

“I’m not so sure it’s about the book itself,” you point out. “Tae—I mean, Mr. Kim—has multiple copies of Charlotte’s Web available for the students.”

Jungkook hums and turns up the collar of his wool coat, pulling it snug around his throat. “Nonetheless, I think we’re done here. Daeun, we’re leaving.”

The six-year-old looks up from the book Taehyung has checked out for her and immediately runs over to grab her father’s extended hand. “Are we going home?” she asks quietly, and he nods. 

“Yeah, we are, sweetheart. Come on. Say bye to your teachers.”

Obediently, Daeun waves to you and Taehyung before bidding Pam goodbye as well. Jungkook offers you a stiff nod, and Pam resignedly offers to walk the duo out. They depart together, and you watch as they disappear around the corner of the hall before turning to Taehyung with a heavy sigh. Trixie is still engrossed in her coloring, and you lower your voice as you join Taehyung where he’s begun re-shelving books from a cart of returns. 

“Thank god that’s finally over,” you murmur.

Taehyung glances both ways, ensuring the coast is clear. “Yeah. That Jungkook guy is a total wang.”

///

By the time you pull out of Hybe Academy’s parking lot, rush hour has well and truly begun. Silently, you curse Jungkook’s tardiness as you merge onto the main road and almost immediately come to a complete standstill amongst the traffic. Glancing back in the rearview mirror, you take in the sight of your daughter, buckled neatly into the backseat with her face pressed against the window.

“What color are we looking for today, bug?”

“Red,” she replies, her nose scrunching against the glass. Every day, your daughter picks a color and counts the number of cars she sees in that particular shade. She’s taken to keeping a running tally on the refrigerator—working toward the answer to a research question that only she understands. Her work is accompanied by a variety of figures and diagrams as well, which she’s plastered across the remainder of the refrigerator door and are slowly encroaching on the freezer door as well. You’re pretty sure she’ll need a larger surface soon enough—the wall of the hallway leading to the bedrooms would probably suffice—but until then, you have no plans to interfere with her creativity. If anything, you sometimes wish you could see the world through a child’s eyes again—to view every new experience as an adventure, and delight in the simple things. It’s one of the many reasons you love working at Hybe, even if you do have to deal with the occasional entitled parent.

Unwillingly, your mind wanders back to Jungkook Jeon. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive, even if you’re reluctant to admit it and refuse outright to say it aloud. He’s blessed with the kind of face that angels could rhapsodize about—his dark, expressive eyes set above a strong nose and an enticing mouth. His jawline is sharp as a knife, and you’re fairly certain the devil himself sculpted his thighs. Even beneath the drape of his expensive suits, you can see the definition of his musculature as clearly as if he wasn’t wearing anything at all. You wonder—more often than you’d like to admit—how his workplace hasn’t deemed his suits obscene. Maybe he needs a dress code, you think to yourself, easing off the brake as the cars in front of you begin to inch forward. Baggy clothes only from this point forward. The more skin covered, the better. 

“Oooh! Found one!” Trixie exclaims, tapping the glass vigorously. “And look, there’s another. It’s a darker red, though.”

You hum and nod toward the traffic up ahead, where you can glimpse the corner of a cherry red bumper. “What about that one up there? That makes three, right?”

In the mirror, you see your daughter nod. A few minutes pass, the two of you calling out when another red car is spotted, and traffic eventually eases up enough that you can continue your way home. 

“So, what did Mr. Kim teach you about butterflies?” you query as you make a right turn. “Something about migration?” 

Trixie nods absently, still fixated on the cars driving by in the opposite lane. “Yeah. They go south for the winter to stay warm.”

You glance at her reflection in the mirror again. “Must be nice.”

“Yeah.”

Up ahead, the light turns green. You hit the gas, debating whether to bring up Daeun or not, but your daughter speaks again before you can dwell on it any further. 

“It’s weird,” Trixie says, her face still pressed against the window and her breath misting the glass. “Daeun was never mean to me before. We weren’t friends, not really. But now it feels like she’s picking on me on purpose and I don’t know why.” 

Something in your chest splinters at the tone of her voice—subdued and small. She’s dragging a finger through the fogged up glass now, tracing the crooked outline of a butterfly, and you take a moment to collect your thoughts before speaking again.

“We’ll figure it out together, then, jitterbug. Now, why don’t you start thinking about what you want for dinner?”

///

Mornings are always a little chaotic in your home. Trixie is sprinting around the entirety of the two-bedroom apartment looking for her favorite scrunchie, a half-eaten piece of toast clutched in one hand and her backpack swinging from the other. In the kitchen, you’re going through a mental checklist of all the places your daughter could have possibly left the accessory while sipping on your morning coffee. The mug nearly slips from your hand when your pet cat, Taco, slinks past your legs on her way to her food bowl, and you hiss out a sharp curse.

“Fuck!” Hot liquid dribbles down your knuckles. The calico cat gives you an unimpressed look, and you glance both ways to make sure Trixie is out of earshot before wagging a reprimanding finger. “Manners, Taco. You’re better than this.”

Taco merely flicks her tail and turns back to her own breakfast, rebelliously batting her water bowl with a paw before settling down to eat. Sighing, you finish the remainder of your coffee and rinse out the mug, listening as Trixie darts in and begins rummaging through the silverware drawer. 

“Bug, I don’t think your scrunchie’s in there,” you remark, earning yourself a shrug in response.

“Can’t be too careful,” she says in a startlingly accurate impression of you, and you can’t decide whether to laugh out loud or roll your eyes. Coming up empty, your daughter runs off again, and you return your attention to your bag, rifling through the folders and assignments within. “Aha!” you hear in the distance, and smile. Trixie comes bounding down the hall a few seconds later with a sparkly holographic scrunchie in hand, and you obligingly help her wind it around her ponytail as she wriggles in place with excitement.

“Ready to go?” you ask once finished, and she nods eagerly. “Have all your homework?” Another nod. “What about those books you have to return to Mr. Kim at the library?”

Trixie heaves a dramatic sigh and fixes you with a look. “Yes, Mom. Can we go now?”

You chuckle and extend your hand for her to take, heaving your bag onto your opposite shoulder. “All right, all right. Let’s go.”

Locking the front door, you and Trixie take the elevator down to the ground floor of the building and exit out into the wintry air. Your car is parked on a nearby side street, and immediately, you see that the windshield is coated in a light layer of frost. Sighing inwardly, you head toward the trunk where you store the ice scraper. Trixie releases your hand when you pop open the lid, and you turn to watch as she skips her way down the sidewalk. “Sure you don’t want a ride to school?” you call.

She stops, her nose wrinkling. “It’s lame to go to school with your teacher, Mom.”

You feign offense, slapping a hand to your heart. “Oh? I’m lame now, am I?”

“Don’t take it personal,” Trixie replies, shrugging. “All adults are kinda lame.”

With that, she waves and darts the rest of the way down the sidewalk, making her way to the bus stop at the end of the block. You watch her go, waiting until she safely joins the other half-dozen kids clustered on the corner beside the stop sign, before turning back to your car and climbing into the driver’s seat. 

There’s something calming about your morning commute—something about the low hum of the engine and the whir of wheels against asphalt that soothes your soul. The route downtown is a familiar one, and you navigate it with ease. A glance at the clock on the dashboard tells you that you have just enough time to grab some breakfast, and at the next intersection, you opt to turn left instead of right. Three minutes later, you’re pulling up to your favorite coffee shop in the city, snagging one of the few remaining parking spaces on the street and braving the chill one more time as you head for the brightly painted front door beneath the cheery sign that reads, Bean There, Done That!. 

The smell of warm cinnamon and vanilla washes over you as soon as you step inside the coffee shop. There’s a relatively short line, and you pull out your phone as you join it, scrolling through news articles and notifications until you reach the counter. “Good morning, Bonnie,” you greet the middle-aged woman working the cash register, before waving at the man who’s already brewing a fresh espresso in the corner. “Morning, Jin.”

“Hiya, {Name},” Jin replies. As the owner of the shop and a dear friend of yours, he knows your usual order like the back of his hand. “Got your coffee going right now.”

Bonnie smiles at you, nodding as Jin plops your finished drink down and joins her at the counter. “Morning, hun. You’re too late again, I’m afraid. Can I get you something else?”

You glance over at the glass display case where all the baked goods are housed, disappointment sinking into your stomach when you see the empty row in the bagel section. “No cinnamon streusel? Again?”

“Some guy beat you to the last one,” Jin answers as Bonnie rings up your coffee and slides it across the counter into your waiting hands. “Same one as last week, actually. He comes here pretty regularly.”

Your eyes narrow. “You mean the same jerk has taken my bagel three times now? How is it that I haven’t run into him yet?”

“I dunno—dude’s an early riser, I guess. You missed him by about ten minutes this time, but sometimes he’s in here even earlier than that.” Jin shrugs and jabs a thumb toward the back where you can just barely see the kitchen through a small window. “We’ve got more bagels going right now though, if you can wait five minutes.”

The time on your phone’s screen tells you that you cannot. “Sorry,” you tell him. “If I don’t leave now, I’ll be late for school.” Turning, you nod at Bonnie and drop a few bills into the tip jar. “See you both tomorrow.”

“Wait!” Jin pats down his apron pockets and fishes out a crumpled napkin from within. “I almost forgot. The guy—he left a note.”

“He left… what?” You frown. “Why?”

Awkwardly, Jin clears his throat. “I, uh, may have let it slip that he kept beating you to the last cinnamon streusel bagel on Friday. And then he asked if he could leave you a note, so….” Uncrumpling the napkin, he extends it toward you. “Here.”

You can’t help it—curiosity roots in your belly and winds its way to your fingers as you carefully accept the note and smooth it out on the countertop.

Better luck next time ;)

“That prick.”

Jin winces. “Yeah, I know. I mean, he does always leave a twenty in the tip jar, but yeah, totally. I’m with you. Guy’s a wang.”

You’re barely listening. Scowling, you fumble for the pen in your purse, taking the napkin that Bonnie wordlessly hands you and scribbling out your own note so fiercely you nearly rip through the papery material.

Game on, mister.

///

The rest of the week seems to drag by, until Friday arrives at long last and shepherds with it stormy gray clouds on the horizon. You’re already feeling rather grumpy—no doubt thanks in part to the collection of snarky napkin notes you’ve accumulated over the past few days—and the sun’s absence only serves to exacerbate your foul mood. Even worse, you had an unfortunate run-in with one Mr. Jungkook Jeon yesterday, meeting with him in the principal’s office following an incident where Daeun took and hid Trixie’s favorite holographic scrunchie. Thankfully, it was recovered quickly, but even now the mere thought of Jungkook Jeon’s stupid, condescending face is enough to tank your mood. Scowling, you lock your car and head in the direction of Bean There, Done That!, carefully eyeing every person who exits in an effort to discern whether they might have purchased a cinnamon streusel bagel and hoping that none of them have snagged the last.

You’re running a full forty-five minutes early today—all in an attempt to beat the damned bagel thief. Half an hour hadn’t been enough—you found that out the hard way yesterday, when Bonnie had greeted you with an apologetic smile and Jin had wordlessly doubled the usual shot of espresso in your coffee without charge. Looking back, your initial attempts to be a mere fifteen minutes earlier were feeble at worst and laughable at best. But today, you think, today will be different. 

The bell over the door jingles pleasantly when you step inside the coffee shop, and you immediately deflate when Jin catches your eye and shakes his head. He’s there to greet you when you finally reach the front of the line, and you sigh as you accept the folded napkin he hands over. “He beat me? Again? Does this guy not sleep?”

“He was super early today,” Jin replies with a shrug. Groaning, you unfold the note and smooth it out on the counter, sucking in a breath when you read the words scrawled there. 

What’s that saying again? Something about the early bird always getting the worm? ;)

“That fucking asshole,” you grit out. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Testy,” Jin says, clicking his tongue. “What’s got your panties in a bunch today?”

You sigh. “School stuff, mostly. I had to meet with the father of one of my students yesterday, and he’s a real piece of work. And then I was up late grading homework.”

“You could always assign less,” Jin offers up unhelpfully, which earns him a snort and an eye-roll from you. Relenting, he instead begins pouring your coffee, chattering on as the hot liquid splashes into your cup. “So, about this guy’s impending doom. How exactly do you plan on murdering a man when you don’t even know what he looks like?”

“Stop being logical,” you groan, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Just then, the coffee shop door flies open, letting in a gust of chilly wind. You turn to see Bonnie bustling inside, wearing a bright pink woolen hat and ushering along her eleven-year old son, Caleb. “Hi, hun,” she greets you, her nose scrunching when she sees your frown. “I take it you still haven’t found your mystery bagel man?”

You heave a sigh, shaking your head. “I don’t think I can get DNA off of his notes, so no. I have no idea who this guy is, which means I have no way of tracking him down and giving him a piece of my mind.”

Bonnie tuts sympathetically and pats your arm. “Sorry, hun.” Giving your elbow an affectionate squeeze, she slips past the counter and into the back room to grab her paycheck. Jin finishes up with your drink, and you thank him as you take a long sip. Then you turn to Bonnie’s son, who’s taken a seat in a nearby booth and is doodling on a piece of scrap paper. 

“Hey, Caleb. How’s it going?”

The boy, normally quite talkative, just shrugs. Taken aback, you decide not to press the issue and instead turn back to Jin, who’s wiping down the espresso machine and whistling something that sounds vaguely like “Never Gonna Give You Up” under his breath. Bonnie returns then, and you give her a quizzical glance as she pours herself a to-go cup of coffee and adds two generous pumps of caramel syrup. Is something up with Caleb? you mouth, and watch as confusion flits across her face before realization dawns.

“Don’t worry about him,” she whispers, approaching you so you can hear. “He’s just a little bummed from yesterday. Misspelled ‘serendipity’ in the school spelling bee, and it cost him the win in the end.”

You wince. “Ouch. That hurts.”

“Yeah, that sucks real hard,” Jin chimes in from his spot at the espresso machine. “Little guy didn’t even try to steal a cookie from the display like he normally does.”

Bonnie chuckles. “I’ll grab a couple to-go, then—a double chocolate and a snickerdoodle, if you please. But then we’ve really got to head out. School starts in twenty.”

At the reminder, you pull out your phone and glance at the time. “Yeah, I need to leave soon too. Give my best to Caleb, okay? There’s always next year’s spelling bee.” Turning to Jin, you hand over your credit card to pay for the coffee before grabbing a pen and a napkin. It takes you a few seconds to figure out what you want to write, and then another few to scrawl out the note:

Don’t forget, the tortoise always beats the hare in the end.

Straightening up, you hand the napkin over to Jin, who accepts it wordlessly and tucks it into his pocket. And once he’s handed your card back to you, you wave goodbye to both Jin and Bonnie before heading out.

It’s typically a five-minute drive to Hybe Academy from the coffee shop, but this morning, it takes you almost ten. Every red light in the city has seemingly teamed up in order to make you late, and you make it through the door of your classroom with mere minutes to spare. Thankfully, the first bell hasn’t rung yet, and to your surprise, Taehyung is still lounging in your desk chair when you enter the room. The two of you have a longstanding tradition of having breakfast together in the mornings—even if breakfast just turns out to be two extra-large cups of coffee with anywhere between zero and four shots of espresso added in. Taehyung occasionally brings in some of his kitchen experiments as well, and you’ve had to politely decline his offer to share on more than one occasion. 

“Hey, there you are!” Taehyung grins and props his feet up onto your desk, crossing one leg over the other. “I was just about to leave.”

“Really? It looks like you’ve made yourself pretty comfortable,” you reply, dropping your bag onto the floor and collapsing into the chair he’s pulled up beside him. “Must be nice, not having to worry about being on time for first period.”

Taehyung nestles deeper into the back of your chair and lets his eyes drift shut. “Sure is.”

You snort and take a sip of your coffee. “Jerk.”

“I’m rubber, you’re glue,” he replies without missing a beat, his eyes remaining staunchly shut.

Shaking your head, you instead direct your attention to the tupperware container that’s sitting on the desk in front of your friend. You can see what looks like some kind of pastry inside, and prod curiously at it before poking Taehyung in the shoulder. “So, what’s this? Don’t tell me you tried to make croque monsieurs again.”

“Excuse you, those weren’t even that bad,” he defends, his eyes flying open. “And no, I didn’t. I made quiche this time.”

“Right,” you say suspiciously. “And what’s in it?”

“Bacon, cheese, onions,” Taehyung lists with a shrug. “Oh, and a few baby carrots I had on hand. I didn’t really know what else to do with them.”

It’s far from the strangest combination your friend has come up with—a sentiment you voice aloud as you pry open the edge of the container and accept the fork he hands over. “This feels shockingly normal.” Cautiously, you dig into an edge and bring it to eye level so you can examine the filling. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“I’m going to start force feeding you if you don’t stop teasing,” Taehyung threatens, grabbing a fork for himself and helping himself to a generous bite. “Seriously, give it a try—I promise it’s good. I didn’t even drop any eggshells in it this time.”

Laughing, you bring the quiche to your mouth. The pastry is flaky and the filling is smooth, and you’re pleasantly surprised by the harmonious balance of seasonings that you taste. Taehyung watches in satisfaction as you go in for a bigger piece, and pushes the tupperware closer when you nearly drop it. 

“Told you it was good,” he says smugly, and you can only nod your agreement and raise your coffee in silent commendation. 

The two of you eat in silence for a few moments—until you remember the napkin shoved in your pocket and pull it out with a grimace. You’ve ranted to Taehyung about your new nemesis on more than one occasion by this point, and he doesn’t even blink as he flattens out the material and scans the words scrawled there. “I’ve gotta say, the guy’s got good handwriting,” he remarks, and you immediately fix him with a scowl. 

“Really? You’ve got to say that?”

Taehyung holds up his hands innocently. “Just an observation,” he says. “How many of these notes do you even have now? Three?”

“Five,” you grumble. “And I’m still no closer to figuring out who he is. I don’t suppose you have access to a police database or anything, right? Some way to match this guy’s handwriting?”

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work like that,” is Taehyung’s blasé reply. “Besides, it’s not like you’re going to do anything, even if you do figure out who he is. You’ll just keep stewing until something else comes along, so why even bother with the manhunt in the first place?”

You sniff. “I’m raising Trixie to be a strong, determined woman who can accomplish anything she sets her mind to. What kind of example would I be setting if I can’t do this one thing?”

Taehyung doesn’t even bother trying to disguise his snort of laughter. “You’re so full of shit. Jesus Christ.”

The bell rings, then—signaling that students have five minutes to make their way to their classrooms. You sigh, and Taehyung wordlessly stands up and begins gathering his tupperware back into his bag, tucking the cutlery in last and grabbing his remaining coffee as he turns toward the door. 

“Catch you later,” he says at the threshold, and you wave him off before brushing a few stray crumbs off your desk. Finishing off the last of your coffee, you pull your planner from your bag and absentmindedly shove the napkin note in its place—putting away any and all thoughts of your bagel nemesis as students slowly begin filtering into your classroom. Trixie briefly catches your eye as she files in with a couple of her friends, and you smile as you rise from your seat and begin outlining the day’s lesson plan on the chalkboard. 

There’s no doubt that Fridays are your favorite. Friday afternoons at Hybe Academy are dedicated to the arts, and listening to the soft strains of music coming from the orchestra room and the various solo instruments taking lessons brings you boundless joy. You love seeing the new paintings on the walls the following Monday too, and often stay a while after school lets out on Friday to hang up the pieces produced by your own class. 

But this particular Friday—it isn’t going as planned at all.

You’re beginning to think that this morning’s strike from your bagel thief was an omen. Up until two hours ago, it’s just been the usual inconveniences and minor drawbacks—a misplaced pencil here, or a spilled bit of juice there. But now, halfway through the schoolday, you feel like you’re drowning. Your stomach is growling and your hair is in disarray, and it’s all thanks to the fact that you currently have twice the amount of students you normally do occupying your classroom—all of whom are seemingly intent on covering every available surface with splatters of paint. 

You can’t blame Miss Kumar, of course. Family emergencies are just that—emergencies. They can’t be predicted or controlled, and when she was called at lunchtime with unexpected news, you understood that she had to leave immediately. In an unfortunate turn of events, none of the Academy’s usual substitute teachers were available, and you soon found yourself haplessly watching on as her first-graders filed into your room with chairs in tow, taking up residence two to a desk alongside your own students. 

And even though you’re doing your absolute best to maintain some semblance of order, you know you’ve lost when one of Miss Kumar’s students—Nicholas, you think his name is—upends a little plastic canister of paint onto his desk and splats both hands into it. Blue paint goes flying in every direction, and as he giggles, the other children quickly begin to follow his lead. 

“Guys, no, wait—” you try to say, but it’s too late. A fully fledged paint fight has broken out, and you watch in horror as Daeun flings a dollop of yellow paint straight onto Trixie’s Hercules shirt. 

If there’s a bright spot in all of this, it’s that Principal Pam Baker works fast. You’d called her mere minutes into the fight breaking out, and she’d done her part by calling the parents of the students you’d named as instigators of the fight. Those who could came in right away, and once you managed to settle everyone down, you brought their kids down to Pam’s office so that she could have a group meeting with both the parents and students alike. The remaining children you took to the library to be watched by Taehyung while you cleaned up your classroom. It’s an absolute disaster zone, and you’ve only just begun spraying down the first desk when the door flies open.

“Most of the children are at the library,” you say without turning around, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn bit of red paint on the corner of the desk with a wet wipe. “If you’re looking for your child, you’d best head over there.”

“Actually, I’m here to speak to you,” a familiar voice says, and dread pools in your stomach as you turn and find yourself face-to-face with none other than Jungkook Jeon, his dark eyes unreadable. On his wrist, just barely concealed beneath the sleeve of his charcoal overcoat, you can see his expensive silver watch glinting in the fluorescent light.

“Mr. Jeon,” you manage once you’ve found your voice again. “How can I help you?”

For a few long seconds, Jungkook remains silent. He steps over the threshold and into your classroom, taking in the paint-splattered walls and the chairs scattered haphazardly about. Then his gaze settles on you, his nose wrinkling slightly as he speaks again. 

“It smells in here.”

“It’s the paint,” you answer shortly, stepping over an upended cup of brushes and making your way to the window. Fumbling with the lock, you struggle for a few seconds before finally managing to heave it open, letting in a welcome gust of cool wintry air. 

Jungkook watches all of this in silence. Then he hums, faint amusement lacing his voice. “I see that.”

Irritation blooms in your belly at his blasé tone. “What did you want to talk about, Mr. Jeon? If you’re looking for Daeun, I’m afraid she’s down the hall in Principal Baker’s office.”

“I’m well aware of that.” Jungkook takes a step forward, the heels of his sleek black oxfords clicking against the tiled floor. “This is the second time you’ve lost control of your classroom, I believe. And tell me, Miss {L/N}, why has my daughter been sent to the principal’s office two days in a row, now?”

You glance up from where you’ve begun wiping at a spot of hot pink paint on the windowsill. “With all due respect, Mr. Jeon, I think that’s a question that only Daeun can answer.”

“Daeun.” There’s outright laughter in Jungkook’s voice now—but it’s the humorless sort that makes the hairs on your neck stand on end. “Right, of course. The blame is always on my daughter, isn’t it? Never any of the others. Never your own.”

For a moment, you can only stare at him. Then, without even fully realizing what you’re doing, you begin walking forward. First one step, and then another—until the tips of your sensible block heels are mere inches from the tips of his oxfords. Emotion is building steadily in your chest—a cocktail of exhaustion and anger topped off with the day’s frustrations—and all of it comes flooding out as you raise your chin and look Jungkook Jeon square in the eye. 

“Unlike you, I saw what happened today, Mr. Jeon. Several students were responsible for instigating and perpetuating this fight, and unfortunately, Daeun was one of them. I don’t appreciate you implying that I favor any of my students over others, and I certainly don’t appreciate you questioning my ability as a teacher.” Your chest heaves as you pause to take a breath. “I am a professional, Mr. Jeon. Maybe you don’t think so, but I am. I’ve been teaching for nearly a decade, and I’ve spent almost every day with these children for the past year. You don’t get to come in here and disrespect me in my own classroom. I don’t care how much money you give to this school. I’m not beholden to you or your money, and I’ll thank you to not come in here with unnecessary attitude and finger-pointing.”

Your blood is rushing in your ears by the time your speech comes to an end. Jungkook is silent, staring down his nose at you for three long seconds before he deliberately raises a dark eyebrow. “Are you finished?” he asks. 

You shiver as his hot breath fans against your cheeks. “No.” And then, in a surge of stupid, adrenaline-fueled bravery, you add, “I kind of want to cuss you out, to be honest.”

The other eyebrow rises to join the first, as a huff of wry laughter escapes his lips. “Oh?”

You deflate slightly, your bottom lip finding its way between your teeth. It shouldn’t be so easy for a parent to get a rise out of you, but Jungkook seems to do it so easily—and so often. “I’m not going to,” you murmur. 

“No?” Jungkook’s gaze darts down to your lips, then up to your eyes, and then down to your lips again. “That’s rather disappointing.”

Unwittingly, you’ve drifted even closer to him since you first started talking. You can see each fleck of amber in his irises, and could probably count each of his individual eyelashes if you so cared. This close to him, you can see that one of his eyebrows is pierced—his dark hair brushed back just enough to reveal the silvery metal embedded in his skin. You don’t pull away though, and neither does he. If anything, he seems to be willing you closer—his lips parting and his tongue darting out to moisten them.

And then he blinks, and you pull back as if burned. “If… if that’s all, I should really get back to cleaning up,” you stammer, hating the wobble in your voice as you return to your desk and grab a fresh wet wipe. “Principal Baker’s office is down the hall on the left.”

“I remember. I was there yesterday, after all.” The faint amusement has returned to his tone. Straightening his tie, he begins making his way to the exit, only to pause in the doorframe and glance at you once more over his shoulder. “Oh, and Miss {L/N}?”

You look up. “Yes?”

“You should really look in a mirror. It looks like a Smurf exploded on your face.” 

///

Saturday brings with it clear blue skies and a sweet, sweet reprieve from the chaos of the week. You’d promised Trixie that you would make ratatouille together over the weekend—just like in the movie—and now you’re making good on that promise as you push a shopping cart around the grocery store with your daughter skipping happily by your side. “Ooh! We need these, right?” she exclaims, pointing at a display of zucchini, and you nod, watching as she carefully selects two and plunks them into the cart. 

Together, the two of you finish up in the produce section and head for the aisles that house all the baking goods. Trixie peruses the shelves as you stock up on the essentials—flour, sugar, and a couple boxes of baking soda. Then you grab a package of chocolate chips, laughing when Trixie immediately perks up at the sound of the bag crinkling and whirls around to look at you with wide, eager eyes. 

 “Can we do chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies?” she asks, clasping her hands in front of her chest. 

“I think you’re pushing your luck, young lady,” you tell her, but relent when she selflessly offers to bring the extras to class on Monday to share. 

Ten minutes later, you’re heading toward the checkout line when you suddenly realize that you’ve forgotten something. “Tomatoes,” you say aloud, glancing down at Trixie apologetically. “Totally slipped my mind. Let’s go grab some, bug.”

Trixie sighs dramatically, but turns toward the produce section nonetheless. Faster than you can blink, she trots off, leaving you to trail after her with the shopping cart. Maneuvering around a particularly tall display of onions, you pull out your phone to check the grocery list one more time—only to be interrupted by the metallic clang of your shopping cart hitting another. Immediately, you open your mouth to apologize, but stop short when your eyes meet the owner of the other cart.

“O-oh,” you stammer, your head spinning as you try to recover your full vocabulary. “Mr. Jeon. I… I didn’t see you there.”

Jungkook chuckles. “That much I gathered.” Then he nods toward Trixie, who you can just barely see two aisles and a crate of watermelons away. “Doing some shopping, Miss {L/N}?”

You don’t respond. Your brain is in overdrive, struggling to reconcile the Jungkook standing in front of you with the one you’d seen just yesterday in your paint-splattered classroom. His dark hair isn’t parted neatly across his forehead for once—instead, it falls in soft waves around his face. Rather reluctantly, your brain acknowledges that he looks good—irritatingly so. You’ve never seen him in casual clothes before—only neatly pressed suits that cost more than your entire paycheck—and the change is jarring to say the least. His purple sweatshirt is baggy and his black joggers are just tight enough to show off the definition of his thighs, and—

—hang on, is he wearing Birkenstocks?

Trixie, thankfully, comes to the rescue as you gape at Jungkook’s feet for several seconds too long. “Is this enough?” she asks, lugging a plastic bag bulging with at least a dozen heirloom tomatoes. Still a little shellshocked, you look down at her, blinking dumbly before bursting into laughter.

“That’s plenty, bug. In fact, we probably need to put some back, unless you want tomatoes in your cookies too.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Trixie says thoughtfully, pursing her lips. “Or we can make marinara and have spaghetti and meatballs tomorrow!”

Jungkook chooses that moment to huff out a laugh of his own. “Spaghetti and meatballs, huh? Great minds must think alike—Daeun suggested the exact same thing for our dinner tonight. Only thing is, we’re apparently making everything by hand, even the spaghetti. And we’ve never made pasta before, so…” He chuckles. “You can imagine how well that’ll probably go.”

You glance around the nearest visible aisles. “Daeun’s a proper little chef, I see. Is she here with you?”

The dark-haired man gestures toward the back of the grocery store. “I tasked her with grabbing some milk and eggs while I get the onions. She won’t go near them until they’re cooked, so I figured this would be most efficient.”

You grin. “Divide and conquer, huh?”

“Exactly,” Jungkook answers with a surprisingly boyish smile. You note with amusement that his front teeth are more prominent than the rest, just enough to give him the resemblance of a rabbit. Rather unfairly, it somehow manages to work in his favor when put together with the rest of him. Your cheeks warm when you register again just how handsome he truly is, and you quickly suck in a deep breath as you search around for a distraction.

You’re in luck. Daeun rounds the corner of a nearby display of cantaloupes with a wide grin, a gallon jug of milk and a carton of eggs in either hand. Her grin widens when she spots you, and you chuckle as she tries and fails to raise her jug-bearing hand to wave.

“Hi, Miss {L/N}!” she exclaims as she comes to a stop alongside Jungkook’s cart and deposits her goods inside. “What’re you doing here?”

“Dae,” Jungkook chides gently, but you laugh and wave him off.

“Hi, Daeun. I’m doing some shopping with Trixie, just like you are with your dad. Speaking of which—you probably have a lot of cooking to get to.” You return your attention to Jungkook. “I mean, I know we do. Somehow, I was talked into making two types of cookies this weekend, so we should really head out and get started.”

“Wait—hang on a second.” Jungkook speaks again, and maybe it’s your imagination but you think you hear a tinge of desperation in his tone. “I’m actually glad we ran into you today. We were going to do this on Monday but since you’re both here, Daeun has something she’d like to say to Trixie. Isn’t that right, Dae?”

Daeun’s gaze drops to where she’s scuffing her sneakered feet against the tiled linoleum floor. Jungkook reaches down, giving her an encouraging nudge, and she hesitates for a second before looking back up and glancing between you and Trixie. “I’m sorry,” she begins shyly. “I shouldn’t’ve thrown paint at you. Or taken your book.” And when Jungkook nudges her again and lifts an eyebrow, she continues again. “And… I’m sorry for laughing when you fell down on the playground. It wasn’t funny, and I wasn’t being nice. I’m really sorry, Trixie.”

There’s a beat of silence, as Daeun falls silent and looks at your daughter hopefully. You glance between the two girls, then up at Jungkook, who still has a hand on Daeun’s shoulder and seems to be holding his breath. Trixie, for her part, looks to be deep in thought, her face scrunched in contemplation as she taps a finger against her lips. Vaguely, you wonder if you should say something, but decide against it.

And then Trixie beams, toothy and bright. Daeun’s answering smile is still tentative, but it transforms into full-blown giggles when your daughter rushes forward and clasps one of her hands in both of her own. “I forgive you,” she says shortly, giving her hand a shake like a little businesswoman. You and Jungkook watch on as the two girls proceed to skip off, hand-in-hand and singing “Baby Shark”. 

“Wow,” you remark, turning back to Jungkook. “I have to admit, I’m a little surprised. What brought that on?”

Jungkook begins to look rather sheepish, scratching at the back of his neck. “I actually have a bit of a confession to make. Not to mention, I owe you a huge apology. I talked to Dae last night, and… well, you were right. She wasn’t acting out for no reason. She… she was actually jealous of Trixie."

You frown. "What?"

He nods. "Yeah. See, I got promoted at my job a while ago. Right after the holidays, I had to start working longer hours, which of course meant less time at home with her. And I guess all of that took its toll, especially since I had to stop taking her to school every morning.” He sighs. “She didn’t adjust very well to that. I tried my best to make things work, but there’s only so much I can do, you know? Eventually I had to set up a morning carpool with some of the neighbors. And I tried to ease the transition as much as I could, but…” He trails off with another sigh. “Guess I did kind of a shit job there.” 

Your mind is reeling at all of this new information, but you manage to find your voice again after a few moments. “You did your best,” you tell him, resisting the sudden urge to reach out and touch his arm. “And you’re still trying. That’s all that matters, you know. You’re trying to make things better. Daeun can sense that, and believe me, it’s paying off.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I think you’re giving me too much credit, but thank you. I’m just glad that Dae has a good school and good teachers. Actually, you’ve always been her favorite, did you know that?”

You didn’t. “Really?”

“Really.” 

You aren’t sure what to say after that, so you opt to look around instead. At some point—you aren’t sure when—the two of you must’ve started walking around the grocery store again because all around you are shelves full of bread and baked goods. Mindlessly, you grab a bag of everything bagels and smile when Jungkook follows your lead and drops a bag into his own cart.

A few minutes of meandering later, you find Trixie and Daeun together in the snack aisle, deep in discussion about their favorite candies. The conversation winds down as you and Jungkook approach, and you decide not to comment when Trixie not-so-surreptitiously slips a package of chocolate caramels into your shopping cart.

“We should probably get going,” you say instead, pulling out your phone and glancing at the time. “Gosh, there really aren’t enough hours in the day. You ready, bug?”

“Yep!” Trixie replies cheerily, turning to wave goodbye to Daeun and Jungkook. “Bye, Daeun! Bye, Mr. Jeon!”

“See you Monday, Trixie! You too, Miss {L/N}!” Daeun exclaims. And as you and Jungkook exchange smiles and farewells of your own, you feel lighter than you’ve felt in days, as if an invisible weight has lifted.

///

Like clockwork, Monday morning finds you at the counter of Bean There, Done That! with an apologetic Jin offering you your usual coffee in a size larger than the one you’d paid for. “Again?” you exclaim as you accept the cup and take a generous sip. “I can’t believe this. You opened like, twenty minutes ago.”

The corner of Jin’s mouth twitches. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he produces a full tray of cinnamon streusel bagels from somewhere beneath the counter, picking out the best-looking one before sliding the tray into its spot in the display. “I just wanted to see the look on your face,” he admits as he slips the bagel into a paper bag and hands it over. “These are fresh—still pretty warm, in fact. Surprised you didn’t smell them when you came in.”

“I did smell them,” you tell him, wagging a finger. “But the blueberry bagels are always kind of overpowering and this whole place tends to smell like vanilla anyway, so excuse me for taking you for your word when you said you were out.”

“You know, a simple ‘thank you’ would’ve sufficed,” Jin sniffs. Then he gestures to the stack of napkins next to the cash register and waggles his eyebrows. “Care to leave a snarky note of your own?”

A slow grin spreads across your face as you start fishing in your purse for a pen. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

///

The rest of the day goes smoothly, and you’re pretty sure it’s all thanks to the cinnamon streusel bagel you’d had the time to truly savor this morning. You’d even bought an extra for Taehyung, who for his part contributed a tupperware full of bacon strips and a pitcher of mixed berry smoothie to your breakfast. For lunch you’d made sure to eat a healthy dose of vegetables, and as you head into the final period of the day, you feel more than ready to give a room full of children their next big assignment.

“All right, class,” you say as your students filter into the classroom and start taking their seats. “We’ve been learning about the animal kingdom for the last few weeks, and it’s finally time to put everything we’ve learned so far together. I’m going to go around and hand each of you a card. Take a look at it—you’ll either see a picture of an animal, or the name of an animal.” Grabbing the stack of cards off your desk, you begin distributing them, slowly making your way up and down the rows of desks. “Then, I want you to get up out of your seats and find the card that matches yours. If there’s a picture of a zebra on your card, you want to find the person with ‘zebra’ written on their card. And that person will be your partner for this project. Does that make sense to everyone?”

Nods and exclamations of affirmation all around. Satisfied, you hand out the last of your cards and return to your desk, gesturing for your students to stand up and find their partners. You watch as the children mill around, exclaiming happily when they find their match. Much to your satisfaction, you see that Daisy—a little girl who always has her blond hair corralled into a neat braid—and Josiah—a well-mannered boy with a different-colored polo for each day of the week—just so happen to be partners. You hadn’t planned it that way, but you’ve always gotten the feeling that there was a hint of a little crush there.

Another pleasant surprise comes in the form of Daeun, who’s plopped herself in the seat beside Trixie and is animatedly gesturing at her card. Even from your spot in the front of the classroom, you can read the big block letters that spell out “penguin” and see the corresponding line drawing on Trixie’s card. And as the girls begin to chat, it’s as if the issues of the last few months hadn’t happened at all.

Your class spends the last few hours of the school day in the library, working on their newly assigned project. You’ve set up shop at the table nearest Taehyung’s desk, which you’ve always kind of envied. Perfectly round and situated in the center of the room, it allows for a 360-degree view of the entire library if he so much as spins in his chair. “Honestly, I could get so much done if I had one of these,” you lament to him as you watch Josiah sharpen Daisy’s pencil for her out of the corner of your eye. “I’d set up the best frickin’ assembly line you ever saw.”

“You sound like a workaholic,” Taehyung replies, doing yet another lazy revolution in his seat. “Or a lunatic. Same thing, really.” 

Resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at him, you settle for rolling your eyes instead. The final bell of the day rings, and you shepherd your students out of the library with your friend on your heels. As the children disperse to their lockers, you trail after Trixie and Daeun, waiting for the two to say their goodbyes so you and your daughter can walk to the car together. It’s still odd seeing the two getting along so well, but you aren’t about to question it as you and Taehyung follow the girls to their lockers—which happen to be in the same section of the hallway—and then out and into the bright afternoon sun. Smiling, you listen to them chattering excitedly about the project even as Taehyung launches into a tirade about his latest rent increase.

“Seriously, I should just move at this point—it’s fucking ridiculous. I don’t even use the conference center, and the indoor pool is just a waste of space when there’s a public one that’s twice the size three blocks away. And that one even has a hot tub! Not to mention—”

You sigh, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Jeez, Tae, just move. You’ve been threatening to for over a year now, and it’s not like anyone’s forcing you to stay. You don’t even like the neighborhood, for god’s sake. I don’t know why you stuck around for that long.”

