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slytherinsmuse · 21 hours ago

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⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ Frigid Waters | Mattheo Riddle ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Fem! Reader

Warnings: characters are 18+, not canon, anger

Summary: Angst, Fluff | Through jealousy and regret, Mattheo finds redemption in an unexpected embrace.

Word count: 10262- needs adjusting

Mattheo Riddle and you had always shared a relationship that teetered on the edge of something that felt almost volatile. From the very beginning, something about him managed to set you off, and it seemed that every interaction you shared was a battle of wit, will, or pride. Your mutual friends were well accustomed to the tension that clouded the room whenever you were both present, a strain that had grown from minor annoyances to full-blown arguments over the years.

Yet, despite all the friction, Mattheo had always been there. He was sharp, observant, and insufferably bold, a combination that left you equally irked and intrigued. But of all the things Mattheo was, critical seemed to be his favourite when it came to you. He had an uncanny ability to notice things most people missed—especially when it came to the people you chose to surround yourself with.

One of the most explosive arguments between the two of you had taken place a month ago, over something as mundane as a date you’d gone on with a boy from Hufflepuff. You’d met him in Charms class, and although he wasn’t particularly flashy or bold, he’d been sweet, the kind of person who made you laugh without trying too hard. You’d looked forward to the evening, finding the simplicity of his company refreshing compared to the guarded, often intense personalities of your Slytherin circle. After the date, you’d returned to the Slytherin common room, feeling lighthearted and content.

But Mattheo had been waiting, sprawled casually on the common room couch with a book in his lap, his gaze fixed on you the moment you stepped through the door. His expression had darkened instantly, and before you’d even had a chance to process it, he’d spoken up, his voice cold and heavy with disdain.

“Really, Y/N?” he’d drawled, not bothering to mask the bitterness. “Him?”

Confusion furrowed your brow. “Excuse me?”

He’d sat up, his dark gaze sharp and accusatory, as if your mere presence was an affront. “That Hufflepuff boy.” he’d said, smirking slightly, though it lacked its usual charm. “I can’t believe you’d waste your time with someone so… bland.”

For a moment, you’d been stunned, caught between surprise and irritation. “Since when do you get a say in who I spend my time with, Mattheo?”

He’d shrugged, a casual, infuriating gesture that only added fuel to your frustration. “I don’t. I’m just saying it’s pathetic. You, out there with someone who doesn’t even know half of what you’re worth. Not to mention…” he trailed off, scoffing, “his personality is as thrilling as a leaking cauldron.”

The condescension in his tone had hit a nerve, and you’d felt a surge of anger you couldn’t quite suppress. “Unbelievable.” you muttered, more to yourself than to him, though your voice rose in volume. “Who I choose to spend time with is none of your business. Maybe I actually like spending time with people who don’t spend every moment judging me.”

He’d let out a dark laugh, low and mocking, and it echoed in the common room, reminding you of just how alone you were in that moment, facing off against him. “Is that what you call it?” he asked, his words like a challenge. “Enjoying time with boys who don’t even see you? You think that’s the kind of attention you deserve?”

The comment cut deep, and you could feel your frustration bubble over, mingling with a hurt you tried to mask. “At least he doesn’t spend his days acting like he owns everyone around him.” you shot back, voice shaking with the effort to keep it steady. “You think you can just say whatever you want and get away with it? Newsflash, Mattheo—you don’t own me, and you sure as hell don’t get to decide who’s worth my time.”

His smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing with something unreadable, and for a brief moment, you thought he might back down. But he’d held his ground, his gaze flickering with a hint of something darker.

“Fine.” he muttered, crossing his arms as he leaned against the couch, his voice quieter but no less intense. “Go ahead. Waste your time with boys who don’t care enough to look deeper. But don’t come crying to me when you realize what you’re missing.”

The argument had ended there, with one of your friends stepping in to mediate, and you’d walked away, fuming and hurt, questioning why his opinion mattered to you at all. But the resentment had lingered, sinking into the very fabric of your interactions with Mattheo. Every conversation, every glance, and every comment held an edge, a simmering tension that had only grown since that argument. It felt as though an invisible wall had been built between the two of you, brick by bitter brick, and neither of you was willing to dismantle it. Each time you found yourself in the same room, you could feel the air grow thick, every word exchanged like a match threatening to ignite the powder keg of emotions that seemed to follow you both.

You were tired of it—tired of the constant back-and-forth, the pointed comments, and the way he always found a way to inject himself into your life. You couldn't understand why he cared so much, why he seemed so invested in your choices, especially when his words were rarely anything but critical. More than anything, you were tired of his scrutiny, the way he seemed to hover, watching and waiting, like he was constantly assessing your every move, every interaction. It was maddening.

In moments of quiet, when you could think clearly, you almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. You’d never asked for his opinions or his presence in your life, and yet he was always there, inserting himself uninvited, and treating each of your decisions with a disdain that felt far too personal. Whatever his reasons, you didn’t care anymore. You were done with him.

And yet, for the sake of your friends—the people who were as much a part of your life as the air you breathed—you tolerated his presence. You gritted your teeth through his criticisms, bit back your responses to his sarcastic remarks, and did your best to act as though he was nothing more than a nuisance in the background. It was exhausting, forcing yourself to stay civil when all you wanted was to tell him exactly where he could shove his opinions. You could barely stand being around him, yet every shared friend outing, every party, and every late-night study session in the common room meant enduring his presence.

There were times when your friends would exchange wary glances, sensing the tension between you and Mattheo, and you could tell they were hesitant to take sides. They’d become skilled at diverting conversations before they could escalate, quick to step in whenever your arguments grew too heated. Even Draco, who usually enjoyed a good spectacle, seemed to tread carefully whenever you and Mattheo began to clash. But despite your friends’ best efforts, the strain was there, undeniable and ever-present, a weight that neither you nor Mattheo seemed willing to ease.

Every time you saw him, the resentment flared anew. You’d see that familiar smirk, that cocky glint in his eye, and it would all come rushing back—the anger, the frustration, the complete exasperation of dealing with someone who seemed determined to get under your skin. You found yourself questioning whether he even cared about anyone other than himself, if he found amusement in your reactions, in the little fires he set just to watch them burn.

And yet, there was a small, infuriating part of you that wondered if his interference wasn’t just born of spite. You pushed the thought aside each time it arose, telling yourself you were done wasting energy on him. But even as you tried to ignore him, as you tried to dismiss the meaning behind his constant criticism, he was always there, pushing boundaries you didn’t even know existed.