Taehyung sniffs. “Moving’s just such a hassle, you know? I really wanted to avoid it, but I guess I can’t this time around. A 22% rent increase… fucking hell. You’ll help me pack, won’t you?”

“I’d rather not.”

“But you’re so good at packing! And you have all that bubble wrap and the box of styrofoam peanuts hoarded in your closet—”

“Stored in my closet.”

“Whatever,” he says dismissively, waving you off. “I’m not here to debate semantics with you.”

“No, you’re here to guilt me into helping you move,” you reply. “What’s up with that, anyway? I thought you swore off of renting U-Hauls for good after last time. You were googling moving companies and getting quotes for weeks.”

“Yeah, I definitely lost that spreadsheet,” Taehyung admits. “Besides, money’s a little tight right now. Every last bit of spare change we have is going toward Jimin’s new pilates studio. We’re saving wherever and whenever  we can.”

You nod in understanding at the mention of his fiancé and his new business venture. “How’s all that going, anyhow? I know Jimin’s been super busy—we haven’t been to bar trivia in weeks.”

“Yeah, it’s a whole thing,” Taehyung says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Starting a business is hard—who knew?”

“Who knew, indeed,” you echo. You’re about to say something else, too, but any semblance of coherence flies out of your head when you glance at the girls again and see that they’ve come to a stop. There’s a sleek black Mercedes-Benz idling at the curb, and leaning against it is none other than Jungkook Jeon—dressed in a sharp navy blue ensemble with his hair slicked back and dark sunglasses perched on his nose. It’s impossible to tell whether he’s seen you yet, and it’s all you can do to tear your gaze away before you get caught staring. Turning back instead to Taehyung, you raise a hand in farewell. “Well, it looks like this is my stop.”

“Seems that way,” your friend hums, casting a curious glance at Trixie, who’s enthusiastically greeted Jungkook with a Hi again, Mr. Jeon! and is now giggling with Daeun about how they can see their reflections in his car. “See you tomorrow. Don’t get into too much trouble!”

You roll your eyes at the flagrant wink Taehyung sends your way, surreptitiously flipping him off from behind your tote bag. Then you make your way over to your daughter, who’s still engrossed in conversation. Coming to a stop behind her, you lay a hand on her shoulder, smiling as she looks up and flashes you a big grin. “All righty. You ready to go home, jitterbug?” you ask.

Trixie juts her bottom lip out into a pout. “Can I go to Daeun’s?”

You raise an eyebrow, glancing up at Jungkook, who’s now scrolling through his phone. Then you return your gaze to your daughter, taking in her eager, bright eyes. “I don’t know, bug. Have you asked Mr. Jeon if you can come over?”

Daeun pipes up then, her pigtails bobbing with every word. “He says it’s okay, Miss {L/N}! Since we have a project to work on and all. He even said we can order takeout for dinner!”

Again, you look at Jungkook. His expression is unreadable behind his sunglasses, but when he feels your gaze he glances up, tucking his phone back into his pocket and pushing his sunglasses up onto his head. “Dae’s right—I did promise the girls takeout. Sorry to catch you off guard with last-minute plans like this, Miss {L/N}. If you’d like, you’re welcome to join us as well.”

You blink. To say that the invitation has caught you off guard would be a massive understatement, and as your brain races to catch up, you suddenly realize that he’s willing to let you come to his home. You would be in his space—where he lives, eats, sleeps. The thought is simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating.

“I—I don’t want to impose,” you finally manage after what feels like an eternity. “I’m sure you’re busy, and I have a lot of homework to grade, and…” You trail off, hesitant, and Jungkook waits a beat before chiming in.

“No imposition at all,” he says, offering you a small smile. “Honest. I’ve spent two of the last three weekends hosting sleepovers for Daeun’s friends, and I’m not convinced I remember what adult company is like anymore.” Then his smile widens—just enough to offer a glimpse of his endearingly prominent front teeth and crinkle the corners of his eyes. “Remind me?”

You aren’t sure if you’re imagining the flirtatious edge in his tone, but you push the thought to the very back of your head and straighten the hem of your blouse before grasping for the phone tucked in your bag. “I… I suppose that would be all right,” you begin hesitantly as you pretend to check for new notifications. “You’re sure it won’t be any trouble?”

“None at all,” Jungkook reassures. “Here, I’ll give you my address for your GPS, but it might be easier if you just follow me. Where are you parked?”

You gesture toward the staff parking lot, which is usually separated from the main lot by a row of neatly manicured hydrangea bushes that bloom in bursts of pink and blue and purple during the spring and summer months. Right now, there are only a few sparse yellow daffodils, pushing up through the dirt and signaling that spring is not far off despite the lingering chill in the air. “I’m about three rows in. I can drive over and meet you here, if that works?”

Trixie chooses that moment to pipe up, instinctively raising her hand like she’s still in class. “Can I ride with Daeun and Mr. Jeon?”

You hesitate, glancing over at Jungkook, who shrugs as if to say fine by me. Turning your attention back to your daughter, you nod and reach down to adjust the glittery pink scrunchie in her hair. “Be good,” you order. “Don’t distract Mr. Jeon while he’s driving, okay?”

“Mmhmm,” Trixie hums, already turning toward the sleek black Benz and tugging on the door handle. “See you there, Mom!”

You wave, watching as the girls climb into the backseat before turning and making your way to your own car. Unlocking the door, you slide into the driver’s seat and take a deep breath. Then, you take another. And a few moments later, you take a third.

Even as you mentally play back the events of the afternoon, you still can’t wrap your head around how it came to this. Here you are, about to drive to Jungkook Jeon’s house. You’ve seen his address in your files, and you know from the street name that he lives downtown, in the part of the city that’s dominated by high-rise buildings and five-star hotels. It’s an area that you don’t visit often, having no reason to unless there’s a particular restaurant that you’re looking to try out—and have the money for. It feels odd inputting his address into your phone’s navigation app, but you do so nonetheless, watching as it calculates the optimal route. 

Steeling yourself, you start up the ignition and ease up on the brake. As you pull out of your parking space, you crane your head to see if Jungkook’s car is still where you’d last seen it, which it thankfully is. Slowly, you make your way over to where the Benz is idling, pulling up alongside him and giving him a little wave. Jungkook has donned his sunglasses again, but he lowers them when he sees you and nods in acknowledgment. Ready to go? he mouths, and you nod even though it’s a lie. You aren’t ready. You aren’t sure you ever will be. But Jungkook is already pulling ahead and out of the parking lot, and you’re forced to push aside your intrusive thoughts and follow. 

The first stretch of the drive is easy. Jungkook is a measured driver, and you can tell that he’s taking care to turn only when there’s enough room for both of your vehicles. The second stretch, however, proves far more difficult. Now that you’re downtown, there’s an abundance of one-way streets and pedestrians. Traffic lights sit on seemingly every corner, alternating between red, yellow, and green at random, as far as you can tell. You nearly lose Jungkook twice on particularly short green lights, and only narrowly avoid hitting an overeager dog dragging its hapless owner into the crosswalk before the walk sign has changed. 

The third time, it finally happens. Dismayed, you watch as Jungkook’s sleek black Benz cruises past a green light, just before it turns yellow for a split second and then flips to red. You’re forced to brake far faster than you’d prefer—way too fast to be safe, for sure—and watch as Jungkook disappears around the Starbucks on the next corner. Muttering out a quiet curse, you drum your fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as you wait for the light to change again. Thankfully, you’re only about two minutes from your destination. 

After what feels like an eternity, the light finally turns green. Releasing your foot on the brake, you take the turn that Jungkook had taken, glancing between your phone and the surrounding buildings to identify your destination. There’s a string of restaurants, a pharmacy, and a post office. You cruise past a dentist’s office and a few dry cleaners, and then your phone is directing you to turn right onto a street that boasts a long row of glass-fronted office buildings. 

Two blocks later, you’re pulling up to a tall, sleek chrome building. The first floor is occupied by a seafood restaurant and the second and third seem to be a gym, but as you crane your head upward you can see that the floors above that seem to be condominiums. Letting your head fall back against the headrest, you glance down at your phone one more time, confirming that this is indeed your destination. Then you take a long, deep breath before you begin following the little blue signs that claim to lead to a parking garage beneath the building.

To your relief, the garage itself isn’t difficult to find. You take a ticket from the machine as you descend down the concrete ramp, keeping an eye out for any open spots that are designated as guest parking. Seconds pass, and then minutes. Your heart flutters nervously in your chest as you descend deeper into the parking garage, seeking a break in the rows of cars that never comes. You’re seconds away from giving up and turning around, when finally, you see an open spot. It’s a little cramped and it’s right next to a concrete pillar that’s just a little too close for comfort, but you manage to squeeze into the space. Heaving a deep sigh of relief, you turn off the ignition and tuck your keys into your purse, taking a moment to gather yourself before exiting your car and locking it behind you.

That’s when you encounter your next obstacle: figuring out how, exactly, to get out of the parking garage. You can’t find a single sign to guide your way—only a locked dark green door that you assume is some kind of mechanical room. Groaning, you spin in a full circle, taking in your concrete surroundings. Maybe if you just start walking, you’ll find a sign that will point you to the elevators. You’d even consider taking the stairs at this point, no matter how many floors down you are (you’re pretty sure it’s seven or eight). 

Just then, your phone begins to buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out, you see Jungkook Jeon (Daeun’s Dad) emblazoned across the screen and immediately swipe to answer. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Jungkook says, obvious relief coloring his tone. “I’m sorry I lost you back there. Where are you now?”

“I’m in the parking garage below your building,” you reply, idly scuffing your foot along the concrete floor. “I’m parked pretty far down, and now I can’t seem to figure out how to get upstairs.”

Jungkook hums thoughtfully. “Yeah, I’ll admit the signage isn’t great down there. Let me see… can you see any doors?”

“Just this green one, but it’s locked.” Reaching out, you try the handle again to double-check. “Other than that, nothing.”

Another hum from the man on the other end of the line. “Okay, walk away from that door. Try and head toward the middle of the garage—that’s where the elevators are. There’s four of them, and they’re in this big concrete circle. Can you see them yet?”

“Maybe?” You can see a break in the rows of cars up ahead, and a rounded concrete wall in the distance. Speeding up, you make your way around the edge and blink as a bank of elevators comes into view. “Oh, wait—yeah! Huh. Weird. I didn’t expect the doors to be orange.”

Jungkook chuckles. “Each floor’s color-coordinated, yeah. Orange means you’re near the bottom, though. Didn’t you see the guest parking on the first floor?”

You blink. “No, I don’t think so. Did I miss something?”

That draws another chuckle from him. “Probably. There’s a row of spaces off to the right as soon as you enter the garage, but it can be pretty easy to miss if you don’t know to look for it. I should’ve given you a heads-up.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him as you enter the elevator and hit the button for the thirty-fourth floor. “I could’ve asked.”

Bidding him farewell and assuring that you’ll see him soon, you hang up and tuck your phone back into your pocket. The elevator ride is relatively short despite how high you’re going, and before you know it you find yourself standing in front of a navy blue door with a polished brass knocker. Raising your hand, you’re about to knock when the door flies open, revealing Daeun and Trixie standing there with identical grins.

“You’re finally here!” your daughter exclaims, bounding forward to take you by the hand and lead you inside. “Mr. Jeon said we had to wait for you to get here. He says he’s gonna give us a grand tour!”

“It’s really not as exciting as they’re making it sound.” Jungkook’s voice comes from around the corner, and the man himself steps into view a moment later. He’s taken off his jacket and removed his tie, leaving him in navy slacks and a crisp white shirt with the first few buttons undone. Your gaze lingers a little too long on this newly exposed sliver of chest, but you forcibly tear your gaze away when Trixie gives your hand a squeeze. 

“Come on, Mom! You can see everything from the window. It’s like you’re on top of a mountain!”

Laughing, you follow your daughter deeper into the apartment. She points to the closet off the foyer, where you obligingly hang up your coat next to her periwinkle one. Then she leads you to the far end of the foyer, where it opens into a wide hallway. On the other side of the hall is an archway that leads to a spacious kitchen with white cabinets and polished granite countertops. You take note of the bright yellow bar stools at the kitchen island, chuckling when Daeun loudly declares that she picked them out—and that Jungkook had caved to her despite wanting boring gray ones instead.

As you continue your tour, it becomes abundantly clear that Jungkook has caved to his daughter on multiple occasions. The furniture in the living area is neutral—shades of beige and dark wood that pair well with the polished floorboards and modern floor-to-ceiling windows. But scattered throughout the space are pops of color and quirkiness that you can confidently attribute to Daeun—having graded several of the art pieces that you now see hanging on the wall and adorning the sleek glass coffee table. There’s the lopsided clay vase painted with streaks of hot pink and specks of bright yellow, and there’s the papier-mâché snowman with his jaunty orange hat. You see more and more of Daeun’s influence everywhere you look—the watercolor butterfly paintings on the wall, and the red floral accent chair that you’re sure Jungkook didn’t pick out himself. 

“That’s Daddy’s room,” Daeun says, pointing to a nondescript white door beside the bookshelves that flank the flatscreen TV hanging on the wall. Then she points down the hall, past the kitchen where you can see a few more doors. “And that’s my room down there, next to Daddy’s office. Do you want to see?”

You nod. “I can’t wait. Lead the way.”

Cheerfully, Daeun gestures for you to follow after her as she skips toward the door at the very end of the hall. She opens it with a flourish, allowing all of you inside, and as soon as you step past the threshold you’re transported to a fantastical world. Daeun’s bedroom walls are painted to resemble an enchanted forest, complete with delicate fairy lights wrapped around the wooden four-poster bed. A white desk and an accompanying green chair sit in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, the pale pink curtains opened to let sunlight stream in. Along the sill is a collection of stuffed animals, ranging from a tiny butterfly to an elephant that you’re pretty sure is taller than Daeun herself. Opposite the bed is a gallery wall, composed of colorful floral prints and Daeun’s own art—a charming, eclectic mix of animal paintings and landscapes. It’s the kind of bedroom that you would’ve loved as a child, and your daughter is equally taken with it if her awed expression is anything to go by. 

“This is so cool!” Trixie runs to the window to peer out at the city below, before twirling in a circle to take in the art on the walls. “I can’t believe you live here. It’s like a magic forest!”

“It’s a beautiful room,” you remark, nodding your agreement. “And all of these drawings are amazing, Daeun. You’re a talented artist.”

Daeun flushes at the compliment, thanking you with a shy smile. Then she and Trixie are off again, speeding down the hallway to look at something else in the apartment. You and Jungkook trail after them slowly, until he opens another door off the hall to reveal his office. It’s smaller than Daeun’s bedroom and far more simplistic in its decor, but it’s a cozy and inviting space nonetheless. One wall is lined with mahogany bookshelves, and a polished wooden desk is pushed against the opposite. A plush burgundy armchair with a matching ottoman sits in the corner beside a tall potted plant, creating the perfect space for reading, and you can tell from the indentation in the seat cushion that it’s been well-loved over the years.

“I’ve definitely been bringing my work home too much lately,” Jungkook admits. “I’ve been cutting back though. Ever since Daeun’s behavioral problems…” He trails off. “Well, you know all about that already. And I do want to apologize for giving you a hard time. It’s just… I guess it’s not all that fun being told that you’re failing as a parent.”

“You’re not failing as a parent,” you reply, laying a hand on his arm before you can think to stop yourself. “You’re doing your best. It’s all we can do, isn’t it? Do everything we possibly can for our children?”

He nods, but he isn’t looking at you. He’s looking down at your hand on his arm, and you blanch inwardly as you quickly pull back and pretend to brush invisible dirt off your skirt. “We should go find the girls,” you murmur. And just like that, the tour is over. 

The two of you rejoin the girls in the kitchen, where they’ve begun assembling themselves a snack of peanut butter and crackers. Jungkook slices up an apple and a banana for them to share, and they barely take the time to thank him before disappearing into Daeun’s bedroom to work on their project. You and Jungkook find yourselves alone in the kitchen, and when the silence between you has stretched on for just long enough to be awkward, you decide to speak. “So. I guess I should probably grade some homework while I’m here.”

Jungkook blinks and shakes his head a little, as if coming out of a trance. “Right, of course. I’ve got a few things I need to wrap up myself. Please, make yourself comfortable. You’re free to work in the office, if you’d like.”

Immediately, you shake your head. “Oh, no. I don’t want to intrude.”

He nods, then gestures out toward the dining table, which sits in a little nook between the main living area and kitchen. “Well then, feel free to make use of the table. Or the kitchen island. Or even the couch, if you’d prefer.” He pauses. “Wait, where are my manners? I haven’t even offered you anything to drink! Did you want anything?” 

“Oh.” You hesitate. “I’m okay.”

Jungkook begins making his way to the refrigerator, regardless. “Seriously, it’s no trouble. I have coffee, tea, banana milk, and I think there’s probably a carton of apple juice in here too. What do you usually drink when you’re grading?”

“Tea,” you admit. “Any kind. I’m not picky.”

“Tea it is.” Jungkook sets about grabbing two mugs. “Go on, make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring it to you.”

For a moment, you wonder if you should ask if he needs help. But he’s already preoccupied with the kettle, his back to you, and you have to force yourself to look away from the way his broad shoulders taper into his slim waist. In an attempt to distract yourself from gawking, you walk back out to the dining table. Pulling out a chair, you settle your bag on the floor beside you and take a seat. And by the time Jungkook comes out of the kitchen with two steaming mugs of tea, you’re already halfway through grading the first math worksheet in your pile.

“Here you go.” Jungkook places a mug by your elbow, and you glance up at him with a grateful smile.

“Thanks.” “No problem.”

To your surprise, he takes his mug to the opposite side of the table and sets it down. Then he disappears into the kitchen, returning a few seconds later with his laptop in hand. You try not to stare as he sets up shop across from you, a loose lock of dark hair flopping across his forehead as he logs in and begins reading something, his dark eyes flitting across the screen. His piercing in his eyebrow glints in the sunlight streaming in through the nearby window.

Ripping your gaze away, you force yourself to focus on the homework you need to grade. And after a few minutes, you’re fully immersed, thumbing through sheet after sheet and writing down your notes.

Before you even realize it, two hours have passed. You only become aware of how late it’s getting when Jungkook shuts his laptop with a click, stretching his arms overhead and working a few kinks out of his neck. “It’s almost dinnertime,” he remarks, glancing out the window where the sun is steadily dropping closer to the horizon. “Did you have any thoughts about dinner? I can order some pizza or something.”

“Oh, I don’t think—” you begin to protest, but Daeun and Trixie choose that moment to dash in like mini tornadoes, whirling around the dining table. 

“We can still order takeout for dinner, right Daddy?” Daeun gazes up at Jungkook with pleading eyes, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “And Trixie and Miss {L/N} can stay if we do, right?”

Trixie looks at you, lower lip already beginning to jut out in a pout. “Please, Mom?”

Jungkook gives you a meaningful glance across the table, and you can only shrug and relent. “Yeah, all right. Since takeout was already promised, we can stay for dinner. But we’re going home after that, okay? It’s a school night.”

The girls burst into cheers. After a brief discussion on what kind of food to order, you all settle on Jungkook’s initial suggestion of pizza. As he puts in the order, you begin tidying up the dining table, clearing it of your graded homework. Daeun points out where the plates are kept, and together, you and the girls set the table for dinner. 

“Estimated delivery time is half an hour,” Jungkook says as he tucks his phone back into his pocket and joins you at the dining table. “What should we do while we wait?”

“Let’s play Candyland!” Daeun exclaims. 

Trixie gasps. “I love Candyland!”

And just like that, it’s settled. The four of you settle around the coffee table for the game—you and Jungkook making yourselves comfortable on the cream-colored sectional while the girls sprawl out on the shaggy rug on the floor. The pizza arrives just as Trixie reaches Candy Castle, and Jungkook goes to answer the door while she celebrates her victory. Then, the four of you sit down for dinner.

It’s strange, sitting in Jungkook’s undoubtedly expensive apartment and eating pizza. But even more strange is how okay it all feels—natural, even. You aren’t sure when you became so comfortable in his presence, but you aren’t about to question it. You’re grateful for the lack of awkwardness.

An hour later, the last slice of pizza is finished. You volunteer to do the dishes, and Jungkook clears the table while you take up residence at the sink. You’ve tasked Trixie with gathering up her things so you can depart after you’ve finished in the kitchen, and can hear her giggling off in the distance with Daeun. “Thanks for hosting us today,” you murmur to Jungkook.

He chuckles, waving off your gratitude. “It’s no problem, seriously. I had a good time.”

You smile at him before returning to the dishes. Just as you’re putting away the last plate, the girls run back into the kitchen—Trixie with her backpack in tow. 

“Can Daeun come to our house next time?” she asks, and you laugh.

“Sure, jitterbug. You’re welcome to come over whenever you’d like, Daeun.”

And with that, you and Trixie say your final goodbyes. You slip back into your shoes and grab your coats from the closet. Jungkook gives you directions for the easiest route out of the parking garage, and you thank him for what feels like the umpteenth time.

You’re barely listening to your daughter’s ramblings as you climb into the driver’s seat and turn on the ignition. All you can think about is Jungkook and this strange, newfound warmth that stirs in your belly whenever he seeps into your thoughts.

///

“You wiped that part of the counter already.”

Trixie’s voice barely registers in your mind, but the washcloth in your hand slows nonetheless. It’s a beautiful Saturday morning with hardly a cloud in the sky, and Jungkook and Daeun are due to arrive any minute. You’ve been cleaning for the past hour, and even though you know you’ve already gone through the kitchen, you can’t help yourself. This is the first time Jungkook will be seeing your humble abode, and you—ostensibly—want to impress.

“Bug, can you set the table?”

Trixie sighs dramatically, but complies nonetheless. Grabbing four plates, she places them down carefully before returning for four glasses. You join her at the table with a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice, straightening out one of the striped blue placemats as you set it down beside the vase of flowers that serves as a centerpiece. 

You’ve just started frying bacon when the doorbell rings. “Got it!” Trixie calls, darting to the door, and you listen as she enthusiastically greets your guests. A few seconds later, Jungkook rounds the corner with both girls, decked out in jeans and a gray cable-knit sweather and carrying a plain white cardboard box in his hands. 

Curiously, you tilt your head. “Mysterious box you’ve got there.”

He laughs. “Hello to you too.” Then he puts the box down and pops open the lid. “I brought my favorite bagels—I hope that’s okay. Didn’t want to show up empty-handed.”

You smile at him. “Of course it’s okay. I was just planning on making some toast, but bagels are way be…” You trail off as the bagels in question come into your view. 

Perfectly golden, with a dusting of cinnamon sugar and streusel crumbles on top. You’d recognize them anywhere. 

“{Name}?” Jungkook sounds concerned. “Are you all right?”

You blink and shake your head, mind still whirring. “Are these from that coffee shop downtown? Bean There, Done That?” 

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, have you been?”

You nod. “This… this might sound crazy and I might be way off base. But do you stop there every morning for a bagel?”

Jungkook blinks. Then he blinks again, his lips parting wordlessly. A beat passes, and then another. “Wait,” he finally manages, his voice a croak. “Hang on. Is it… I mean, it can’t be… can it?”

You reach into the drawer next to the stovetop and pull out a wad of pen-stained napkins. “Did you leave me these?”

For a few seconds, it seems like Jungkook can only gape at you. “Holy shit,” he finally breathes, before slapping a hand to his mouth with wide eyes and glancing around to make sure the girls aren’t within earshot. “I was leaving you notes this whole time?”

You can only laugh in disbelief. “You were the one taking my cinnamon streusel bagels?”

“Hey, I wouldn’t have taken them if you’d gotten there earlier,” he teases. Chuckling, he picks up a napkin note and uncrumples it, scanning across the text. “Damn. Small world, huh?”

“The smallest,” you agree, mind reeling from this new development. Still chuckling, Jungkook steps past you to get to the stove, and you belatedly remember that the bacon is still sizzling in the pan as he picks up your tongs and carefully flips each strip. 

“I kept your notes too,” he says after a moment. “I shoved both of them in my glovebox.”

You huff. “Both. Yeah, okay, you beat me to the last bagel way more than I beat you. You don’t have to rub it in, Jungkook.”

“Oh, come on.” He grins, toothy and bright, and you’re momentarily distracted by the endearing prominence of his teeth. “I think I have to rub it in a little.”

“Hmph. As long as it’s only a little,” you concede as you join him at the stove with another pan and begin scrambling eggs. Together, the two of you finish making breakfast, piling eggs onto one plate and bacon on another. You grab the bowl of fruit salad you’d prepared last night out of the fridge, and Jungkook grabs the box of bagels and calls for Daeun and Trixie to come eat. Then, he surprises you by sitting beside you, leaving the girls to sit next to each other on the opposite side of the table.

Breakfast is a relaxed affair—even if Taco keeps trying to jump up on the table to steal some bacon. You’ve eaten several meals with Jungkook and Daeun since that first dinner—usually at Jungkook’s apartment, but also once at the food court in your local natural history museum, where you took the girls to see the ocean exhibit’s penguin display. Since this is the final weekend before their group project is due on Monday, you’ve promised to take them to the zoo to see real, live penguins and complete the last of their research. Both girls already have their backpacks packed and ready to go, and you task Jungkook with checking to make sure they have all their notes while you clean up in the kitchen. 

Twenty minutes later, you’re on your way to the zoo. Jungkook has volunteered to drive, and you can’t help but gape a little as he unlocks his sleek black Mercedes-Benz and opens up the passenger door to reveal cream-colored leather seats and shiny silver hardware. “Wow,” you remark, catching his eye as he walks around to the driver’s side. “This is like the Batmobile or something.”

“Hardly,” he says with a laugh. “I wish I had rocket boosters and ejection seats. That’d be cool as hell.”

“Daddy!” Daeun gasps, scandalized. “That’s a bad word!”

Jungkook has the decency to look properly abashed. “I’ll put a dollar in the swear jar when we get home,” he promises before pretending to zip his mouth shut and throw away the key. Satisfied, Daeun clambers into the backseat with Trixie on her heels, and Jungkook shoots you a conspiratorial little wink as he takes his own seat and starts up the engine.

The drive to the zoo takes only about fifteen minutes. It’s already beginning to get crowded by the time you get there, but Jungkook still manages to find parking with little difficulty. Together, the two of you usher your daughters out of the car, reminding them not to run too far ahead when they immediately make a beeline for the entrance. 

After a short wait in line to buy tickets, you finally make your way past the lion statues flanking the front gate. The wide concrete pathway leads to an open plaza where people are milling about—some looking at the directory located at the far end while others rely on the colorful signpost in the center, reading through the various directional arrows before heading off to their destination. Along the edges of the plaza are a multitude of stalls—selling everything from footlong hot dogs to stuffed animals to cotton candy. There’s a couple of artists painting faces, too, and Daeun only has to give Jungkook one wide-eyed, pleading look before he caves and pulls out his wallet. Aghast, you try to protest, but he waves you off and sends them both off with some cash in hand. 

“Consider it payment for all the bagels I’ve deprived you of,” he says, and you relent with a laugh.

Slowly, the two of you make your way around the plaza, making sure to keep a watchful eye on the girls at all times. Half an hour later, Trixie and Daeun come skipping back your way, their faces bright with colorful paint. Daeun has an intricate pink and blue butterfly, while Trixie has opted for the distinctive orange and black stripes of a tiger. 

“Do you like it?” she asks, and you nod, bopping her fondly on her painted black nose. 

“I don’t just like it, jitterbug. I love it.”

Pleased, she rejoins Daeun, who has successfully diverted Jungkook to the cotton candy stand. Following after her, you hand the vendor your credit card to pay for both snacks before Jungkook can get a word in edgewise. Reluctantly, he tucks his wallet away, laughing when you stick your tongue out at him.

Once the girls have had their fill of the main plaza, the four of you head off in the direction of the penguin exhibit, stopping to look at the zebras and giraffes along the way. Photographs are snapped, and Trixie even flags down a nearby couple and asks them to take a photo of all four of you together. The girls jostle into place in front of the giraffe enclosure, and you suddenly find yourself standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Jungkook, the warmth of his body radiating off of him like the sun in the sky. Your resulting smile feels forced—especially when the girl starts taking multiple photos from different angles—but gradually relaxes. And now, even as you enter the penguin exhibit, you can’t stop sneaking glances at the last photo. 

Because in it, you and Jungkook look like couple. You’re standing close enough that anyone who saw it would construe it as a family photo, the two of you beaming with your giggling daughters in front of you, their arms draped over each other’s shoulders.

Swallowing, you let your phone screen go dark and tuck it back into your pocket. You’re coming up on the penguin exhibit now, and the girls can barely contain their excitement as they run ahead to the outermost edge of the enclosure where a massive glass wall allows for a clear view of the penguins swimming about underwater.

“They’re so fast!” Trixie exclaims. She stops at one of the numerous placards lining the glass wall, her little face scrunching as she slowly reads it out loud to Daeun. “It says here some can swim over twenty miles an hour!”

As the girls pull out their notebooks and begin taking notes, you and Jungkook find an unoccupied bench near a rocky outcrop occupied by several bronze penguin statues. “Look,” Jungkook says, patting one of the upright penguins. “You can see how many people have rubbed this little guy’s head. It’s turned gold.”

“Must be good luck,” you remark, running a finger along the golden beak of another penguin. “Or maybe I should make a wish? I don’t really know what this situation calls for.”

“I’m pretty sure you make wishes when you throw a coin into a fountain,” your companion replies, brushing a dark strand of hair off his forehead. “Actually, I think I saw a fountain back there. Should we check it out later?”

“I don’t think I have any change on me,” you reply, peeking into your purse to make sure. “Seriously, who even carries coins anymore?”

“Not me,” Jungkook agrees. “I do usually have at least a little cash on me, though. It’s nice to have sometimes.”

“Mm, yeah. You never know when you’ll need it.”

Just then, Trixie and Daeun run up, gesturing toward the brown building at the very back of the enclosure. “There’s a penguin movie playing over there!” Daeun says. “Can we go see it?”

“Sure,” Jungkook says. “How long is it?”

“I think it runs every twenty minutes,” you reply when Daeun frowns and scratches her head. “Come on. If I’m remembering correctly, we should be able to see more penguins inside too.”

Daeun and Trixie beam. “Cool!” they exclaim in unison, before galloping off and leaving you and Jungkook to follow after them as quickly as you can manage without breaking into a run yourselves.

Your memory proves correct, as you enter the brown building and immediately see that the walls inside are glass as well. A penguin dives off of a rocky island and into the clear blue water, and you watch as it goes all the way to the bottom of the pool before coming back up for air. 

After doing a lap of the building, Daeun and Trixie decide to go into the theater to see the fifteen-minute short film. Meanwhile, you and Jungkook find a quiet little alcove near the entrance, chatting softly while watching the penguins behind the glass on the opposite wall. 

“I haven’t been to the zoo in ages,” Jungkook admits. “Dae’s mom used to always take her, though. They always came back with a stuffed animal from the gift shop—you might’ve seen them in Daeun’s room, actually. She loves them.”

You nod. “I remember, yeah. It’s quite an impressive collection.” Then you hesitate, gnawing on your bottom lip as you consider your next words and debate whether you’re being too nosy. “Daeun’s mom… can I ask what happened between you?” You pause, then quickly speak again. “And feel free to say no, obviously! You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’m probably just poking my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Jungkook smiles at you, but there’s a faraway quality to his gaze that wasn’t there before. “Nah, it’s okay. There’s really not much to tell, if I’m honest. Evelyn and I, we started dating when we were nineteen. We got married at twenty-three, had Daeun a couple years later, and then one day we realized that we’d become entirely different people and that we weren’t really in love anymore.”

“Oh.” You aren’t sure what else to say. “I-I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shrugs and sighs, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling. “No need to be sorry; it was a mutual thing. Totally amicable. We’re still friends, and we’re a pretty kickass co-parenting team too.”

The conversation continues, and you find out that Evelyn’s job took her overseas last year. According to Jungkook, she currently lives with her new boyfriend, who’s a little pretentious but completely harmless. And despite the six-hour time difference, Evelyn still finds the time to FaceTime Jungkook and Daeun every Sunday afternoon. Because of those calls, she’s apparently heard all about you, too—you’re her favorite teacher, remember? he’d said with a laugh.

“What about you, then?” Jungkook glances over at you inquiringly, his eyebrows raised. “Is it my turn to pry?”

You can tell from the melodious lilt in his tone that he’s teasing. “My story’s far less interesting than yours,” you answer, fiddling with a stray thread on your jacket sleeve. “I don’t have an ex-partner or anything like that. I’ve just always wanted to be a mother, so one day I decided that I was going to do it. I used a donor, got pregnant, and here we are.”

Jungkook takes this in slowly, nodding. “Do you… I mean, do you know who your donor is? Have you met him?”

You shake your head. “No, it was an anonymous thing. I got a profile and some information about his appearance and hobbies and stuff, but not much beyond that.”

“I—” Jungkook begins, before trailing off. “I’m sorry. I’m asking too many questions. I don’t know a whole lot about the sperm donor thing, but I’m glad it worked out for you. Trixie’s an amazing kid.”

“She is,” you murmur. “I love her more than anything.”

“And you’re an amazing mom.” Jungkook’s voice grows softer, and when you turn to look at him, he seems closer than he was before. “I don’t know how you manage it all, teaching and parenting. But you do, and it’s incredible. You’re incredible.”

You aren’t sure who leans in first. All you know is that one moment, you’re staring into Jungkook’s earnest brown eyes, and then in the next, you’re kissing him.

It starts soft. Cautious, even. His lips press against yours gently, once, before he pulls back for a breath. You can feel him exhale, the warmth fanning your cheeks. And then you pull him back in by his collar, fisting one hand in the knit material and finding the soft hair at his nape with the other. 

Time slows to a standstill. Jungkook groans against your lips, and you feel the way it rumbles through his chest, the sensation sinking into your skin and settling straight in your core. His hands find your hips, and you wind both arms around his neck to pull him closer. 

And then, just as suddenly as it had stopped, time starts ticking again. Reality crashes down around you in the form of familiar, boisterous voices rapidly heading your way. You and Jungkook only barely manage to untangle yourselves before Trixie and Daeun round the corner of the alcove, chattering excitedly about all the new penguin facts they’ve learned. 

“Can we go to the petting zoo next?” Trixie asks, seemingly oblivious to your lingering embarrassment at nearly being caught.

Awkwardly, you clear your throat. At your side, Jungkook is faring no better, shuffling his feet and refusing to make eye contact. “Yeah, sure, bug,” you finally manage when you find your voice again. “Lead the way.”

///

Monday dawns cloudy and gray. The weather app on your phone promises thunderstorms later in the afternoon, but that isn’t enough to dampen your mood one bit. Instead, you thumb back over to your messages, your heart skipping a beat when you see the text still sitting at the very top.

[6:54am] Jungkook Jeon: Make sure to stop by bean there, done that before school. Left you a surprise ;) 

Taking a deep breath, you type out a response:

[6:56am] You: I’m a little scared. Should I be scared?

His answer comes in immediately. Nah. It’s a good surprise, I promise.

[6:58am] You: Sure it is… 🤨

Biting back a grin, you tuck your phone into your bag and head toward the front door of your apartment, nearly tripping over Taco along the way, who has chosen that moment to start slinking between your legs. 

“Really, Taco?” you ask the unperturbed calico cat at your feet. “What if I fell and cracked my head open? Who would feed you then, huh?”

As usual, Taco merely gives you an unimpressed look before flicking her tail and wandering off. Sighing, you call for Trixie to hurry up before turning to check your appearance in the mirror leaning against the wall of the entryway. It’s a large, vintage piece—a gold-framed, flea market find that you treasure dearly and swear makes you look good no matter how awful you might feel.

Satisfied, you hike your bag higher on your shoulder and smooth down the lapels of your coat. Trixie rounds the corner and gives herself a quick once-over too, and you give her a thumbs-up. “Ready, bug?”

“Yup!” she replies, tightening her grip on her and Daeun’s project—a carefully constructed shoebox diorama that shows a group of penguins in their natural icy habitat. 

“Let’s go, then.” Opening the front door, you let her through before locking it up behind you. Together, you head out to the car, and Trixie ensures that her diorama is completely secured in the seat beside her while you check your mirrors and turn on the ignition.

The drive to Bean There, Done That! takes only about ten minutes. Jin waves cheerily when he spots you walking up to the counter, but his face positively lights up when he sees Trixie is with you. He absolutely adores your daughter—Trixie loves him too—and on the occasional instance you’ve had to call on him to babysit, the two of them always end up stuffed with food on the couch and giggling over bad puns.

“What can I get you, ma’am?” Jin asks, directing the question at Trixie, who beams at him before turning to look at you with pleading eyes.

“Can I have a double chocolate cookie?”

“That… actually sounds really good,” you admit. “Make that two. And Jin, did someone leave something here for me earlier?”

Jin grins. “Thought you’d never ask. This here is from one Mr. Jungkook Jeon.” Reaching beneath the counter, he pulls out a box and watches as you open the lid to reveal half a dozen cinnamon streusel bagels with a neatly folded napkin on top. Unfolding it, you can only laugh at the words written on it:

Hope you have a mug-nificient day!

“Just so you know, he stole that line from me,” Jin says with a sniff. “I’m not letting him take the credit.”

“Duly noted,” you tell him, trying and failing to hide your smile as you look down at the note again. After a couple beats, Jin clears his throat, and you glance up to see that he’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat. 

“Sooo,” he begins slowly, dragging out the single syllable, “I imagine you want a fresh napkin and a pen, unless… are you going to see Mr. Jungkook Jeon at some point?”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance as best you can. “Trixie was paired with his daughter for a school project, so we’ve been meeting up for the past few weeks so they can work on it. Now that that’s over with… I don’t really know. We’re both pretty busy.”

Jin scoffs. “That’s a lame excuse, especially since he’s clearly flirting with you. And—”

Unfortunately, Trixie interrupts before he can finish his sentence, skipping back over from where she had been examining the pastry display cases along the wall. “Can I have a lemon bar?”

You fix her with a stern look. “You already asked for the double chocolate cookie, remember? The lemon bars can wait until next time.” Then you turn back to Jin, reaching into your bag for your wallet. “We should probably get to school, anyhow. What do I owe you?”

“Not a thing,” he replies, handing over a paper bag with your cookies and a bottle of apple juice. “It’s already been taken care of.”

From the wink he sends your way, you know that it must have been Jungkook who doled out the extra cash for your breakfast. “Thanks, Jin,” you reply, handing Trixie the cookies and juice before accepting the cup of coffee he hands over. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Pleasure doing business with ya,” is his response. Trixie waves goodbye, and together, the two of you head back out to the car. It’s started drizzling since you arrived, and you thank your lucky stars that you’d managed to snag a parking spot right up front.

Your daughter seems to be deep in thought as you help her buckle her seatbelt, her lips pursed in concentration. Then, out of nowhere, she asks:

“Do you like Mr. Jeon?”

You nearly choke. “W-what?”

“Mr. Jeon,” she repeats patiently, and you’re thankful that she’s not looking at you—instead, she’s focused on the raindrops splashing against the window and racing each other down the glass. “You spent a bunch of time with him when Daeun and I were doing school stuff. What’d you do?”

“Adult stuff,” you reply, before cursing inwardly at the potential implication behind your words. “Mostly, I spent my time grading homework. And he had some things to do for work, too.”

Trixie hums, apparently satisfied with this answer. “He’s nice,” she declares. “He buys us food and he has a cool house.”

“Sure,” you agree. “He’s a very nice man.”

And with that settled, you finish buckling her in her seat. Shutting the back door, you suck in a deep, calming breath before circling around to the driver’s side and setting off on the familiar route to Hybe Academy.

///

“... Miss {L/N}, are you listening?”

You blink and sit up a little straighter in your chair. “Yes, of course. Please go on.” Hastily, you scribble down a few random words, hoping that will placate the parent sitting across from you. It’s parent-teacher conference week—and you’re beyond grateful that it’s Friday night as Mrs. Greene rambles on and on about how the school isn’t doing enough for her precious baby boy. She’s talking about how the school day should be extended now—or at least how teachers should watch after the children whose parents can’t pick them up right at three-thirty. I don’t understand why it’s so difficult to understand. I mean, my husband is a very busy man, and I have my own business to run. I can’t be expected to drop everything in the middle of a client meeting to come pick Derrick up…

It takes everything in you not to snap at her. You know for a fact that her “business” is selling bejeweled keychains on Etsy—and that they’re incredibly poorly made, if the reviews are anything to go by. Instead, you bite your tongue—hard enough to taste metal—and remind her that the school’s operating hours are not for you to decide. 

After what feels like an eternity, the clock strikes seven, marking the end of her reserved time block. Standing up, you shake her hand and wish her a pleasant evening before opening your planner and checking to see if you have any more meetings. Your parents have Trixie for the night and there’s a bottle of wine on your kitchen counter calling your name, and you cannot wait to get home and relax in the bath with a glass. Maybe, you think, I’ll even do a face mask.

The final name written in your planner stops you in your tracks. You haven’t seen him in over a week—not since that Monday when he left you half a dozen bagels at the coffee shop. The girls had insisted on meeting up that evening to celebrate turning their project in, so you’d all gone to a popular taco joint. 

And then there’s a knock on your door, the three raps pulling you right out of your musings.

Silhouetted there in the doorframe is Jungkook Jeon, decked out in a polished charcoal suit and wearing a smile that makes your insides lurch dangerously in your chest. His dark hair is parted on the side, and you catch the slightest glimpse of his brow piercing glinting behind the hair that’s loose across his forehead. “Hi,” he says, his voice low, and you have to remind yourself that it’s impolite to stare as you find your voice.

“Hi yourself.”

He grins, baring the adorably prominent front teeth that you hate to admit you’ve grown rather fond of. “You look like you weren’t expecting me.”

“Oh, no. I just wasn’t expecting you on time,” you retort, gesturing to the plastic chair sitting across from your desk. “Your track record is questionable, at best.”

Jungkook grimaces. “Yeah, sorry about that. I made sure to leave plenty early this time, just in case I ran into traffic. Or if Bobby decided to corner me in the elevator again—that guy really doesn’t know when to shut up.” He pauses. “Wait, I told you about him, right? Works on the development team, owns one singular tie? Balding but tries to hide it with a bad combover?”

“That rings a bell,” you reply. “The tie is red and Christmas-themed, right?”

“Sure is.” Jungkook chuckles. “I thought they might’ve been polka dots the first time I met him, but nope. Christmas ornaments, even in the middle of July.”

You laugh. “Odd fashion choice.”

“Seriously. Don’t even get me started on the rest of his clothes,” Jungkook says, shaking his head. “Here, let’s change the subject. Have you eaten yet?”

You gesture around your classroom, artificially lit with fluorescent light even as the sun begins to dip closer to the horizon. “Nope. I mean, I had about twenty minutes between the end of the school day and the start of my first meeting, so I scarfed down an apple in the break room. But that was hours ago.”

“Perfect.” At your look of disbelief, he chortles and quickly amends his phrasing. “Sorry, I just mean that I’ve got you covered. Here, look.” And he begins pulling things out of a paper bag that you hadn’t noticed him carrying before. Crackers, sliced baguette, an assortment of cured meats and cheeses, grapes. He produces a bottle of wine next, and you very nearly start clapping. 

The last thing he pulls out is a single red rose, his smile soft and warm and dizzyingly affectionate as he presents it to you. “I—wow.” You aren’t sure what to say. “Thank you. I… I feel like I should’ve prepared something. Stolen an apple for you from the teacher’s lounge, at least.”

Jungkook snorts. “Well, here’s something you can help me out with. I don’t actually have glasses for the wine. Totally spaced and forgot that we’d need them. Any ideas?”

You’re on your feet before he can even finish asking. “I teach elementary schoolers, Mr. Jeon. I always have cups.” 

Making your way to the cabinet by the window, you grab a box of little paper cups and pull out two. Jungkook accepts them when you hand them over, and you watch as he unscrews the cap on the wine bottle before pouring out two generous helpings. Together, you lay out the food he’s brought, spreading it across whatever empty space there is on your desk. “Cheers,” Jungkook says once you’ve both taken your seats again, raising his paper cup to tap against yours.

“Cheers.”

For a moment, there is silence as you both take a drink. Then Jungkook speaks, glancing up at you as he carefully begins crafting himself a mini salami and cheese sandwich. “So, where does Trixie stay while you’re doing all these meetings? Do your parents have her?”

You nod, taking another much-needed sip of wine. “Yeah, my mom picked her up after school. They actually have her until Sunday—my dad’s going to teach her how to fish tomorrow, and then I think they’re going to build a pillow fort.”

Jungkook chuckles around a mouthful of gouda. “I love a good pillow fort. Dae insists on building one at least once a week, and at this point, I’m honestly surprised there isn’t one permanently in her bedroom.”

Grinning, you reach for a cracker and some cheese. “Taco manages to destroy every pillow fort Trixie and I try to make. She either decides it’s a trampoline, or that it’s a good time to start scratching everything she can reach. We can’t win.”

“Sounds like you need better defenses,” Jungkook replies, waggling his eyebrows. “That, or you can come over whenever you need a pillow fort fix. I’m sure Dae and Trixie would create something truly epic together. I mean, that penguin diorama was pretty fucking cool, wasn’t it?”

“Very fucking cool,” you agree, and both of you burst into laughter.

Deep blue twilight settles outside as the two of you continue chatting over your makeshift meal. The cheese begins to dwindle, only a few lonely grapes remain on their stems, and when you go to top of your wine, you realize there’s less than a quarter of the bottle left. 

“Wow, we really put a dent in this thing,” you remark, holding it out for Jungkook to see. “And it’s already dark out. The time kind of got away from us, huh?”

“You won’t catch me complaining,” Jungkook replies, tipping the last of his drink into his mouth. “I’m enjoying spending time with you.”

You can’t help but smile at his earnest honesty. “Me too.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then you rise from your seat. At the same time, Jungkook stands up from his chair on the other side of the desk, making his way around to meet you halfway. And then his mouth is on yours, warm and firm in a way that makes your heart do a backflip before plunking straight into your churning stomach.

Jungkook’s hands find your hips, palming along the flowy material of your dress before finding a resting place just above the soft curve of your rear. Your fingers delve into the soft hair at his nape to tug him closer, and he groans against your lips when your nails rake across his scalp. Slowly, he begins trailing kisses from the line of your jaw down to the column of your neck, pausing to lavish attention on any spots that make you gasp or squirm in his grasp.

The growing hardness against your lower belly is growing more and more evident with each passing second. Deliberately, you slide one hand down his chest, admiring the toned ridges of his abdomen that you can feel through his white shirt, before making your way down past his silver belt buckle. Jungkook inhales sharply when you cup his hardening cock through the charcoal material of his slacks, and, emboldened, you thumb across the head and relish in his resulting groan.

Any caution you may have had is thrown to the wind. Adjusting your grip, you shiver when you realize that he’s now fully hard beneath your fingertips, his erection thick and hot through the fabric. You try and visualize what it looks like underneath it all—the color of the flared head, the veins that run along it, the curve of the shaft, if there is one. And then you realize that you don’t have to imagine—you can look. You can rip his clothes off and explore every inch of his body in the way you’ve been itching to since you first kissed at the zoo last week. Your hands scrabble for his belt buckle, fumbling with the silver prong embedded in its notch.

“W-wait.” Jungkook’s hand lands over yours, and you note the breathlessness in his voice with satisfaction. “I… this is probably cheesy, but this isn’t how I pictured this happening. Not that I don’t like what’s happening, but I just… I’d like to take you out first. On a proper date, I mean. Without our girls in the next room, or down the hall, or in the museum playplace wreaking havoc.”

“That does sound nice,” you admit. “Actually, I’d really enjoy that. I haven’t been on a proper date in years.”

“Let’s do it, then,” Jungkook says. “My babysitter’s already been paid to watch Daeun until midnight, and your parents have Trixie. This is kinda perfect.”

You can’t help it—you drag your thumb across the head of his still-hard cock again and revel in the way his breath hitches just a little bit in his throat. “Midnight?” you query with an innocent tilt of your head. “Were you expecting something to happen tonight?”

“Hoping,” he replies with a cheeky grin. “And wait, let me ask you out properly. It just wouldn’t feel right otherwise.”

Confused, you let him stand from his seat and slip around you to retrieve the paper bag on the ground. Understanding dawns when he reaches inside and grabs a napkin, and you watch on in amusement as he takes a pen from the cup on your desk and begins writing. And after a few seconds, he wordlessly presents this to you:

Drinks? Dinner? Maybe dessert? ;)

And you can only laugh. “Game on, mister.”

[mcu-coworkers]

Posessive?

Summary: Miguel will stop at nothing to have you at his side. And you know that but who says you can't make him struggle just a little.

word count:3.5k+

A/n: Thank you guys for loving Pt.1 to this story so much I hope this second part meets your expectations! Im thinking of making a pt.3 where the spider society meets the reader let me know what you guys think!xx

Parts: I II^ III

(Gif credits to the creator ofc!^)

Walking into your lawyers office made Miguel's blood boil.

He had already ripped up the divorce papers but he wanted to send a message before he returned them to their sender considering you ignored his thousands of calls.

“Mr.O’hara it's nice to finally meet you although clients usually communicate lawyer to law-” he was quickly cut off by the loud sound of the shredded paper being tossed onto his desk.

“ I   thought this would be quicker for the both of us,​​ Tell your client that her HUSBAND said no. And that  I‘ll be seeing her very soon. Thanks.” Miguel said, having that last bit dripping with sarcasm.

“Should  I   be concerned for my clients' well-being Mr.O’hara?” your lawyer said standing up.

Turning to face him once more Miguel snickered, “On the contrary Mr.?” he said looking for a name tag.

“Murdock. It's on the building Nelson and Murdock.” he said, smiling back at him.

“Big man, Congratulations. My wife is safe with me, just let her know I'll be seeing her soon, have a nice day Murdock.” With a nod from your lawyer he took it as his time to leave but not without whispering some insults in spanish under his breath.

Who did he think he was questioning your safety around Miguel? You were the safest at his side and his side only.

And no one was taking that from him, not even you.

Quickly after he left your Lawyer wasted no time in contacting you.

Two rings passed before you picked up.

To tell the truth your heart was pounding. It felt so soon for him to have already turned in the papers.

“Hello?” you didn't mean to sound as quiet and defeated as you did but who were you trying to fool this had been and was going to be a very tough moment in your life.

“Mrs.O’Hara how are you?” he answered calmly.

Confused by the surname you stopped walking in the middle of the busy airport.

“I'm fine, did you receive the papers?” you asked eager to find out exactly what happened.

“Yes,  I   did but they're not signed or intact for that matter. It seems like he gave them to a cat to have as a toy."He said holding up the paper realizing what he thought were rips were actually done by claws, strange.

“Ay Miguel.” You said, you knew he never took any news well but you never thought he’d pull something like this.

“He also left a message for you.” he said, setting the paper aside.

“And that was?” you said curious as to what he could possibly have to say.

“Tell your client that her husband said no, and that he will be seeing you very soon, he put a big emphasis on the word husband.” he said pausing.

Waiting for a response from you he added on, “Ms. O’Hara if i'm being honest here this doesn't sound like a man who wanted a divorce.” he said reconsidering the course of the situation.

“At this point I'm not really sure what he wants anymore,  I   don't think  I   ever actually knew to begin with.” you said, beginning to question your judgment.

“Well if you’d like to continue with the one sided divorce process we can do that otherwise  I   think you should speak to Mr.O’Hara and sort things out.” He said.

Now you had a lot to think about, A shiver went up your spine as you realized exactly what was happening.

“Y/n? Is everything okay? Do you need help?” Your lawyer asked on the other side. He always knew a little more than he was led to believe which meant he had to be cautious with how much he involved himself.

“Oh yeah, yes  I   am fine just considering my options, can  I get back to you on that?” You asked quickly beginning to exit the airport.

“Yes, of course whatever you need, give me a call.” he said, he could hear your breath picking up and your heart beat gaining speed.

“Thank you, Mr. Murdock.” and with that you hung up the phone and found your driver.

If there was one thing Miguel didn't like it was not having you by his side and to make matters worse not knowing where you were.

You didn't doubt for a second Miguel had already found you; it was just a matter of time before he got to you.

Angry would be the understatement of the year.

Taking a deep breath you tried to relax remembering why you were in this situation in the first place.

It was his fault you left, and if he wanted to bring you back then he’d have to travel across the world and do it face to face.

After all, you did book a flight to Barcelona thinking it would be far enough to not ever be able to go back to him no matter how strong the urge.

Your phone rang again, thinking it was your lawyer, you answered.

“Was there something you forgot to mention earlier?” you asked, trying to sound as calm as possible.

“Hiring a man as your lawyer, you always know where to hit me so it hurts mi amor.” chills ran down your spine at the sound of that raspy voice.

“Miguel, what do you want?” you said trying to put up a front.

“You. Back in our house, at my side.” he said with a demanding tone.

The audacity of this man, you'd been distraught and in tears practically the entire journey here but now? All you felt was anger.

“No.” was all you said, the front was gone, these were your genuine emotions now.

“No? Como que no? You're mine, don't you forget that.” he said, beginning to raise his voice.

“  I   didn't forget that, you did Miguel so it's either you start remembering or  I   start forgetting too. Ya no voy a estar de gata a tus pies. I'm worth more than that.” you said trying to hold back the shakiness in your voice.

It was helpless because he already heard it.

“Mi amor,  I   never thought that of you please, come home and let's talk. I'm begging you don't do this to us.  I   need you.” He said hoping he could sway you in his direction.

“This is the longest you've spoken to me in over a month Miguel, you realize that right? And all for what, because  I  disobeyed you?” you asked, hoping he'd deny it but all you got was silence.

Chuckling you smiled, at least that part of him never changed.

“Baby, plea-” he tried.

“No, Sign the papers or I'm moving in a different direction Miguel.  I   let my love for you stand in the way for too long and you don't even have the decency to tell me you don't love me anymore. I'm done.” you said as he began to speak over you trying to stop you.

No one had ever tested Miguel's patience this much.

You not letting him get a sentence out was only bringing him closer to the edge.

“Y/n  I   swear if you make me-” dead tone. You hung up.

“HIJO DE PUTA!” he said as he punched the back of the passenger seat in front of him.

“Everything alright sir?” his driver asked mostly only concerned for his own safety.

No one liked seeing Miguel upset ten times out of nine everyone else ended up in whatever mood he was in.

“Yes, Just get me to the jet please.” he said, rubbing his temples gently.

Miguel fell in love with your sense of leadership when he had first met you, god was he paying for it now.

He tried to calm himself before boarding the plane. He needed to think of what he could say to get you back at his side.

He knew he needed to change, it's his best bet at making you remember just how much he loves you.

Just as the plane was taking off his gizmo showed a hologram of Jess.

“So, did you get your girl back?” She asked with a slight smirk on her face.

Miguel froze, he kept his business out of the spider society just in case anyone ever turned on them.

Keeping you safe was his number one priority.

“Lyla spilled Miguel, she's worried about you and says she's never seen you this bad before.” she said with a slight tone of concern. She knew better than to show Miguel she was worried, he would just push her away and tell her he was fine.

“Everything will be fine, I'll be gone two days tops think you can handle that?” he asked with a small smile on his face.

He knew Jess could do more than handle it; he just needed a distraction from the chaos he’d brought to his marriage.

“Yeah well when you bring her back, and you will,  I  ‘d like to meet the person who tolerates your broodiness, hell  i  ‘ll probably ask for some tips while i'm at it.” she said, making him chuckle.

No one could do what you did for him.

“Keep me updated on the canon events and keep Hobie out of my office.” he said remembering the last time he snuck in.

“You got it boss, don't forget we're all rooting for you.” she said before hanging up.

We? Who's we? He was gonna have a long talk with Lyla about confidentiality when he got back.

------

It has now been just about two days since you last spoke to Miguel and since then you’ve received one flower arrangement every hour with a message from Miguel and your bill at every place you visited covered by, you guessed it, Miguel.

And still you had to be graced by the presence of the man himself.

Barcelona was your chance to really find out if the grass was greener on the other side and that meant no giving in to Miguel's romantic gestures.

It was hard when every single flower warmed your heart just a little more every time.

It reminded you of when he’d cut flowers from random gardens on his way to your house.

They were never this fancy or even wrapped in paper for that matter, but you loved them more than anything else because he gave them to you out of love.

He gave these to you seeking forgiveness, something he wouldn't be doing if you hadn't been pushed over the edge.

Sighing, you set them aside with the rest of the arrangements and decided to go for a coffee.

Finding a little shop you sat on the patio after ordering your Latte with a croissant to accompany it.

Basking in the sun your mind couldn't help but wonder where he was, if he was already watching you from a distance waiting to catch you off guard.

You weren't too far off.

He was watching you, from a safe distance just to make sure you were safe, and that no other man was coming near you but mostly to make sure you were safe.

He thought that if he gave you space it’d make you miss him.

The flowers and paying for you were just in case you did miss him. Or at least that's what he made them out to be.

Miguel was trying his best to not let his possessive ways take over him and just carry you on the plane and take you home but he oh so wanted this to be over already.

But he too decided to turn a new leaf in Barcelona, one that would promise to never let you forget just how much he loved you, no matter how shitty of a day he had at work.

Miguel was brought out of his thoughts when he saw you leaving the cafe not because you were leaving but because some man was following you.

His body tensed as the man tapped on your shoulder and handed you something.

Before he knew it he was walking towards you and pulling you into him by the waist.

“¿Ya terminaste amor?( you finished here love?)” he said, smiling down at you before turning to look at the idiot who touched you.

Who did he think he was touching you when you belonged to Miguel?

Smiling a thank you to the stranger you met mere minutes ago you begin walking without answering Miguel's question.

“Who the hell was that guy?” he said following you down the street.

“ I   have no idea Miguel, what  I   do know is that you've been watching me for the past two days.” you said trying to hide your smirk.

Miguel stopped, you had outsmarted him.

“Only because you won't speak to me.” he said trying to hide the smile on his face.

He was a proud husband but now was not the time.

“Sucks doesn't it? Being ignored by your spouse when you just wanted to give them all your love.” you said opening the door to your new home.

“Y/n mi amor  I   get it, I'm an asshole and  I deserve whatever it is you throw my way but please come home and you can throw it at me there.” he said trying to get close to you but all it did was make you take a step back.

“Baby please, just come here.” he said as he took another step towards you.

He was quick but you were quicker getting out of the way.

“No Miguel, you treated me like some toy that you used when you were bored. And when you got tired of me you tossed me to the side and pretended that  I   wasn't there. Do you know how it feels to be treated like an item? A disposable item?” you asked your voice barely above a whisper but that didn't stop you.

“For the last ten years of our relationship there wasn't one day that you didn't tell me you loved me. Even when we were fighting. Tell me Miguel, when was the last time you told me you loved me? As a matter of fact, When was the last time we even slept in the same bed? You can't tell me can you?” you asked, waiting for a response from him but all you got was silence.

Your words finally began to actually sink in to Miguel and for once he didn't know what to do.

Balancing the literal multiverse on his shoulders distracted him so much he hadn't realized the damage he was doing to your marriage.

But you’d had more than enough time to realize what it did to you.

Shaking your head you looked away as tears brimmed your eyes.

You wanted so badly to be strong for yourself but seeing the end to what you thought was your forever was making it really difficult.

“Fuck.” was all Miguel could muster up at the moment, he needed to find a way to fix this.

Letting out a shaky breath, “Y/n,  I   know that  I  ‘ve changed but there's just been so much pressure on me to fix things and they really need me right now, this is the only way  I   can keep everyone safe, keep you safe.” he said hoping you’d understand.

Nodding you looked out the window and admired the view.

“ I   understand, the multiverse is important to you. But  I   can't sit around waiting for the day you decide to consider me too. And  I   know that sounds selfish but  I   can't help it. I'm jealous of Miguel. Jealous of the people who see you more than  I   do. Jealous of the office you spend time in. Jealous of the Lyla.” you actually had to laugh after that.

“ I   sound crazy, Jealous of a damn AI all because it gets your attention more than me.” you said tears finally falling.

“Well guess what Miguel,  I   won't do it anymore,  I   hate this feeling.  I   understand protecting the multiverse is important so go, go be a hero it's who you are and it's amazing.  I   could never stand in the way of that no matter how much it’d hurt me.” you said leaning back on the kitchen counter.

You’d hoped that’d be enough to get him to go.

In a second Miguel had his arms around you and his head buried in your shoulder.

Wrapping your arms around his neck you realized he was crying.

“Miguel?” you asked gently, slightly confused by the reaction.

“I'm so sorry baby please,  I   need you. Without you I'm just the shell of the man   I   should be.   I   can't live a life without you, it's pointless. Just please come home and we can fix this together.  I  ‘ll do whatever you want.  I  ‘ll get on my knees and beg if that's what it takes.” he said as he began to get down on his knees.

“Miguel no-” you whispered as you tried pulling him back up.

“Then what baby you tell me and  I  ‘ll do it please tell me how to fix this. ¡Estoy loco por ti y lo sabes!( I'm crazy for you and you know it!)” he yelled, he was mere seconds away from a panic attack his breathes were shortening quickly and you noticed it.

“Miguel? Baby slow down, you need to breathe.” you said lowering yourself to meet his face.

“ I   can’t-  I   can-” he said as he tried regaining his breath.

He hadn't had one of these since he became spiderman so an inhaler was not an option. So you did the next best thing, you kissed him.

Deeply, passionate to make sure he slowed down his breathing completely.

Slowly it began to work so you pulled away to allow him to catch his breath.

Analyzing his face you’d only hoped it worked, “Better?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Not yet.” he said as he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you back in for another kiss this time much deeper.

Miguel began kissing you like a man who’d been starved as he pulled you closer wrapping your legs around his waist in the process.

And just like that you were lost in him all over again.

Whatever speech you gave yourself about the grass being greener was gone in the wind.

Quickly Miguel began undressing you while you pulled his clothes off in return.

“No sabes cuanto te e necesitado mi amor. (you don't know how much i've needed you my love.)” he said as left a trail of kisses down your neck.

“Callate y hazme el amor Miguel.(shut up and make love to me.”you said breathlessly as he flipped you over on the kitchen floor placing his tip at your entrance.

Slipping into you slowly he clenched his jaw at the feeling of your tightness around him. Oh how he missed this feeling.

Gasping you tried to adjust to his size again , no matter how many times you’d had sex in the past it's like this man got bigger and bigger every time.

Hearing your soft moans encouraged Miguel to keep going until he was fully buried in you, “dios mio.” was all he could manage to say as he rested his head in the crook of your neck.

“Miguel-” you moaned, signaling him to move.

“ I   know baby  I   know.” he said as he pulled himself out completely before thrusting back in and finding his pace making you arch your back in the process.

Slowly he began building up his speed until all he could hear was the beautiful sound of your voice moaning his name endlessly.

This was his heaven.

Watching you as your face contorted in full euphoria at the pleasure he was giving you.

Taking your hand in his he gave it a squeeze that you returned as you used your other hand to pull him in for a breathless kiss.

“Miguel ya” you said, getting closer to your climax.

“Wait for me mami i'm almost there.” he said as he sped up making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

This man would be the end of you.

By this point you were a moaning mess holding on to the last strands of sanity you had left waiting for Miguel.

Once you felt Miguel twitch inside of you it was clear he was close, you pulled him close and began kissing your way up to his ear.

“Miguel baby, I need you hazme tuya mi amor.” you moaned, and with that you felt his fangs dig into your shoulder as he filled you with his seed allowing you to cum with him.

You could've passed out from the immense amount of pleasure  you were feeling, or the reaction to his spider venom,  but missing a moment of this was not an option.

After Miguel recovered he realized what he’d done, “Shit, I'm sorry  I   didn’t think-” he said, beginning to slightly panic.

He’d always been able to control himself in bed.

Smiling, you pulled him in for another kiss, “It’s okay,  I   liked it.” you said earning yourself a look of surprise from him.

Laying his head back down on your chest you sighed in content.

“Eres la luz de mi vida, el sol para mi luna. (you are the light of my life, the sun to my moon.)” he said smiling.

Laughing you massaged the back of his neck as you ran your hands through his hair.

“ The light of your life would like to get off this hard floor.” you said as you wiggled to ease the soreness of your back.

Miguel wasted no time in picking you up and taking you to the bedroom.

“ This looks like a much more suitable place to spend the week.” he said, laying you down gently.

“Week? Isn't there a canon event that needs your rescuing?” you asked, to tell the truth your heart was overjoyed at the thought of him staying here with you.

“You, you're my cannon event and it's gonna take all of me to rescue you.” he said as he kissed your forehead.

“My hero.” you said as you laid your head on his chest admiring his relaxed features.

“Te amo mi cielo.” he whispered.

“Y yo a ti cariño.” you said, closing your eyes as you fell asleep alongside the love of your life.

The road to forever looked a lot brighter now

tagslist: @cooch1ecruncher​    @hoseokslefteyebrow​  @marcswife21 @whatdudtheysay​  @foxglove-spidey​  @smyfmj​  @mushy-mushroom04​   @flooftoof  @aepinkoutsold @scoliobean @elliaze

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Family Affair

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, violence, humiliation, biting, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your sister surprises you with good news but you find it difficult to be happy for her. (older, short reader)

Character: Curtis Everett

Note: Happy Curtmas.

For @the-slumberparty Naughty or Nice Challenge.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Chatter buzzes from the front room as you brace the wall and lift your foot to unzip your wedge boot. You’re late and the guests are already in the throes of their celebration. You wiggle off both boots and set them amid the clutter of many. As you stand straight and gather up your gift bags and purse, you’re met with an unexpected sight.

You lift a brow, slightly confused by the unfamiliar man. He’s tall, his hair is cut short, and dark stubble adds definition to his well-formed jaw. His eyes are a bold shade of aquamarine but are glossed over with an almost indifferent gleam. He doesn’t say a word as your eyes meet and he just as quickly turns into the front room, hands tucked into the pockets of his black jeans.

It’s been a few years. You’re sure a lot has changed. You head down the hall, past the broad archway of the front room, and into the kitchen. As usual, your mother is there, readying another tray of finger foods.

She looks up from her intent work and gives a wide smile, “you’re here!” She chimes, “I was half-waiting for a call saying you wouldn’t make it.”

Her arrow hits the bullseye of your guilt. You haven’t been the most reliable. You can make excuses; the divorce, work, depression. None of that can assuage her.

“Sorry, mom,” you go to put the gift bags down and she stops you with a tut.

“Ah, ah, you go add those to the pile and say hello,” she demands, “you’re not hiding in here.”

You look at her, almost desperate. You love her but sometimes you wonder if that feeling is mutual. As much as she’s right, you hoped she might have some empathy. She’s been through a turbulent split, she’s had to start again, but she expects you to do it flawlessly. As she has anything else.

“Love you, mom,” you give a sheepish smile.

“Love you too, hon,” she goes back to arrange the spiral of cocktail weenies, “make sure you say hello to your sister. She’s so excited to see you.”

You nod and a real smile breaks through. That was the one light at the end of the tunnel. Your baby sister was always your favourite. Despite nearly two decades between you, she’s your best friend. In a way, you feel like a second mother, taking pride in her like you would a child of your own.

The front room is filled to the brim. Aunt Geri and Uncle Val sit on a sofa with their son, Miko. A cluster of similarly aged cousins stand at the edge of the couch chatting. Aunt Maureen argues with Aunt Kaya, and the latter’s husband stands by the window with a glass in hand and his mind a million miles away.

You always found yourself out of place at these things. When you were a child, you were the youngest one in the room. Too immature to understand the dialogue of your elders. As you got older, the other cousins came along and were too young for your angsty teenage self. Now, you’re caught in the desert between the eras; the retirees complain too much and the coeds talk too loud.

You peer around. A set of broad shoulders draws your eye in the corner of the room. It’s that same man you saw before. He has his back to you as he maintains a casual posture. As he leans on one leg, you see your sister, Adeline, gabbing to him. Oh, he must be with her…

As you drop your gifts under the tree, you mull the revelation. You suppose the assumption wasn’t obvious. At first glance, he’s older than her, or maybe he just looks it. She’s still a sophomore in college but you suppose that makes even more sense. These are the years she gets to figure it all out.

You face the room and stop as Aunt Maureen latches onto your arm, blindsiding you with Kaya as they close in like hyenas.

“There she is,” Maureen slurs.

“Not too good for us after all, huh?” Kaya challenges.

“What? No, uh, Merry Christmas–”

“Where’s Benny?” Maureen interrupts. You blanch, nearly choking on your tongue. The mention of your ex-husband has you breathless.

“Maur,” Kaya hisses, “remember…”

“Probably with his new girlfriend,” you say tersely.

“Oh my,” Maureen lets you go and slaps her forehead, “I’m so sorry. The wine…”

“It’s… okay,” you shrug. “Not talking about it won’t undo it.”

“He was such a charming man,” Maureen hums mournfully. You blink at her.

“His loss,” Kaya pats your arm gently, trying to clean up her sister’s mess. You know they all think the same. You had a good thing and you blew it. Even if you told them he fucked his co-worker, you’d be the one who threw it all away.

“Pity you never got a kid outta him,” Maureen sighs.

“Really, divorce has been final for a year, I’m good,” you insist and shuffle past them, “I’m going to make the rounds.”

“Don’t forget to have some wine,” Maureen calls after you, “takes the edge off disappointment, you know?”

You growl and shake your head as you stalk away. You wave hello to your other aunt and uncle, hoping to avoid a similarly humiliating encounter, and weave through the sea of guffawing cousins. You come out on the other side as Adeline beams up at her guest.

Her gaze is drawn by your movement and her face lights up. She bounces in place and throws her arms out. She rushes past the man and has you wrapped up in a hug. It’s kind of ridiculous how much taller she is. You’re supposed to be the bigger sister.

“You’re here!” She rocks you in her embrace, “eek! I’m so excited.”

You croak out a breath as she squeezes the air out of you. She releases you with a giggle, apologising as she steps back. She wears a long tulle skirt and a beaded sweater. She’s beautiful. You could never pull something like that off, even twenty years ago.

“Oh, oh, you have to meet Curtis,” she snatches your hand and tugs you over the tall man as he turns to face you. Those same vague eyes fall upon you, “Curtis, this is my sister!”

“Curtis,” you repeat, “it’s nice to meet you.”

You look between them with a brittle smile. He offers his hand as he returns the sentiment. You shake, his palm rough and calloused. Adeline vibrates with joy.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he says. 

“And I’ve heard nothing about you,” you grin at Adeline, “Addy?”

“I’m sorry,” she cups her cheeks guiltily, a sparkle on her ring finger. Your heart drops. “I didn’t know how to– the divorce and–”

“Ad,” you wisp and nearly sway on your feet, “what is that?”

You point to her hand and she quickly swipes it away, hiding it behind her back. “Nothing,” she gulps, the same way she did when she was a child and you caught her playing with your makeup.

There’s a tense silence as you gape in shock. Your mouth hangs open as you search for the words. Your eyes tinge with hot tears but you swallow them back.

“Congratulations,” you draw her into a hug, “really, I’m happy for you.”

She hugs you back, gentler than before. As you part, she looks nervous. Curtis clears his throat.

“Both of you,” you offer him a fragile smile. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little… shocked. Does mom know?”

Adeline nods as she clasps her hands together. You take a breath, and calm yourself. It’s not anything that she fears, you’re not jealous. You’re nervous, you’re afraid for her. It’s a big thing and she’s so young.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around to share the good news,” you say, “I’d love to help, if I can?”

“We got it,” Curtis insists.

“Oh,” you wince, “I didn’t mean– I could help with the planning or the engagement part–”

“We’re eloping,” he crosses his arms, “we’re not wedding people. Whole lot of money and fanfare for nothing.”

You nod, holding back your surprise as best you can. Nothing? It’s marriage. Even if they don’t want a big ceremony, it means something.

“I could help pay for the trip–”

“I got it,” he enunciates each word as he sidles over to sling his arm around your sister’s back. She looks away meekly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep. She’s my sister, I just want to–”

“If you wanted to help, you would’ve been around the last two years,” he interjects.

Adeline’s head snaps around as she gives him a look. She nudges him with her elbow and whispers his name. He glares at you as you wilt. You’re not sure what you’ve done or said.

“Well, I think maybe me and Addy can talk about that,” you look at your sister, “when you have a chance, of course. I don’t want to spoil the holiday.”

“Adeline,” he corrects you, “Addy is so juvenile.”

The benefit of the doubt splinters as his tone cuts through you. You bite your tongue. Perhaps a twenty-one year old is juvenile to someone his age. You’ll talk to Addy about that too.

“Adeline,” you force a smile, “I… I’m going to go check on mom.” You show a palm in deference as you excuse yourself, “we’ll catch up later.”

As you back away, your eyes meet Curtis’. He watches you with a scowl. You are taken completely off balance. How could she end up with someone like him? She’s so sweet and he’s so scary…

Maybe she’s afraid too.

🎄

Christmas Eve ends much the same as you remember. The elders sit around the dining table to play cards as the kids, now adults, disperse in the living room or outside to entertain themselves. There’s a vague stench near the front door that no one will comment on but everyone knows what it is as it wafts in from outside.

You find yourself in limbo, once more caught in the in-between. You hole up in the kitchen, staring at the kettle as you wait for it to tremble. You won’t be missed if you take a tea up to your assigned room without a good night.

You lean on the counter and sigh, your finger brushing over the brim of the white porcelain cup with the hen on it. Strange how your mother’s house never seems to change but your life is inextricably altered. Your melancholy dims the cheery decor around you as you wallow away from the voices of the merry.

“There you are,” Adeline startles you as she sweeps in, “oh, is there any of the hot choccy left?”

You smile at her question. Everything about her reminds you of the time passed, of her newfound adulthood, yet she’s just the same little girl you always knew. You turn and pull the tin forward, “one packet left, just for you.”

You pull it out and face her again. She pulls out a mug from the cupboard and sets it down. The kettle hums between you as it heats up.

She exhales as you linger in a tense silence. You both have so much to say but neither of you know where to start. She finds her words first. Despite being younger, she was always the more outspoken.

“Do you like him?” She asks.

You poke your tongue into your cheek, “well, I’ve barely spoken to him. He seems to like you though.”

Her cheeks bulb as she grins bashfully, “I love him.”

Your chest seizes as you recognize that glimmer in her eye. She’s genuine, she feels that love so deeply it consumes her. It’s a naive love but real nonetheless. The sort you can’t see for what it is until it turns sour.

“I can tell,” you reach forward to fix the bow on her headband, “I’m happy for you. And my offer still stands. Maybe if it’s not the wedding, a honeymoon, or help with a house…” you wet your lips and steady your voice, “I only want you to be happy, Addy– Adeline.”

“Oh, he’s just… he’s like that. I can’t even call him Curt. He balances me out,” she beams.

“Yeah,” you say noncommittally.

“What?” Her voice dampens.

“Nothing,” you distract yourself with the variety of tea bags in the wooden chest next to the breadbox, “it’s… a lot. I’m surprised, is all. I just hope it goes well.”

She sniffs and lets her breath out long and heavy, “I’m sorry, I knew– he kinda said you’d probably be upset. After Benny–”

“This has nothing to do with him,” you narrow your eyes at her, a bag of chai in your hand, “this is about you. I only want what’s best for you.”

“He’s so good to me, you don’t have to worry.”

“I can worry, you’re my baby sister,” you insist, “and…” You shake your head, refusing to let the thought escape.

“And what?” She challenges, her pitch squeaking.

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me. I can always tell when you’re dying to say something. What?”

You shrug, “it’s just… how old is he?”

She scoffs, “wow.”

“What? I’m just asking.”

“It’s not like he’s old enough to be dad,” she pouts and crosses her arms.

“I know, I didn’t mean– Ad–Adeline, I just— you have time to figure it out. So I hope you’re not rushing this.”

“I’m not,” she snips, an uncharacteristic edge in her voice.

“I believe you… but what about him?”

She’s quiet as the kettle clicks, signalling the boiling point. You turn and drop the tea bag into your cup and pour the water. She tears open the packet and empties it into her own mug.

“Sorry,” you utter, “forget it. I… I don’t know him so maybe I need to get to know him. I’m here, Ad, and I will always be here for you.”

She nods and reaches for the kettle, not looking at you.

“Really, I trust you. I just worry about you,” you clap your hand on her shoulder, “you’re my lil teddy bear.”

She chuckles and looks down at you, your statement made absurd by the difference in your heights.

“And you’re the big grizzly, scaring off the wolves,” she kids back.

“Adeline,” the deep rumble thunders in ahead of the man, making both of you jump. You pull back your hand as Curtis strides in, “hey, I’ve been waiting on you.”

“Oh, sorry, baby,” she preens at him, “I was just–”

“You said we’d call my family after dinner,” he interrupts.

“I forgot,” she squeals, “oh, I’m so sorry.” She glances over at you, “I did promise.”

“Go on,” you try to smile but you’re not sure it’s showing.

She spins and flits over to Curtis. His eyes meet yours over her shoulder. His brows arch as his jaw is set in stone. A chill runs up your spine at the ice in his dark pupils. He grabs Adeline’s hand and drags her out.

You’re left in silence. You look over at the unmixed powder floating in the steaming water. You chew your lip as you stare at it. It’s just hot chocolate but there’s something about her abandoning something she loves so much for him. You try not to let your own failed marriage echo over her relationship, but it just feels off.