That night by the lake, though, had finally pushed things too far.

~~~

The chill of winter had fully settled over Hogwarts, frosting the castle grounds with a glistening layer of snow and ice. It was nearly Christmas, and excitement for the holidays was palpable, building up to the night’s event: an all-house winter party, held just before everyone would leave for the break.

The professors and students had transformed the gardens into a dazzling winter wonderland. Evergreen garlands and enchanted holly bushes lined the pathways, their leaves glistening with a delicate layer of snow, while enchanted fairy lights sparkled from tree branches like clusters of stars, casting a soft, magical glow over the gathering. Giant wreaths with shimmering silver and gold accents hung at intervals, each adorned with deep red ribbons that fluttered in the crisp evening breeze.

To ward off the cold, tall iron torches were scattered throughout the gardens, their warm flames flickering and casting inviting glows across the snow-covered ground. The flames danced in shades of orange and gold, wrapping the chilly air in a cosy warmth that lured people to linger and chat.

Tables were set up with steaming drinks, both alcoholic and non, ready to warm the hands and spirits of the guests. There were enchanted goblets filled with mulled mead, spiced cider, and warm butterbeer, each drink casting a sweet aroma into the air. For those wanting to stay sober, there were mugs of hot cocoa with floating marshmallows that danced like tiny clouds, as well as steaming herbal teas enchanted to change colours with each sip.

You’d dressed carefully for the night. Under the glow of the torches, your outfit was striking against the wintery landscape. A fitted black dress hugged your figure, reaching down just above your ankles with a modest side slit. The high neckline and long sleeves gave it a touch of elegance while offering some warmth against the cold. Over it, you’d layered a thick, cropped black jacket, plush and luxurious, the hood large enough to shield your face from the breeze. The jacket’s soft, rich texture contrasted with the smooth fabric of your dress, creating a look that was both stylish and cosy.

On your feet were short black winter boots—simple, soft, and insulated to keep out the biting cold of the snowy ground. They grounded your look with a casual touch, perfect for wandering through the winter gardens while still keeping your toes warm.

You sipped on a cup of warm mulled mead, the sweet, spiced flavour settling pleasantly in your stomach, allowing you a moment to simply enjoy the festive air around you. Snowflakes drifted gently from the sky, and laughter and chatter filled the air as students huddled in groups, swapping stories and celebrating the season.

It should have been the perfect night.The fire crackled warmly in the nearest torch as you stood with Draco, Blaise, Pansy, Theo, and Daphne, exchanging stories and laughing as you all nursed your warm drinks. The group was relaxed, leaning into the cheer of the season as the chill of winter nipped at your faces, kept at bay by the heat of the torches and the laughter that filled the air.

Draco had just finished recounting an exaggerated tale of a recent Quidditch practice, his voice taking on a dramatic edge that drew a laugh from Pansy, who shook her head and rolled her eyes. Blaise chuckled, tipping his glass to Draco in mock admiration. “I’m not sure that story would hold up in court, Malfoy.” he teased, grinning.

“Of course it would.” Draco scoffed, feigning indignation. “If anyone else had been there, they’d tell it the same way.” His gaze swept around the circle, daring someone to challenge him.

Daphne smirked, giving Draco a knowing look. “I was there, remember? You barely dodged the Bludger.” she quipped. “And I believe you squealed.”

The group erupted in laughter, and even you couldn’t help but chuckle, taking a sip of your mead as the warmth from the drink spread through you. It was moments like this that made you forget about everything else—the tension, the drama, and even certain people.

Yet, despite the relaxed atmosphere, there was one member of your group who didn’t join in on the laughter. Mattheo was standing off to the side, nursing his drink in silence, though his gaze occasionally flicked toward the conversation, intently listening to every word exchanged. His expression was unreadable, his jaw set as he raised his glass to his lips, eyes lingering on you each time you laughed or smiled.

You tried to ignore the slight discomfort his gaze brought, though it was difficult to fully enjoy yourself under his intense scrutiny. Every time you made a joke or responded to one of your friends, you could feel his eyes on you, watching, observing. It was as though he was silently taking note of every word you said, every interaction you had with the others.

Pansy nudged you with her elbow, a smirk on her lips. “You must be cold, Y/N. You’ve been huddled by the torch all night.” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “Or maybe you’re just trying to hog all the warmth?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Can you blame me?” you replied, pulling your jacket tighter around you. “I’m just trying not to freeze.”

Theo chuckled, reaching over to ruffle your hair. “It’s a good look on you—frozen chic.” he joked, earning a playful swat from you as the group laughed again.

Mattheo’s eyes narrowed slightly at the playful touch, his fingers tightening on his glass. Though he remained silent, the tension radiated from him like a second winter chill, barely hidden under his relaxed posture. The others didn’t seem to notice, caught up in the conversation, but you felt it keenly, an invisible string pulling tighter with each passing second.

Despite his silence, you knew Mattheo’s attention was focused entirely on you, every bit as intense as if he were speaking aloud. It was as though he was waiting for something, watching you with that familiar, infuriating mix of disapproval and something else you couldn’t quite place. You tried to brush it off, to stay in the warmth and cheer of the conversation, but his presence lingered in your mind, a shadow that refused to be ignored.

As the laughter in your group faded, a new voice cut through the conversation. You turned to see a boy from Ravenclaw—Ethan, a friend of yours from Charms—grinning as he approached, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. He was tall and easygoing, with a quiet confidence that made him likeable, the kind of person who could effortlessly strike up a conversation. You’d been chatting with him on and off over the past month, enjoying the calm normalcy he brought compared to the relentless drama that seemed to follow your Slytherin circle.

“Mind if I steal Y/N for a bit?” Ethan asked, directing his question at the group but his gaze settled on you with a friendly warmth. The others exchanged glances, but no one objected, and you flashed your friends a quick smile before allowing Ethan to gently pull you away from them.

As the two of you wandered toward the lake, the cold seemed sharper away from the warmth of the torches. Snow crunched beneath your boots as you followed the winding path, laughing at something Ethan said as he kept the conversation light and easy, a welcome distraction from the evening’s underlying tensions.

Behind you, however, things were far from calm.

Mattheo watched you go, his gaze darkening with each step you took alongside Ethan. He took a long, slow drink from his glass, his jaw tight, every nerve in his body tense. As you moved farther away, something in him snapped. His hand clenched around his glass, his usual quiet intensity boiling over into something dangerously close to rage.

“Mate, calm down.” Draco murmured, noticing the shift in Mattheo’s demeanour. He reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, but Mattheo shrugged him off, his expression twisting into something fierce and unrestrained.

“Did you see that?” Mattheo’s voice was rough, almost a growl. “She just… left with him.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow, exchanging a wary glance with Pansy, who looked equally concerned. “She’s just talking to him, Riddle. It’s not the end of the world.”