Well, Benny always did say you never did handle change very well.

🎄

The night before Christmas is rarely a restful one. Even without the childish belief in Saint Nick, you find yourself awake, anxious but not for presents. You keep replaying the night through your head; not the awkward interactions with aunts and uncles, or the silent judgment from the younger crowd, but Adeline and Curtis. Let it go, it’s none of your business.

You huff and roll on your back. Sleep eludes you. You sit up and bend over the side of the bed. You hold your head. You’ll sneak out the bathroom and hopefully an empty bladder will help.

You drag your feet across the floor, the legs of your pajama pants too long and trailing down your feet. You open the door and yawn as you enter the hall, only to collide with another unexpected barrier. Before you can react, you’re being forced back into the guestroom, stumbling as your fingers claw at the door frame and slip off.

A hand smothers your mouth, rough against your lips, as a foot kicks the door shut with a sharp click. You murmur into the calloused flesh as an arm loops around your back, trapping you as you’re urged further into the dark. You grasp at the cotton clinging to muscular shoulder. You’re kept off balance by your attacker’s certainty.

“I fucking heard you,” Curtis’ silty grit seeps into your ears, “you think I’d hurt her?” He snarls as he stops you at the foot of the bed. His shadow looms over you, breath puffing from his nostrils as he growls like a beast, “I wouldn’t, but I’ll hurt you.”

He pushes you back so your legs meet the side of the bed. You teeter and clasp your hand around his wrist, squeaking as he easily takes you down onto the mattress. He pins you, your legs hanging off the end, kicking weakly as his other hand curves around your throat.

He bends over you, straddling your chest heavily. You can’t breathe. Your heart pounds until your ears throb. Your temples pulse violently and your throat dries to a sandy scrape.

“Stay out of my fucking business,” he snarls, sliding down your body.

You whimper into his hand as he drops his knees off the bed, holding himself over you. He squeezes your neck, choking out your voice as he drags his hand from your mouth. He feels along your chest and flicks open the top button of your shirt. Your eyes wet in horror.

“Fucking show you…” he sneers as his breath scours over your flesh.

Another button undone as his lips tick along your shoulder. You squeak once more as he sinks his teeth into your flesh, biting a mean pinch until you spasm. The pain is unbearable. You feel the skin break as the hot flow of blood mingles with his spit.

He detaches only to bite you again. You can’t make a noise as his grip grows tighter on your neck. Even if you could scream, you’re too terrified and confused to understand what he’s doing. He’s like an animal tearing you apart. 

He lays a tortured path down your chest, lingering on the rise of flesh, gnawing into the tenderness there. His nails dig into your side, pushing up your shirt as he scratches hot lines into your skin. You push on his shoulders desperately but he’s too strong.

“Stop filling her head with your bitterness,” he growls before he bites into your nipple. 

You shake and beat on his head, shoulders, and back. You writhe and wrestle, trying to free yourself from him. He continues on, down your stomach, lingering on the soft flesh as his fingers hook into the elastic of your pants.

Your panic overflows with your tears. This can’t be happening. Why would he do this? He could talk to you? You would listen. You didn’t say anything wrong, you just want Adeline to be careful.

The very thought of your sister throttles you. Does he do this to her? Is this why she’s so defensive? The idea makes you sick to your stomach.

He lifts himself, his weight centering on your neck. You think he’ll crush your windpipe as he looms over you, snarling in the blackness. He pushes you higher onto the bed, forcing your legs open with his knees.

“Don’t make a fucking noise or I’ll make sure you can’t,” he threatens, giving a last squeeze before slowly slackening his grip.

You hold your breath. You believe him. Your body goes limp and you close your eyes. The bed shifts as he sits back on his heels. He pulls your pants down your thighs and you whine. He hushes you, a harsh tap across your cheek to get his point across.

You let your head drift to one side as you clench the blanket beneath you in tight fists. He keeps your legs trapped in your pants, knees bent as the fabric strains across his stomach. He tilts and movies around, his fingernails scratching the back of your thighs.

“Bet the husband couldn’t stand your fucking mouth,” he snarls as he pushes roughly against your cunt. “Didn’t know how to train you.” He jams two fingers into you, jolting your entire body, “dry bitch like you, he was probably thirsty as fuck.”

You seal your eyes tight, tears trickling through as a sob bubbles in your throat. You want to tell him to stop. You want to ask why. You want to scream. You can’t do anything as your body locks up.

He fingers you meanly, pulling his fingers out only to ram them in again, each time his knuckles hit you painfully. He keeps it up, growling with each intrusion as your muscles knots and pathetic noises rise from your throat.

He forces your legs higher, tearing his hand away from your pelvis. He adjusts his knees and you feel something else against your cunt. 

“No…” you whisper right as he ruts into you.

He splits you apart around him. You let out a holler and he quickly silences you with a crack of his knuckles. The back of his hand snaps off your cheek and turns your head to the other side. You gulp and sob, choking back any noise that threatens to bubble over.

He holds himself as deep as he can. He puts his large hands on your shoulders and pins you flat. He bucks, agony rippling up your spine. He snaps his hips, again and again, each time harder than the last.

“This is what you need. So fucking jealous, aren’t you? Dried up old bitch,” he pumps into you as his breath picks up, “why kind of sister are you, huh? Fucking your baby sister’s man. Fucking slut.”

You cover your face and heave. You’re drowned in pain and humiliation. You’re disgusted with him for doing this to you; and yourself for letting him.

“You don’t wanna hurt her, do you?” He growls, “that’s why this is happening… cause you wanna keep her safe, right?”

He puts his hand against your head and pushes it down into the bed, fucking you into the mattress. The frame pounds the wall, matching his furious rhythm. You reach to brace his thick arm, begging silently for it to end.

“Oh, it’ll be over soon,” he rasps as his hand once more frames your throat, “fuck, you got me ready to blow quicker than I thought.” He puffs, each thrust rattling your bones, “I love how weak you are.”

[winchesterwild78]

Teacher

Characters: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Mention of divorce, Fluff, SMUT!, Protected sexual contact, Be smart, wrap it up people

A/N: Just a short story I came up with from another picture I was tagged in. I’ve never played guitar, so I’m just going with it. Please overlook any errors with the guitar lessons. 😂 Absolutely no disrespect to Jensen or his family. This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life. All work is my own, and I do not give permission for it to be taken without my permission. Feel free to like and reblog.

Minors DNI 18+

You’d been a teacher for over 10 years and loved working with children. It had been something you’d wanted to do since you were little. Before Summer Break you would always ask your teachers for extra worksheets so you could play teacher over the break. You’d make your brother and sister play with you. You of course were the teacher. 

After breaking up with your husband you decided a move and change of scenery was in the cards. Your parents had moved to Texas a few years ago, so you decided to head home. They were letting you live with them until you got on your feet. 

You adored your parents, but as a woman who was almost 40 you didn’t want to live there long. So, you got a local teaching job and offered private guitar lessons on the side. Stacy, a colleague of yours suggested you advertise in the local paper, and on Facebook marketplace. So you did. 

Her husband offered you a space at his building so you had somewhere neutral to meet people at. You were so grateful, because he didn’t charge you rent. Any money you made from the lessons went right in your pocket. 

You checked your email after dinner and saw an email from someone asking for lessons. You emailed the person back, who said his name was Jay, and gave him the details. The two of you agreed to meet Thursday at 6pm. You offered the first lesson for free, that way the both of you could get a feel for each other. You could make sure they weren’t crazy, and find out how much teaching they needed, and they could see if you could offer them what they needed in lessons. 

The week went quickly and it was time to head to your first lesson. You were excited and hoped “Jay” was not psycho and you could actually have a client. You arrived at the space and started setting up the room. Stacy’s husband had put a couch, chairs and tables in the room to help make it comfortable. You were grateful to have such a nice space to hold lessons in. 

About 10 minutes to 6, you heard a knock on the door. “Come in” you called from the other side of the room. “Hello, I’m looking for Ms. Y/L/N, I’m Jay.” You turned around to greet the man and stopped dead in your tracks. “Um, you can call me Y/N.” Standing before you was none other than Jensen Ackles. You’d been a fan for years and really couldn’t believe he was standing in your studio. 

He stepped forward and extended his hand, “Hello, Y/N. I’m Jensen, but you can call me Jay.” You shook his hand, “Honestly, I know who you are. I’ve been a fan for years. I understand if you’d rather not go forward with the lessons.” “No, darlin’ I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with who I was. I hope you understand.” You nodded, “So, Mr. Ackles, if you’re ready to get started we can. I have my clients start playing so I can see what you know and what you need to practice. I’m ready whenever you are.” 

Jensen took out his guitar, “Please, call me Jensen, and I’m ready.” Jensen started playing and you watched intently. The way he gripped the fretboard had you biting your lip. His pressure was perfect and his fingers held the pick like he was holding something delicate. 

He flicked his green eyes up at you as he played, and you swallowed hard. Damn how am I going to teach him how to play guitar when all I can think about is his fingers playing my body like he’s playing the strings on that guitar. God is there nothing he can’t do?! 

Jensen stopped playing and you looked at him confused. “Jensen, are you sure you need lessons? You sounded great, and your grip is perfect.” “Yeah, I like to practice and I figured I’d hire someone to give me pointers. I’ve been writing songs with a buddy of mine, and I want to contribute more to the band.”

“I understand that. I’ll be happy to help with whatever you need.” For some reason after you said that blush filled your cheeks. Jensen smirked at you, “I’ll keep that in mind, darlin’.” The rest of the session was filled with small talk, and he showed you the song he was working on. You gave him some pointers on it, and when he made the changes he thought it sounded better. 

The lesson was supposed to last an hour and when you finally looked at the clock you realized it was almost 9pm. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry, Jensen. I didn’t realize what time it was. I monopolized your whole evening.” Jensen took your hand and smiled. Electricity shot through your body and your breath hitched. “It’s okay. I really enjoyed my time with you tonight. When do you think we could continue the lessons?” 

“Um, I’m available whenever. Honestly I don’t have much of a social life.” “Well, how about we meet back here tomorrow night at 6, I’ll bring dinner, and we can work some more.” “That sounds great, Jensen. I can’t wait.” Jensen stood, and put his guitar away, “Great, it’s a date.” 

You smiled and nodded, “Yeah, it’s a date then. See you later Jensen.” Jensen stepped towards you, your heart pounding in your chest, he was inches from your face. “See you later, Y/N.” Then he placed a soft kiss on your cheek. The two of you exchanged phone numbers so you could text whenever you needed to.

He spun on his heels and left you standing in the middle of the room. You touched your cheek and let out the breath you were holding. You closed up for the night and walked to your car. As you got in your car your phone went off. 

Unknown: Hey, it’s Jensen. I hope you don’t mind that I'm texting you. I really enjoyed my time tonight. Looking forward to tomorrow.

You: Hey, Jensen. Yeah, it’s fine you texted. I enjoyed tonight too. I’m looking forward to tomorrow too. I’ll bring dessert. 😀

Jensen: Sounds great. Would you mind texting me when you get home. I just want to make sure you get home safely.

You: Yeah, sure.

You put your phone down and started driving home. You smiled thinking Jensen wanted you to text him. Honestly you felt like you were dreaming. Jensen Ackles was your client, and was texting you. How is this real life?

You pulled in the driveway and walked in the house. Your mom was on the couch and your dad was asleep in the chair. “Hey honey, you’re home late. How did the lesson go?” “Oh, hey mom, yeah it went a little over. We are meeting again tomorrow.” “That’s great, dinner is in the fridge if you’re hungry.” You walked over to your mom and hugged her, “Thanks mom. I appreciate it.” 

Walking to the kitchen you pulled out your phone and sent Jensen a text.

You: Hey, just wanted to let you know I’m safely at home. About to eat some dinner.

Jensen: Glad you got home safe. Thanks for letting me know. So, what’s for dinner?

You smiled at your phone. He’s really wanting to chat with me. Oh I hope I don’t embarrass myself.  

You: Mom made supper and put it in the fridge. I’m not sure yet. 

Jensen: That’s sweet. So, you live with your parents or did your mom just cook you something.

Shit, Jensen, now you’re going to scare her away. Why ask her if she lives at home. What does it matter?

Jensen: I’m sorry, that came across as intrusive. I didn’t mean it like that.

You: It wasn’t. Yeah I moved back in with them not that long ago. After my divorce I needed a change of scenery so I came home. Just trying to save up some money to move out on my own. 

Jensen: I’m sorry to hear about your divorce. Speaking from experience they can be hard. 

You: Yeah, they aren’t for the faint of heart. It looks like mom made roasted chicken, potatoes and veggies. 

Jensen: Yum, sounds delicious. I can let you go so you can eat.

You: You don’t have to. I can chat and eat. If you want to.

Jensen: I do.

You: So, what’s Jensen Ackles doing taking guitar lessons?

Jensen: I’m just trying to hone my skills so I can get better at it. Figured I’d get pointers from a professional.

You: I can appreciate that. As a teacher I try to learn what I can and invest in my knowledge when I can. Practice makes progress. 😀

Jensen: So true. If you don’t mind me asking, how long were you married?

You: About 13 years. We just drifted apart and were more roommates than anything. We decided to split, so I moved back home.

Jensen: I’m sorry. That’s tough. 

You: Thanks. So enough about my failed love life. What got you interested in music?

Jensen: I’ve always played and music helps me relax, so I wanted to explore music as an outlet to help with stress.

You: That sounds amazing. I’m glad I can be a part of it.

Jensen: Me too, I can’t wait for our session tomorrow. 

You: Me either. Well, I hate to cut this short, but I need to get ready for bed. I have to be up early for work tomorrow.

Jensen: No problem, I understand. Thanks for chatting with me. I’ll see you tomorrow.

You: Yeah, thanks for chatting. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Jensen.

Jensen: Good night, Y/N. Sleep well. 

You put your phone down and smiled. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Putting your dishes in the sink, you went upstairs to take a shower and get ready for bed. When you finally crawled into bed, you were too excited to sleep. Thinking about Jensen and the kiss on your cheek, made your heart flutter. You finally fell asleep after laying awake for at least an hour, thinking about him and what tomorrow night would bring. 

The next day at work you couldn’t help but wear a smile all day. Your colleagues and students noticed it. Stacy walked up to you after dismissal, “Hey, girl. What’s got you smiling so much?” “Nothing much. I just feel like things are starting to fall into place. I have lessons lined up, I love this job, and I just feel free.” She hugged you, “I’m happy for you. What are your plans for this weekend?” “Well, I have another lesson tonight, but I'm not sure about the rest of the weekend. I think I’m just going to relax.” “That’s great, well I’ll see you later, bye Y/N.” “Bye girl, have a great weekend.”

You gathered your stuff and headed towards your car. You noticed a text from Jensen, “Hey, how was your day?” You smiled and sent him a reply, “It was great, how was your day?” “It was good. I volunteered at the kids’ school today, so that was fun. I’m looking forward to tonight.” “Me too, I’ll text you more when I get home.” 

You drove home and went inside, greeting your parents. “Hey, mom. I have another lesson tonight, so I won’t be home until later. I’m getting dinner out tonight.” “Okay, sounds good.” 

You went to your room, grabbed a change of clothes and went to take a shower before you had to meet Jensen. Before jumping in the shower, you sent Jensen a text.

You: Just got home, jumping in the shower. 

Jensen: I’m glad you made it home safely, and thanks for the image. 😉

You looked at his reply. Is he flirting with me? 

You: You’re welcome. 😉 Getting in now. I’ll be right back.

Jensen: I’ll be waiting.

You took a quick shower, dried off and looked at the outfit you picked. Suddenly it didn’t seem good enough. You sighed and started looking through your clothes. You’re overthinking this. He’s there for lessons, nothing more. Get that out of your head. Oh but good lord did you see how his fingers pressed on those strings, and how his hand held the guitar. You bit your lip thinking about Jensen. 

Grabbing your dark blue lace bra and matching panties, you slid them on. You decided on your favorite jeans, that fit you just right, and one of your band t-shirts. You decided to leave your hair down, but grabbed a hair tie for later. 

Grabbing your phone you sent Jensen a text.

You: Okay, I’m done and getting ready to head out the door. I’ll be at the studio shortly if you decide to come early.

Jensen: Great, I’m almost ready so I’ll be heading that way soon too. What are you wearing? 😜

You: *sent picture* 😉

Jensen’s name kept popping up showing he was texting but nothing came through.

Shit! I shouldn’t have sent it. Great, now he’s thinking of a way to back out. 

Jensen: Wow, you look beautiful. I can’t wait to see you in person.

You: Thank you. I can’t wait to see you either. 

You blushed as you put your phone away. Heading down the stairs your mom looked at you. “Well don’t you look beautiful, must be some lesson.” She winked at you. “Mom, I’m just wearing jeans and a t-shirt.” “Okay, baby. Have fun tonight.” “Thanks mom, bye.”

You stopped at the store and grabbed a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, you knew it was his favorite and headed to the studio. As you walked up to unlock the door you heard a sultry voice behind you, “Hello, darlin’.” A shiver went down your spine. You knew it was Jensen before you even turned around. 

You turned and smiled, “Hey, Jensen.” You looked him up and down, damn did he look good. You bit your lip as a slight blush filled your cheeks and a yearning filled your core. Unlocking the door, the two of you stepped in. “Let’s sit everything down over here on the counter.” You motioned towards the counter on the right. 

Jensen sat the food down and saw the cake in your hands. “Did you really get a cake?” He asked excitedly. You nodded, “Yep, chocolate with chocolate frosting. Your favorite.” Jensen smiled at you and stepped closer to you, putting his hands on your waist he pulled you close. Your breath hitched. You could smell his intoxicating cologne. He smelled woodsy and like mint. 

Jensen brushed a stray hair back and hugged you, “Thank you.” Your heart was racing and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You swallowed hard, “You’re welcome, Jensen.” You whispered. 

The two of you stared at each other for a few minutes before pulling away. Jensen cleared his throat, “So I hope you don’t mind, but I picked up some BBQ from my favorite place downtown.” “BBQ is perfect, thank you.” Jensen pulled the containers out of the bag and you grabbed plates and silverware. The two of you grabbed some food and started eating.

The conversation over dinner was comfortable. Both of you talked about your family, you talked about your job, and the conversation drifted towards both of your failed marriages. You learned his marriage ended kinda like yours did. He and his ex just drifted apart. They both were gone all the time, and even though they tried to make it work, they just grew apart. 

After the food was done, you were cleaning up and Jensen got out his guitar and music. While you cleaned, he played and sang. You could listen to him sing all day long. You stopped cleaning and leaned against the counter watching him. 

The intensity in his eyes drove you wild. As he sang the vein in his neck popped out and you gasped. The shirt he was wearing showed off his toned body, and as he played his biceps flexed, causing you to clench your thighs and bite your lower lip. 

Jensen looked up and noticed you were watching him, he also noticed the pink in your cheeks. He smiled at you. His green eyes seemed to sparkle. You finished cleaning and took a seat next to him. You were so flustered you could barely play your guitar, and he laughed. “Come here darlin’, let me show you the cord. He grabbed your hand and placed his fingers on yours, helping you play the notes. His hot breath rushed across your neck and his body pressed firmly behind yours. 

Your breath hitched as you felt his firm fingers on yours. You turned your face to face him, “Jensen…” Before you could finish your sentence, his lips pressed against yours. You pulled back. “Oh god, I am so sorry, Y/N.” Jensen jumped up and started to pack his guitar away. You walked over to him, touched his arm, “Jensen, it’s okay.” He stood up and looked at you. You stepped closer to him, looking in his eyes. He closed the distance between you two, cupped your face in his hands and crashed his lips on yours. 

You melted into his touch, and moaned in his mouth. His hands slid down your arms and pulled you by your waist closer to him. Your hands went behind his neck and your fingers danced in his hair. 

Both of you deepen the kiss, Jensen’s tongue licked your lips, begging for entrance. You parted your mouth and soon your tongues were doing an intricate dance in each other’s mouth, fighting for dominance. 

Jensen walked you back to the couch, not parting from your lips. Soon the need for air became too much. You both pulled away panting for air. Jensen sat down and pulled you down on his lap. You were straddling him and he pulled you back into his lips. 

His hands traveled up your shirt and held onto your back. You could feel his growing erection and it excited you. Jensen’s fingers played with the hem of your shirt and you leaned up, giving him permission to remove it. His hands slid down and pulled your shirt up and over your head. 

Jensen’s eyes turned dark with lust when he saw your lace bra. You could almost hear a low growl. You were self-conscious about your body and tried to hide a little. I mean, this is Jensen Ackles, he has dated and married movie stars and models. “Baby, don’t hide your body, you’re perfect.” He kissed down your collarbone, to your covered breasts. 

You threw your head back at the contact. God his lips and fingers felt amazing on your body.

Jensen leaned forward a bit, and removed his shirt. Exposing his perfectly toned body. You groaned and danced your fingers down his chest. Jensen stood, lifting you up like you weighed nothing, spun you around and gently laid you on the couch. “Can I take these off?” He asked, motioning to your pants. You nodded yes, not trusting your voice. His fingers brushed against your skin as he unbuttoned the top button and unzipped your pants. 

Your breathing grew faster as your heart pumped wildly in your chest. You lifted your hips and he pulled down your pants and panties in one pull. He groaned when he saw your exposed body, laying, waiting for him. You laid on the couch, in nothing but your bra. Jensen’s hands slipped behind you and you leaned forward letting him unhook your bra. As you laid back down, Jensen’s fingers danced over your shoulders and slid down your straps. Lightly raking your skin with his fingertips. 

Goosebumps erupted on your skin as he touched you. Exposing your breasts, Jensen leaned back looking over your now naked form. You wanted to hide your body, but he wouldn’t let you. You were breathing faster as the anticipation in the room crackled with thickness. Jensen stood and removed his pants and boxers. 

You let out a shuddered breath as you took in his perfect, toned body. His cock was hard and longer than you expected. You bit your lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape your mouth. 

“You okay, sweetheart? Are you sure you want this?” “Yes, Jensen. I’m sure.” Jensen nodded and kissed down your torso. He used his fingers to part your folds, feeling how wet you are. His fingers danced in and out of your folds, pressing your engorged clit, like he was playing an instrument. He knew how to work your body, like he had been doing it for years. His strong, calloused fingers found their way inside you. You moaned and gripped the couch as he hooked his fingers up. “Oh Jensen. Just like that. Oh god that feels so good.” Jensen’s fingers moved in and out of you, while his thumb rubbed circles on your clit. You felt yourself getting closer to your release. Flush filling your face, sweat beading on your forehead. Your ragged breath mixed with the instinctive moans filled the room. “Come on baby, I can feel you getting close, just let go for me. You can do it.” “Oh Jensen, I’m gonna cum!” “Cum for me, Y/N.” With that you were pushed over the edge. You came hard, so hard you saw stars. 

Jensen rubbed until you were a squirming mess under him. As he helped you ride your high, he removed his fingers. You moaned at the loss of fullness. “You ready for me, sweetheart?” “Yes, Jensen, I need you. Please.” 

Jensen retrieved a condom from his wallet and pumped himself a few times before putting it on. He slid it on and positioned himself between your legs. The tip of his cock pushed past your folds and into you. As Jensen pushed in, both of you let out a primal moan. He stopped, trying not to cum. “Sorry I need a minute.” He whispered. You giggled. He leaned up and started pumping in and out. His lips landed on yours as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Jensen was gentle with you, and with each thrust he stretched you like you’d never been stretched before.

His hands explored every inch of your body, your eyes kept finding each other’s and each time, Jensen softly kissed you. Every thrust, every touch felt like home. Your body was his and his was yours. Even if just in that moment. Jensen pulled you on top of him as he sat up, not pulling out of you. The change in position had you gripping his shoulders as you rode him. He was deeper than he was before. Each bounce sent you closer to your second release. You began bouncing as Jensen sucked on your breasts. “Jensen, I’m gonna cum again.” “Me too, cum for me baby.” You came hard around his cock, your walls squeezing his shaft and pulling his release out of him. With a thrust and a grunt, Jensen came too. Shooting his load into the condom. 

As he finished, he leaned his forehead against yours and placed a soft kiss on your lips. Both of you had a light sheen on your bodies from the sweat. Your face was flush and so was his, and both of you were softly panting. 

You slowly got off of him, making sure not to pull off the condom. Moving to the side, Jensen stood, placed another kiss on your lips and walked over to the trash can to remove the condom and clean himself up. You started to pull on your clothes, when he walked back over. He pulled you into his arms and kissed you again. “That was amazing, Y/N. Absolutely perfect.” You smiled, “Yes it was, thank you, Jensen.” He smiled and kissed you again.

You both got dressed and sat on the couch, holding each other. The room was filled with silence. Clearing your throat, you sat up and looked at him, “So, what does this mean? I’m fine if it was just to blow off steam. I just want to know.” “Well, I’d like to see where this goes, if you’re up for it.” Jensen looked at you as he said it. “Really, Jensen? I would love that.” “Good, because I’ve always wanted to say I was hot for teacher.” You laughed, and so did he. 

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[munsonfamilyband]

I’ve decided to elaborate on Steve’s Mom being good

~~~~

“Elizabeth Harrington.” She didn’t usually answer calls but Richard was busy preparing for his meeting that afternoon, so here she was answering the cellphone she had bought so that Steve could reach them at any time.

“Hi there, are you Steven Harrington’s mother?”

“Yes… who am I speaking to?” There was a pit of worry growing in her stomach, somehow she knew this wouldn’t be a nice conversation.

“I’m calling from Hawkins Memorial Hospital. Your son has just been admitted and is being treated for infected animal bites and a potential concussion. We’re calling because your son has a history of head trauma and we wanted to inform his family that he is being treated.” Her heart stopped for a moment, barely able to hear over the ringing in her ears. Her son, her only son, her baby, was in the hospital. What did she mean infected animal bites? And history of head trauma? What had she missed as she allowed Richard to drag her all over the country.

“Thank you, I-we will be there as soon as we can. We will be there, thank you.” She hung up before the nurse could respond and, blinking back tears, began gathering her things and throwing them into her suitcase. As she was folding up her skirts, Richard walked into the bedroom and raised an eyebrow.

“What are you doing?”

“We need to leave, I just got a call from the hospital at home, Steve is there, he-“ She was interrupted by Richard scoffing and she looked up to see him roll his eyes.

“We can’t leave, Elizabeth. I have a very important meeting this afternoon. Besides, Steven will be fine, he was last time.” Elizabeth froze, her blood going cold as she stared at Richard in dawning horror.

“What do you mean, last time?”

“The boy is so needy. I got a call last summer from that hospital that Steven was there, something about his job at the mall, I don’t know. We were in the middle of that big merger and I said he would be fine. And he was, when we came home-“

“We didn’t come home until late August, that merger was around the fourth. My son was in the hospital and you never told me?” The cold numbness she had felt just moments ago was disappearing, fast, and replaced by a burning hot rage. Fury that she had put up with this man for so long, that she had let him do so much to her son, that she hadn’t noticed that her son had been hurt last summer. “Who do you think you are to hide that from me?!”

“I am your husband, and I can hide whatever I like from you. The boy is fine, he doesn’t need more of your coddling.” In that moment, anger coursing through her veins, Elizabeth made a quick decision. Straightening her back, she turned away from Richard to begin packing again.

“Fine, if you don’t want to come, you don’t have to. I will go by myself and be with my son.”

“How exactly are you planning to get there? You’re not taking my car.”

“I don’t need your car. In case you have forgotten, I am the one with the money in this marriage. I have my inheritance, and the house- speaking of,” she grabbed the phone, dialing a number and turning to face him as she put it to her ear. With a grin, she heard the bank correspondent answer and ask what they could do for her. “Hello, I am looking to remove someone from my account.” She stared at Richard with a smug grin as she recited the account number and told them who she wanted removed. “And if you could add a message or something in your books to let anyone know that if he tries to access the account to not let him and call the police, that would be greatly appreciated.” When they confirmed that the note had been recorded and her account was all hers, she thanked them and hung up. “You can keep the parts of my inheritance that I gave you, but the rest of it is mine.” She took great pleasure in seeing how red his face was before turning back to her luggage and zipping it up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go see my son. You should be getting a letter from a divorce attorney in a few days.”

She left the room without saying goodbye and got in a cab, heading straight to the airport. Elizabeth thought she should be crying, she had just ended her 30 year long marriage after all, but she felt like screaming instead. Screaming about how free she felt for the first time in her life.

The airport was full of people running around, clearly trying to get somewhere but being stopped by something. It wasn’t until she caught sight of a TV screen that she realized what was happening.

“7.4 Magnitude Earthquake Rocks Hawkins, IN”

She starts walking toward the counter faster.

———

After managing to charter a small plane to get as close to Hawkins as she could, then getting a cab that was willing to drive into Hawkins, Elizabeth found herself running into the hospital and fighting her way though the crowd of people to the nurses station.

“I’m looking for Steven Harrington, I got a call a couple hours ago that he was here-“ A voice behind her spoke before the nurse could.

“You’re here for Steve?” She turned and saw a group of the most dirty teenagers she may have ever seen. She could vaguely recognize two of the children as Sue Sinclair’s but she didn’t know their names. She did recognize Nancy Wheeler, though she had thought her and Steve weren’t dating anymore.

“Nancy?” The girl mirrored her own confused face, brow furrowed as they looked at each other.

“Mrs. Harrington? What are you doing here?”

“I got a call in Chicago that Steve was here and I came as fast as I could, what are you…I thought you and Steve weren’t-“

“Oh! No, we aren’t dating, but we are friends and he got hurt so….here we are.” Nancy gestured to the other people around her, including a girl her age in a red beret that was staring at her like she was an alien.

“Right….” Just as she was about to ask who the others were, a nurse tapped her on the shoulder and informed her that she could come back to see Steve. Elizabeth didn’t even stop to say goodbye to the group of children she had just seen, all she could focus on was seeing her son.

When she entered his room - after having to go into a new wing with men in black suits standing in front of the doors - she nearly collapsed. Because there was her son, lying in a hospital bed with bandages wrapped around his head and neck, looking so small in a way he hadn’t since he was little. She stumbled forward and the noise she made had Steve jolting, looking around the room like a cornered animal. She hurried closer and grabbed his hand in both of hers, getting him to focus fully on her.

“Steve, sweetie, you’re okay, it’s just me.” He squinted in her direction before something like shock covered his face.

“….mom? What are you…what are you doing here?” Her heart cracked at the hesitancy in his voice and she felt tears drip down her cheeks.

“I got a call from the hospital earlier, I got on a plane and got here as fast as I could. Your father….well, he’s not here.” Steve stared at her, processing her words as he blinked slowly.

“Why now? You didn’t come last time, why now?” She could see the tears shining in his eyes that he was fighting back and her heart cracked all over again.

“Oh, my sweet boy…. If I had known, I would have been here.”

“What…what do you mean, if you had known? The hospital called, how could you-“ He cut himself off and his eyes widened slightly. “Dad….dad got the call, didn’t he?” She nodded sadly, knowing that no more had to be said. Reaching forward, she cupped his cheek with one of her hands, rubbing her thumb gently under his eye and she smiled sadly as he leaned into it.

“I’m leaving your father.” Steve’s attention snapped back to her, trying to sit up in his bed and she quickly shushed him, guiding him back to laying down. “I should have left him years ago. All the things I let him do to you….I am so, so sorry, Steve. I should have done this a long time ago but I wasn’t brave enough. Finding out that you had been hurt enough to be in the hospital and he never told me… that was the final straw for me. I already took him off the inheritance account.”

“Mom…. That- I am so proud of you. I can’t imagine how scary that was-“ She brushed that aside with a wave of her hand.

“We can worry about that later, me being on my own is not the most important thing right now. Steve, baby, what happened? They said you had infected animal bites, and-and a history of head trauma? How much…. How much have I missed in your life?” They stared at each other in silence and she watched Steve thinking about his next words very carefully. His careful thinking didn’t do much good though when his tears came back with a vengeance.

“Mama….” Immediately she was wrapping him in her arms. He hadn’t called her that in years, ever since Richard insisted that she was coddling him too much. He was only 8, but out of fear or a need to please, she had listened and the nights of watching movies with him curled into her side had ended. They had been so close when he was little but had drifted apart after that moment. Now, she knew that she wouldn’t leave him again because here he was, crying in her arms and calling her mama for the first time in a decade.

“It’s alright, my sweet boy, it’s alright, I’m right here…”

———

When Steve had calmed down some he was able to tell her everything, after warning her that she would have to sign multiple NDAs just by hearing what he had to say. She was horrified, and angry, and she wanted to kill her husband for dragging her away from her son when he had been fighting monsters for years without her even knowing. Once he had explained it all, she pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Do you mind if I step out? I’m going to go call an attorney to get the divorce process started now. I want to be done with your father as soon as I possibly can be.” He nodded but was having a hard time letting go of her hand, so with a gentle smile she took off her jacket and handed it over to him. “I promise I will be back. Do you want me to send someone else in while I’m gone? All of the children you adopted are in the lobby.”

He gave her a dry smile, clearly feeling better if he could sense her joke. “Could you send Robin in?” He was holding onto her jacket for dear life, and with a pang she was reminded of him clutching his teddy bear the same way when he was little.

“I can do that. Is Robin…?” She wanted to know everything she had missed, and if he had a girlfriend then she wanted to know.

“Robin? Oh, god, no. The kids joke that we share a brain sometimes, but I think we have twin souls. I haven’t….I don’t have the match to my soul yet, but Robin and I, ours are identical. She’s my best friend.” Elizabeth knew what he was talking about and smiled as she left the room. As a child he had been obsessed with soulmates, he took after her romantic heart. He had said he wanted to meet the person whose soul completed his, but she had told him that wasn’t how it worked. His soul was already complete, but his soulmate would have a soul that added to his, like paintings in a series: complete works on their own but they become something bigger when they are together. He had clearly taken that idea to heart and was trying to find that person.

Stepping into the lobby she found it mostly empty, clearly people had been moved to see their loved ones. With a gently cough to get the groups attention, she spoke. “Which one of you is Robin?”

The girl in the beret sat up straight, staring her down in an almost challenging way. “I am. Why?”

“I have to make a call and he’s asked if you could go back.” The girl stood and narrowed her eyes at her.

“What? Couldn’t even stay with him for an hour before you had to run off-“

“Robin!” Nancy cut her off, clearly telling her to be nicer but Elizabeth appreciated the girl’s fierce protection of her son.

“I’m calling a divorce lawyer so that I can finally leave Steve’s father. I want to get it started as fast as possible so that neither of us has to deal with him far any longer than we absolutely need to.” The girl blinked at her in surprise and Elizabeth placed a gentle hand on her arm. “I know I haven’t been there for Steve, and I hate myself for how long I let it go on. I know he and I will have a lot of things to work through, but I am not planning on leaving him again. I’m glad he has a friend like you, though. Finding someone who matches you on such a deep level is rare, and if anyone deserves that, it’s him.” The girl nodded at her with wide eyes and Elizabeth walked away to go find a phone.

When she returned to Steve’s room later everyone else had moved into the space, including someone on a second bed closer to the window. Steve noticed her first and reached a hand out to her.

“Mom…” Without hesitation, she pulled a chair over and sat down beside him, clutching his hand in hers and pressing a kiss to the top of it.

“Hi, sweetie. The attorney is finalizing the paperwork and then sending it to your father so he should be getting it in a few days.” Steve gave her a tired smile and then looked around the room.

“Do you…do you want me to introduce you to everyone?”

“If you feel up for it, I would love to meet them.”

“Alright, well you know Nance and you already spoke with Robin.” He gestured to the girls sitting on the other side of his bed before nodding to the little girl curled up in a chair by his feet, resting her head against his leg. “That’s Erica, you and Sue Sinclair were friends right? She’s her youngest. Lucas was in the waiting room but he’s with Max next door, he’s Sue’s older kid. Max is his maybe-girlfriend, it’s complicated.” Elizabeth smiled at the little girl who had curled one fist around the blankets of Steve’s bed. She could hear Steve slurring his words a little from exhaustion but he kept talking. He looked over at the other bed where a boy his age with long hair was sleeping, covered in bandages, and another boy, younger than Steve but not as young as Erica, who was sleeping on the couch under the window. “That’s Dustin on the couch, he’s the one whose cat got eaten, remember? And then, uh, that’s Eddie, in the bed. He’s-he’s new, this is his first go around, and he got really hurt but they said he’ll be okay.”

Elizabeth managed to school her face into a neutral expression when she saw the blush that colored Steve’s cheeks when he spoke about Eddie. She could see in his eyes and hear in his voice that he was well on his way to being smitten with the other boy but she didn’t want to startle him too badly. So she decided to wait to speak to him about that until later.

The time finally came a couple hours later, Steve had just woken up again and everyone else had fallen asleep so Elizabeth took her chance.

“Steve? I know I haven’t been great about showing you lately, but I do love you very much. And if, for any reason, you had something you wanted to tell me, I wouldn’t stop loving you.” He blinked at her, the blush rising up his neck once again.

“Uh, well, I know I said I hadn’t found the match to my soul yet, but that may not be fully true.” She gave him a smile and glanced over at the other bed.

“I can see what you see in him, he’s your type.” Steve turned bright red.

“He’s-what-I don’t-what do you mean by that?”

“Well, he looks a lot like Nancy is all. Big curly hair, large eyes. I also know how you felt about that man in the space movie, the one who did that treasure hunting movie?”

“I-Mom are you talking about Harrison Ford?”

“Yes, that’s his name! I can tell when you like someone, Steve, and you always paid more attention to those movies.” Steve just groaned in embarrassment.

“I can’t believe that you picked up on that.” He glanced at her, the nervousness back on his face. “You aren’t… you don’t care, that he’s a guy?”

“Steve, my beautiful boy, all I want is for you to be happy. Besides, I have a cousin back in Italy who just married a man a few years ago. I thought it was rather romantic, that they decided to get married even if the law wouldn’t recognize it.” Steve smiled at her, tears in his eyes.

“I’ve missed you so much, mama.”

“And I’ve missed you, sweetie. Go back to sleep, you need your rest.” He nodded at her and in moments he was back to sleep.

She knew they had a lot to do, a lot of healing both on their own and together to get over years of trauma and trust issues, but she knew, somehow, that they would be okay.

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | part twelve

summary: luca meets the kimura family. you and joe grieve together.

warnings: angst, grief, death, fluff, conversations about divorce, second person pov, swearing, very little connection to the storyline of the bear.

word count: 4k

listen to: the official 'burn your life down' playlist

a/n: while this is in fact the second to last chapter, i will write more of them. teehee. but also, can we believe we only have one more chapter left?! let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.

part eleven | masterlist | part thirteen

This is not how you pictured starting October, grieving the loss of the matriarch of the family you once called your own, while on the precipice of something new. Straddling the intersection of the old guard and the new feels more complicated than you imagined, because how does one manage to feel so full, so loved, yet consumed by so much despair all at once?

Not to mention the merging of your two worlds: your old life in London and your new one in Copenhagen.

Your new one in Copenhagen with Luca. 

The ceremony, mostly just for ritualistic purposes, considering Aiko was cremated – something only the Kimura siblings had been a part of, was held in the backyard of the Kimura. childhood home. You watch as your worlds collide, like two cars crashing into one another – something that seems inevitable, yet still manages to be equally strange, jarring, and confusing. Luca reaches across to shake Astrid’s hand, initiating the action of the merging of your two words. 

“I’m Luca. It’s nice to meet you. I’m so sorry for your loss,” he says, his voice compassionate and kind. 

“Thank you,” Astrid replies, a small smile on her face as she looks Luca in the eyes. “I wish we were meeting under better circumstances but. Thank you for coming.” “‘Course.”

“It’s so good to see you,” you exhale, a sigh of relief leaving your lips as your best friend wraps you up in her arms. 

You and Luca had shown up just before the ceremony started, and hadn’t even had a chance to say hello yet. Truthfully, you weren’t sure if it’d be right, if it’d be appropriate to show any earlier, wanting to give Joe, Astrid, and Lina the time they’d need beforehand. 

“I’m so glad you were able to make it,” she says, squeezing you tighter than normal. 

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” you assure her, as you pull back from your embrace. “It was a beautiful ceremony.” 

“Thanks,” Astrid nods. “Think she would’ve rather liked it.” 

You take a good look at your former sister-in-law. She looks tired, sad – the kind of tired and sad you get from running the entire show, from project managing your own mother’s posthumous arrangements. 

“Thank you for coming,” Astrid repeats, her compliment genuine, before zeroing in on Luca. “The both of you.” Somehow, in the midst of her mother’s funeral, Astrid still has the energy to send you a look – that look – the kind of look that says ‘we WILL be talking about this hottie later.’ 

“Love?” Luca asks you, as you turn your head to look at him. 

“Yeah?” you ask back. 

“I’m going to head back inside,” he begins, placing a gentle touch against your low back. “Let you say hello to your friends. But please. Take your time.” 

As you open your mouth to say something, it’s as if the timing couldn’t be better (or worse, but you’ll figure out how you feel about it later), as you spot both Joe and Lina approaching. They exchange a few words quietly between each other, walking over to you, Luca, and Astrid.

Joe walks with a sureness that comes from a lifetime spent being the golden son in a family full of daughters, while Lina keeps close to his side, protectively. 

“Hey, thanks for coming, mate,” Joe says, immediately extending a hand in Luca’s direction. His voice is warm, friendly, yet distant, as if he’s putting on his bravest face to get through this afternoon. 

“I’m Luca. Hi,” Luca introduces himself, meeting Joe’s assuredness with his own. 

“Joe. Joe Kimura,” Joe replies, shaking the blonde’s hand. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Luca says, courteously, your hand brushing against his at your sides. Joe only nods, his lips pressed together in a polite, yet tight smile, before shifting his attention over to you.

“Joe,” you address him, a small smile on your lips as you greet your ex-husband. “It’s-, it’s good to see you.”

It’s strange really, standing next to your new boyfriend, one that brings you comfort, that makes you feel safe and loved, in a moment of sheer vulnerability and heartbreak across from your ex-husband. 

“Hey. Thanks for coming. She would’ve been so happy to see you here,” he says, something softer in his voice as he refers to his late mother. Joe pulls you into a friendly, yet strained hug before releasing you. 

“Yeah, of course,” you reply, pulling away. “I really wanted to be here.” 

He nods, watching as you take a few steps backwards, so that you’re standing side by side with Luca once more. Lina lets out a disappointed sigh before greeting you, her greeting much more tense with Luca as he introduces himself to the last member of the Kimura family he’s yet to meet. The exchange is thick with awkward tension, but there’s no animus in it, from anyone, really. You don’t talk for long – just a few exchanges back and forth as everyone meets everyone – till Luca reminds you that he’s got to go on his way to meet up with his mum. 

“I’ll walk you out,” you offer, before excusing yourself from your conversation with the Kimura siblings. 

You know this home well, pushing through the crowd of people gathered in the family home, and out the front door. You’re not surprised that so many people have shown up to celebrate the life of Aiko Kimura, the legacy she leaves behind, apparent. 

“No need to rush, love. Feel free to stick around for as long as you need,” Luca says, with patience and grace in the words he says. 

You nod, giving him a half smile as you reply, “Yeah, I will. Have fun with your mom too.” 

There’s a pause between the two of you, both of you unsure of how to fill it. There are so many things you want to say, with no idea of where to start, or how to say them. 

“This is weird, right?” you ask, chuckling as a means to break some of the tension. 

He nods, cracking a half smile of his own, “Yeah, there are other ways I’d imagined meeting your ex-husband.”

You shake your head incredulously, as you sigh. The reality of the situation would be humorous if it were under any other circumstances, really. 

“How ya holdin’ up’?” Luca asks you, checking in before he goes. 

“I’ll uh… let you know when I know,” you answer, honestly. 

He mutters something under his breath, something about understanding, as he pulls you in close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, hugging you close. 

“Thank you for coming. Thank you for being here with me,” you whisper, against his chest.

“No need to thank me, my love. I’m here for you,” he reassures you, something genuine in his voice that instills a confidence in his words. 

-------------------------------

“You could stay, y’know?” you hear the voice of the youngest Kimura sibling say, causing you to turn away from the photo board that hangs in the Kimura family living room. 

“What do you mean?” you ask her. 

“Come home,” Lina says this time, much more insistent, much more desperate. “You and Joe-.”

“Lina,” you warn her, as your face falls, because you’re not sure you can let her finish that sentence. 

You feel for her, really, and you can only imagine that it’s easier for her to focus on resenting your new boyfriend than it is to feel the pain of this loss. 

Lina sighs, shaking her head, her jaw clenched, “So it’s serious then? You and… the pastry chef?”

You wait a beat before answering,

“Yeah. It is.”

She shakes her head again, this time with an eye roll as she purses her lips disapprovingly. It’s as if she’s turning a decision over in her head, opening her mouth to say something, before closing it, going back to the drawing board. 

“But he’s an Arsenal fan,” she finally scoffs, with a snort, trying her best to add a little humor to what feels like an impossible situation by nitpicking at his favorite football team.

You laugh, adding your own playful eye roll to the mix this time. 

“I never said he had great taste in football teams,” you chuckle back, earning a groan from your former sister-in-law. 

The two of you share a look, one that says, ‘I love you, you dummy,’ and you can see that she wants to say something else. You don’t know what it’ll be about this time, so you wait patiently, giving the youngest Kimura the space to get out whatever it is that’s eating her. 

“I just-. I never understood… why you and Joe… why you couldn’t work it out,” she drags out, a disappointment in her voice as she finds the words she wants to say. 

So she doesn’t want to talk about her mom. 

You sigh, accepting that fact, while racking your brain for how to explain the question that consumed you for a year after. 

“Because, Lina…” you trail off, choosing your words intentionally. “It just wasn’t-, because I don’t know if we were supposed to. I-.” You pause once more before continuing with, “Because we just… grew apart. Wanted different things. And we both deserve to go find them, even if it means it’s not with each other.” 

You watch as she takes in your answer, only just beginning to process your explanation, as a man you recognize as Uncle Kevin approaches. 

“Sorry to interrupt, ladies. Lina, will you come help me with something in the kitchen?” he asks. 

“Sure. Yeah,” she nods her head, beginning to turn away from you. 

But Lina pauses; she’s not ready to go just yet. 

“It really is good…” she says with a sure nod of her head. “... to see you. I’m glad you came.”

Lina turns once more, following her uncle into the kitchen, without a look back. You take a deep breath, because it all just feels heavy. You’ve always been close with Astrid, but your relationship with Lina was different. She was much younger when you met Joe. While you and Astrid became close friends, much closer in age, you’d always suspected that Lina had put you and your relationship with her brother on a pedestal, the reality of your assumption becoming glaringly obvious now. 

You can only imagine the divorce was something hard for her to stomach, to understand, especially with her limited life experience. You remind yourself not to take it too personally as you slip outside, making your way back into the backyard where the memorial service was held earlier that day. 

There’s another photo board outside, propped up against an easel, with an entirely different collection of photos than the one inside. You smile to yourself as your eyes savor the familial images: younger versions of the Kimura children with their mother at the beach, baby Lina with a mess of noodles all over her high chair, covered in sauce, a photo of Joe’s graduation…. You reach out to touch one of the photos – a photo of you, Aiko, and Joe together, the day of your wedding. 

You can feel the lump in your throat growing, your eyes welling with tears as you’re suddenly overcome with a deep feeling of sadness. A few tears run down your face, and you sniffle, wiping them away quickly, as soon as you hear the sound of footsteps behind you. 

“I told Lina to be nice,” Astrid grumbles, as she approaches you and the photo board. 

With a quick raise of your eyebrows, you turn to Astrid before telling her: “Lina thinks I should stay.”

“Lina is barely twenty five and I don’t quite think her brain has fully formed yet,” Astrid quips dryly, and you know she’s not entirely wrong. 

“I can only imagine this is… all pretty confusing for her,” you say, suddenly feeling a little guilty for being here in the first place. 

“She’s young. She’ll get over it,” Astrid shrugs, brushing off your concern. 

To a stranger, her response would seem cold, callous, unemotional, but you know that Astrid has had to play the role of the eldest daughter her entire life. 

She’s had to be strong for everyone her entire life. 

“She always was a hopeless romantic,” you observe, turning your attention back to the family photos. “Lina.”

Astrid nods slowly, “I think she looked up to you and Joe. Looked to the two of you and saw what love could look like.”

“Just because it ended doesn’t mean we don’t still love each other,” you offer. “It’s just… different now. We’re not… in love, but we both still care for each other. Shouldn’t that be worth something too?”

“I think she’ll understand when she’s older,” Astrid replies in an attempt to offer you some kind of comfort. 

“How’re you doing?” you ask her, the words feeling silly as soon as they leave your mouth. 

“I’m… just going to be happy when this is all over,” Astrid admits, the fatigue in her voice more evident than ever. “Dunno if I’ve even had time to be sad. Been too busy doing… all of this. Think maybe I’ll crash the minute it’s over which… is bloody scary and also… guess, it’s something I’ve been waiting for too.”

You nod in concurrence, “Well, if you do, you know you have me. Right now I’m a phone call, a hop, skip, and a week away. You know, till we go home.”

She nods, stealing a glance your way, a small smirk on her lips in response to your usage of the word, ‘we.’ 

“And then of course,” you continue, slyly, hoping to plant the idea in her head now. “You can always eat, pray, love in Copenhagen… you know… if the mood strikes you. I feel like that would be, you know, healing.”

She snorts with laughter, “Yeah, I’ve got to get out there again anyways.”

There’s a short pause between the two of you, and Astrid’s still stuck on what you said earlier. 

The ‘we’ of it all, really. 

“So Luca’s really something. Showin’ up to your new girlfriend’s ex-husband’s mum’s funeral? That takes guts,” she says, prodding you for more information on Luca. 

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t think the bloke could be even more handsome in person and yet….”

You chuckle in response.

“Yeah he’s… he’s pretty perfect,” you exhale, sitting into the feeling. 

“It’s exhausting sometimes… trying to keep up,” you joke. “Only, then he tells me that I don’t have to be perfect and I can just be myself which… is even more annoying because it’s more proof that he is.”

“Well, I like him,” Astrid adds smugly, crossing her arms across her chest. 

“Yeah?” you ask, a stark contrast between her and Lina’s reactions. 

“Yeah,” she nods, enthusiastically. Her face softens as she says what comes next. “You look well-loved. That’s why I like him.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, hesitantly. 

“You look like you’ve found your heart again,” Astrid answers. 

And as you search her face for a reaction, for truth to her statement, you can see it in her eyes that she means it. 

-------------------------------

After spending a little more time with Astrid in the backyard, you decide it may be time to find Joe. You’re not sure what you’re expecting, but you think that you should prepare for almost anything. It doesn’t take long to find him inside, so you wait for the right moment, watching him accept condolences from a couple you recognize as neighbors, as they’re on their way. Your heart pounds in your chest, your nerves skyrocketing because it’s all just so… weird… as you approach. 

“Joe,” you call out to him, your voice grabbing his attention. 

He turns to you, a small smile on his face as he sees that it’s really you standing behind him. 

“Is now a good time to say hello?” you ask, trying your best to be respectful. 

“Yeah, ‘course. I-,” he begins, before pausing, looking around the room. “You want to get out of here?”

“Wh-?” you start. 

“Fancy a pint? I just don’t know if I can do this whole perfect son act for much longer,” he scoffs, a playful and mischievous tone in his voice. 

“Uh… yeah,” you agree, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. “Yeah, fuck. I could use a drink.”

You shouldn’t be surprised, really, as you follow Joe out of the house. Your brain is flooded with memories of sneaking out of the theater to go get french fries, of parties to head to another party, out of his childhood home when you were staying with Aiko during your first holiday with the Kimuras. 

There’s a pub down the street that you walk to, feeling naughty for leaving without saying goodbye, and relieved that you’re getting to escape from the bleak, depressing awkwardness that is any funeral. You remember this pub – one you and Joe used to frequent because it was only a few blocks away – when you’d moved to London. It’s a short walk and the two of you can’t get there fast enough, eager to flee the scene of grieving relatives and humorously sad music. 

You and Joe find two seats at the bar, sitting side by side as you clink the glasses of your ice cold pints. 

“Cheers,” you say. 

“Cheers,” he parrots, the both of you taking your first sips. 

“Fucking hell, I had to get out of there,” Joe exhales a huge sigh of relief. “Been at it all day. Makin’ other people feel better about my own mum’s death. I don’t know how anyone does this.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda fucked, huh?” you reply with a sigh. 

“Funerals are weird. I’ll tell you that, mate,” he agrees, lifting his glass to his lips once more. 

“This is…” you start, nervous yet bold in speaking truth to the moment. “... also weird, don’t you think?”

You watch as he thinks it over, a small smirk on his face as he agrees, “Yeah. Yeah it is.”

A beat. 

And then another. 

And you’re lifting your glass once more to your lips to take another sip of the amber liquid that brings you comfort in the moment. 

“Is it alright? That I came? That we… came?” you ask, a little more seriously now. 

Joe turns his head to you, and you can see that your consideration means a lot to him. He nods slowly as he answers:

“Yeah. I meant what I said before – that she would’ve wanted you here.” 

He pauses once more, taking another drink from his beer glass. 

“As for Luca. Well, it was bound to happen at some point or another.” You nod, your eyes fixed to the resin-sealed wooden bar top as you listen to him. “I think we both knew that this day would come… Can’t say it’s a walk in the park but… dunno if most things are supposed to be anyways.”

“Yeah I uh… I certainly feel like bambi learning how to walk for the first time on the wobbliest of legs,” you offer up, reassuring Joe that you have no idea how to navigate this either. 

“Yeah,” he sighs. 

“But,” you begin again. “We outgrew each other, yeah. Doesn’t mean I stopped caring about you. About any of you.”

Joe nods slowly, because he knows you’re right. He admires you for how fearlessly you’re charging into this conversation, and wonders if it’s the new boyfriend – Luca – whose helped get you to this point. 

He can’t tell whether he wants to thank the bloke or if he’s envious, deciding that it’s probably a little bit of both. 

“Doesn’t mean we can’t have a different kind of relationship,” you add, avoiding the cringe factor of using the word friendship, even though it’s what you mean. 

Joe waits a beat, because he really would like to be friends, because he really does still care about you too. 

“So how’s life treatin’ you otherwise?” he asks, as an olive branch – a yes to letting your relationship transform into something else. 

You spend the afternoon catching up, ordering baskets on baskets of chips, and sharing what he’s missed over the past few years: that you have a restaurant now, that you’ve come around to cold brew, even though you swore you’d always hate it, all about the Mikkelson twins and how much he’d probably hate their wild streaks. In return, Joe tells you all about his new teaching job at a uni, that he’s recreationally been playing with the symphony as of late, and that he’s just taken a little break from the dating scene. It feels strange and normal all at once. While Joe feels familiar, like getting to spend time with an old piece of yourself, this rhythm and new kind of relationship that seems to be unfolding before you feels foreign, the dichotomy stretching you to opposite ends of its spectrum. It’s not something you ever saw for yourself – becoming friends with your ex-husband – but in the moment, as the pathway presents itself to you, you’re not sure you mind. 

“I miss her. So, so much,” Joe finally admits, as the conversation returns to the matriarch you both love with your whole hearts. 

“I know. I do too,” you say, reaching for his hand this time. 

He looks at you, a softness in your eyes in response to the gesture, and with a small smile, you pull your hand away. 

“I want to make a dish… for her at the restaurant. To honor her. And everything she taught me,” you finally say, almost as if it’s a declaration. 

You search Joe’s face for a reaction, his expression beginning to break as his eyes begin to water. 

“I think ehm,” he begins, his voice breaking. “I think she’d really, really like that.” 

He clears his throat, because he’s not sure he wants to cry right now. 

“You better send pictures,” he demands jokingly. “And you’ve got to make it for us, the next time you’re in town.” Joe pauses once more, as if he wants to make it crystal clear what he really means when he adds:

“You and Luca.”

Your heart swells and breaks all at once, in response to Joe’s blessing, because it means so much and so many things. 

“Yeah. I-. We will. I promise,” you agree, your voice caught in your throat. 

Joe nods once more, a finite kind of motion as he straightens up in his chair. 

“C’mon. Think we should head back.”

And as you walk with Joe, it’s as if you both take your time, no longer in a hurry to get back to the Kimura family home as quickly as possible. There’s a weight with each step that contributes to the slower pace, and it’s hard to ignore the deep sadness that’s taken root inside of you. On one hand, it’s been a long, heavy day of grieving the loss of the Kimura matriarch – a woman who taught you how to cook, who loved you as her own, who poured every fiber of her being into building a family that knew they were loved. On the other hand, as you stand across from Joe on the street he grew up on, giving each other one more goodbye hug that lasts longer than the previous, this moment feels monumental. 

Somehow, you feel the shift, the changes between you and Joe, even deeper than the day you signed your divorce papers. You’ve moved on and so has he in his own way, and you know that as you turn to go, you’re only just beginning a new chapter with him. 

And with Luca, because it feels even more real now, more than ever.

The magnitude of it all hits you, as you straddle this ending and your new beginning. 

 It all feels very grown-up – very adult – and you can feel the pieces of you that you’ll leave behind as you do ‘said growing up,’ fall by the wayside.

“Goodbye, Joe,” you say, one last time as you try your best not to let your voice shake. 

“Take care, darling,” he says back, releasing you. 

And when you turn to go, all you can do is cry, grieving these endings, new beginnings, and the parts of you that you must leave behind.

[absurdthirst]

Surrogate Love {Dave York x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.9k

Warnings: Surrogacy, mentions of impregnation, emotional distance, fighting, drowning feelings, mentions of masturbation, crossing boundaries, technical infidelity, vaginal sex, ovulation, sex to procreate, cock warming, cheating, oral sex (female receiving), pregnancy, divorce

Comments: When Carol cannot have anymore children, she and Dave turn to seeking for a surrogate. Finding you, Dave grows closer to you as Carol seemingly pulls farther away. Leading to a discovery that will alter the agreement between you and the Yorks and allow you and Dave to fall deeper into a complicated love.

Co-written with @pedropascalsx

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|| MasterList || Dave York MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Surrogate Wanted! -Family of four looking for a surrogate to help complete our loving family. -All medical and additional pregnancy related expenses covered. -Plus a fee for carrying the child! -Looking for a young, healthy woman to commit to carrying our child, temporarily moving into our space whilst pregnant and for a few months afterwards to breastfeed. -Must be willing to undergo routine medical testing. -Contact us below if you’re interested!

You read the advertisement over and over before sending an email. Attaching your latest medical and a few details about your family history. Money is tight. Unbelievably tight.  And doing this would not only help your financial strain, but you would be doing something wonderful for a family. 

What’s the harm in applying? You mumble to yourself after hitting send on the email. Unsure if you’ll even get a response.

“Honey, look at this one.” Dave looks up from his computer to find Carol leaning over his shoulder, reading the email already. “What do you think?” He asks. There have been a few other emails, but they were all unsuitable and this woman has already started providing medical information. And a picture of how lovely she is.

“She looks nice,” Carol says with a roll of her eyes, trying to seem interested as she pulls on her new dress, ready for a girls night out. “Invite her over for an informal interview.”

“Okay.” Dave frowns as he looks over at Carol. “Are you still going out?” He asks. “I thought -“

“My sister needs this,” she says with a pout, “I can’t let her down. It’s just a few hours with the girls. Drinks and karaoke.”

“Okay, yeah sure.” Dave sighs but he nods his head. Carol says that she’s interested in this, she was the one to suggest it. Hiring a surrogate so that third dream baby could happen, but so far it’s been Dave doing all the leg work on this.

Carol lightly pecks Dave's cheek as she grabs her purse ready to go. “Don’t wait up, honey.”

****

Your phone pings with an email alert, asking if you’d be interested in an informal meeting to see if it could potentially be a good fit.

‘Hello, Mr. York.

Thanks for the prompt reply, I would love to arrange a meeting. There’s a cafe just outside the National Mall called ‘Cherry Blossoms’, If you’re free tomorrow we could meet there?

Kind regards.’

The polite response makes Dave interested in meeting the candidate and he quickly sends a reply, agreeing to the time and place. After he does that, he pulls out his work laptop to do some background checks on the person who might be carrying his next child.

‘See you and your wife tomorrow at 1pm.’ You send back, anxious about meeting them but excited about the same time.

****

Arriving at the cafe, Dave sighs and rolls his shoulders back. Aware that the meeting might go horribly sideways since his wife couldn’t drag her hungover ass out of bed to do more than puke in the shower. She was in no condition to come and he had to smother his irritation since he hadn’t told her about this meeting this morning. Instead of dwelling on that, he steps up to the counter and orders a coffee and a muffin, since she hadn’t arrived yet. A quick glance around had told him that.

You walk into the cafe and make your way up to the counter, ordering a hot chocolate before looking around to see if you can spot the couple. A very handsome man puts his hands up and waves to you and you assume that he must be Dave York. 

Prettier than he had noticed in the pictures, Dave stands up as you walk over. “I’m sorry.” He starts out, introducing himself and offering his hand. “My wife couldn’t make our meeting this morning. She’s….under the weather.”

You reach out and shake his hand and offer him a warm smile, before taking a seat. “Poor thing, I’m so sorry to hear that! Is she okay? Would you like to reschedule?”

He is surprised that you don’t want to cancel. “Only if you would rather wait to  meet my wife?” He flashes you a grin. “Make sure I’m legitimate?”

“I’m happy either way,” you say, before thanking the waitress who’s handing you your drink. “I mean we’re both here, so a chat couldn’t do any harm.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” The background checks on you have come up clean but he wants to know more about you. “What questions do you have for me?”

“If it’s not too personal… Why surrogacy?” You ask before taking a sip of your hot chocolate and humming in delight at the taste. 

He had expected that question so he is pulling out his wallet, flipping it open to show you a picture of his family, taken last Christmas. “My youngest, Molly, when she was born, Carol had a lot of complications.” He explains. “She ended up needing a complete hysterectomy.” He had hated it, but it was that or lose his wife and he would rather have her. “That’s my oldest daughter, Alice.” He points to the older girl.

“They’re gorgeous,” you say, peering down at their smiling faces, “I’m sorry to hear about the complications your wife went through. I’m glad to see that both your wife and your daughter are okay though. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Are you okay with using your egg?” He asks seriously. “That would be required, or you would have to go through implantation.”

“Yes, I’m fine with that. Happy for the testing as well… uh… my periods are like clockwork. And I have an app that tracks ovulation.”

“Okay, good.” You don’t seem to think that it’s odd. “All your medical care will be taken care of.” He promises.

“Good to know,” you clear your throat before asking the next question, “If you were to select me, I’d have one hard rule.”

Dave arches a brow and nods. “What is that?”

“You said that you’d require me to move in, I would like at least 4-6 weeks notice before you’re ready to move away from breastfeeding. So I have sufficient time to find myself somewhere to live.”

“Of course.” That’s more than reasonable. “And if you find you would need more time because of the market at that time, I’m sure we can work something out.”

“That sounds good,” you say with a smile, “Just so you know, I am employed. 24 hours a week, I work from home. But I’d be more than happy to help around the house, babysit so you and your wife can have time alone and so on. I graduated college and I majored in computer sciences and I work for a social media company and stay on top of their coding.”

He nods and if he thinks that the hours are low, he doesn’t mention it. Your finances and work are not his concern. It might be good for you to work less while you are carrying the baby. “But so you know, you aren’t obligated.”

“It’s an entry position job,” you say after noticing his reaction to your low hours, “Money is tight and it’s an industry that you’ve got to climb. I took what was available. But i’m an honest hard worker. And I know, I also don’t want you to think I’d expect you to offer me anything until I've met your family and after the medical is done.”

“We pay for the medical, you live with us and breast feed the baby - if you can.” Dave knows that sometimes the baby doesn’t want to latch or milk isn’t plentiful. “And we would pay you eighty thousand dollars.” He holds up a finger. “But no dating or sex during your pregnancy. I don’t want to risk the baby’s health.”

“Yeah I don’t date,” you say with a giggle, “I uh, I’m not the most confident person and casual sex isn’t something I’ve ever had any interest in. $80,000? Perfect. That’s enough to start my life and find somewhere comfortable to rent once the baby is born.” 

Now comes his own questions. "Why are you willing to do this?" He asks you, leaving forward and watching you carefully. "And will you be able to give up the baby once they are weaned?"

“Financial stability,” you say honestly, “And yes. I’ll sign anything that’s required.”

"Obviously I'd want you to meet my wife first." Dave leans back, confident that you are what he is looking for. "Once we agree, we could start insemination procedures the following cycle."

“That sounds great. Name the time and place, I’d love to meet your wife.” You say before eyeing up his muffin and trying to work out if you want one. “So what is it that you do Mr York?”

“I work for the DIA.” He sees you eyeing the muffin and takes the knife to cut it in half. He offers it to you and smiles. “Government bureaucrat.”

“Thank you,” you say with your brightest smile, “It’s a bit too early for me to be stealing your food, I don’t have the pregnancy excuse yet. I’m sorry. And whoa. That sounds intense.” 

“These muffins are huge.” Dave chuckles and gives a small shrug. “It’s got its moments, but it pays well.”

“Nice,” you say before taking a bite and moaning at how delicious and moist it is. “This is heaven.”

"It's a good little treat." He agrees, finishing off his own half in two quick bites.

“When and where would you like me to meet your wife?”

"Can I call you to schedule a time?" He asks, pulling out his phone. "I don't know when she will be feeling better." It's better you believe that she's sick than just hungover.

“Oh, of course. I’m sorry I didn’t think,” you say with a flood of embarrassment. “And is there anything you’d like me to do in the meantime? I could schedule an appointment with my gynecologist?”

"Don't worry about that." He shakes his head and gives you a smile. You are a little awkward but it's endearing in a way. "I'll text you when I figure out how long it will be and we can arrange something? We can schedule doctor appointments after everyone's met and you can give your final decision on if you would like to do this for us."

“That sounds good,” you beam, “Yeah, you can text me anytime.” The next set of words slip out of you mouth before you’ve even realized you said them and it’s in that moment you’re convinced you’ve blown it. “God. I never thought i’d have the baby of a man who looks as good as you inside of me.”

He's shocked by your honesty and for a moment he freezes, but he grins at the mortification that is riding over your face. "You think I look good, huh?"