But Mattheo’s eyes were fixed on you and Ethan, his face contorted with an emotion that seemed to go beyond anger. It was possessive, a raw jealousy that pulsed through him with every breath. He could feel the alcohol heightening every sensation, every twisted thought, and in his drunken state, he found himself unable to control the wave of emotion that crashed over him.

Pansy stepped in, her voice calm but firm. “Mattheo, you’re overreacting. She’s allowed to have friends, you know.”

But her words only seemed to make him angrier. He glared at her, his fists clenched. “Friends? He’s been sniffing around her for weeks. And now he’s taking her out to the lake?” His voice was thick with bitterness, his eyes narrowing as he watched you disappear further into the distance with Ethan.

Theo placed a hand on Mattheo’s arm, trying to pull him back. “Look, you’re drunk, and you’re not thinking clearly. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

Mattheo’s eyes flicked to Theo, his voice filled with venom. “Regret? The only thing I’ll regret is standing here while he gets to play the gentleman.”

Despite their best efforts, Draco, Pansy, Blaise, and Theo found themselves helpless to stop him. With a final, determined glance at the group, Mattheo shook them off and stormed toward the lake, his pace quick and purposeful, his eyes blazing with fury.

They exchanged uneasy glances, understanding that nothing good could come from this. Daphne sighed, folding her arms as she watched him go. “This is going to end badly.” she muttered, worry etched across her face.

Draco ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “Well, let’s just hope he doesn’t do anything too stupid.”

But even as they watched him disappear into the darkness, they all had the sinking feeling that Mattheo’s jealousy had finally crossed a line—and that whatever happened next would be impossible to undo.

Mattheo reached the edge of the lake, hidden just out of sight among the trees. His breath was shallow, each exhale mingling with the cold night air in faint clouds of mist, but he barely noticed. His eyes were fixed on you and the Ravenclaw boy, his vision tunnelling in as he took in the scene.

You were standing close to the Ravenclaw, your breath fogging the air as you laughed softly at something he’d said. The sound of your laughter, so genuine and relaxed, hit Mattheo like a slap in the face. He felt the jealousy simmering in his chest twist and morph into something darker, more raw. He was close enough to catch snippets of your conversation, each word feeling like a fresh wound.

Ethan leaned in, his voice low and playful. “I can’t wait to see you after Christmas. Maybe I’ll even get to see the whole package this time.” His tone was teasing, the kind of flirtation that felt comfortable and familiar, yet full of suggestion.

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile played at the corners of your lips. “Oh, is that right?” you replied, your voice equally teasing.

Ethan’s hand reached out, gently taking yours, and Mattheo’s fists clenched, his nails biting into his palms. He watched, barely breathing, as Ethan lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, lingering just long enough to leave no doubt about his intentions.

And that was it.

The last threads of control snapped within Mattheo. His vision went red, his mind clouded by a rage so fierce he couldn’t see past it. Every fibre of his being screamed that this was wrong, that no one else had the right to touch you, to make you laugh like that. To him, this wasn’t just jealousy; it was betrayal, a bitter confirmation of his worst fears. Without a second thought, he stormed forward, his footsteps heavy, crunching over the snow-laden ground as he closed the distance between himself and the two of you.

Your laughter died as soon as you heard him approaching. You turned, eyes widening in surprise, and saw Mattheo stalking toward you, his face twisted in fury, every line of his body tense and seething. Ethan quickly dropped your hand, glancing between you and Mattheo with a mixture of confusion and mild apprehension.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Mattheo’s voice was a low, dangerous growl, his eyes fixed on Ethan like he was a mere insect to be crushed.

Ethan straightened, clearly taken aback but trying to hold his ground. “We’re just talking, Riddle?” he said evenly, though his voice held a slight edge.

Mattheo took another step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. “Talking?” He laughed, though it was a dark, humourless sound. “Looked a lot more than just talking to me.”

You stepped between them, your expression both confused and frustrated. “Mattheo, what’s your problem? We’re just having a conversation.”

His gaze shifted to you, and the intensity of it was enough to make you take a small step back. “A conversation? He’s been hanging around you for weeks, trying to get close, and now he’s…” Mattheo’s voice trailed off, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t think so.”

Ethan huffed, glancing at you, as if silently asking if Mattheo was serious. “Mate, you don’t own her.” he said, his tone turning defiant. “Y/N can make her own choices.”

At that, Mattheo’s control snapped entirely. He reached out, grabbing Ethan by the front of his coat, his knuckles white with tension. “You think you can just put your hands on her like that?” he snarled, his voice shaking with barely-contained fury.

“Mattheo, stop it!” you shouted, your voice sharp with both anger and fear. You reached out, grabbing his arm to try to pull him back, but he barely seemed to register your touch.

Ethan managed to push Mattheo off, stumbling back a few steps, his expression turning to one of frustration. “This is insane. Y/N, I’ll see you later.” He shot Mattheo a disgusted look before turning on his heel and walking away, disappearing into the darkness.

As soon as Ethan disappeared into the shadows, Mattheo whipped around to face you, his chest heaving with the barely controlled fury that flickered in his eyes. The intensity of his gaze was like a storm brewing, wild and unrestrained, and you felt your own anger rise to meet it, every nerve in your body taut with indignation.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you demanded, your voice cracking with a mixture of disbelief and rage. Your fists clenched at your sides, barely able to contain the fury building inside. “You had no right to do that!”

Mattheo scoffed, a bitter, scornful sound as he crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing into a glare that cut through the cold night air. “No right?” he echoed, his voice laced with venom. “He was practically drooling over you, Y/N. And you were just standing there, letting him.”

Your anger flared white-hot, each word he threw at you only stoking the fire within. “So what if I was?” you shot back, your voice sharp as glass. “I can talk to whoever I want, Mattheo. You don’t get to decide that for me!”

He stepped closer, his face only inches from yours, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. “You really think he cares about you?” His tone was laced with a cruel edge, his words hitting like daggers. “He’s just another fool trying to get close because he thinks you’re easy.”

The insult was like a slap across the face, and you felt a surge of hurt and fury twist inside you, your vision blurring with the intensity of it. “How dare you?” you spat, your voice trembling with rage as you began moving towards him, attempting to remove yourself from the situation. “You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

But Mattheo barely registered your intentions, his drunken anger blinding him to your actions. Instead, he pushed you hard, his hand colliding with your shoulder with more force than he realised. The ground beneath you was slick with ice, and your footing slipped, your balance vanishing as you stumbled backward.

It happened in an instant—a heartbeat, a single, breathless moment where the world seemed to tilt. You felt yourself falling, your heart lurching in your chest as the lake loomed closer, and then, in a flash, the freezing water swallowed you whole.