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, Mr York,” you groan, “Of course I do. Shit. You’re gorgeous. I didn’t mean to… Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

  "That's okay." Dave chuckles and shakes his head. "Attraction is normal. The first thing I noticed was how attractive you were."

You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your entire face as he compliments you, “Thank you, Mr York.”

"Our DNA will produce a very attractive child." He hums, sending you a playful wink.

****

Almost a month since the initial meeting has passed and everything has been great. You met Carol a few days later and the girls a few days after that. Dave had arranged for you to be seen by the most fought after gynecologist in D.C. and all your tests came back great. He had loaded you up with ovulation tests and the decision for home insemination to reduce stress had been made. Dave and Carol would spend time alone together and once he was about to ejaculate he would finish in the pots provided and Carol would bring them down to you and help with the process. 

Dave had just helped bring your last box into the basement they had converted that would be your home for the foreseeable future and you were excited.

"Do you need anything else?" Dave asks as he sets the box down and looks around. "I have changed the locks on the basement door, rekeyed them to the rest of the locks in the house." He fishes a set of keys out of his pocket for the walk out door to the side yard. "So you can go out that door if you want."

“No. This is perfect, Mr York,” you say as you look around your new home, “I insist on buying dinner tonight to say thank you.”

He chuckles and shrugs. "It's Friday, we normally order Chinese." He admits with a grin.

“Let me know what to order and where to collect,” you say before giving him a brief thank you hug. Clearly surprising him in the process. 

"Oh- uh, you're welcome." He pats your back awkwardly and shoots you a grin. "The girls are easy. Sweet and sour chicken and fried rice for both of them." They had been introduced to you and had immediately found that you were the most fascinating person they had ever met and had a million questions for you.

“And for you and Mrs York?” You love the girls. They have already made you promise to watch a disney movie with them tonight and you’re honestly excited about it.

"Carol likes vegetable lo mein and spring rolls." He tells you with a small shrug. "Me- I like General Tso's shrimp."

“Got it,” you say with a grin. “Consider dinner sorted. And afterwards once the girls are in bed, we can start the process tonight? I mean I'm ovulating and there’s no point in missing a cycle right?”

Dave nods. "Yeah. We can do that before bed." He rolls his eyes and sighs. "I know it's stupid and superstitious, but would you tilt your hips up with a pillow for at least an hour after it's injected?"

“Of course!” You say excitedly, happy to make this happen for them. “Can you believe that part of you will be inside of me tonight!” You say without realizing just how filthy it sounds.

He bites his lip, trying not to say something dirty in return. He knows that you want to help give him and Carol another baby and it’s not going to work if he gets too close to you. “Hopefully, we’ll get lucky on the first try.”

“Fingers crossed, Mr York.”

****

"I have already told them that I'm going out." Carol huffs as she looks at Dave with a pout. "I can't back out now. I'm supposed to pick them up." She shrugs a shoulder. "I thought we would let the poor thing at least unpack before we start shooting her full of your sperm."

  Dave huffs and rolls his eyes. "She's ovulating, Carol." He reminds her. "It's not like we can reschedule that." 

“I can’t reschedule this. She’ll still be ovulating tomorrow, honey, we can do it then. And make sure you don’t order me food,” she says as she goes back into the bathroom, “We’re getting tapas.”

It's been fucking months. Months of every ovulation cycle he jerks off into a cup and Carol quickly rushes downstairs to inject it inside you. Months of disappointment when your period comes. You have apologized and apologized, cried about it and offered to go back to the doctor for the fifth time, but Dave can't blame you. He sighs and shoves his hand through his hair. "Do you even want to do this?" He demands, feeling like his wife is just brushing this off when it was her idea in the first place. "It doesn't seem like it."

“Of course I do, sweetheart,” she grits out, before rolling her eyes. “These things can take time. Look I know she’s ovulating now, but why don’t we skip this month. Let her destress and pick it up next month. Plus it’ll mean she can take the girls to their after school clubs for me this week, if you’re not obsessing over her cycle.

Dave sighs and shakes his head. "She's not the damn nanny, Carol." He reminds her, having noticed that there have been a lot of 'favors' his wife has been demanding of you despite Dave telling her that she shouldn't be. You weren't here to fucking pick up the girls. You were here to try to give the family the third child both of them said they wanted.

“She’s being paid $80,000,” Carol snaps, “She can do some work for it. I’m not arguing with you. It’s girls night. I refuse to leave the house stressed, or thinking about your goddamn cum, David.”

"You've been having a lot of goddamn ‘girls nights’, Carol." Dave snaps back, clenching his jaw. "Why don't you stay home for once and be a fucking wife and mother?" It's gone from a couple of times a month to two, sometimes three times a week and he's sick of it. 

“I need to support my sister, she’s going through a rough time,” Carol repeats for the hundredth time this week, despite never elaborating and her sister always being in high spirits when she visits the house. “I probably won’t be home tonight. Tanya has suggested we go back to hers after food as her husband is away. I’ll be back mid-morning.” 

That hazy suspicion niggles in the back of his mind but he doesn't voice it. Instead he sighs and shakes his head. "Just- you still want to do this, right?" He asks again, this time trying not to accuse her. "If you changed your mind, you just need to talk to me."

“Of course, I do,” she says again, “But you’ve gotta be more patient. It takes time. And sometimes it just doesn’t happen. We can give it a few more months… And if it doesn’t happen then… we can tell her to move on and we will have $80,000 to spend on a dream vacation.”

"We could always have her egg harvested and do IVF?" Dave suggests, still not ready to give up on the idea of having that third child that they had always talked about. He was trained to find solutions and this was something he wanted.

“Let’s just keep trying it like this,” she says before grabbing her phone and her purse and getting ready to leave. “She’s bathing the girls right now, tell them Mommy will see them in the morning.”

His jaw clenches as he watches his wife stroll out of their bedroom as if there wasn't a care in the world to be had. Irritated that she was using you to take care of the girls once again. By the time he leaves the bedroom, the front door is closing and he sighs again, moving towards the bathroom where there is a lot of splashing and giggling.

“Hey,” you say as Dave enters the room, and sees you’re just as soaked as the girls. “Made the mistake of letting them play with their water pistols in the tub.”

“Daddy, are we still watching Frozen tonight?” Alice squeals excitedly as he kneels down in front of the tub.

“Of course, sweet pea.” Dave nods as he looks over at you. “I’ll finish bathing the girls if you want to go dry off.”

With a raised eyebrow you keep looking over at Dave and lean down to whisper to the girls with a sneaky look on your face. “Daddy looks awfully dry doesn’t he, babies.”

The adorable giggles that start to fill the room again makes your heart soar as they turn to face a skeptical Dave. And without a second's hesitation they blasters are being pointed in Dave’s direction, their tiny fingers hovering over the trigger.

"Don't you do it." He warns softly, shooting them a faux stern look. "You don't want to start something you can't finish, little girls."

“3 against 1,” You say with a laugh, “He’s bluffing. We’ve got this… 3,2,1… shoot!”

Dave growls, ducking his head when three streams of water start to soak him and he reaches out to slap his arm through the bathtub to send a wall of water across the tub and the instigator of his attack.

You yelp before bursting into a fit of giggles, “I yield, I yield,” you choke out, as the girls continue to soak Dave.

Dave grabs your water gun and turns it on the girls with ruthless glee as they start to shriek and try to avoid his one barrage.

Watching Dave with his girls reaffirms how badly you want to do this for him, he’s the most loving father and it just warms your heart to see how great he is with them. You watch happily for a few minutes as the excitement dies down and the girls start to get restless and want out of the bath. You take Molly as he takes Alice, getting them dried and dressed into their pajamas before sending them downstairs to get comfortable on the sofa so you can set up the movie. 

After you’re all dressed in your pajamas and the movie is playing you in the background you whisper to Dave, “Where’s Carol? I got some tips to help with insemination. I thought we’d try tonight.”

Dave sighs and turns to look at you, honestly hurt that his wife has pushed this off. He wants this so bad and he's starting to become frustrated. "She's out. Something about her sister again." He doesn't tell you that she suggested taking off this month, not willing to speak on it. "Do you think you could....do it yourself?"

“Oh,” you say quietly, “I mean I could try. I read somewhere that inserting it slowly rather than pushing it straight in is a better method. Also I read something else that’s supposed to help, so I can try that at the same time.”

"What else?" He frowns, wondering if there's something that he needs to get you or order you. He's been reading everything he can get his hands on but if you've found something, he's all ears.

“Uh,” you say quietly, before looking over at the girls and checking their still engrossed in the movie, “I read an article about um…” Shaking your head, you reach into your pocket and pull out your phone and bring up the article on clitoral stimulation helping the insemination process.

Dave takes your phone and purses his lips as he starts to read. His brows change, lifting and his expression shifting as he delves into the writing and hums. "I- I don't see why you shouldn't try it." He clears his throat and tries not to think about you playing with your clit or anything sexual. This is just supposed to be for making this baby. "But...." He sighs. "That syringe is really long." He frowns, unsure why Carol had decided to pick up a new type when the supplies had run out, but he can't blame her for not wanting to get too close to another woman's vagina. He personally thinks that she is harborning some resentments that she can't carry the baby and is just unwilling to admit it. "Are you sure you'll be able to handle it?'

“I’m not sure,” you say with a shrug, “Maybe I’ll just focus on the syringe. I just can’t really do the other thing with Carol around as it would be uncomfortable for us both. I just really want to do this for you. The worst thing that can happen is I need to change my sheets I guess.”

"If-" He starts and shakes his head. "No, that would be too much." He blows out a disappointed sigh, aware that another opportunity will most likely be lost. 

“Tell me,” you say with a raised eyebrow.

"Only if you're comfortable with it...." he stresses, not wanting you to feel pressured in any kind of way. "I could help you." He offers quietly. "Not like I haven't made two kids before. Just not quite with a glorified turkey baster." He huffs, trying to make a joke of it. 

“If you’re sure?” You say, “I mean it’s not like it takes long. I could make sure I’m ready and it’ll be over and done with in a few seconds.”

"Do you think -" He sighs and leans in closer to you. The girls are absorbed in the movie but it almost seems wrong to even think about what he's going to say next. It definitely crosses a line but he's tired of jerking off in a cup. "I could do it there and just....transfer it." He suggests. As it stands right now, he's jerking off upstairs and Carol is then taking the cum downstairs to the kitchen, filling the syringe and then carrying it down to you. Maybe something is happening in transit. "I mean, I could use your bathroom?"

“I mean it’s usually cold by the time Carol gets it in the syringe,” you say with a shrug, “So yeah, downstairs is fine.”

Dave frowns, wondering how long it takes for the sperm to cool down, but then again, it's always cool to the touch a couple of minutes after he cums on Carol's tits. "Only if you're comfortable with it." He reminds you. "I don't- don't want you to feel like I'm pushing boundaries."

“We’re making a baby, right? That’s the endgame here. I think sometimes different measures are necessary. When the girls are in bed, we can go downstairs and go from there.”

Dave nods, thankful that you are taking such a rational approach and he shoots you a smile. "Thank you." He whispers softly. "I know that it's not easy for you."

“I just hate that I’ve let you down so far,” you say, a lump forming in your throat, “I just want to make you happy.”

"You haven't let me down." He reaches over and covers your hand with his, squeezing it gently. "Without you, we wouldn't even have this hope. So don't ever think you are letting us down."

The past few months you’ve gotten closer and closer to Dave, spending most evenings eating together and watching a movie. It’s hard not to feel softened by him, despite his tough exterior he’s always so kind and your heart leaps at his touch. “Thank you, Dave.” 

The rest of the movie flies by and before you know it the girls are giving you a kiss and hug goodnight. “I’ll see you in the morning, babies,” you promise. 

Dave looks at you and you nod, signaling it’s okay for him to join you in the basement once the girls are asleep.

Dave waits until he knows they are asleep, checking on them and closing the bedroom doors as he walks down the hallway. He checks the doors and sets the alarm since Carol isn’t coming home and swallows slightly as he makes his way down to your basement apartment and knocks on the door.

“Come in,” you say with a shaky breath, you’re sitting cross legged on your bed. “How do you wanna do this? If you need porn while you… uh, yeah, I can wait in the hall and you can set it up on the TV.”

“No.” Dave shakes his head. “I don’t need porn.” He bites his lip. “I know you said you wanted to…masturbate before, so where do you want me to?”

“Wherever you’re most comfortable,” you say before biting your bottom lip, “I’m happy to follow your lead.”

He shifts, the idea that pops into his head makes his eyes widen and his cock twitches. He can’t suggest that. It would be completely wrong.

“We could watch each other,” you say, before looking down at your hands, not wanting to see rejection in his face.

Dave’s heart leaps and his head whips around to look at you. Wondering if he had actually heard that for a moment but you are so fluster it must have been. “It’s just to make the baby.” He reasons. “Right? You’ve seen a dick before.”

“Yeah,” you say with a nod of your head, “It’s not like we’re touching each other.”

“Yeah.” Dave frowns slightly, knowing Carol wouldn’t be happy but Carol’s not here and he doesn’t want to waste an ovulation day. “You can use your wand or hand or whatever and I can-“ he grins. “Old fashioned way for me is best.”

“I’ll use my hand… Do you want to see my tits?” You ask softly, not wanting to assume that he’ll want you to fully strip off. 

His mouth goes dry and he tries to swallow. “It’s not like I won’t see them when you're breastfeeding.” He reasons again. “But it’s up to you. However you feel comfortable.”

“Will it help you get off? I don’t mind.”

“I like tits.” He admits, rolling his eyes at himself. “But I don’t have to see them.”

“Okay. I’ll stay up here and you can kneel at the bottom of the bed? Will that be comfortable for you.”

“That will work.” He agrees, raising his brow. “Do you want me naked?” He asks. “Or to just pull my cock out?”

“Naked.”

Dave nods, pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it onto the floor. “Okay.”

The sight of his broad shoulders and chest makes your moan, and you follow suit. Pulling off your t-shirt, undoing your bra and pulling your sleep shorts and panties off in one clean sweep.

You’re attractive. He knows this. He’s attracted to you, and there’s nothing wrong with that. He’s not trying to sleep with you. He’s not trying to cheat on his wife, he’s trying to make a baby so he and Carol can complete their family. He unzips his pants and pulls them down to kick off. 

You can’t keep your eyes off of him, he’s known from day one that you’re attracted to him. You open your legs and reveal your glistening pussy to him, already drenched at just the thought of watching him alone. And you gather some of your slick and drag it up to your clit before drawing slow circles around it.

His boxers come off next and he kneels on the bed, hard cock already bouncing as he does. Eyes fixed on your cunt as he spits in his hand and starts to coat himself in it.

“Fuck,” you mumble at his filthy action, only slightly increasing the pace in which you circle your clit. You don’t want to cum too quickly, you want to enjoy this moment.

“You rub your clit.” He groans, spitting again and wrapping his hand around his cock to start slowly stroking it. “Does it feel good?”

“Feels so good,” you say, as moans start to slip through your lips, “You look so good stroking your cock. It’s so big,” you start to murmur, “So thick. You’ve got a gorgeous cock, Dave.”

It’s been a long time since someone paid him compliments, making him feel like they mean them. His and Carol’s sex life has dropped off drastically and she claims it’s just because wanting to save it for when you’re ovulating.

You watch the way his wrist expertly flicks as he strokes himself, and reach up to soft palming your tit with your free hand. Needing so much more than you can get, you start to rub your clit faster and faster, feeling arousal dripping from you as you bite down the urge to moan his name.

“Shit.” Dave hisses, watching your hand tease your breast and he grunts as his hips rock forward into his hand. This isn’t about wanting to bite your tit and suck on it. It’s about cumming quickly and filling your womb up with his seed.

You watch the pre-cum leak from his top, groaning when he swipes it with his thumb and spreads it down his cock, “Dave,” you moan, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Good.” He grunts, shuffling closer to see, although the cup is right there for him to grab when he’s ready. “Open up your pretty little cervix to let my cum in.”

Your fingers speed up as you chase your high, his name falls effortlessly from your lips as you’re thrown over that edge. “Oh fuck.”

“Good girl.” He grunts, twisting his wrist and groaning as he feels the first blurry edge of his orgasm start to take hold. “Gonna cum.”

“Put it inside,” you beg, “Just the tip, baby. Fill me up.”

Dave groans and he knows it’s wrong, but he does it anyway. Pushing his cock down and pushing the fat tip into your cunt, he starts to cut almost immediately. Filling you with spurt after spurt of his cum as he tries desperately not to push deeper inside you. Knowing that would be so wrong and go against what you just asked him to do.

You clench down around the tip of him, loving the way he’s stretching you open. “Fuck, put a pillow under my hips.”

Tilting your hips up with his hands pushes him deeper inside you, making him groan as he reaches for the pillow. “I- fuck.” He closes his eyes and tries not to react to how good it feels.

You can’t help the moan that leaves you as he pushes deeper and presses against the spot inside of you. “Your wife might be the luckiest woman alive.”

Dave exhales roughly and breathes out. “This is just….it’s easier to do it this way, right?” He asks. “Faster than the turkey baster.”

“Yes, and more efficient.”

Dave agrees and looks back down at you. “That article said orgasms before and after male ejaculation helps conception.” He reminds you. “We could- I could stay like this and you can cum again.” He offers.

“I can play with my pussy whilst you’re still inside of me?” you ask, wanting to make sure that’s what he’s saying.

“And…” Dave bites his lip. “If I get hard again, maybe I can try again? Make sure you

ve got a good load inside you?” He knows he will get hard again, that’s no question for him. 

“Yeah, that sounds good. Really good.” You say as you run a finger through your slit, before lightly teasing your clit.

He watches, telling himself again that this is only to make the baby. That way he knows if it doesn’t happen, every possible variable has been accounted for. It’s the back up plan. And if he happens to find it sexy that you are rubbing your clit while the first three inches of his cock are inside you, that’s an added benefit.

You circle your clit with a delicious intensity, biting down on your lip as you watch his face. His eyes focused on your pussy, watching your fingers play with your bundle of nerves and listening to the soft moans that fill the room.  You can feel him start to harden inside of you, and you wonder how it would feel to have him filling your needy little cunt.

“Shit.” Dave breathes out, leaning over slightly as he tries not to surge deeper inside you. “Does it feel good? Playing with your clit with me inside you?” He reaches down and wraps two fingers around the base of his cock and starts to pump, trying not to touch you out of respect.

“Feels like heaven,” you say, “How does my pussy feel?”

“Like it’s going to make me cum,” Dave grunts. “Then you’re going to carry my baby for me. Our baby.”

“Fuck,” you say, rubbing your clit even faster, feeling your pussy start to flutter around his tip. “The things I want you to do to me.”

Dave hisses and closes his eyes. Knowing that it’s straying into dangerous territory. “Cum for me.”

Within seconds of his command you’re clamping down around him, your clit pulsing with pleasure as you flood his cock. His name is now a chant that you repeat over and over again.

“Shit, shit.” Dave groans, his own jerky pulls on his cock pushing him closer. “Fuck, gonna fill you up again.”

“Do it, fuck your baby into me.”

It pushes him over the edge and Dave can’t help but push completely into your cunt, filling you up as he starts to paint your walls again. “Fuck- I- I’m sorry.”

“Fuck,” you moan, “Feel so fucking good.” You pant as his cock twitches inside of you, filling you up with his warm seed.

He shouldn’t have ground into you. He shouldn’t have filled you up like that. It was cheating. Dave closes his eyes and pulls his hips back. “Are you okay?” He asks awkwardly.

“I’m okay, are you?” You say, seeing the guilt on his face and feeling your heartbreak over it.

“I’m good.” He promises you. “I just- I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, I didn’t ask.”

“I was practically begging you.” Reaching over you gently press your hand to his cheek, “We were just making a baby. Nothing else.”

“Yeah.” Dave nods, reminding himself that it’s not like he was trying to fuck you. “Hopefully it takes.” He shoots you a grateful smile.

“I hope so. Best daddy ever.” You say with a smile. 

He is grateful that you think that as he shuffles off the bed to put his clothes on. “I should let you rest.” He hums.

“You should rest as well, I’ll stay like this for a half hour and then I’ll go get some water before bed.” 

“Okay.” Dave nods, biting back the urge to offer to get you the water. He hadn’t been doing things like that before he stuck his dick in you, doing it now would make it weird.

“You sure you’re okay?” You ask as he starts to make his way towards the door.

  “I’m good.” He turns and shoots you a reassuring grin, “just worn out.” He lies. “Baby making is tiring and I’m an old man.”

“You’re not old,” you say with a small smile, sensing his discomfort. “Goodnight, Dave. Let’s hope we just made a baby.”

“Me too, sweetheart.” Dave turns back around, “get some rest, okay?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, letting himself out of the door as he curses himself for being such an idiot. He should have known he was going to fuck this up.

Guilt floods you. You practically begged him to enter you, and the regret that he’s wearing so clearly on his face makes your heart hurt. You don’t think he’ll ever forgive you, and you’re not sure you deserve his forgiveness. All you can do is hope you just made a baby. 

Upstairs, Dave showers and tries to reassure himself that he didn’t take things too far. You had asked him to put the tip in, and thought you asked for more but he was caught up in the moment. Still, he shouldn’t have done it without making sure it was okay.

Almost 45 minutes passes before you tiptoe upstairs and get yourself a much needed bottle of water and a snack. Deciding that you’ll get to early and make everyone breakfast, you make your way back downstairs and curl up in bed. Praying you haven’t completely fucked everything up.

****

Dave doesn’t sleep. Not because of the situation with you, but because he texted Carol and she didn’t respond. And she’s turned off her location. Not that he tracks his wife, but what if something happened to her? It makes him suspicious and he doesn’t like being suspicious. Not with the line of work he is in. So when he hears the stairs creak, he’s already nursing his second cup of coffee and the oven is warming up for cinnamon rolls.

Creeping into the kitchen, you’re greeted by the unexpected sight of Dave. Your heart once again breaks at the look on his face, clearly regretting ever hiring you and before you have time to process what you want to say, the words are slipping through your lips. “Oh god, Dave, I’m so sorry. I took advantage. You just wanted to make sure that it took, and I was so delirious with pleasure that I didn’t think. I’m so sorry. I let my attraction to you cloud my judgment. Please forgive me.”

"What?" Dave frowns, turning toward you and seeing how distraught you look. You look like you are about to cry and he stands, moving towards you to hug you but then he stops. Unsure of how to touch you right now without it turning into something else. "I took advantage." He reminds you. "I'm the one who shoved it in."

“I begged you to,” you say, tears now streaming down your cheeks. “I’m so so sorry.” 

Dave walks over to you and pulls you into his arms, hating that you are crying. "We just got caught up in the moment." He decides, rubbing your back gently. "You don't need to be sorry." It was a moment, a fluke where both of you were acting impulsively.

“I just want to give you a baby, Dave, I see how badly you need this.” You sob into his shoulders, “I promise I won’t overstep anymore boundaries.”

"It's okay." He shushes you, comforting you like he would if you were one of his girls. Although you aren't one of his girls, he shouldn't feel the things that he does about you. But you are so important to him, you are going to give him a baby.

You wrap your arms around him a little tighter and try to ignore the way your traitorous heart leaps at his touch. “I’m sorry, Dave.”

"No," Dave shakes his head and he kisses your hair. "Don't be sorry. It's my fault. You didn't do anything wrong." He sighs. "Carol wanted to skip this month, I'm the one who pushed. This is all me."

“Why would she want to skip?” You say, as your head tells you to loosen your grip but your heart just wants to hold on.

"I don't know." He frowns slightly. "She didn't come home last night." He reveals softly. "And she's turned off her location."

“Oh,” you say, stepping back but letting your hands linger on him. “Maybe something happened with her sister? Have you tried calling her?”

"Tried when I came downstairs to make coffee." Dave motions to his phone. "Goes to voicemail. Texts are delivered but not read. She's got her phone off."

“What about calling her sister?” You say as you rub his shoulders, trying to reassure him.

"No." If there's something else going on, he doesn't want to discover it today. Call it putting his head in the sand, but he has other priorities. "I'll deal with it later when she comes home."

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Nothing.” He promises with a small shrug. “Unless you want to help me make breakfast.”

“Bacon and eggs to go with those cinnamon rolls? Or sausage and biscuits?”

“Bacon and eggs.” The turkey bacon and eggs always go over well with the kids. Especially with cinnamon rolls. 

“On it,” you say with a smile, “Do you want more coffee?”

“There should be half a pot left, but why don’t we fill up our cups and make another?” Dave suggests with a smile, walking back over to his cup to snag it off the table.

“No coffee for me,” you announce, “Caffeine intake is being sliced. Orange juice for me!”

“I’ll make sure to pick up some more when I go to the store.” He appreciates your dedication to this.

“Thank you, Dave. Should I wake the girls or wait until breakfast is ready? I was gonna cut up some strawberries.” 

“I’ll go wake them.” Dave turns and then pauses. “Carol’s been having you do a lot around here and I just want to remind you that it’s not necessary.”

“I like it,” you admit, “I love the girls. Spending time with them is one of the best parts of my day.”

"Okay." He murmurs slowly. "I just don't want you to feel like you have to."

“I know, Dave.” You start to slice the strawberries and focus on that, ignoring the tension that’s floating in the air.

"Thank you again." He says before he turns back around. "For everything."

“You’re welcome,” you say softly, before finishing up breakfast and waiting for the girls to come down.

Dave wakes the girls up, chuckling when they grumble at him but they are quickly roused from their bed by the promise of an indulgent breakfast and a morning of cartoons in their pjs. Laughing to himself when they thunder down the stairs with their stuffed animals in tow.

“Hi babies,” you say as they make a beeline to the table, “Do you want milk or juice?”

"Milk!" Molly chirps while Alice simultaneously shouts "Juice!" Dave rolls his eyes at the way the girls are so very obstinate. Unlike each other in so many ways but then so alike in others.

“So milk for Alice, and juice for Molly,” you tease, before pouring the correct drink in each of their cups. “Your daddy was just telling me about how much he enjoyed the water fight from last night and how he thinks you should do it more often. Right, Daddy?”

"Oh sure." Dave nods, cutting his eyes at them. "Next time I will be fully armed." He promises with a grin that makes their little eyes widen in delight and possibly a little bit of fear.

“We can take him. Girl power. 3 against 1. He doesn’t stand a chance,” you say as they begin to giggle.

"Keep it up and I'll get the water hose out." He warns with a dark chuckle.

“Ooh, I’m so frightened,” you tease back, “What do you girls want to do today?”

"Where's mommy?" Molly frowns, looking exactly like Dave as she does.

Sensing the discomfort in Dave you answer for him, “She is out having some girl time with her friends. I bet she’s missing her babies though. So we better have a super fun day so you can tell her everything when she’s home.” 

“Can we bake?” Alice says between mouthfuls of her food, “Daddy’s favorite. Chocolate cake.”

He's grateful that you answered for him and he grins. "Daddy's favorite, huh?" He asks, raising his brow. "I think it's Ms. Alice's favorite, more than mine."

You laugh as you watch their little back and forth, “Daddy, it’s your favorite because it’s my favorite. You’re so silly.”

“That’s right.” Dave snaps his fingers and looks so disappointed in himself. “I’m so sorry for forgetting, baby.”

The rest of breakfast is spent watching Dave and his girls joke around, and silently hoping that you’re going to give this man the baby he is yearning for. The girls accompany you on a trip to target for baking supplies while Dave stays home and clears up. With a cake baked and half eaten, endless episodes of Bluey streamed and a dance party that the girls had insisted you join in with over, it’s almost their bedtime and you’re just as exhausted as they are. 

You take the girls up to bed as he dishes out the Indian takeout that he had ordered for you both. Carol clearly wasn’t coming home today, and seeing as she hates Indian food, he decided to indulge in his favorite as a treat.

Dave looks over at you as he eats his curry and catches your eye. “So what are your plans after the girls go to sleep?” He asks.

“Netflix I guess,” you say with a shrug, “What about you?”

“Hopefully the same as last night.” He admits, watching you carefully.

Your breath hitches, “Let’s hope they fall asleep soon then,” you reply softly.

He watches you for a moment and then nods. He's not sure if Carol will come home tonight but he doesn't care right now. "I'm sure they will."

“You want to just put the tip in again?” You ask, as the need between your legs grows.

Dave clears his throat and bites his lip. "What do you want?"

“You.”

Huffing quietly, Dave understands what you mean but he pretends that he doesn't. "My seed you mean?"

“If that’s what you’ll give me,” you say as your heart sinks, clearly having misread the situation. “Let’s make you a baby.”

Dave murmurs your name quietly to have you look at him again. “We can- I- I don’t know what you want.”

“I want you to put the baby you want in me,” you say, before looking back down at your plate and pushing your fork around.

“No.” He shakes his head. “You said you wanted me.”

“I know what I said,” you say, before pushing your chair back and standing up, “Sounds like the movie has finished. I’m going upstairs to check on the girls.”

"Wait-" He sighs as you dart out of the room and he knows that he's blown everything. He doesn't understand what is going on and he pulls his phone out of his pocket. Opening his contacts and selecting his sister-in-law's number.

The girls are fast asleep, but snuggled up to each other and gripping onto their favorite stuffed animals. You lean over and gently kiss both of their foreheads before tucking them in, seeing no use in moving Alice to her own bed when she’s quite content with her sister. Switching the TV off and turning on the nightlight, you sneak out of the room, leaving the door open slightly and making your way downstairs.

Dave's jaw is tight, his phone nearly crushed in his hand, he's gripping it so hard. Closing his eyes as he resists the urge to put his fist through a wall, or destroy something in a rage. It wouldn't do any fucking good and it would scare the girls.

“Hey,” you say, as you enter the kitchen, seeing the expression on his face. He looks furious and heartbroken at the same time, and you’re not sure whether to immediately give him space or go over and console him.

He shakes with anger, vision going white and for a moment, it sounds as if you are muted. Underwater and sounding like you are miles away as the pressure from the blood pounding in veins rushes through his ears.

You look over to the door of the basement and look back at Dave trying to gauge what the best thing to do here is. The sadness seems to have drained from his face and been replaced with sheer anger.

It takes Dave another minute before he gets ahold of himself. Purposefully thinking about something else and recalling his breathing techniques as he closes his eyes and slows his rushing heart down.

“Dave,” you say softly, as you approach him, gently reaching out and gripping his wrist, “What happened?”

"I called Maria." He tells you quietly, his voice low, nearly inaudible. "Carol isn't with her. Hasn't been with her." He inhales roughly. "She's not been out to a girl's night with her sister in nine goddamn months."

“Oh shit,” you say, before pulling him in for a hug, “Dave, I’m so sorry. Hopefully she’ll tell you the truth when she gets back.”

"She's cheating on me." Dave growls. "Maria told me everything. Carol told her that I had 'opened our marriage'." He rolls his eyes. "Told her that you were my live-in girlfriend."

“Oh, honey,” you say, letting him go and taking a step back, “I’m so so sorry.” 

"Fucking bitch." He hisses, shaking his head. "We talked about this. She must have decided that I would be so fucking busy trying for a baby that I wouldn't pay attention to her bullshit."

You don’t know what to say to console him, so you just stand there and be the listening ear he needs right now. You reach out and gently rub his shoulder.

Dave closes his eyes and sighs, shaking his head. "It's obvious that the idea to have a baby with her is done." He admits. "I'm going to be getting a divorce."

“Oh,” you say, “That makes sense. I’ll contact my Mom in the morning and see if I can crash at hers for a while. Get out of your hair.”

"No." His hand reaches out and he grabs your. "No, don't- don't do that." He asks, opening his eyes and staring at you.

“I don’t want to get in your way, Dave,” you sigh, “Do you think you still want this? Going through a divorce and juggling a newborn as a single father. It’s a lot to think about.”

"You don't have to be in my way." Dave can't possibly think rationally right now but he knows one thing, he still wants you. "I wanted to fuck you last night." He admits. "I wanted to fuck you and not fucking jerk off and cum inside you."

“Fuck,” you say, “You wanted me?” You shake your head, knowing he’s just had news that’s turned his entire life upside down right now, and no matter how you feel for him, you can’t act on it. It would be taking advantage.

"I want you." He corrects.

“Dave,” you mumble, unsure what to do. Your heart says kiss him, let him take out his pain on your body by demanding it gives him pleasure, but your head says let him go to bed. Sleep on it.

"If you don't want to, walk away." He warns you after a second, his eyes turning darker. "Go downstairs and I won't follow you. But the smallest part of you does want to, go up to my bedroom."

After staring him down for a few minutes, feeling your arousal begin to drip down your thighs, your feet make the decision for you. Turning towards the stairs and taking each step carefully. Walking to the end of the hall and pushing open the door to the master bedroom.

It's wrong on so many levels and yet, Dave doesn't feel guilty. He looks down at his hand and contemplates for a moment before he reaches for his ring to slide it off his finger. Setting it down on the kitchen table, he turns around and walks out of the room and rushes towards the stairs.

You watch him as he strolls in the room, closing the door behind him and turning to look at you. “If you want this, Dave, if you really want to fuck me... Prove it. Undress me. Lay me down and show me just how much you want me, and if I'm satisfied I’ll let you fill up this little cunt.” 

Dave hums, smirking slightly at the bossiness of your sudden change of attitude. "Is that how this is going to go?" He asks, raising a brow. "I have to prove it to you?"

“I’m not the one who’s leaving a multi-year marriage,” you say before perching on the edge of the bed and watching him.

"How do you want me to prove it to you?" He asks, starting to strip all of his clothes off. "I'm thinking about what I used to imagine when I was jerking off into that cup." He admits. "You sitting on my face. Smothering me in your pretty little pussy."

“That’s what you were thinking about yesterday or before?” You ask, wanting to confirm that he’s been wanting you for a while.

"Since the first week." He admits. "It's something I wanted to know. How you tasted. It was all I thought about while fisting my cock and spilling into a cup. Giving you my cum to insert into that cunt."

“Fuck, you wanna taste my pussy?” You mewl before standing back up, “Undress me and I’ll take a seat on that gorgeous face.”

Dave reaches for you, already nude and hard, his hands eager as he pulls your clothes off. Not caring if he stretches or rips something in his haste to strip you down.

Once you’re fully naked in front of him, you grab his hand and slowly drag it up the inside of thighs, letting him feel just how much you want him. “Since you said you wanted a repeat of last night, my pussy has been dripping for you. Soaked my panties within seconds and since then it’s been spreading down my thighs.”

"Do you know how good you felt?" Dave groans. "I felt bad about it, because I wanted to do it again. I wanted to cheat on Carol." He twists his fingers and slides them through your folds. "But now, now I'm just going to fuck you and not feel bad about it, I'm not married anymore. The rest is just legal bullshit."

“Fuck me then, York,” you challenge, “You knew from the second I first saw you that I wanted you.”

Instead of saying anything, Dave grabs you and pulls you down on the bed. Laying down and pulling you on top of him.

“You want me to ride that face or your cock? I’ve never sat on someone’s face before…”

"Face first." Dave groans. "Then my cock."

You hesitate for a moment, a little uncertain of how to make sure you don’t hurt him before you move up. Lowering yourself so you’re hovering just above his mouth.

He can tell you are hesitant and he reaches up to grab you hips and yank you down onto his mouth greedily like he is man starving and you are his last meal.

“Dave,” you yelp as he pulls you down onto his face. You reach out to hold on to the headboard as you patiently wait for him to start tasting you.

He chuckles and doesn't hesitate to slide his tongue through your folds, groaning at the tangy taste of your cunt and arousal. Gripping your hips tighter and making sure that you don't move away from his greedy mouth.

“Oh, Dave,” you whimper, as he starts to lap at your clit before moving down and pushing his tongue into your cunt. “Oh, fuck.”

He groans, spearing his tongue up into you while his nose presses against your clit. Rocking you back and forth to provide some friction.

“Dave,” you pant, over and over, as you start to rock your hips. The sensation is new, you’ve never really been with anyone who makes your pleasure a priority and he’s eating your pussy like a man starved.

Your taste, your moans has him aching as he gets exactly what he wants. Letting go of one of your hips, he reaches down and starts to wrap his fist around his cock. Groaning into your cunt like he is pained. 

You rock your hips faster as you near your high, his mouth working magic on you. You throw your head back in pleasure and as you do you catch a glimpse of something moving, turning your head slightly you see him fisting his cock as he groans into your pussy. “Fuck, my pussy taste that good, baby? That you’ve got to fuck your own fist?”

He can't answer you because it means that he would have to pull his lips away from your cunt. Not willing to pull his tongue out of your warmth for a single second while you are dripping into his mouth. He groans, doubling down on his efforts to make you cum.

The only word you’re able to speak is his name, it falls out of your mouth over and over as he works you towards your high. Your thighs tighten around his head, as you start to cum. Hands gripping onto the headboard as you flood his face.

Dave hisses, his fist tight around his cock and squeezing so that he doesn't cum. Nearly ready to from the sweetness of your release and your cries.

“Fuck,” you murmur as you lift yourself off of his face, “Hi, baby.” You giggle as you look down at his soaked face.

"Hi." He smirks, a little pussy drunk and he lets go of his cock so he can stroke your hip.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask, as you run your hands through his hair, loving how blissed out he looks.

"Yes." He nods as he looks up at you. He's wanted to kiss you, and now there is nothing to stop him.

Wasting no time, the second he gives you permission you smash your lips against his. Not caring that they’re still damp with your arousal, you lick across his bottom lip as a silent plea for entry.

It's been years since Dave has kissed someone besides Carol. The pecks on the lips with the girls don't count. Years since he has kissed someone like he was going to devour them. And that is exactly what the kiss between the two of you turns into.

You moan freely into his mouth, letting him take the lead as he kisses you with an intensity that makes your heart flutter. Reaching down you grip his cock, giving it slow languid strokes.

"Fuck." Dave groans, twitching in your fist but he thinks of something and pulls away. "Do you- do you want me to wear a condom?" He asks breathlessly.

“Fuck no,” you say before pulling him back for another kiss.

He moans into your mouth, needing to be inside you now that there is nothing stopping him. "Ride me." He begs.

“Yes, sir,” you giggle, lining yourself up with him and slowly sinking down. Moaning from the stretch of him. “Fast or slow, baby?” 

"Fuck." He groans. "You could just stay right there." He promises, watching you as you adjust to him in this new position.

“You just want me to keep your fat cock warm?”

You could, he wouldn't have any problem with you just sitting on his cock all night but he thinks you want more. "Later." He groans, pushing your hip with his hand, urging you to move. "Remember that I can't keep going if you make me cum too quickly."

“You can use your mouth and fingers though,” you say before grinding down on him, loving his filthy groans. “How often did you play with cock and think of me?” You ask as you rock your hips back and forth, nice and slowly.

"Every fucking time." Dave grunts, bracing his feet on the bed and starts to roll his hips up to meet yours. "Every fucking time I jerked off."

“Fuck,” you groan, before increasing your speed. “I think about you too,” you admit, “Those fucking shoulders. Imagined you putting my legs over them so you could fuck me deeper.”

Dave hisses, rocking his hips up harder. "Yeah?" He asks. "You knew how big my cock was before last night?"

“It’s honestly bigger than I was imagining,” you say before gasping, “And I was imagining a big cock.”

He grunts proudly, grabbing your hips and pulling you down to make sure he grinds deep into you. Wanting to make you feel every inch of him.

“You gonna make me cum on it,” you challenge as you snap your hips forward.

"Fuck yes." He hisses, gritting his teeth and snapping his hips up hard enough to make you bounce.

“Dave,” you gasp, as he forces the air out of your lungs, you bounce up and down on his length, grabbing one of his hands and placing it on your tit. 

Dave palms you tit and squeezes it, grunting at how perfect it fits in his hand. Watching as you ride his cock like you had imagined and yet, it is so much better.

He fucks into that delicious spot with ease, making you almost delirious with pleasure. With a few more rolls of your hips, you find your walls fluttering around him, before clamping down, choking his cock and cumming hard.

Dave groans, wrapping his arms around you and he takes over. Feeling that you can’t move anymore and he starts thrusting up into you like his life depends on it.

  “Fill me up,” you plead, grateful for the change in power right now. “Please, baby.”

"I will, fuck, I will." Dave groans out your name. Starting to chant it with every thrust of his hips. Until he finally pushes deep and starts to cum, filling you up just like you begged him to.

You love the way he overwhelms you, everyone of your senses are on fire in the most delicious way and it’s because of him. “Fuck,” you groan as he finishes filling you up, “So many nights of imagining this, and it was a million times better than I ever could have imagined.”

He nods, panting as he closes his eyes. "I- I shouldn't' have wanted it, but I did." He admits, holding you close. "It's so much fucking better than I ever thought of."

You giggle, loving the way he reacts to it. Still buried deep in your pussy, and groaning as your flutter and clamp down around him. “You wanna wake me up with your cock?” You ask before pressing a kiss to his lips.

“I can do that.” He doesn’t motion for you to get off him, and sighs softly. “I need to ask you a question though.”

“Should I be worried?” You ask, as you shuffle off of him. Sitting on the edge of the bed, instead of climbing in next to him.

“No?” He frowns, shaking his head and looking down at his hands before he starts talking. “Now that- now that Carol and I aren’t going to be staying together….if you wanted to stop this…surrogacy, I understand.” He tells you. “I know it’s not what you signed up for.”

“What do you want?” You ask, before running your hands through your hair. “I know how good of a dad you are, and despite what I said earlier, if anyone could juggle a newborn and all of this… it would be you. And I'd be here to help and breastfeed for as long as you need me.”

He blows out a small sigh and he shakes his head. “You don’t want what I’ve discovered I want.”

“What do you want?” You say, confusion evident on your face. 

“I want to do this with…..with a partner, but you don’t want to be a parent and I don’t want you to feel like you have to.” He’s not saying things right and he shakes his head. “Just forget I said something. It’s not a good idea.”

“If you’re asking me to have a baby with you, you’re going to have to at least take me out to dinner first.” You say, before giggling and moving your face up to his, “Kiss me, idiot.”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head but he leans in to kiss you. “I don’t know when I started imagining raising the baby with you.” He confesses. Maybe it was all the time you spent together, but he hadn’t imagined you leaving after the baby was weaned.

“Can’t pretend my heart didn’t stutter when you said ‘our baby’ last night,” you admit, “But we have to be smart here. The girls. Carol. The fact we haven’t even been on a date yet… And honestly I could be pregnant right now… We need to sit and have a conversation out of this post sex haze.” You climb into bed next to him and lightly press a kiss to his lips, “Right now I know two things… 1. How badly I want you. 2. We have a lot to figure out.” 

“We’ll figure them out.” Dave promises, wrapping his arms around you, “I want to figure them out.”

“Me too. You wanna be the little or big spoon, baby?” You ask before you pepper a kiss on his shoulder.

It’s been a hard day and he chuckles to himself. “Would you think less of me if I wanted to be the little spoon?”

“Not at all, baby.” Letting go of him, so he can shift around in your arms. 

Dave turns over and sighs when you wrap your arms around him. Finding comfort in the fact that you care about him. Carol cheating on him is going to change everything in his and his girls life, but it might be for the better. He might get to have you. 

“Goodnight, my love,” you mumble against his warm skin, placing a few kisses between his shoulder blades and wrapping your arms just a little tighter. 

****

When Dave wakes up, he smiles as he feels your arm still around him. Apparently neither one of you moved during the night. He hums, shifting slowly as he turns to face you.

You wake up to Dave shifting in your arms, and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. One of his hands slowly rubs the bottoms of your back as you move a little closer to him, “Good morning, you sleep ok?” Your mumble sleepily.

“Never woke up.” Which for him was a miracle. He smiles, admiring the way that you are struggling to keep your eyes open. “You look beautiful first thing.”

“Flatterer. And good, I’m glad, I didn’t either. Slept like a baby.” You say as you press yourself up against him. Grinning when you feel how hard he is already. 

"Good." You had said you wanted him to wake you up on his cock, but you managed to open your eyes before he could get into position. So now he leans in and kisses you while rolling you onto your back.

You let him mould your body as he pleases, his mouth refusing to leave yours as he climbs on top of you, his fingers snaking between your bodies and slowly circling your clit.

Instead of rush through things to push inside you, Dave decides to take it slow. He's got all morning, the girls won't be up for at least another hour and on Sundays they liked to watch cartoons before the designated brunch time.

“Feels so good,” you moan as he plays with your clit, his lips lightly ghosting your neck as you moan his name. “You want me to stroke your cock, baby?”

"No." He kisses along your neck and nuzzles your pulse, inhaling the scent of you. Warm and soft with sleep, arousal now mixing with it. "Gonna slide inside you of you soon enough."

“Sounds perfect,” you say quietly, loving how perfectly you fit together, “Keep the pace nice and slow.”

"Lazy lovin' Sunday." He hums, smiling against your skin.

“Sign me up for more,” you say with a soft laugh, “All of them.”

"Yeah?" He huffs quietly, rocking his hard cock against your mound slowly. "You want to do this every Sunday?"

“Baby, I want to do it everyday,” you say as his fingers rub a little harder, your orgasm just teetering over the edge. 

“Don’t know if I could do it everyday.” He chuckles. “Getting old.”

“Doesn’t seem that way to me,” you choke out, as pleasure explodes behind your little bundle of nerves, cumming with a soft moan of his name, as he whispers soft praises in your ear.

When you come back down, Dave pulls his hand away so he can slide between your thigh. Pressing against you and slowly rocking his hips forward as he starts to sheath his cock in the tight walls of your pussy.

One of your hands gently holds onto the back of his head, while the other one grips onto his hip. The heft of him a glorious stretch, as he pushes himself in, taking his time and giving you a moment to adjust once he’s filled you to the hilt. “Could stay like this forever.”

"Have to eventually eat." He teases, nudging his nose against yours and then kissing your lips.

“You’re gorgeous, did you know?” You say after he softly kisses your lips.

"Distracting me." He hums, kissing you again. "You are the gorgeous one." He murmurs quietly, starting to slowly move. "You were going to sacrifice your body, your womb to give me a baby."

“Oh, you feel so good,” you whine as he starts a slow but delicious rhythm, notching against paradise. “How could I say no to those big brown eyes?”

"Ask everyone who turned me down." He hums, flashing you a small smile and trying not to let Carol's betrayal affect him, affect this. He shouldn't have fallen in love with you, but he did and he's not going to apologize for it.

“Their loss is my gain,” you say, “But no one else but me and you exist right now.” You whisper into his ear.

"No one else." It might be ironic, promising fidelity when he is technically cheating on his wife, but he feels single. Or at least his emotional attachment to Carol severed the moment he learned about her affair.

“Make love to me,” you whisper softly into his ear, “Please.”

It's soft, sweet. Dave takes his time and doesn't try to push anything but the softest sounds out of you. Each slow thrust accompanies a kiss and some praise.

Your hands trail the expanse of his shoulders, dipping down his back and finding home on his hips, you can feel that delicious pressure building but you don’t want to let go just yet, needing desperately to fall off that ledge at the same time.

"Baby." Dave groans quietly in your ear. "Need you to cum for me."

“Call me baby, again,” you say, before clamping down around him, “Cum with me.”

"Baby." He grunts, pushing his hips a little harder. "Baby." He feels his body tensing. "Baby." He chokes out before he buries himself deep and pours himself into you.

You clamp down around him hard. Cumming with the softest, sweetest whimper of his name. Your arms wrap around him as he groans your name once more, before dropping down and capturing your lips in a bruising kiss.

He pulls away only when he finally needs to take a breath, humming softly as he reaches up and caresses your cheek.

“You know I’m going to expect you to exclusively call me baby now I know how good it sounds?” You laugh as you push his hair back out of his face.

He chuckles and nods. "Figured."

“Sorry to darken the mood, but she’s probably going to be home today,” you sigh, “With work tomorrow. You want to spend a few nights downstairs with me until it’s all figured out?”

Dave sighs and he hates to acknowledge that but he nods. "Yeah." He leans down and kisses you again. "Just until I can get her ass served with divorce papers."

“At least we can be loud down there,” you say as you nuzzle your nose against his, “That’s if you’re not ‘too old’ to go again later.”

He snorts and shakes his head. "Might be." He jokes, nudging his nose against yours. "But you need to shower." He smirks at you playfully. "You smell like sex."

“So do you.” Kissing his lips once more you gently push him off you and climb out of bed, “Wanna join me?”

"I shouldn't." He admits, sitting down on the bed. "Just in case she comes home or the girls wake up."

“Guess it’ll just be me and my imagination then,” you say with a fake huff, “I’ll see you after, we can make the girls breakfast again.”

  "Hey." Dave calls out and smirks at you when you turn to look at him. "I love you."

“I love you too.” You say, before slipping downstairs to shower. 

****

The morning goes by in a blurred frenzy, Molly tells you that she needs 36 cupcakes to take to school with her tomorrow, and with Carol not back it’s down to you to bake them.

It’s only once you’ve finished frosting the final cake that you hear her car pull up onto the drive and Dave flashes an annoyed glance in your direction.

"Girls, why don't you go upstairs and play?" Dave suggests, ignoring the way they whine and try to stall, but he breathes a sigh of relief when they disappear to go upstairs. He turns towards you and watches you carefully. "Do you want to go downstairs?"

“Do you want me to? I can go if you want or stay and support you. Either way is fine.”

"I'm not going to confront her about everything." He tells you. "But I don't want you to face her wrath if she gets pissy."

“I can take it, but if you want me to go, I’ll go, baby.” You say before reaching out and caressing his cheek, sighing at the sound of her key turning in the door. Peppering the quickest of kisses on his lips.

He should send you away, but he doesn't. Realizing how much you care about him because you are willing to face whatever mood Carol is in just to stand beside him. He looks at you softly before his eyes harden as the door opens and Carol calls out. "In the kitchen." He calls back, voice flat.

“You’ve got this,” you whisper before briefly squeezing his hand. You both say nothing as she waltzes back in the house, tossing her car keys down on the counter and immediately going to the refrigerator and getting herself a bottle of water.

"Where have you been?" Dave asks quietly, sitting at the table watching as she twists the cap off the bottle and guzzles down half of it.

She giggles before slamming the bottle down, “Oh, Dave, you won’t believe it,” she says with a roll of her eyes and a huge grin splashed across her face, “Me, Maria and Tanya had one too many and ended up in Atlantic City! Of course I didn’t have my charger so I couldn’t contact you, but it was so great! Exactly what Maria needed.”

"Is it?" At least Maria hadn't lied when she told Dave that she wouldn't breathe a word of their conversation to Carol. She had been horribly apologetic, nearly tearful when she realized her sister had lied to her. "Is she feeling better now, then?" He asks.

“So much better,” she says before finishing the rest of her water, “I can’t believe we ended up there… The AmTrak really shouldn’t run at that time of night. Anyway I should shower…” She turns to look at you, “Could you have lunch ready when I get back downstairs? I’m starved.”

"She is not the maid." Dave reminds his wife. "Fix your own damn food."

“Excuse me?” Carol says, raising her eyebrow, “She lives here rent free, she can fix me a damn sandwich. What is your problem, David?”

"My problem is that you were supposed to be home two days ago, Carol." Dave doesn't raise his voice, he doesn't shout or throw anything. "You didn't call, you didn't give a fucking shit if your husband or your children knew if you were okay. You waltz back in and ask our surrogate to fix you a fucking sandwich."

“I told you I couldn’t call. Maria needed me, Dave. This is my home, she’s living here for free in exchange for me pumping her full of your cum. A sandwich won’t kill her.”

"Don't say it like that." Dave huffs. "You agreed that that was what you wanted. Have you changed your mind?"

  She rolls her eyes dramatically, and she shakes her head. “No honey, you could just be a little more accommodating when it comes to the needs of my family.”

"Go take your damn shower." Dave tells her. "I'll fix you a fucking sandwich."

“No, she will fix me a sandwich. I need you to pack me an overnight bag, Maria wants us to go to the spa tonight. Last minute deal on groupon.”

“Carol.” Dave frowns at his wife and shakes his head. “It’s Sunday. I have work tomorrow. I’m not going to a spa.”

“Oh, honey,” she says with a laugh, “I meant me and Maria. Not ‘us’.”

Dave’s hands are on his hips and he contemplates just packing her a bag and letting her go. Taking the easy way out but he shakes his head. “Sure, Carol. Whatever you say.”

“Dave,” you say, as he lets her walk over him, “You deserve better than this.”

“Excuse me?” She scoffs at you, as you continue to focus on him. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I talked to Maria yesterday.” Dave announces, staring at Carol.

“What?” She splutters, “When?”

“Don’t worry about when.” He huffs and grits his teeth. “Where were you really?”

She sighs and walks over to Dave, wrapping her arms around his neck and pouting, “I just needed a few days to myself, baby, this whole surrogacy thing is so stressful. I’m sorry.”

He pulls away from her, knocking her arms from around his neck, “you owe me at least the fucking truth, Carol.” He hisses. “Be honest. For fucking once.”

“Leave,” she hisses at you, “You’re the reason I felt like I needed to escape my family for a few days.”

“Oh, that wasn’t Robert that made you feel the need to leave?” Dave sneers.

“What exactly did Maria tell you?” She says, clearly relenting and sitting on the stool behind her. “Make her leave and we can talk honey, we don’t need her meddling in our business.”

“She can stay.” Dave shakes his head and scoffs. “Maria told me enough, don’t worry.” He promises her. “My lawyer’s already been called.”

“Saline.” She says with a smirk, “You were right. I didn’t want another baby, but I knew you were adamant you wanted us to try surrogacy.” She turns to look at you and laughs, “Looks like he has no use for you anymore either, no chance you’re knocked up with salt water.”

He nods, furious but at least he knows why it didn't seem like the inseminations were working. "How long have you been fucking this guy Robert, Carol?" He asks, holding up his hand when you start to speak.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs, “He ended it last night. The spa trip was a cover up to go and get some of my stuff I left at his.” She admits, no point in lying anymore.

"How fucking long?" Dave demands, his voice hardening slightly and his eyes dark.

“Just over a year,” she scoffs, “Does it matter? Do we really need to be having this conversation in front of her? She should have started packing her bags the second I told you both about the saline.”

"No, but you can pack your bags." Dave tells her, crossing his arms over his chest. "Get out of my house, Carol. We are done."

“No, we are not,” she shrugs, “We can find another surrogate and try again. We will have the baby and move on together.”

 “No,” you say, courage coursing through your veins, “He will have a baby, but it will be with me. And I’ll spend the rest of my life doing the one thing you were too stupid to do, and I’ll show him how appreciated and loved he is.”

Dave lifts a brow at your impassioned speech and smirks at the way Carol's jaw drops in surprise. "I've already given my lawyer the evidence, Carol." He tells her. "Just like I'm going to forward this video of you confessing to adultery to him."

She ignores Dave and instead sneers at you, “You’ll get bored of him. Just like I did. I’d run if I was you, get out of here as quickly as you can.”

“I’m good,” you say before reaching out and grabbing his hand, “Fell in love with him that very first day in the cafe. Fell even harder watching how incredible a father he is, fell some more when he made love to me this morning. Will continue to fall harder and harder for the rest of my life.”

"Get out, Carol." Dave tells her quietly, squeezing your hand and looking over at you with soft love in his eyes. "I'll tell the girls you will be there to see them this weekend, but I want you to go. You made your choice, so I've made mine." His choice is you. You and his girls and whatever kids you might have together. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” she scoffs before grabbing her keys, “And i’ll be ready for you to apologize, so we can move on from this. Make sure that little slut is out of our basement before I get back.”

He sighs and shakes his head, watching her walk away and doesn't flinch when the door slams behind her. "Gonna have to change the fucking locks." He sighs before he looks over at you and grins. "You heard her. You need to be out of the basement by tomorrow."

“I heard her loud and clear, baby,” you say before pulling him in for a heated kiss, “I’m just thinking about how you’re planning on fucking this little slut tonight.”

"Might be too tired from moving all your stuff into the master bedroom." He smirks, wrapping his arms around you. "Unless you're still ovulating."

“Oh I think moving can wait until the morning,” you smirk, “Save that energy ‘old man’, Daddy is going to be railing the fuck out of this little pussy tonight.”

“Sounds good to me baby.” Dave smirks and pulls you close. “Tonight we’re going to make our baby.” He promises.

“Keep calling me, baby, and we can make our baby right here and right now.” You tease, before kissing him hard and slow. “I was telling the truth by the way, fell in love with you the second I saw those big gorgeous brown eyes.”

He hums, knowing that you mean it. His hand slides down and he cups your ass. "I started falling in love with you while you've been living here." He admits, knowing you will understand that. "But I think that it's fair enough to say that I am completely in love with you, baby."

“Good,” you say before scrunching up your nose and nuzzling it against his, “Guess now I can tell you about the sex dream I keep having.”

"Tell me all about it." Dave pulls you close and closes his eyes. He's still hurt about Carol's betrayal, about her tearing their family apart. But he also has to thank her for it. If she hadn't been unfaithful, he wouldn't have met you, he wouldn't have fallen in love with you and he wouldn't be planning on creating a life with you.

“Keep dreaming about slowly riding your cock, your lips wrapped around one of my nipples, tasting the milk I make for our baby. Listening to you telling me how sweet it is. How sweet I am. Before tasting more.”

“That sounds more like a prediction than a dream.” Dave murmurs. He had already thought about watching you breastfeed and seeing your tits full of milk, and how he won’t have to deny those thoughts. “Let’s see if we can’t make dreams come true.”

“I would love to. I love you, Dave York.”

****

[SIX MONTHS LATER]

 You groan at the clock next to you, reading 4:23AM. Your pregnancy cravings refuse to let up, but your aching and swollen feet makes it too difficult to get up and out of bed. 

You don’t want to wake him, he’s been so supportive, so wonderful and spends a good forty minutes every evening luring you to sleep with his tongue. Knowing it’s the only thing that relaxes you enough to sleep. But you had made the decision to attempt to ignore your craving after dinner and it’s come back to bite you in the ass. You groan again as you think about the rocky road in the freezer, calling your name. 

Wordlessly, he sits up and presses a kiss to your forehead and before you can apologize for waking him, he’s shushing you and getting out of bed. 

A few minutes later he returns with a pint of ice cream, two spoons and two gatorades. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” You say softly, feeling tears spring up in your eyes and immediately start to stream down your cheeks. Pregnancy hormones make you a lot weepier than usual.

"You answered an ad." He teases, setting down the gatorades and reaching up to wipe away your tears. "I knew you were going to want ice cream." He teases, leaning in and kisses your lips softly. He motions to the ice cream. "Go ahead and have your ice cream baby, I'm going to talk to him."

“God, I love you,” you say, ripping the cover of the ice cream and digging in. Watching as he gently rests his head on your tummy and starts to talk to your unborn son. The immediate kicking as soon as he hears his Daddy’s voice makes you both smile. Answering that ad had been the best decision you had ever made, you reach down and caress his face after finishing up the ice cream.  “I love you so much. Love our girls. Love our boy. I love you, Dave.”

"Love you too, baby." He promises, kissing your ice cream flavored lips with a smile. "Thank you for our son, thank you for loving me and the girls." There's a ring on your finger, not quite yet a wedding ring since you want to wait until after the baby is born, but the divorce was finalized last month and he can't wait to make you Mrs. Dave York. "Love you so much."

“Me too, baby. I love you.”

[junikicker]

The Proposal - Rebecca Welton x fem!reader (Part 1)

The Proposal Part 1 - Rebecca Welton x fem!reader

note: you want it, you get it. rebecca welton x reader au based on the movie the Proposal with Ryan Reynolds and Sandra Bullock. also, this is pre ted arriving at Richmond.

warnings: language

The sun was shining through the curtains of your Richmond flat, coaxing you awake gently. Instinctively, you turned around to shut off the alarm that usually woke you at five every morning. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” You groaned as you scrambled to get out of bed, the alarm reading 6:22 a.m.

After quickly getting dressed, you came rushing out into the streets with your tie loosely around your neck and toothbrush still in your mouth. You started running down King Street and Old Palace Place, discarding your toothbrush into the closest bin as the trees around you were blurry due to your fast pace.

It had barely been two months since Rebecca Welton took over AFC Richmond after her rather nasty divorce from Rupert. You had been Mr. Mannion’s assistant for three years and Ms. Welton seemed to like you at least to the point where she felt bad about firing you, so she let you keep your job. She also felt like she owed you for telling her about her, now, ex-husband’s affairs with other employees.

You reached Nelson Road just moments before Rebecca’s arrival, fixing your appearance in the first mirror you found. “Oh, Y/n. Great to see you!” Higgins greeted you as you rushed your way up the stairs to the office you were sharing with Rebecca until accommodations were made. “G’morin’ Leslie!” You greeted back with a smile. “Someone’s in a rush.” He stated matter-of-factly. “Consider waking up twenty-three minutes ago in a rush.” You agreed easily, trying to catch your breath.

Your conversation was then interrupted by the sound of heels echoing through the halls and then up the stairs. “Well, here she comes.” You said to yourself and Higgins shot you an understanding look.

“Good morning, Boss. You have a conference call in thirty minutes.” You informed her as she gracefully strode on into her office. “Yes, about the auctioning of the art Rupert, oh so graciously, left me. I know.” She replied and sat down at her desk as you rushed over to make her a cup of tea. “Staff meeting at nine.” You added.

“Did you call, uhm… what was her name again?” She asked you absent-mindedly, opening her laptop and typing away. “Janet?” You offered, placing the cup on her desk. “Yes, Janet.”

“Yes, I called her and I told her that if she doesn’t get her hands on the matter immediately, there will not be any matters for her to get her hands on in the future. Also, your lawyer called. The one you hired for the divorce. He said that it is imperative-” You informed her but she cut you off immediately.

“Cancel the call, push back the meeting to tomorrow, and keep the lawyer on the sheets. And also get a hold of PR and have them start drafting an interview with Coach Lasso as soon as he gets here.” Rebecca ordered. She had always been quite distanced, it was just what you thought she was like.

“Nicely done.” You replied in a monotone voice. “If I shall want your praise, I will ask for it.” She replied coldly, picking the cup up and taking a big sip out of the mug. Her phone rang. By now you knew that if she was occupied, it was your task to pick up for her. “Morning. Ms. Welton’s office.” You answered. “Hello, Bob.” You replied at the sound of a voice that you were, involuntarily, very familiar with and rolled your eyes.

At you mentioning the name, Rebecca just waved her hand, but you knew her well enough to know what she meant by the gesture. “Actually we’re headed to your office right now… Yeah.” You hung up the phone before turning to your boss with a confused expression. “Why are we headed to Bob’s office?” You asked as Rebecca came to stand again. It never failed to impress you how she always seemed to have her shit together, acting rational all the time. She gave you a look. The look. The look that meant someone was going to get fired.

As the two of you left her office, you once again noticed that you had a hard time keeping up with her pace. “Have you looked over the list of international players in interest I gave you?” You asked her, continuing your walk down the halls. “Uh, I read a few pages. I wasn’t that impressed.” Rebecca replied, keeping up her pace.

“Can I just say something?” You asked her. “No.” She replied instantly as you came closer to reach Bob’s office. “I’ve been looking over hundreds of lists of players and this is the only one I ever gave to you. There are some incredible players on there.” You explained.

“Remember, you’re just a prop in here.” Rebecca reminded you. Ah yes, there it was again. As if you didn’t hear that at least twice a day from her. You opened the door for her to step in without knocking.

“Ah, our fearless leader and her liege. Please, do come in.” Bob joked, his American accent coming through as he got up from his desk chair, glasses on his nose.

“Beautiful shelve you got here, Bob. Is it new?” Rebecca asked, turning around, her face in disgust at having to interact with the man. “It is English Regency Egyptian Revival, built in the 1800s but, yes, it is the newest addition to my office. Rupert gave it to me.” Rebecca’s face seemed to scrunch up in disgust even more but she shook it off before turning back around.

“Bob, I’m firing you.” She then stated, getting straight to the point. The tall, tanned man looked at her as if she was delusional. “Pardon?” He asked. Rebecca sighed.

“I asked you more than a million times to get Chelsea to transfer us Reece James and you didn’t do it. You’re fired.” She calmly explained and you closed the door. “I have told you that this is impossible. James is not transferring for the next years.” Bob tried.

“Now that’s interesting, you see because I just got off the phone with Chelsea and he’s in. You didn’t even call them, did you?” Rebecca asked, walking up closer to the mahogany desk. “But-b.” Bob tried to find his voice again. “I know, I know. They can be a little scary to deal with… For you. Now, I am willing to give you a month to find a new job. And then you can tell everyone you resigned. Fine?” Rebecca offered. Oh, how she always knew how to play her cards.

And with that, the two of you left his office just the way you had come in. Rebecca didn’t bother to look around. “What’s he doing now?” She asked you and you turned around for her. “He’s moving, He has crazy eyes.” You observed, continuing to walk. Rebecca came to a stop and sighed.

“You poisonous bitch!” Bob yelled and suddenly all eyes of the people around you are on the three of you. “You can’t fire me! You don’t think I see what you’re doing here? Sandbagging me into this Chelsea thing just so you can look good to the board? Because you feel threatened by me! And you are a monster!” Rebecca remained calm. “Bob. Stop.”

“Just because you have no life outside of this office, you think you can treat everybody here like your own personal slaves! You know what? I feel sorry for you. Because you know what you’re gonna have on your deathbed? Nothing and no one.” Rebecca took a deep breath in, she was acting like the words didn’t get to her before she formed a reply.

“Bob, I didn’t fire you because I feel threatened by you. And I don’t need to look good to ‘the board’ because I am ‘the board’. And I fired you because you’re lazy, entitled, incompetent and you spent more time cheating on your wife than my ex-husband did, cheating on me. And if you say another word, Y/n here is going to have you escorted out of this building, hands tied to your back, alright?” Rebecca spoke, still somewhat calm as Bob went to speak again. “Another word and you’re going out of here with an armed escort. Is that what you want? Didn’t think so. Y/n. Spit spot, we’ve got work to do.” Rebecca said, spinning on her heel and walking back toward her office.

“Have security take his breakfront out of his office and put it in the conference room. And I need you around for this weekend to review his files and other work.” Rebecca informed you, picking up her pace from before. “This weekend?” You asked her, a frown on your face. “Is there a problem, Y/n?” She asked you, stopping in her tracks. “No. I… just my grandmother’s 90th birthday so I was gonna go home and...” You started but she already went back to making her way to her office. “...it’s fine. I’ll cancel it.” You unwillingly agreed.

Once you were back in the office, you called your family to cancel your visit. You tried your best not to let it get to you but were pissed, to say the least. “I know, I know. Tell Babcia I’m sorry. Okay? Satan is not gonna let me outta here for the weekend… No- I – Listen. I’ve worked too hard for this job to throw it all away, okay?” You Explained to your mother, starting to lower your voice as you heard heels clicking over the floor. “Oh, I’m sure Tata is gonna be pissed… but we take all of our submissions around here very seriously.” You hung up the phone as the office door opened and Rebecca walked in.

“Was that your family?” She asked immediately, standing next to your desk. “Yes.” You replied. “They tell you to quit?” - “Every single day.” The phone rang again. “Ms. Welton’s office, Y/n speaking.” You answered. “Oh… Yeah. Okay. Alright.” You replied before hanging the phone up again.

“Your lawyer is here and wants to see you immediately.” You told Rebecca who groaned in response. “Okay. Come get me in ten minutes. We have a lot to do.” She ordered and left again.

As she left the room, your eyes were trained on her hips, swaying as she walked. She definitely knew how to dress. Everything she wore looked perfect on her and fitted her body in a way that never ceased to impress you. You had caught yourself checking her out on more than one occasion but never really thought anything of it.

Exactly ten minutes later, you knocked on the door to the main conference room, before letting yourself in. “Excuse me, we’re in a meeting.” Her lawyer, a tall, blonde man, in his thirties, addressed you with disgust in his voice as he saw you in your suit. “What is it?” Rebecca asked in a displeased tone, playing her part as perfectly as always.

“Marina Granovskaia from Chelsea’s office just called. She’s on the line.” You informed her. “She needs to speak with you right away, I told her you were otherwise engaged.” You rushed out, eager to get Rebecca out of whatever this was as fast as possible. Her eyes lit up at your words and she silently urged you to come in with all sorts of weird hand gestures.

“Uh… Mr. Swan, I understand. I understand the predicament that we are in. And, uhm… And there is, well… I think there is something you should know.” Rebecca stuttered, getting up from her seat at her desk, walking over to you. The way she stumbled over her words seemed suspicious to you. What was going on? “We’re...getting married.”

“We’re getting married?! What the fuck is going on?! You’re my boss!” You whisper-yelled once her lawyer left and you closed the door behind him. “What?” She asked, sitting back down at the table all calm and collected. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“Relax, this is for you too.” She stated as if it would explain anything that had just happened. “Do elaborate.” You joked. “They were going to sell the club.” She started. “So naturally I would have to marry you.” You deadpanned.

“And what’s the problem? Like you were saving yourself for someone special?” She asked, looking down at some paperwork, green eyes skimming over it. “I’d like to think so. Besides, isn’t that illegal?” You asked. “The point?” She shot back, looking up at you again. “We’re no terrorists.” Her eyes went back to the paper in front of her.

“Rebecca.” You tried again. “Yes.” She sighed. “Rebecca, I’m not gonna marry you.” You told her sternly, standing straight. “Because of what? You don’t ‘fancy the ladies’? Because you obviously do. The amount of times that I catch you checking me out is higher than the amount of looks any man, including my ex-husband, ever gave me.” She smirked up at you, leaning back in her chair. “I- I do, in fact, ‘fancy the ladies’…” You agreed under your breath. “Sure you are going to marry me. Because if you don’t marry me, your dreams of becoming our transfer manager will be shattered into pieces.” She stated, pleased with herself.

“They’re gonna fire you the second I’m gone. Guaranteed. That means you’re out on the street, alone, looking for a job. Which means all the time that we spent together, all the tea cups, all the canceled dates, the midnight Tampon runs, and all the shit you did under Rupert, were all for nothing, because he won’t take you back after telling on him, your dreams are gone. But don’t worry after all this is settled, we’ll get a quickie divorce and you’ll be done with me.” Rebecca explained and it started to make at least some sense to you. “But until then, like it or not, our wagons are hitched to the other’s. Alright?”

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Go-go Dancer (Miguel O’Hara x fem! reader) one shot

A/N: this is based off the unreleased Lana Del Ray song, I was listening to it while writing this lol. Anyways, OOC Miguel, this hasn’t been proofread so ignore typos and whatnot. Mdni

Age gap (legal), cursing, mentions of sex/sexual stuff, sex worker, reader is from a wealthy family like loaded, Miguel being lonely and needy lol. Miguel being a bit of a prev.

(Y/F/N)- your full name, (Y/N)- you’re name [first name only],

Word count: 1.4k

Masterlist

—

I drop it like it's hot on the pole, on the pole

Shining in the club, neon gold, neon gold

They call me "Firecracker" and alcohol's a factor

I drop it like it's hot, baby bold, baby bold

A little bit of fun for your soul, for your soul

They call me "Firecracker", 'cause ain't nobody faster

—

The beeping of a moving truck had gotten Miguel’s curiosity as he peeks out of the blinds from his living room window. The house next to him had been empty for sometime, so seeing that someone had moved in was a surprise. What was more of a surprise was him seeing you, a young, attractive woman that had made his mouth dry and his blood rush down to his dick, being handed the keys to the home next to his, a big smile of joy on your face. Now, Miguel wasn’t loaded but he was certainly well off, being one of the top scientist at Alchemax, he sure made a pretty penny, so seeing some young 20-something college student buying the two-story home next to his in one of the nicer neighborhoods in Nueva York was a bit of a sight. He quickly came to the conclusion that you probably came from money. He took a sip of his coffee as he started to walk away from the window, deciding it was time for him to get dressed and ready for work when he heard his doorbell ring. He stopped in his tracks, raised a brow, before turning back around and opened his front door and met face to face with you. He had to grip his coffee when you opened those beautiful lips to speak, so he didn’t drop it.

“Hello!” You smiled, putting a hand out for him to shake, “My name is (Y/F/N), I’m your new neighbor.” You smiled from ear to ear, you were more beautiful close up. Miguel cleared his throat, before bringing his hand to meet you, giving it a firm squeeze and shake.

“Hello (Y/N), My name is Miguel O’Hara, nice to meet you.” His tone was calm and collected, unlike his mind. His whole body felt like it was on fire from just touching your hand, until you finally pulled it away.

“It’s nice to meet you Mr.O’Hara.” You say with a smile, your eyelashes fluttering as you blinked

Fuck.

It took everything within Miguel’s power to not roll his eyes to the back of his head and let out a lewd groan, the way you said Mr.O’Hara-fuuuuck. It didn’t help that Miguel hasn’t been with a woman since his divorce a year ago.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” He said in a steady voice as best he could, bringing his hand down to his side, giving you a small smile that made you weak in your knees, “Let me know if you need anything, my door is always open.” And he meant anything.

“Thank you Mr. O’Hara, I’ll see you around.” You said with a small wave as you finally walked off his front door, it took Miguel a second to tear his eyes off your figure as you left.

—

I'm the girl next door, let me come in

I know I go-go dance but I do it for kicks

I never have to work 'cause my daddy is rich

—

��Sorry to bother you Mr. O’Hara, but I was on my way to class and I noticed that some of your mail was mixed in with mine.” You said before handing him a stack of mail, your freshly manicured hand just ever so slightly grazing against the side of his. Miguel ignored the spark he felt run though his body, instead focusing on the very expensive looking Cartier bracelet that wasn’t there last time he saw you.

“Is that a new bracelet?” He asked with a raised brow, using his free hand to point at the bracelet while his other one grabbed his mail, you just smiled, a small giggle escaping your lips as you brought up your hand to eye level so he could take a better look at it, your giggle made his blood pressure spike.

“Oh yeah, my father bought it for me, it’s nice isn’t it?” You giggled.

Ahhh. It all made sense now, your daddy was rich.

“Oh yeah, very nice.” Miguel said with a sly smile, tucking the pile of mail under his armpit as he let out a small chuckle, his chuckle made your heart flutter. “Did he also buy you your house and that bmw in your driveway?” He teased.

A blush creeped up on your face, your hand rubbing the back of your neck as you gave him a sheepish smile, “yeah, I told him that he didn’t need to, that’s I didn’t need his help with the money but he insisted.” You explained, causing his eyebrow to raise in curiousity.

“Oh so you’re a college student and you're working huh?” You just nodded to his question before he continued, “…if you don’t mind me asking, what do you do for work?” He asked, and he swears he saw a glimmer in your eyes after the question was asked.

“Oh, nothing interesting...”

—

I'm partyin' all night, shinin' in the lights

Is it a crime to wanna shine

In my white go-go boots and my silver design?

I know it makes you wild

I know it makes you wild

—

Today was the day, Miguel O’Hara was turning 37 today, and he knows he isn’t old old, but being in charge of the arachno-humanoid poly multiverse, plus the Spider-Man of Nueva York AND being a scientist at Alchemax, he felt like his body was aging a lot faster due to stress.

So he wasn’t looking forward to when his coworkers/friends, Jessica Drew and Peter B. Parker had dragged him out of his office later that night, finding himself standing outside of a random night club.

“I’m not going in there.” Miguel glared at Jess, who just smiled and nodded her head with a laugh.

“Oh yes, you are.” She said to Miguel, who just huffed and was about to reply, but was stopped when he left Peter’s hands on his shoulders, pushing him to the other side of the double doors.

Once he and his two spider-friends make it through the doors, Miguel was assaulted with loud explicit music, the place was dim, but somehow also bright from all the red and orange stage lights. The smell of sweat and alcohol filled the air, and not to mention all the cages, the poles, the stage and the tables, all filled with provocatively dressed women dancing to the beat of the music. It was almost otherworldly, extremely different from the calm and quiet atmosphere from the outside of the club.

It took Miguel a second to snap out of his thought, he didn’t even noticed when Peter had put a glass of Rum and Coke in his hands, he was about to turn around and leave the club, wanting to go home and pretend the night didn’t happen, but his body froze and his eyes widen in shock at the sight in front of him.

It was you, (Y/N), his neighbor dancing on top of a table. Wearing a red feathery short miniskirt that barely covers your ass, black fishnets, red platform boots that stop at your calf, and a red bedazzled bralette with tassels that would hit your exposed stomach lightly with your twisted your torso and hips. Miguel’s mouth went dry as he watched your body move effortlessly to the music, your hair swinging behind you as you danced, Miguel couldn’t help but stare at the sight in front of him.

You could have killed him from your beauty right there and then.

Jess and Peter noticed his staring too, giving each other a smirk and a look, before Jess walked off to find a worker, requesting a private room as a “birthday surprise” for Miguel.

—

I'm your go-go dancer, midnight answer

Jukebox sweetheart, queen of the night

—

“Hello Mr.O’Hara.” You smiled as you entered the private room, where Miguel was already sitting, locking the door behind you before you continued, “I heard it’s your birthday. Why don’t you let me give you a very special present to celebrate.”

—

Vegas baby, if you pay me

Anything you like

Go-go-g-go-go dancer tonight

—

[roxygen22]

Still Here (Chapter 3)

Summary: You have a chance to catch up with Timothée over lunch.

Catch up on previous chapters here.

<><><><><>

You didn't have to wait long to see Timothée again. You crossed paths at the pharmacy three days later, where you were shopping for toiletries and other sundries for you and Madison. There was something oddly...final...about buying full-size shampoos and conditioners, instead of the travel-size bottles you packed in California. Like you had finally accepted that you would be here for a while.

You spotted Timothée's distinguishable curly dark hair over on the next aisle. Your heart stuttered. You had hoped not to run into anyone you knew, especially someone with whom you shared a complicated past. Who was I kidding? This isn't a crowded Target in Cali where you can just blend in. You took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Should I say hello? Should I put down my stuff and come back later? [Y/N], stop it. You can't run away from this. It's a small town, and you are here for the foreseeable future. May as well embrace it. Besides, it may be nice to have a friend again, if he's willing after things ended.

You looked up at the signage above to see what was there. You didn't want to embarrass him if he was shopping for something...personal. Ah, shaving accessories. Nothing embarrassing about that. You smiled, briefly reminiscing how the boy you knew could never grow a full beard despite how desperately he wanted to.

You worked up the courage to go say hello. You intentionally came up behind him as payback for startling you earlier in the grocery store. "If I didn't know any better, I would think you were stalking me, Timothée Chalamet."

He quickly spun around, initially looking over your head before looking down to meet your eyes. His big, lopsided grin sent your heart into palpitations again, just as it did over a decade ago. "Well well well, I could say the same about you, [Y/N] [maiden name], or, umm, I guess it isn't [maiden name] anymore," he fumbled and grimaced.

"It is. I'm divorced," you forced out. You still weren't used to saying it out loud. You watched as a whole range of emotions swept over his face before landing on sad, pitying look.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. I wondered if that may be the case when you said you moved back in with your folks. You know, I run into your mother from time to time in town. It was through her that I knew you had gotten married and had a baby. She was always happy to show off pictures." He paused to chuckle. "But she didn't say anything about the, uh..." He gestured awkwardly with his hands.

"Yeah, well, my parents aren't big fans of the d-word. It was a very recent development, too, one they have not yet come to embrace despite not being big fans of Michael." You suddenly found your sneakers very interesting, unable to make eye contact with Timothée.

"Well, hey, I'm just here to grab my dad's meds. I was thinking about swinging by the diner to grab a bite to eat before driving back. Would you like to join me?"

"Uh, sure. Maddy is hanging out with my parents and they aren't expecting me back immediately. Might be nice to have adult conversation again." You chuckled. The two of you paid for your items and walked across the street to the restaurant.

Timothée, ever the gentleman, opened the door for you. Everyone looked up at the sound of the metal bells hitting the glass. Whispers started floating around as soon as you stepped foot inside.

"Is that [Y/N] [L/N]?' "I thought she was in California." "Maybe she's just visiting her family?"

You ducked your head as you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. You followed Timothée to a table in the corner and sat with your back to the rest of the diner, not wanting to see the curious looks. It was somewhat reassuring, though, to know that you still bore enough resemblance to your former self that people recognized you. You hardly recognized yourself in the mirror anymore.

Right as you got settled in your seat, you heard footsteps stop beside you. You raised your head to see that your server was also someone you knew from high school, Amanda. You smiled and softly said hello.

"They said it was you, but I didn't believe them. How are you doing, honey? Where is that baby of yours? Your mom hasn't been by lately to show off any pictures." Only after her barrage of questions did she look across the table. "Hey, Timothée."

"Hey, Mandy," he replied quietly.

"Oh, she's hanging out with my parents while I did some shopping. She's not a baby anymore, though." You pulled out your phone to show Amanda a recent photo.

"She looks just like you, [Y/N]! And they are always babies, no matter how old they get. How old is she? Looks about 9 or 10. I have a 12 year old, almost 13. Practically a teenager!" Amanda pulled her phone out of her apron to show you her lock screen.

"He's very handsome," you offered with a friendly smile.

"How long are you in town for?" she asked.

"Uh, well, I'm not sure. However long it takes to get back on my feet. I recently got divorced, so I am trying to figure out what's next," you replied solemnly as you traced the patterns on the paisley tablecloth with your finger. You were trying (and probably failing) not to give away how incredibly overwhelmed you were feeling. You were grateful when Timothée interrupted the exchange.

"Hey, Mandy, what's the special today?"

"Oh, of course! You are here for a reason, after all. I was so eager to see if it was really [Y/N] that I forgot the menus. I'll be right back." She patted your shoulder before retreating. She returned as quickly as you could mouth "thank you" to him.

The two of you silently scanned the menu and then placed your orders. As you waited on the food, you easily fell into conversation about high school, then your time in California. You had forgotten how easy it was to talk to Timothée. You gleefully showed him pictures on your phone of your favorite landmarks and landscapes until you accidentally swiped to a photo of you, Madison, and Michael together at one of the national parks. The reminders of the fleeting happy times were painful.

Sensing the shift, Timothée grabbed your hand. You felt lightning surge throughout your body from his touch. He squeezed once and then let go just as quickly when he spotted Amanda heading to your table with your orders. You looked up and saw the smirk on her face as she eyed the two of you.

"Enjoy! I'll come back to check on you in a bit."

You turned to look at Timothée. "You know we are going to be the hot gossip for at least the next week, right?" you said playfully.

"Let them talk. There are worse rumors than being spotted with you." He cleared his throat, then popped a French fry in his mouth. "So, was there anything you missed about Tennessee?"

You, you thought automatically. "I eventually came to miss how much simpler things feel here. How life slows down in the woods and the mountains. In LA, everyone is always in a hurry. There is so much traffic. There were so many people, yet it was so lonely. Michael was really my only friend there." You went on, and Timothée listened intently as you provided a high-level retelling of what brought you back.

"...and so I packed up our clothes and a few belongings and drove out here. I got into town about two weeks ago and have been laying low with my tail between my legs." You stared down at your now empty plate in shame.

"Does he stay in touch with Madison?"

"No. He barely saw her after we separated, and he hasn't reached out since we left the state. But she's convinced that he's going to send for her to come live with him once he's settled in his new house in Sacramento with his girlfriend."

He shook his head. "You deserve better than that. SHE deserves better than that." You detected a hint of anger and disgust in his tone.

"Yeah, well, unfortunately, we are both paying the price for my poor decision-making." Your voice was thick with remorse. "She doesn't deserve to pay for my mistakes."

"[Y/N], you can't do that to yourself. You were young. All you can do is make the best of now." Amanda came by and set the check down on the table. You were grateful for her timing because you weren't sure what to say next. Your fingers brushed his as you both reached for the ticket.

"Please, let me get this," he said assertively. "I invited you to join me, remember?" He slid his credit card and the check over to Amanda, whose face was all grin. People were definitely going to hear about this.

You narrowed your eyes with playful scorn. "Fine, as long as you let me get it next time," you rebutted before fully thinking it through.

"Next time, eh?" His eyes lit up as he cocked his head to the side.

You blushed. Whoops. "Umm, yeah, next time. All we talked about was me today. We didn't even get to what you have been up to for the past 10+ years!"

"Fair enough, though that won't take long to tell," Timothée shrugged and signed the receipt after Amanda returned. You both stood and walked out the door to make your way back to the pharmacy parking lot.

"You still have the same truck!" you exclaimed. You jogged the rest of the way and ran your fingers across the emblem on the front. You and he made a lot of...memories...in that truck.

"Yep. Restoring her became somewhat of a hobby when I came back from Texas."

"Texas?" You never knew he left town. From what you remembered, he had never planned on going anywhere, especially not that far.