The shock of the cold was like knives piercing every inch of your skin, stealing the air from your lungs in a harsh, unforgiving grip. The icy darkness closed in around you, pressing in from all sides as you sank below the surface, your body seizing in panic as the freezing water pulled you deeper. Every inch of you was numb, the biting cold sinking into your bones as your mind reeled, frantic and disoriented.

But you weren’t about to stay in the lake a second longer than necessary. Desperately, you forced yourself to kick, pushing toward the surface, your arms clawing against the freezing water as you fought to break free. The cold clung to you, slowing your movements and making each breath feel laboured, but sheer willpower drove you upward. Your head broke through the surface, and you gasped for air, the icy sting of the wind hitting you like another wave of shock.

With trembling limbs, you pushed yourself toward the shore, your movements clumsy and desperate. Your fingers reached for the slippery rocks along the edge, but the icy coating made it impossible to get a firm hold. You slipped, the slickness of the rocks pulling you back toward the water’s edge. Panic surged through you again, but you gritted your teeth, fighting against the cold and the fear as you scrambled forward, slipping and stumbling with every movement.

Through your water-blurred vision, you caught sight of Mattheo standing on the shore, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression. He didn’t look panicked; in fact, he seemed disturbingly calm, his face set with a strange intensity as he observed your struggle. His posture was rigid, unmoving, as if he was rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed on you, every step you took seeming to hold his full attention.

You hauled yourself forward, every inch of your body aching with the effort, until you finally reached the bank. The moment your hands touched solid ground, you pushed yourself up, crawling onto the frosty grass, your breaths coming in ragged, desperate gasps. Your fingers and toes felt numb, your soaked clothes clinging to you, cold and heavy. You didn’t even have the strength to stand yet; instead, you knelt there, shivering violently as the cold seeped deeper into you.

Still, Mattheo didn’t move. He just watched you, his gaze unwavering, his face shadowed and hard, as if this was some sort of lesson he was waiting for you to learn.

Anger flared within you, cutting through the numbing cold, and you forced yourself up, stumbling as you took a shaky step toward him. “What… is wrong with you?” you choked out, your voice thick with rage and exhaustion. You could barely form the words through your shivering, but the fire in your eyes was clear. “Are you… insane?”

He tilted his head, his gaze steady, unbothered. “You’re the one who keeps making reckless choices.” he replied coolly, his voice calm, unfeeling, as if he wasn’t the reason you’d just plunged into the freezing lake.

The sheer indifference in his tone sent a fresh wave of anger crashing over you, and you staggered forward, your teeth chattering as you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “You pushed me in.” you hissed, your words trembling as much as your body. “And you just stood there… watching.”

He shrugged, his eyes flashing with something unreadable. “You got out, didn’t you?”

The casualness of his response stunned you into silence. He seemed unaffected, almost as if the entire situation was nothing more than an inconvenience. But as he looked at you, his expression softened—just barely, a flicker of something that vanished as quickly as it appeared.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the weight of his gaze, anger and hurt warring within you. It was like you were seeing him for the first time, the dark, cold part of him that lurked beneath his usual intensity. The silence stretched between you, brittle and bitter, before he finally took a step closer, his voice dropping low.

“You were with him.” he muttered, as if that was supposed to explain everything.

Your eyes narrowed, a mixture of disbelief and fury in your voice. “So that justifies this?” you spat, gesturing to your soaked, shivering form. “You’re a coward, Mattheo. You don’t get to act like you care and then do… this.”

He clenched his jaw, but for the first time, his steady gaze wavered, a flicker of something almost like regret crossing his face. He didn’t respond, simply standing there as you took a shaky breath, your body trembling from the cold and anger alike.

Without another word, you turned on your heel, forcing yourself to walk away from him, each step an agonising struggle as the cold cut through your soaked clothes, leaving you shivering violently. Every muscle in your body ached from the freezing lake, and you could barely catch your breath, but you refused to let him see you stumble. Your anger was the only thing keeping you upright, fueling your determination to put as much distance as possible between you and the boy who had caused this.

As you pushed yourself forward, Mattheo stood frozen, watching your retreating figure with a dawning sense of regret and confusion. The gravity of what he’d done settled over him like a weight, each step you took away from him sinking the realisation deeper into his chest. He’d let his anger, his jealousy, get the better of him, and now he was left in the wake of his own reckless actions, unsure how to fix the mess he’d made.

But as he saw you growing smaller, disappearing into the shadows toward the castle, something snapped inside him. Panic flared in his chest, and without thinking, he rushed after you, his heart pounding as he stumbled forward, his voice hoarse and desperate. “Y/N, wait! I’m sorry!” he called, his words cutting through the quiet of the night.

You ignored him, your jaw clenched as you quickened your pace, not sparing him a single glance. All you could think about was getting inside, getting warm, and getting as far away from him as possible. You could hear his footsteps pounding behind you, his voice echoing as he continued to call out.

“Y/N, please—stop! I didn’t mean to—” His voice cracked, filled with an edge of desperation, but you didn’t care. You felt nothing but fury, the cold seeping into your bones and mingling with the anger boiling in your veins.

As you neared the garden, you could see the party still in full swing, warm lights and laughter filling the air. The students around the torches were unaware of the storm that had erupted by the lake, oblivious to the anger and hurt that now trailed behind you like a shadow.

You pushed through the edge of the gathering, your soaked clothes clinging to you, your hair dripping, your teeth chattering as the freezing cold seeped into every part of you. Conversation ceased abruptly as heads turned in your direction. Draco, Pansy, Theo, Blaise, and Daphne all looked up, their expressions shifting from casual interest to wide-eyed shock as they took in the state you were in. Their gazes flickered from you to Mattheo, who was only a few steps behind, his face stricken with a mixture of panic and regret.

“Y/N!” Pansy’s voice was the first to break the silence, her tone laced with concern as she took a hesitant step forward, but you didn’t stop. You pushed past them all, barely registering their looks of confusion and worry. Your only thought was to get to the Slytherin dormitory, to get somewhere warm where you could be alone, away from the prying eyes and judgmental stares.

“Y/N, please!” Mattheo’s voice grew more frantic as he called after you, his footsteps quickening as he tried to keep up. “Just… just let me explain! I didn’t mean for this to happen!”

You whirled around for a brief moment, your voice laced with fury as you yelled back, “Get lost, Mattheo!” The words echoed in the garden, slicing through the stunned silence that had settled over the party. Your friends watched, unable to mask their surprise as you turned back toward the castle, ignoring the looks, ignoring the whispers, and ignoring him.

You stormed into the castle, the warmth of the hallways doing little to soothe the bone-deep chill that had settled over you. Behind you, Mattheo’s calls continued, his voice carrying through the corridors as he followed, each step echoing with the sound of his regret.

“Y/N!” he yelled, desperation thickening his voice as he followed you up the stairs. “Please… I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry!”

But you didn’t look back. You kept your head down, refusing to let him see the hurt mingling with your anger, the betrayal stinging far deeper than the icy water that still clung to your skin. You didn’t stop, didn’t let yourself falter, even as his voice grew louder, pleading, a raw edge of panic breaking through his usual confidence.

Finally, you reached the entrance to the Slytherin dormitory, muttering the password through chattering teeth. The door swung open, and without a second glance, you slipped inside, letting it close firmly behind you, shutting out Mattheo’s voice and the cold night air.

The second you stepped into the Slytherin dorm, you felt the weight of the night crashing down on you, the cold from the lake sinking deeper into your bones with each passing second. Your clothes clung to you, soaked and heavy, and a shiver ran through you, violent and unrelenting, as you forced yourself to move. Your mind was a haze of anger, hurt, and disbelief, but the only thing that mattered now was escaping the chill that had rooted itself in every corner of your being.

You stumbled into your room, tearing off your wet clothes as quickly as your frozen fingers would allow. Each movement was stiff and jerky, and the soaked fabric clung to your skin, making you feel even more trapped in the freezing memory of the lake. Once your clothes lay discarded on the floor in a dark, damp heap, you wrapped yourself in your thickest towel, fighting to regain even the smallest bit of warmth.

You made your way to the shower, barely able to feel the handle as you twisted it, letting the water pour down in steaming torrents. You stepped in, and for a moment, the heat was too much, biting at your skin, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. The warmth seeped over you slowly, each drop thawing the numbness that had settled in your muscles, but it wasn’t enough. No matter how high you turned up the water, no matter how long you let it pour over you, the bone-deep chill remained, lingering stubbornly as if it had become a part of you.

You stood there, shivering beneath the stream, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on your shoulders, but the anger and hurt refused to dissipate. Your mind kept replaying the scene by the lake—Mattheo’s cold, scornful expression, his sharp, unforgiving words, the sensation of his hand pushing you with that brief, reckless force. It all circled in your thoughts, twisting into a knot of emotions you couldn’t untangle.

Eventually, you turned off the water, stepping out of the shower and wrapping yourself in the thickest, warmest clothes you could find—a soft sweater that felt like a hug against your still-chilled skin, thick socks, and an oversized pair of sweats. You wrapped yourself in a blanket, but even then, the cold persisted, gnawing at you from the inside.

Your room was too quiet, too empty, the walls feeling like they were closing in around you. Despite the layers you’d piled on, you couldn’t shake the chill or the anger simmering just beneath the surface. The heat from the shower hadn’t worked, and you needed warmth, real warmth, something solid and grounding to erase the traces of tonight.

Reluctantly, you made your way to the common room, hoping the fire there might finally drive away the cold. As you descended the stairs, the crackling warmth from the hearth grew stronger, and for a brief moment, you felt the tiniest bit of relief.

But as soon as you entered, you saw him.

Mattheo was there, pacing in front of the fire, his face drawn, his shoulders hunched with tension. The sight of him, standing there as though he were waiting for you, sent a fresh wave of anger through you, burning hotter than the fire in the grate. He noticed you immediately, his eyes snapping to yours, an expression of regret flashing across his face.

“Y/N.” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

You held up a hand, cutting him off before he could finish. You couldn’t bear to hear his apologies, his weak attempts to justify what he’d done. Without a word, you turned away from him, heading straight to the fire, sinking down onto the floor in front of it. You wrapped your arms around yourself, staring into the flames, letting their warmth seep into you as you tried to block out his presence.

But Mattheo didn’t leave. He hovered nearby, his footsteps slowing as he stopped his pacing, watching you with a look of guilt and desperation. “Please… just listen to me.” he murmured, his voice cracking slightly. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

You ignored him, keeping your gaze firmly on the flames, focusing on the warmth radiating from them, feeling it ease some of the chill from your skin. But it didn’t touch the cold that had settled in your chest, the bitter feeling of betrayal that refused to fade. The fire was warm, but it wasn’t enough to erase the memory of the lake, the shock of the icy water, the memory of what he’d done.

“Y/N…” Mattheo’s voice broke through your thoughts, soft and filled with a raw, unguarded pain that you’d rarely heard from him. He took a hesitant step forward, as if drawn by something he couldn’t control. “I know I messed up. I know I went too far. But… please. I’m sorry.”

Still, you didn’t respond. The anger simmered in your veins, a fierce, unrelenting heat that fueled you, keeping your silence intact as he stood there, fumbling for words that could never make up for what he’d done.

He moved closer, stopping just a few steps away, the firelight casting shadows across his face. “Please, just say something.” he whispered, his voice raw. “I can’t stand this silence.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the warmth from the fire start to thaw your fingers, though your heart remained cold, guarded against his words. Part of you wanted to lash out, to tell him exactly what you thought, to give voice to the storm of hurt and anger inside you. But another part, the part that was exhausted and worn down by the events of the night, didn’t have the strength for another fight.

You shook your head, focusing on the crackling flames, willing him to leave you alone. But he stayed, watching you, his hands clenched at his sides as if he was holding himself back from reaching out to you.

“Y/N… please.” he murmured, his voice breaking. “I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry.”

Without thinking, you finally looked up, meeting his gaze with a cold, unwavering stare. “Sorry isn’t enough, Mattheo.” you said, your voice low and steady. “You crossed a line.”

He flinched, the words hitting him like a physical blow. He took a shaky breath, his eyes filled with a desperate sadness as he struggled to find a response. But there was nothing he could say to fix this, no apology that could erase what he’d done.

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating, swallowing any attempt at words. For the first time, you saw Mattheo’s usual mask of arrogance and control slip, his expression turning raw and exposed, like he was standing on the edge of something he couldn’t come back from. His eyes held a helplessness that made your heart ache, even through the anger and hurt that weighed you down. He seemed utterly lost, each second of your silence stripping away his defences, leaving him with nothing but the heavy weight of his own regret.

After a long, shaky breath, Mattheo glanced around the common room, his gaze landing on a thick blanket draped across one of the couches. He took a moment, seemingly gathering his courage, before reaching for it. Moving slowly, as if afraid of breaking the fragile quiet, he wrapped the blanket over his arm, then walked around to sit behind you. You felt his presence press close, your breath catching as he settled in, his legs framing yours.

Before you could react, he gently placed the blanket over your shoulders and pulled it around both of you, wrapping you in its warmth. He shifted, his body pressed against yours, solid and grounding, and as he leaned forward, you could feel his arms around you, hesitant but steady, his hands holding the edges of the blanket close.