"A story for another day. Next time, remember?" he smirked.

"Well, maybe we should actually make plans for a next time instead of just hoping we run into each other in town. Here." You handed Timothée your phone. "Plug in your number so we can chat."

This time it was his turn to blush. He took the device from you and called himself. "So I can save your number as well," he offered.

You recognized the digits when you had your phone back in hand. "You never changed your number."

"If it ain't broke, don't fix it."

You laughed softly. "Fair enough."

"Well, I better get going. It was good to see you again, [Y/N]."

Timothée opened his arms for a hug, which you reciprocated. For a moment, all was right in the world with your head on his chest. I missed this. But I can't want this right now, you lectured yourself. You stepped back and gave him space to get into his truck. He rolled down his window to say goodbye once more.

"Tell your folks I said hello, please," you called out over the noise of the engine. His smile fell just briefly.

"You do the same."

<><><><><>

Chapter 4

Masterlist

Tag List: @croatianprincess

[gingiesworld]

A Sense of Betrayel

Requested by @osgsidbk

Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings : Angst. Drug use. Not a happy ending

18+ MINORS DNI

Y/N Y/L/N was the doting father and husband of the Maximoff household. That was until he had saw something he wished he didn't. One night as he was just walking home from the bar where he would meet up with Bucky and just have a catch up. Of course he did used to have a problem but Wanda had pleaded with him to stop and he did. He had gotten the help he needed and got clean. For his wife and the twins.

"Come on." Y/N mumbled as he was looking through the closet for his secret stash. "Come on. Come on!" Wanda stood by the door as she watched him completely lose his mind over the substance he had craved.

"What are you looking for?" Wanda questioned although she already knew the answer.

"Nothing." He mumbled as he wiped his brow, the cold sweats already starting as he was experiancing withdrawal. "I thought I left it here."

"You did." Wanda stated as Y/N gave her a questioning look. "You left it in reach of the boys!" She threw the small bag at him. He flinch at the sound of her raised voice. "Our boys could have taken it and overdosed. You could have killed them!"

"I." Wanda shook her head as Y/N tried to talk.

"You promised me Y/N. You promised you wouldn't." She whispered as the tears fell down her face.

"I'm sorry Wanda." He mumbled as she shook her head.

"I'm filing for a divorce." Wanda told him. "And full custody."

"You can't take my boys away from me. They're all I have!" He yelled as he held her by the arms.

"Let go of me." She told him.

"They're all I have left." He whispered as she scoffed.

"You had me." She told him with a shaky voice. "I want you gone before Vision brings the boys home." Wanda told him as Y/N scoffed.

"Of course he would jump straight in." He chuckled as Wanda gave him a questioning look. "He's always had feelings for you you know. Ever since we were just starting out."

"Vis is my best friend, just like you and Nat." Wanda told him.

"Well he has always wanted more." Y/N told her with a sickening smirk.

"I don't even know who you are anymore." Wanda whispered as Y/N grasped the small bag and his wallet.

"I hope you and Vis have a nice life together." He spat before he left the house. Leaving a numb Wanda in his wake. She was fast to text Nat about what had just happened.c

"I'll find him." Was what she recieved from the Russian. Nat spent weeks trying to find him, searching all of his old stomping grounds. Giving small updates to Wanda who just thanked her for searching.

"Where's dad?" Billy questioned as Wanda was baking.

"You're dad is on a business trip." Wanda told him with a fake smile. Although she knew where he most like was, she wasn't going to tell her sons that.

"Will he be coming home soon?" He asked her as she just sighed.

"Of course Billy." She told him before she ushered him to do his homework. Sighing as she disappeared outside to call Nat. "Is there any sign?" She questioned as Nat sighed.

"No. I'm sorry Wanda." Nat told her sadly. "I've tried everywhere, even Bucky's and he hasn't seen him."

"Thank you Nat." Wanda whispered as she stared at the manilla envelope on the counter. The two bid their goodbyes as her fingers danced over the item. She knew in her heart that she loved Y/N no matter what but it seemed like he loved getting high more than his family.

As the day went on, she had recieved a phone call from an unknown number, so she answered it.

"Hello." She answered as she cleaned up.

"Is this Mrs Maximoff?" The other person questioned.

"Yes, may I ask what this is about?" She questioned as her heart pounded in her chest.

"You're husband has been rushed in with a suspected overdose." They told her as her heart dropped. Not once did she suspect that this would happen.

"Will he be ok?" Wanda asked them, her entire body going numb. As the conversation went on, her brother came barrelling through her front door.

"Y/N." He gasped as Wanda just nodded.

"I know." She told him as she carried on cleaning.

"Aren't you going?" He asked her as she shook her head. "Wanda, he needs you."

"No." Wanda chuckled. "If he needed me that much he would have kept his promise. He promised me." Pietro just stood there as she got everything out. "He promised me he wouldn't touch that stuff again. After all of the rehab, the help he had off of everyone. Mostly me, but I have the twins to think about too since he hasn't thought about them in all the time he had been taking that stuff. So fuck him."

"You don't mean that Wanda." Pietro stated as she chuckled dryly.

"It would be easier if he died." She told him. "We're getting divorced and I will be getting sole custody of the boys. I will not have him poison them with his lifestyle."

Nat sat beside Y/N as he woke up, squinting his eyes as he looked up at the flourescent lights.

"You're a sight for sore eyes." Nat remarked as Y/N groaned.

"I'm still alive." He groaned as Nat smiled.

"Yes you are thankfully." Nat told him as he shook his head.

"I wanted to end it!" He yelled as Nat watched him break. "I don't want to be here Natasha. I don't fucking want it." She watched as he removed all of the needles from him. "I don't deserve to be here. I don't deserve Wanda or the boys. You should have just left me to die."

"You're my best friend Y/N. You have been since we were kids and I'll be damned if I let you end your life." She told him, the two unaware of Wanda stood outside of the room.

"It's not worth living anymore." He whispered with the tears in his eyes. "I've lost Wanda. The one person who I have loved with all of me. She wants a divorce and." He shook his head as Nat just pulled him into her.

"I do want that." Wanda made herself known. "But it's not because I don't love you Y/N, because I do. I love you more than anything in this world, besides the twins." She took a deep breath as Y/N watched her with tired eyes as Nat helped him stand. "I trusted you Y/N. I trusted that you would confide in me if it got bad. If the urges came back ten fold. I was there for you but I am tired Y/N. I need you to be there for me."

"Please give me another chance." He pleaded as Wanda shook her head. The two had tears down their face. "I just need another chance. Please. I can prove myself. I will prove myself. I'll get help."

"I've heard all of that before." Wanda told him. "You made those promises before and you broke them."

"Please." He whispered as she shook her head no.

"Get the help for you and the boys because they need their father in their life but my decision is final." Wanda told him. "We are getting a divorce." With that she left with Y/N's heart in her hands. Not seeing as he collapsed to the floor, his whole life shattering, but this time he was going to keep his promises. He wasn't going to fail Wanda and the twins again. He wouldn't be able to live with himself.

[armoricaroyalty]

"He said they're getting a divorce." Emily's voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. "He said that the King has been having an affair." Mary stood very still, arms folded across her chest. Emily watched her closely. They were cousins, but they hadn't grown up together, hadn't spent more than a few hours together until their shared association with the St. Fleur siblings had drawn them into one another's orbit. Emily had been relieved to have a ready-made ally among the St. Fleurs, but Mary had remained inscrutable to her. Her jaw tightened; her shoulders inched upward. Surprise, Emily thought, but not shock. Her father bad been right, Mary had somehow already known about the affair. When she spoke, her tone was all business. "What else did he tell you?"

Previous | Chapter Start | Beginning | Next

Transcript under the cut.

EMILY | Wow...Mary, look at the view! EMILY | This has to be the best room in the house! why on earth is it just sitting empty? MARY | It belonged to the Crown Princess. MARY | The late Crown Princess. EMILY | ...oh. MARY | After she died in 1987, the King—the old King—had all her things sold or put into storage. Apparently, the memories were too painful. EMILY | ...that makes sense, I suppose. EMILY | It's normal to go a little crazy when you lose someone, isn't it? You end up doing all kinds of things that don't make much sense. MARY | Em. What was it you needed to tell me? EMILY | I don't know if it's true, alright? It's just something my dad told me. MARY | What is it? EMILY | It's about the King and Queen... [ clock ticking ] FREDERICK | So...Dad is upstairs? Resting? ELISE | [ tersely ] He had a long flight from Iona. FREDERICK | He got back Thursday, didn't he? [ car door slamming, muffled voices ] ELISE | That'll be your brother! ELISE | I'm going to go let them in— FREDERICK | Ma— JACQUES | Hey, hey party people! Look who's finally here! VIVI | Hello, everyone. JACQUES | ...wait, where's Dad? ELISE | He's resting, JJ. Freddy, go find the girls and have them meet us in the marble room. I want some nice pictures before we sit down for dinner. FREDERICK | Really? [ sighs ] Okay... MARY | ...play it cool, okay? Just...act like you don't know anything. EMILY | How? Mary, this is huge— FREDERICK | What's huge? EMILY | N-nothing! We weren't talking about anything! MARY | Aaaaactually, we were talking about tampons— EMILY | Mary! Please! MARY | —and unfortunately for Emily, I only stock ultra-wides. FREDERICK | Okay, okay! Sorry I asked... FREDERICK | Anyway....Brace yourselves, Jacques and Vivi just showed up with Hugo, and Mom has a fu— er, a regular photographer in the marble room. MARY | Uh, I don't think she wants me in the pictures... FREDERICK | No, she wants both of you. She said, "go find the girls," plural. EMILY | Really? That's great, Mare, she's warming up to you—I FREDERICK | I don't know what's up with her. She's been acting super weird since we got here. MARY | Oh? I uh, hadn't noticed. FREDERICK | Yeah, the vibes are rancid. She's acting like someone died or something...

[desperatelyseekingcannibals]

Hannibal? Meeting Mads at RDC6

Following on from meeting Hugh in Boston and gifting him a copy of Adapt. Evolve. Become: The Genderqueer Fandom of NBC's Hannibal, I wanted to gift a copy to Mads.

No disrespect to Mads, but I wasn't expecting (and didn't get) the same sort of interaction I had with Hugh. I've met Mads at many cons before, including one in 2018 right before I had top surgery where I had a lovely chat with him about queer and trans Fannibals.

But I've noticed over the years, including from accounts of other Fannibals too, that he's become much more guarded in his conversations. Which is fair, his star has been forever on the rise and he's been working for bigger studios and properties. But as a trans person, I am always very cautious when people become much less vocal about something they previously seemed to support - though I do acknowledge that some people just don't want to get dragged into what they see as a volatile issue. And I knew, given how much more stoic he's become, and the time limitations of signings at cons, that this would be the case regardless of his personal point of view.

Also (and I've mentioned this before in posts about his answers on con panels), Mads has a habit of just saying what he thinks people want to hear, and what will get the biggest reaction - he's a master at fanservice. Which even includes repeating the same stories (Fragile Little Teacup for example). Which again, is not a criticism, but an observation and another reason why I was pretty nervous about meeting him again. And that was BEFORE a couple of different Fannibals approached me with concerns that some of the things he'd said at RDC6 hinted that he might be making a movie that may include a trans character in an unflattering way. (I'm still on the fence about whether that was his meaning, but I'm glad I'm already pretty emotionally divorced from him since he did FB).

ANYWAY! I had talked with the fantastic wholeanddeadly before the event and we agreed on getting his brilliant "F**k transphobia Grindelwald" art print signed in order to auction it for trans charity (in fact we ended up getting two!). As we knew in advance we would be doing this, I wanted to let Mads know, because I don't feel right auctioning something without someone's knowledge if we had already made that plan.

So, this is what happened:

I was maybe third of forth in the queue (which was huge), so this was going to be a whistle stop and I'd thought carefully how to frame it and use my words wisely. So I walked up and he said "Hello, Sir!"

Which, thanks! (always love getting correctly gendered!)

I asked "May I give you a gift", and he said "Yes, of course!"

Whilst I was getting the book out of my back I told him that I met him in 2018 right before I had gender affirming surgery and he was very kind to me. His response was along the lines of "Oh yeah?"

I continued to tell him that since then, I have been involved a lot with of the trans and non-binary Fannibals and we made this book because of what the show means to us. He took it and flicked through and stopped at some of the art and admired it. He asked if it was just about Hannibal, and I said yes because I totally blanked in the moment, so the HEU stuff will be a nice surprise for him, lol.

Then the art print got passed over by his helper and I said I didn't want him to personalise the photo as I wanted to auction it to a charity that supports trans youth if he's OK with that. And he replied "you can do anything you like with it, man." I said thanks, and we were all done.

Whilst on the surface this was all good, I was definitely struck by the difference between this and times I'd met him before (especially in 2018). And perhaps it was just down to him being more guarded, but it felt very... standoffish. Which is fine, it is what it is.

The funniest thing is that Mads often signs the characters name on the things he signs, and the one we already had signed the day before via a friend, he didn't put the character name on it. On the one he signed for me, he did: Hannibal.

I saw him hesitate part way through signing the name but it just made me chuckle at the potential that this character meant so little to him he didn't recall his name and then the next day confused him for another character - Trans Rights Wizard Hannibal!

Anyway. I hope he reads the book. I hope he gets something out of it. I hope he's not making a transphobic movie.

And I hope you'll all check out @transhanniday on here (and on Twitter), where the two signed prints and some other bits will be going up for auction soon! The proceeds will be going to UK trans youth charity Mermaids, the same charity that Deadly supported with his original art prints.

[saintsir4n]

MEET THE MIKAELSONS

where klaus and Adrienne do a GQ interview

▃▃▃▃

•

"Nik, stop sulking," Adrienne laughed at her husband, knowing he wanted to be anywhere else. She motioned for him to smile, but he simply ran his hand through his curls that he decided to grow out, then threw up his hands and gestured for questions, "All alright, let's get this over and done with," he murmured, earning another giggle from his wife. "You heard the man, quiet on set guys," she mimicked him, drawing laughter from the crew and a small smile from the hybrid.

•

"Love, come here," Klaus whispered as the crew were finishing setting up their mics. "We have to sit in separate chairs," Adrienne replied with a pout and before he could reply, the main producer who stood between them said, "When it's time for Adrienne to ask questions, then she can sit on your lap or whatever you prefer." Klaus hummed in satisfaction, making his wife smile, "you happy now?" She asked, "I will be when you're next to me," his answer made most of the crew stare at them in adoration and awe.

•

Marcel told me to tell you not to piss off Mom with your answers, Klaus rolled his eyes at the message he received from Malachai, then showed it to his wife, who immediately laughed, "They're right." Adrienne stated, shrugging before adding, "but, we should tell them not to watch this when it comes out... right?" Klaus pondered as he put his phone back in his pocket, "...right."

•

Adrienne sat comfortably across from her husband who played with his ring-clad fingers and brushed his hair out of his eyes. His long-sleeved henley shirt tightened around his arms with every movement. He sat there staring at her with a slight daze with one leg over the other waiting for the make-up team to finish her touch-ups.

Adrienne wore a double denim co-ord; her short skirt revealed her silky legs, similar to the jacket that left a few buttons undone, showcasing that she was completely topless underneath until every few minutes her husband moved her goddess braids to conceal what only he got to see.  

•

"Hey guys I'm Adrienne Mikaelson and-" she quickly got cut off, "and many people call me Klaus the mad," Klaus stated with a grin, staring at the camera as Adrienne chuckled, "No one calls you that," she paused and turned to the camera, "no one does."

"I don't appreciate the dishonesty Ria and neither do the fans," Klaus responded smugly before the producer nicely asked them to reintroduce themselves.

"Let's do this again," Adrienne said, shooting her husband a pointed look, that he raised an amused brow at. "I'm Adrienne Lumière."

"What?"

"...And we're getting divorced."

"Cut the bloody cameras!"

•

"Take three," the producer slammed down the clapperboard, then nodded to the couple who were currently flipping each other off, "Guys behave please."

"I'm Adrienne Mikaelson and this dashing man is," Adrienne gestured to her husband, who smirked at the compliment, "Niklaus Mikaelson and I'm here to best my wife."

Adrienne threw her arms up in the air as Klaus covered his grin with his cards.

•

"Take four and guys-"

"Shannon, I dare you to slam that clapperboard down again," Klaus warned the producer who swiftly looked at his wife with pleading eyes.

"Nik, be nice or you won't get the prize," Adrienne said with an innocent shrug, "what prize?" he quickly leaned forward, waiting for her response, "You know those lingerie sets I got from the Fenty show I performed at?" she lowly spoke, making his eyes widen, "you will never see me in them if we don't get through this okay? now pick up your jaw from the floor and introduce yourself properly."

•

"Hello people I don't know or will never meet," Klaus gritted out, "I am Klaus Mikaelson and this is my darling wife-" Adrienne continued, "Adrienne Mikaelson and this is the GQ couples quiz."

•

1. How many tattoos do I have?

Adrienne didn't even need to think before she answered, "He has five, the birds on his shoulder which connect to a feather, Marcel and Malachai's birthdays and he has the word 'enigma' for me."

"Easy question love," he winked at her.

"Shut up."

"Harsh."

•

2. When is my birthday?

"8th of April, he's an Aries with a Gemini moon," she answered, brushing her shoulder.

"I wish I could fathom what she said," Klaus spoke, looking directly at the camera."It's a very simple thing," Adrienne said, glancing around at the crew who nodded, then shrunk back after noting the glare on the hybrid's face.

"Simple my arse."

"And what a lovely ass it is," Adrienne blew him a kiss, causing a red tint to kiss his cheeks. "Moving on," he whispered with a bashful smile.

•

3. Who fell in love first?

"Nik, definitely Nik."

"How could I not," Klaus said, staring at her, "pan the camera to my wife."  The cameraman did just that, zooming in on the woman who had been at the top of many lists for the most desirable woman for a few years now.  Adrienne giggled and covered her face,  "stop it and ask another question."

"Oh is the pretty girl shy?"

The crew couldn't help but stare at them in awe, well until Adrienne began to threaten him.

"The pretty girl with put you into an early grave if you don't do what I say."

He feigned shock, "Romantic isn't she?"

"Yeah yeah."

•

4. Favourite part about my personality?

"He's constantly trying his best, whether helping me with my work or being more patient with our family and always trying to be there for me. Always trying in his own ways. Which is very comforting."

"Thank you, my love," he couldn't stop smiling.

•

5. Where did we have our first date?

"In the Euphoria, we both shared a beignet and just talked for hours. It wasn't meant to happen, he tricked me into it."

Klaus chuckled, "You didn't say no."

"Because of his stupid smile," Adrienne pouted and he started to boast, "I do have a great smile," Klaus nodded to himself, earning a few chuckles from the crew.  "Calm down, I slapped you on that date," Adrienne taunted, making him roll his eyes.

"Can't imagine why," they heard the main producer whisper to herself, which caused Adrienne to snort.

"What was that Shannon, could you speak up this time?" Klaus asked loudly, startling the poor woman.

Shannon nervously waved him off, "Oh nothing, next question."

•

6. Have you ever written a song about me?

"I've written many songs about you honey," Adrienne cooed as she blew him a kiss, causing him to jokingly catch it and place it on his chest. "Many albums were written with Klaus the Mad for inspiration," he was about to continue but she hastily cut him off, "not Klaus the Mad, about you making me mad, sad, happy or..." she trailed off, leaving him to finish "loved and horny?"

"Yes."

"And she has won many awards that she dedicates to me and our family each time. Usually, I come last in the speech, because she adds some words that one could only use to describe a man so great."

Adrienne playfully rolled her eyes at him, "so humble."

"Wait, how many paintings does Klaus have of you?" A member of the crew yelled from afar, catching their attraction. Klaus grinned and gestured for his wife to answer, "From what I've seen and what I've peaked on, possibly thousands. That's not an exaggeration is it Nik?" The hybrid bashfully shook his head then replied, "Give it take a thousand."

"But most of his most popular and most famous work is hung in the Louvre, the Victoria and Albert Museum, The National Gallery and the Rijksmuseum," she listed making him smile brightly, "you remembered." He was taken aback by her knowledge, sometimes he thought she wasn't listening whenever he ranted but she always was.

"Of course I did, I need to visit the new masterpiece in Amsterdam," she paused noting the blush kissing his cheeks, "is it of me?"

Disregarding her first question, he said, "I'll take you there for your birthday since you've been dying to go for a while."

"Awe, you remembered."

"Of course, we've been together for what feels like a century," he teased knowingly, which the crew laughed at, believing it to be a joke.

"Til flere århundrer nik."

"Til flere århundrer min kjærlighet."

"Y'all can speak old Norse? How isn't that a dead language?" Another crew member spoke up after he used Google Translate to decipher what had been said.

The couple laughed to themselves before Adrienne replied, "Like we said, it's felt like a century..."

•

7. What is my worst quality?

"Your paranoia, it even makes you not trust me sometimes and you end up acting like a dick."

"Apologies," Klaus murmured, averting his gaze, feeling his wife's eyes burning into the side of his head.

•

8. What turns me on?

"Other than me being me, he loves when I wear his clothes or when I'm angry. When I shout at him, that usually gets in the mood so quickly." Klaus stiffly nodded at her answer, earning a few questioning looks, "You're turned on now aren't you?"

"...no."

•

9. My favourite relative?

"Other than me and our sons, definitely either Hadeon or Rebekah."

Klaus couldn't help but roll his eyes, knowing his siblings would start on him when they saw him.

•

10. Which one of my friends flirts with you too much?

"Kai and Lucien, Kai because he acts like I named our son after him and it pisses Nik off a lot. Lucien because he always flirts with me, especially when Nik is around," she informed the camera. "Don't forget Stefan," Klaus added, earning a hum from Adrienne, who said, "Definitely Stef."

"Stef?" Klaus asked with furrowed brows, "Since when did you call him Stef?"

"Oh god."

"Take a point away from her Shannon!" Klaus yelled, making Adrienne throw a water bottle sitting near her at his head, "Take five off for grievous bodily harm."

"Shut up."

•

11. Favourite sex position?

Adrienne snickered at the question, as did Klaus.

"He has three," she began to list as he stared at her heatedly, "but he loves cowgirl because he loves it when I take control even though he will never tell anyone about it."  He tossed his head back with a groan, "Love-" she quickly cut him off, "What? It's true."

Klaus snapped his head towards the main producer, "Shannon, she doesn't get the point if she lies right?"  Shannon vigorously shook her head, before answering,  "No she doesn't Mr Mikaelson." Adrienne gasped, "I am not lying."

"What are the other two positions then?" Klaus retorted smugly.

"They are kids are watching," Adrienne said in a hushed tone, to which her husband shrugged, "They've definitely heard worse." Adrienne couldn't disagree, "Sorry babies," she apologised to the camera, then turned to her husband and continued her list, "missionary, and the speed bump."

"The what?" someone from the crew yelled out as many people chuckled.

"You've never heard of it before?" Adrienne asked through her laughter, whilst Klaus stared at the camera confidently, "It's basically when the girl or guy is on their stomach and they are getting hit from the back and their ass is like a little speed bump."

Klaus turned to her, ignoring the laughter from the crew, "You love that don't you?"

Later, she mouthed making him grin.

•

12. Do we have a sex tape?

Adrienne rolled her eyes whilst the rest of the crew waited for her answer. Klaus turned to her, lifting the cards to block his face and mouthed, 'Just say no'.

"Shannon, he's telling me to say no," Adrienne quickly snitched on her husband, whose mouth gaped open. It didn't help that the people around them were laughing alongside the witch. "Shannon, stop rolling or I guarantee someone will stop breathing," Klaus hissed, causing the life to drain from the producer's face and all laughter to stop.

•

"The answer to that question was no, aren't I right my love?" Klaus insisted, staring at her with a pleading expression.

Adrienne stifled a laugh, "Mmm."

"What was that?"

She quickly cleared her throat and stated, "Yes, we do not have a sex tape, nor would we ever make one because it is bad and could have consequences if anyone were to ever find it... like your children."

"Or siblings or friends," Klaus quickly added, with a nervous look.

"Next round!"

▃▃▃▃▃▃

1. What's my favourite food? And don't say anything inappropriate.

Now sitting on her husband's lap, she waited for his answer. He was far less stingy and calmer as she combed her fingers through his hair. When he decided to answer, a cheeky smile kissed his lips, "Anything phallic." Adrienne immediately smacked his chest, ignoring the studio worker's laughter and hissed, "Shut up."

Still chuckling, the hybrid restated, "Fine my sweetheart likes pastries, can eat them all the time," he informed the camera, "Yes I ate them a lot when I was pregnant," Adrienne added, causing his grin to widen, "which reminds me, perhaps you should be agai-."

She cut him off, with a warning tone, "Don't."

•

2. Where's my favourite place I like to have sex?

"Other than the Bentley?" Klaus inquired and she nodded. "Any public place really."

"Shannon cut out the last part," Adrienne demanded, pinching the bridge of her nose, but her husband had other ideas, "Shannon, you will do no such thing!"

•

3. Who's my best friend?

"Rebekah will hate me for saying this, but Clementine or Valerie. I still don't like Valerie." he quickly added the last part, staring directly at the camera, whilst Adrienne just glanced at him, "She doesn't like you."

•

4. Your Favourite body part of mine? Keep it PG, please.

Klaus stared at her, with a highly amused expression, "If I keep it PG, then I would be lying," his statement gained a few chuckles from the crew, which grew when Adrienne flicked his forehead, "So vicious. But honestly, it's your face. Your beautiful face, that I continue to fall in love with more and more each day."

"Awe," the camera crew cooed as Adrienne hid her face in the crook of his neck until he decided to tease her more.

Klaus cleared his throat, "But as for my second favourite body part of yours, that has to be your v-"

"Next question!" Adrienne shouted over him.

"I was going to say your voice," he mumbled innocently.

"That's not a body part Nik!"

•

5. What do you do, that turns me on?

"When I look at you in your eyes," he answered immediately, not breaking eye contact, making his wife very flustered, "You're so annoying," she groaned and looked away. Lowering his head and trailing his fingers down her back, he whispered, "You're turned on right now aren't you sweetheart?"

•

6. What's a favourite moment of mine?

"You and Hadeon burning-" he quickly received a pinch to the neck, "that's not PG," she warned, shooting an innocent smile to the camera, then turning back to her husband, who begrudgingly spoke, "Fine giving birth to Malachai." his answer, earned a snort from Adrienne, "Fuck no, he nearly ripped me in half, you could've just said us being in Chicago."

•

7. What is a favourite moment of mine that we've shared?

"Renewing our vows in Paris," she grinned at his words, then said, "Loved that."

"I love you."

"I love you too... sometimes."

"Adrienne."

•

8. Do I have any tattoos?

Klaus chuckled to himself then turned to the camera, "She has one on the inside of her thigh and when the first time I saw it I-"

"Can he be censored, Shannon?" Adrienne pleaded.

"Don't bloody censor me, Shannon."

•

9. What do you love that I do? And kids are watching this.

Klaus picked up her available hand,  "She's a supportive and powerful woman, whenever I'm shutting down and feel borderline homicidal..."  Adrienne shook her head at the camera,  "He's kidding." Klaus continued, 'I'm not, but when it happens she is the most patient and understanding person in my life, whenever she's not a pain in the ass."

"Prick."

"Love you too."

•

10. What am I like when I'm drunk?

"She's needy but I love it, she gets very sentimental," Klaus said, with a loving look in his eyes, to which he gained a chaste kiss from Adrienne

"I'm always like that."

"Yes, but it's adorable when you're drunk."

•

11. Do you want to have more kids?

"Personally, I want a daughter," Klaus answered, turning to his wife, "Fine, then you can push out a daughter." she countered, making the crew laugh around them. "I want a little girl to raise," he huffed out, not taking his eyes off Adrienne, who decided to entertain the idea.

"What would you name our daughter?" she asked, to which he replied, "Well Malachai is named after an Angel, not Kai Parker. Marcellus is named after the god of Mars," he watched as an idea lit up her eyes, "What about Evangeline. It sounds angelic and Godly?"

Klaus happily clapped and discarded the remaining card in her hands, "Evangeline. Greek for good news and what great news she'd be when she is born in less than 10 months to come. Great idea love, Evangeline Mikaelson. it's decided!"

She quickly shook her head, "Not it's not."

•

"Thank you, GQ, my wife and I are off to make another child," Adrienne didn't have time to object because he swiftly picked her up and she had no choice but to hold on.

"No, we're not!"

He tore off their microphones and shot a nod to Shannon, then the rest of the crew, "Goodbye!"

•

POST CREDIT SCENE:

"No," Klaus stated, shaking his head at his wife's outfit for the interview, he had already tried to suggest something else before she walked out of her dressing room. "I'm wearing it, end of discussion and I see how you are looking at me, stop acting like you don't like this," Adrienne replied, waving him off as she came to stand In front of him, watching as he looked her up and down.

"Out," he demanded the workers who were trying to do their job. He needed to talk to his wife in private, so it wasn't long before they all rushed out of the green room and the door slammed shut.

"Adrienne," she didn't have time to react before he picked her up, drawing a yelp from her as she wrapped her legs around his torso and settled her arms around his shoulders. "What beloved?" She teased, catching the lust-filled glint in his eyes. "How long do we have until we have to do this God-awful interview?" He asked, trailing his hands over her behind and lowering his mouth to her jacket.

She gasped when he undid the two buttons with his teeth, revealing her breast to him. A growl emitted from his throat as he dragged his eyes up to hers. "We have thirty minutes..." she breathed out, making him run his tongue over his teeth.

"...we'll need an hour."

•

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a/n:

That is the end to my dark twisted fantasy’s story on wattpad I hope you all enjoyed it. I thought I addd a cute little one shot of them in the further.

it's been over a year and I'm so happy and grateful to all the people who have been here since the beginning and the most recent readers, who haven't stopped voting and commenting.

this was Adrienne's story and it's sad to say goodbye to one of my faves and all my other oc's. writing to her with everyone especially klaus was so special and so bittersweet to me and I loved every second of it.

- liv

[mrsparrasblog]

Highschool AU pt.2

Summary: You and your Brother moved away from Austria because of your parents Divorce, making you attend Northbridge Academy in Exeter, England. On your first day you meet the bullied Simon Riley and the overly extroverted John MacTavish. As if dealing with puberty, sports and your grades wasn't hard enough you fell in love not only with your Bestfriend Simon but also with Johnny, that Johnny was in love with both of you didn't make the Dynamic better

Pt.1

November 1990

As the days passed, you fell into a comfortable routine. You made a point to sit next to Simon in every class, despite Johnny's attempts to claim the seat besides you. You got used to Johnny though; he was funny and surprisingly smart. He even beat you in physics once, which made you incredibly mad. You always wanted to excel in academics; sometimes it felt like it was the only thing you were good at—getting good grades. If you couldn't be good at that, what special thing would be left in you?

"Lizzie, it's just an A, who cares if it's not an A+? You won't die from it," Simon nagged. He never understood your drive to excel in school. He wasn’t bad himself, though; he mostly got Bs, especially in math, history, and chemistry. He had some Cs in English and Housekeeping —claiming it was unimportant for him that he did poorly in sewing. He was right, though; that's why you didn’t pick that incredibly dumb subject and chose advanced German instead, which was like a free pass for you. Unfortunately, you were in the same class as John, the annoying new friend of your brother. He was always so flirty, although he was cute.

"How do you know? Maybe I'll fall dead on the ground in the next second."

"Would be a blessing for some of us," Simon replied. After a few weeks of school, you were surprised to find out that Simon wasn’t like he looked. He wasn’t shy and uncomfortable; he pulled lots of jokes—bad ones—next to you. Worse, his humor was dry and mean, making you chuckle all the time, which he secretly loved.

"You're an idiot, Si."

"And still, I'm your favorite, Lizzie."

"Only because Johnny isn’t a real challenge to you."

"Don’t let Johnny hear that; he will be mad."

"Maybe he needs a bit of an ego shrink," You laughed.

Simon and you walked towards your table. It was like in all those American movies you watched when you were allowed to watch TV. Tiffany and her squad had their own table, and then there were tables full of footballers where Kyle sat most of the time, except when Johnny begged him to sit with you. Michael, like the perfect big brother he was, was always where you were. And where Michael was, John and sometimes Nik would be, if he didn’t spend 90% of his time in detention.

Every Thursday was mail delivery day, the best part of the week. You always looked forward to a letter from Dad. He told you about all the different places he visited for work, and there was always a postcard in the letter. You had over 120 postcards, all placed on the wall of your dorm. At least that made you feel at home. Northbridge Academy wasn’t as bad as you feared at the beginning. The teachers were great, the school was fun, and you had Simon and Johnny. The only downside was my dorm mates. While the boys were more than lucky despite Si complaining about Michael's snoring, they still had a nice group. Meanwhile, you were stuck with Tiffany, Laurie, and Anne in a room, and it was even worse than you imagined.

Simon opened his mail, and his expression changed. He tried to regain his composure quickly, but he couldn't fool me. You knew something was up, so you poked him under the table, trying to get his mail. Surprisingly, he gave it to you without any further resistance, and for once, You wished he hadn’t.

Hello Simon, Im on a camping trip with your Mom and Thomas. Don´t bother coming over the long weekend. We wont be there. Stay at your trust fund school. Dad 

"Si—"

"No, Lizzie." He stood up and left the table, surprising everyone else who hadn’t noticed anything. Typical boys. You followed him into his dorm and sat next to him on the bed.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"It's not a big deal, Lizzie. They're just on vacation."

"Is it?"

"Lizzie."

"You know you could come with Mich and me. Mom wouldn’t mind at all; she loves hosting people and all that stuff. We can spend more time together, and you don’t need to stay in this musty room—like, really, do you boys even clean?" You laughed at the chaos of the room. Everywhere, there were paint stains, football shoes, and, on what you guessed was Nik’s and John’s bed, an E-guitar was placed.

"Lizzie, it’s okay. You know I can practice a bit before the start of ice hockey season."

"Pleaseeeeeeee." You looked at him with puppy eyes. I needed him to come with me.

"Okay, but only this once." He agreed, and you gave him a big bear hug.

SIMONS POV 

"Whit dae ye mean ye gang hame wi' Ellie?"

"Was invited," I said shortly.

"Was invited too," John chimed in, while he tuned his guitar, making noises not safe for humanity.

"How come is a' body invited 'cept me?" Johnny started to whine. The answer would be easy for anyone with eyes: she doesn’t like his flirting, she is scared of things like this, and asking her to marry him after she gave him a cookie wasn’t the smartest choice.

"I wasn’t invited," Kyle replied shortly.

"You're not invited, Johnny, 'cause ye need to tone it down with my sister. She is only 13; she doesn’t care about boys right now. And asking her at any chance if she wants to marry you makes her scared. Ye don’t know anything about girls, do ye?" That was the most words I've heard from König since, well, ever, but he was right. Johnny needed to tone it down. I didn’t like how Lizzie felt insecure whenever he did it and clung to me. The truth is Lizzie wasn’t afraid of him or anything; she even liked Johnny as a friend. She just thought his advances were jokes. Johnny liked to joke a lot, giving him the reputation of a class clown. And so, his big gestures for her felt like a joke to her, especially since she was so insecure at heart. I just never understood why? She was smart, funny, much cooler than any other girl, and she was pretty, not that I would ever tell that to someone.

"Just trying to be good, König," Johnny muttered.

"If ye weren’t a lovesick little puppy, he’d probably punch you into oblivion," John mentioned.

"You can come too, Johnny," König replied, still giving him the big brother glance.

"Sweet."

"Wait, how do we all fit in a car?" I asked, afraid that Johnny would take my place, and I needed to stay here. But everyone just looked at me weirdly, and I didn’t know why.

The next day, on our way to Lizzie's house, I finally knew why. There was a fucking limousine with black windows, probably bulletproof, like in James Bond movies. A small man in his 50s walked outside of the car wearing a black suit and smiling as he walked towards Lizzie, taking her baggage from her hands.

"He doesn’t look like Lizzie’s Dad," I said. It was true; they didn’t look similar, but still, she hugged him like you’d hug a family member, I guess?

John started to laugh. "You really don’t know a lot about Beth." Beth? Why did he call my Lizzie Beth? That was a shitty name.

"I know a lot about her."

"Not about her world, little one." I hated it when people reduced me for my small frame. I didn’t want to be the skinny short boy walking behind Lizzie all the time in need of her support. At least she didn’t see me that way.

"Si, John, Johnny, that’s Alfred, he is our family, Butler," Lizzie said, smiling at Alfred like he was a family member more than a Butler.

We sat down in the limo. Lizzie, of course, sat next to me, much to the dislike of Johnny. He kinda grew on me, though; he was funny and extroverted, and he wasn’t as posh as Kyle, who was a nice bloke but just didn’t get it. He was always complaining, as if he had problems, of course, he hadn’t. He was rich, good at football, and good-looking.

Lizzie fell asleep after a while, her head resting on my shoulder. I didn’t dare to move for the rest of the ride. She looked so peaceful when she didn’t move her lips and spoke.

"Mate, that's unfair. Why does Lizzie sleep on you instead of me?" Johnny whined, but I ignored him. "I liked her first, brocade and everything, Simon."

"You don’t call dips on my sister, or I'll cut your tongue out," König spoke calmly. He was confusing me; he was mostly silent but always threatened everyone who came too close to Lizzie. He never threatened me though, of course not; no one saw a threat in me.

We arrived at a big white mansion, almost looking like the Buckingham Palace. I knew Lizzie was rich, but this rich? I should probably search Kortac up, what they did, and how her dad must be so rich.

John only shrugged as if it was nothing, making me feel like I was the dumb one. This wasn’t normal; why are they acting like this?

As I stepped into Lizzie's villa, my jaw practically hit the floor. I mean, I've seen big houses before, but this was something else. The entrance was like walking into a palace or something. The marble floors were so shiny

; I could see my reflection in them. And those pillars! They were taller than any trees I've ever seen, reaching up to a ceiling painted with fancy designs that made me feel like I was in a museum.

I couldn't help but gawk as I made my way through the place. The living room was like a dream. Soft, velvet couches and chairs were everywhere, so plush you could practically sink into them. Paintings and tapestries covered the walls, like something out of a history book. And don't even get me started on the fireplace! It was huge, with flames dancing and crackling like something out of a movie. All around were paintings that probably cost more than Mom's salary as a nurse.

The dining room was even more posh. A long, mahogany table stretched out in front of me, set with fancy plates and silverware that looked like they belonged in a museum. A chandelier hung overhead, sparkling with crystals and casting a warm light over everything.

In the kitchen, everything was shiny and new. Stainless steel appliances lined the walls, and there were bowls of fruit and baskets of bread everywhere. It smelled amazing, like something out of a cooking show. Chefs walked around the house; they had fucking chefs? I thought the Butler was much, but they had more staff. Didn’t rich people know how to cook for themselves?

As I wandered around, I couldn't help but feel a little jealous. I mean, we have a house; it's nice and all, but it's nothing like this. Lizzie's family must be really rich to live in a place like this. But as much as I envied her, I couldn't help but feel grateful that she was my friend, never judging me because of my scholarship like Tiffany did, and by the looks of it, Tiffany wasn’t even half as wealthy as Lizzie and König are.

"Mutter, Vater, Ich dachte Papa ist in Salzburg gerade," König said. He sounded more confident when he spoke German.

Lizzie's parents looked like nice people; her Dad was the tallest man I've ever seen and looked a bit intimidating, while her mom looked a lot like Lizzie herself, just older.

"Dein Vater hat gehört, ihr kommt hier her und ist direkt gekommen," her dad replied.

"Also, seid ihr nicht wieder zusammen?" Lizzie’s voice sounded so different in German, but she still sounded nice and soft.

"Nein, und sprech Englisch, das ist unhöflich gegenüber deinen Gästen," her mom scolded, her voice too loud for the small room.

"So, who do we have here?" Lizzie’s father asked curiously.

"I'm John Price, sir."

"Oh, like William Price?"

"Yes, that's my old man."

"We worked together quite a bit for his campaign."

"Wait, my dad worked with Kortac?" John lost the color of his face, and I really needed to know what the fuck Kortac is.

"I'm Johnny MacTavish."

"Well, didn’t hear of your family," Lizzie’s dad mustered Johnny.

"Richard, be nice," Lizzie’s mom scolded, in a tone too loud for the room. "Okay, and you are?" She gestured to me.

"Simon Riley, nice to meet you both, sir," I replied politely, shaking his hand, only to get my hand crushed.

As I followed Lizzie's family into the dining room, I couldn't believe my eyes. The table was like something out of a fancy restaurant, but way bigger. There were so many dishes spread out that I had never seen or tried before. I mean, I knew what a salad was and some of the other stuff, but there were these little black things in jars that Lizzie's dad called "caviar." I had no idea what that was, but everyone seemed to be enjoying it, so I tried a tiny bit. It was salty and kinda strange, definitely not like anything I'd ever eaten. Johnny looked as confused as me; of course, the academy had fancy food, but this was weird. And so much different from what mom cooked for us, and I longed for her lasagna right now.

Then there were all these different forks and spoons and knives laid out next to the plates. I was used to just one fork and one spoon at home, but here, it was like a whole set of tools just for eating. I glanced over at Lizzie, who noticed my confusion and tried to discreetly explain which fork to use for which course. But I could tell I was still getting it wrong.

Lizzie's family seemed used to all this fancy stuff, chatting away as they effortlessly used their array of utensils. Meanwhile, I was struggling not to knock over a glass or use the wrong fork. Her mom smiled kindly at me and offered some advice on what to try next, but I couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place. John and König, of course, knew how to act. I noticed how Lizzie’s dad liked John, but Lizzie’s mom definitely liked me.

It was strange; they were so familiar with each other, chatting at dinner and laughing, listening to Lizzie ramble about the school teaching shitty German. It was so different than at home; no one screamed, no one cried, and, most importantly, no one punched each other.

Johnny and I slept in one of the various guest chambers, and it was so comfortable, the best sleep I've ever had until I heard Lizzie scream from next door. I ran towards her room; I didn’t know what was wrong, but I needed to find out.

She lay in her luxurious room, whining and shaking in her sleep. I always thought rich families like these never had any problems, but here she was having night terrors.

I sat next to her in bed, brushing my hand towards her silky hair. "I'm here, Lizzie, everything is good."

"Please don’t kill me; I don’t know anything," she cried, and then König walked in, pushing me to the side while grabbing her in his bulky arms, whispering to her something in German until she calmed down and slept peacefully again. Now, all of us stood in her room. I just wanted to comfort Lizzie, telling her everything would be fine again.

"What was this?" John asked.

"Nightmares."

"That’s more than nightmares, mate," Johnny said, earning a death glare from König. I didn’t know what I thought, but I stood up and walked towards her bed again, cuddling her like Mom and Dad always did. For the first time, I could protect someone, and I’d protect her like she protected me.

"LEAVE."

"No, she is my best friend; I won’t leave." Slowly, after minutes, John and Johnny climbed into Lizzie’s bed. All of us wanted to comfort the girl who gave us everything every day. And so all five of us played together in the bed, eager to protect her from whatever haunted her. It was nice; having her in my arms was the last thought before I slowly drifted into a peaceful sleep.