The warmth from his body seeped through the fabric, a stark contrast to the lingering chill in your bones. You wanted to push him away, to reject this unexpected closeness, but something stopped you. Perhaps it was the way his arms encircled you so carefully, or the softness of his breath against your neck, barely audible but full of tension and regret. Whatever it was, a small voice inside you whispered not to move, to let the silence and his presence speak for him in a way that his words couldn’t.

He held you there, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath, the warmth radiating from him slowly melting away the last remnants of the lake’s cold grip on you. His body was tense, as if he was bracing himself for rejection, yet he stayed, unmoving, simply allowing you to rest against him.

The anger simmering inside you softened slightly, the edges dulled by the unexpected comfort of his embrace. You felt his fingers twitch, tightening ever so slightly on the blanket as he shifted, drawing you closer. His arms around you felt secure, steady, as if he was trying to hold together what he’d nearly shattered.

He spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with a rawness you’d never heard from him before. “You’re freezing.” he murmured, and you could feel the tremor in his tone, the guilt that seeped into every word. “I didn’t… I didn’t realise…”

The words hung in the air, unfinished, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say aloud what he already knew—that he’d pushed too far, that he’d let his emotions cloud his judgement in a way that had hurt you. His hand shifted, pressing gently against your arm as he felt the lingering cold beneath your layers, a physical reminder of his mistake.

You felt a surge of conflicting emotions—a part of you wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the hurt he’d caused, but his touch, so careful and remorseful, made it harder to keep your walls up. You stayed still, your heart beating a little faster as you leaned back, just slightly, allowing yourself to rest against him, his warmth a balm against the remaining chill.

After a moment, he spoke again, his voice rough, like he was struggling to find the right words. “I’m sorry.” he whispered, his breath warm against your neck. “For everything… for letting things get so out of hand. I was angry, but that doesn’t make it right.”

His arms tightened around you, and he rested his chin gently against your shoulder, his closeness grounding you in a way that was both comforting and unsettling. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I don’t know how to explain it.” There was a vulnerability in his tone that you’d never heard before, a crack in his usual confidence that left him exposed.

You swallowed, feeling the last of your anger wane as you listened to him, sensing the weight of his remorse. His head rested against yours, and you could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, as if he was willing you to feel the sincerity in his words through his touch alone.

For a moment, the common room was silent, the only sounds being the crackling of the fire and the soft, even rhythm of his breathing. You sat there, wrapped in the blanket, cocooned in his warmth, and felt the chill finally start to fade, replaced by an unexpected sense of peace.

“Why?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, a question weighted with all the confusion, hurt, and disbelief that had built up over the night. You felt his arms tighten around you, his grip growing more secure, as if he could keep you there simply by holding on a little closer.

Mattheo took a deep, shuddering breath, his chest rising and falling slowly behind you. His hesitation was palpable, and for a moment, you thought he might not answer. But then he spoke, his voice low and strained, as if he was forcing himself to admit something he’d kept buried for far too long.

“I can’t bear seeing someone else touch you.” he murmured, the words barely a whisper. “It drives me insane. I want to be the only one to… to be close to you.” He paused, and his hand gently pressed against your arm, as if to make his point clearer. “The thought of someone else being the one you look at, the one you laugh with... I just can’t stand it.”

A quiet sigh escaped him, the sound soft but laced with regret. His fingers brushed over your shoulder, his touch lingering with an intensity that held all the things he struggled to say. “I know I went about it all wrong. I know I hurt you.” His voice dropped, quiet but steady. “But I don’t know how to… how to want you and not ruin it.”

You took a shaky breath, his words sinking in, a strange mixture of relief and frustration settling over you. “If that’s what you wanted…” you said softly, your voice carrying a hint of sadness, “then you went about it in the worst way possible, Mattheo.”

He nodded, his head dipping against yours, the warmth of his breath brushing against your cheek. “I know.” he whispered, his tone filled with a raw honesty that made your heart ache. “I know I messed up, and I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just… I don’t want to lose you.”

Your chest tightened, the remnants of your anger softening as you sensed the vulnerability in his words, the way his grip on you seemed to hold a quiet desperation. For all his flaws, for all the anger and tension that had passed between you, there was a part of him that wanted to make things right, even if he didn’t fully know how.

Slowly, you shifted, resting your head gently on his shoulder, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a comforting weight. You turned slightly, just enough to catch his gaze, your eyes meeting his in the flickering glow of the firelight. His expression was guarded, but his eyes held a depth of feeling, a storm of emotions he could no longer hide.

He stared at you, his gaze intense and searching, as though he was trying to understand what you were thinking, what you were feeling. His eyes drifted down, and he bit his lip softly, his brow furrowing in that familiar way that revealed his uncertainty. His fingers tightened their hold, pressing into your arm gently but firmly, as if anchoring himself in the moment.

The tension in the air was thick, and your heartbeat got a little faster, each beat echoing in the silence that had settled between you. You watched as his eyes flickered to your lips, the faintest glimmer of hesitation crossing his face before he met your gaze again, something unspoken lingering in his expression.

He swallowed, his voice rough when he finally spoke. “I don’t deserve this chance… but I want it.” His hand gently traced the curve of your arm, his touch both hesitant and possessive, as if he feared losing you yet couldn’t resist the urge to hold you closer. “I want… us.” he whispered, barely above a breath, his eyes never leaving yours.

You felt the vulnerability in his words, the fragile hope beneath the weight of his regret. The warmth of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, made it hard to hold onto your anger, to resist the quiet yearning in his expression. With a soft sigh, you leaned into him, letting your forehead rest against his, feeling his breath mix with yours in the small, shared space.

“Then show me.” you murmured, your voice gentle but firm. “If you want this, show me that you can do better. Show me that you can be the one… without hurting me.”

A spark of determination flickered in his eyes as he held you close. “I will,” he promised, his voice raw and unsteady, carrying a weight that seemed to settle in the space between you. His hand lifted slowly, his fingers brushing softly against your cheek as he cupped your face, his touch warm and grounding. He held you there, close and steady, his gaze locked onto yours with a quiet, unyielding intensity that left no doubt—he meant every word.

Ever so slowly, he leaned in. His eyes never left yours, as if giving you a moment to pull away, to say something, to stop him if you wanted to. But your breath caught, and despite every instinct in your mind screaming for you to pull back, you stayed. You could feel his warmth, the softness of his hand cradling your cheek, the gentle brush of his lips as they closed the distance, capturing yours in a kiss that was tender, hesitant—almost as if he were afraid of breaking something fragile.

Your heart pounded, a rush of emotions flooding through you, a confusing tangle of anger, longing, and vulnerability that left you unsure. Part of you wanted to pull away, to hold onto the walls you’d built to keep him out, but another part, buried deep, wanted to melt into the kiss, to allow yourself to feel something other than the hurt he had caused.

His lips moved softly against yours, patient and unhurried, and the gentleness of it surprised you, easing some of the tension in your body. You felt his hand tighten ever so slightly on your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that made your heart ache. There was a vulnerability in his kiss, an unspoken apology in the way he held you, and you felt yourself caught between wanting to give in and wanting to guard yourself from any more hurt.

The conflicting emotions churned within you, and your mind remained torn. Every rational thought warned you to pull back, to protect yourself from him and the mess he’d made. But as his lips lingered on yours, soft and sincere, you found it harder to resist the pull, to ignore the gentle urgency in his touch that seemed to plead for forgiveness, for something new.

For a heartbeat, you allowed yourself to lean into him, letting his warmth melt away some of the bitterness and hurt that had settled between you. His other hand moved to rest on your stomach,his touch grounding you, his kiss growing deeper but never forceful, as though he was waiting for you to decide, to choose whether to close the distance or pull away.

Slowly, hesitantly, you shifted, adjusting your body to angle more toward him, opening yourself just slightly, allowing yourself to lean into his touch. The tension in your chest eased bit by bit as you deepened the kiss, surprising him. You felt a subtle, almost inaudible gasp from him, a momentary pause, as if he hadn’t expected you to respond with such openness.

But he didn’t resist; instead, he welcomed you, his hand tightening slightly on your stomach, pulling you closer. His lips softened, responding to the shift in your movements with an eagerness that was barely restrained, as though he, too, was savouring each second, afraid it might slip away.

His fingers brushed gently towards your jaw, trailing down to your neck as he leaned in closer, his breath mingling with yours in the warm, shared space. The world around you faded, leaving only the steady beat of his heart against you, the warmth of his hands, and the gentle, growing intensity of the kiss.

You could feel the weight of his feelings in every touch, each small movement laced with something raw, something real that left you both vulnerable and secure. The hurt and anger that had kept you guarded all night seemed to dissolve with every lingering moment, replaced by a fragile trust, a quiet hope that maybe this was something worth holding onto.

As the kiss deepened, his thumb brushed against your skin in soothing circles, his touch tender and sure, in a way that made your heart race and calm at once. You allowed yourself, for the first time, to let go of the hurt, to let yourself trust the sincerity in his touch. And as you pulled him closer, you felt the edges of something new taking shape between you—an unspoken promise, a chance for something real.

The warmth from the fire, combined with Mattheo’s steady embrace, chased away the last lingering traces of the cold that had seeped into your bones. The biting chill of the lake was a distant memory now, completely overshadowed by the comforting heat radiating from him. Slowly, you felt your muscles relax, the weight of exhaustion finally catching up to you as you leaned against him, your head nestled against his chest. His heartbeat was a gentle rhythm, soothing in its constancy, and as your eyes fluttered shut, you surrendered to the quiet peace that had settled between you.

Mattheo stayed perfectly still, his arms steady around you as if afraid to disturb the fragile calm you’d found together. His hand moved lightly, his fingers tracing a soft, calming pattern on your arm as he watched you begin to drift, your breathing slowing with each passing second. He didn’t say a word, his gaze softening as he took in the peaceful expression on your face, a stark contrast to the tension and anger that had filled the air just an hour ago.

As he felt you lean more heavily against him, he realised you’d fallen asleep, your breath warm against his chest, each exhale slow and steady. For a moment, he simply held you there, savouring the quiet intimacy of the moment, a sense of protectiveness rising within him that he hadn’t fully acknowledged before. The thought of you being hurt, of you feeling even a fraction of the pain he’d caused, stirred something deep within him, something he wanted to make up for, to mend.

With a gentle touch, he shifted, adjusting his position so he could cradle you more comfortably. He moved with the utmost care, sliding his arms beneath you and lifting you slightly, guiding you so that you rested more fully against him. Slowly, he pulled you up onto the couch, his movements tender, cautious, as he settled you on his lap. The blanket was still wrapped around both of you, cocooning you in warmth, and he adjusted it so that you were completely covered, nestled close to him.

You stirred slightly in your sleep, shifting to settle into him more comfortably, your head resting against his shoulder, and he instinctively tightened his hold, cradling you gently. His hand came to rest lightly on your back, his fingers brushing over the fabric of your sweater in a rhythmic, soothing motion.

He let out a quiet breath, his gaze lingering on you with an expression of pure tenderness that he’d rarely allowed himself to show. The walls he’d built, the armour he wore, all of it had faded in this moment, leaving only the raw, unguarded feeling of wanting to keep you safe, to make up for the hurt he’d caused, and to hold you as though you were something precious.

For the first time, he understood just how much you meant to him, and as he sat there, with you asleep in his arms, he made a silent promise—to protect this fragile trust, to be better, to be the person worthy of the trust you’d given him tonight.

He stayed like that, unmoving, his own heartbeat slowing to match yours, as the fire crackled softly beside you. The night stretched on, quiet and peaceful, and he held you close, letting the silence speak for him, his heart holding the words he couldn’t yet say.

The warmth of the fire wrapped around you, lulling you deeper into sleep as you lay comfortably in Mattheo’s arms, his hand resting protectively on your back. He stayed silent, his gaze fixed on you, every inch of his attention focused on the gentle rise and fall of your chest. The common room was peaceful, the only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the soft murmur of your steady breaths.

But the quiet didn’t last.

The heavy door to the common room creaked open, and Mattheo’s head snapped up. In came Draco, Blaise, Pansy, Theo, and Daphne, their voices low but filled with curiosity and concern as they stepped inside. They seemed to be in mid-conversation, muttering about the way you’d rushed off earlier and Mattheo’s strange behaviour at the party.

As soon as they saw the two of you on the couch, however, they fell silent, their eyes widening as they took in the sight: you, fast asleep in Mattheo’s arms, wrapped up in a thick blanket with his hand resting gently on your back.

Pansy’s mouth dropped open, her eyebrows shooting up as she nudged Draco, who looked equally stunned but managed to mask it with a small smirk. “Well, isn’t this a sight.” she whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Blaise exchanged a quick look with Theo, both of them looking thoroughly amused. “I didn’t think I’d live to see the day.” Blaise murmured, a grin creeping onto his face. “Riddle actually being… soft?”

Mattheo shot them a warning look, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks as he tightened his hold on you protectively, silently begging them not to wake you. But Theo, never one to let a good opportunity slip by, leaned closer, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Did we miss the part where you finally confessed your undying love, Mattheo?” he whispered, barely able to contain his laughter. “Or was this just a spur-of-the-moment cuddle session?”

Mattheo’s face flushed, and he shot Theo a glare, his voice low and firm. “Shut it, Theodore.” he muttered, his fingers gently tracing your shoulder, as if reassuring himself you were still asleep.

Daphne, usually one to tease, softened as she took in the sight of you nestled peacefully against him. She stepped forward, offering him a small, understanding smile.“It was about time you two figured this out.”

With that, she placed a hand on Pansy’s arm, guiding her toward the staircase. The others exchanged a final round of amused glances, Blaise giving Mattheo a playful salute as they turned to leave, their footsteps fading up the stairs.

Once they were gone, Mattheo let out a quiet sigh, his gaze returning to you. His hand resumed its gentle tracing along your back, his expression softening as he took in the calm, content look on your face. Despite the teasing, he felt a rare sense of peace, as if, for the first time, everything was exactly how it was supposed to be.

He leaned his head back, pulling the blanket tighter around you both, and let the warmth of the fire and your presence lull him into a quiet calm, the world around you slipping away, leaving only the unspoken promise he held in his heart.

Likes, reblogs and comments are always very much appreciated! ♡

#mattheo riddle imagine #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #hogwarts #fanfiction #harry potter fandom #slytherin boys imagines #one shot #mattheo riddleone shot #mattheo riddle x female reader #slytherinsmuse #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle fluff #not canon

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acute-crashout-jeyuso · 3 days ago

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Sacrifices/ BTR Book 2: a Jhea Fanfic.

Chapter 9: Liv, Liv, Liv, Dom, Dom, Dom..

January 31st, 2025 7:29 PM

The front door clicked shut as Jey watched his ex-wife, Takecia, head to her car. He lingered for a moment, collecting his thoughts, before he turned back into the house. The evening had gone surprisingly well. Despite the complex dynamics of their blended family, there was a comfortable warmth among them tonight. He felt a sense of relief, knowing Takecia trusted him and Rhea to take care of Jaciyah and Jeyce while she got everything sorted in her new apartment.

Rhea, meanwhile, was already back at the table, serving herself yet another slice of yellow cake smothered in chocolate frosting. She looked perfectly content, her eyes lighting up as she cut herself a generous piece.

Jey couldn’t help but smirk as he joined her in the dining room. “So… Jeyce is going through puberty now, huh?” he teased, recalling his son’s earlier, awkward excuse for his freshly braided hair and dressed-up look.

Rhea laughed, covering her mouth as she swallowed a bite of cake. “Oh, that’s all on you and Takecia,” she replied, wagging her fork at him with a playful grin. “I don’t want any part in those conversations.”

Jey shuddered slightly at the thought, still getting used to the idea of Jeyce going through the same teenage years he once did. He leaned over, noticing the half-empty container of chocolate frosting beside Rhea’s plate. He raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“So, we still have some leftover frosting,” he remarked, casually reaching over and tapping the container.

Rhea arched an eyebrow back at him, her curiosity piqued. “And?”

A sly smile crept across Jey’s face as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “I could think of a few ways we could use that frosting.”

Rhea laughed, pushing her chair back just slightly. “Oh, really?” she challenged, giving him a playful, daring look. “Well, you’re going to have to catch me first.”

Before Jey could respond, Rhea was already on her feet, darting toward the stairs. He grabbed the frosting container and chased after her, his laughter echoing through the house as they bolted up the steps. She turned her head just in time to catch his eager grin, her heart pounding with excitement and joy.

As they reached the bedroom, Rhea managed to slip inside first, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “You think you’re quick, huh?” she teased, watching as he slowed to a stop, catching his breath.

Jey held up the container of frosting, a playful glint in his eye. “Just wait, babe. You’re not getting away that easily.”

With a laugh, Rhea pulled him inside, her playful gaze meeting his as the door clicked shut behind them. It was moments like this that reminded them both of the deep bond they shared—not just as partners, but as best friends. They were now each other’s safe haven, each other’s joy, and no matter what challenges lay ahead, they knew they could always find comfort in one another.

They just didn’t know what lay ahead..

—

As Jeyce and Jaciyah approached Demi’s house, the two brothers got out of the car, and Jeyce took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves wash over him.

“I’m nervous,” Jeyce admitted, his voice a little shaky.

Jaciyah chuckled, giving his little brother a reassuring pat on the back. “It’s too late to back out now, bro. You got this.”

Taking a steadying breath, Jeyce walked up to the door and knocked. The door swung open to reveal a tall, muscular man with a biker-like presence—covered in tattoos, with a rugged appearance that immediately commanded respect. He looked from Jeyce to Jaciyah, his brows furrowing.

“I hope you’re not Jeyce,” the man said in a low voice, looking directly at Jaciyah.

Jeyce, sensing the opportunity to make a good impression, stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Hello, Mr. Barkley. My name is Jeyce, and this is my chaperone for tonight, my brother Jaciyah.” He held out his hand with as much confidence as he could muster.

Mr. Barkley’s serious expression softened slightly as he looked down at Jeyce’s outstretched hand. Impressed by the young boy’s manners, he shook it firmly, giving Jeyce an approving nod. “Nice to meet you, Jeyce. Come on in.”

Jeyce and Jaciyah stepped into the house, taking in the cozy surroundings. As they did, Jaciyah’s gaze quickly shifted to the girl standing beside Demi. She had striking red and black hair that cascaded down her shoulders in loose waves, paired with a black V-neck long-sleeve shirt. She wore ripped blue jeans and black and white Nike dunks, exuding an effortlessly cool vibe. Her makeup was subtle yet accentuated her features perfectly.

The girl’s eyes met Jaciyah’s, and a playful grin tugged at her lips as she stepped forward. “Are you Jeyce?” she asked, her voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Jaciyah, momentarily taken aback by her beauty, managed to find his voice. “No… I’m Jaciyah.” He extended his hand, and she took it with a confident shake.

She chuckled softly. “I know, I was just messing with you. I’m Dayanara—Daya, for short. Demi’s older sister, and I’ll be chaperoning tonight too.” Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, her eyes filled with mischief.

Jaciyah felt his heart skip a beat, but he did his best to keep his cool. “Nice to meet you, Daya.”

Demi, watching the interaction, nudged Jeyce with her elbow and whispered, “Looks like your brother’s already smitten.”

Jeyce grinned, whispering back, “He’s not as smooth as he thinks.”

Just then, Mr. Barkley cleared his throat, gathering everyone’s attention. “Alright, you all know the rules. Stay together, behave, and be back here by 9:30 PM sharp. Understand?”

Daya rolled her eyes playfully, clearly used to her dad’s protectiveness. “Yes, Dad, we know. We’ll keep an eye on them.”

Demi chimed in, giving her dad a reassuring smile. “We’ll be good, dad. Promise.”

Mr. Barkley nodded, satisfied. He looked at Jeyce and Jaciyah with a stern but approving gaze. “Take care of my daughters you two..”

Jeyce nodded back, his voice steady. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“Most definitely will, thank you.” Jaciyah added.

With the rules set, Daya led the way to her car, a black Chevrolet Malibu. As they walked out, Jaciyah stole another glance at her, marveling at her confidence and beauty.

As they all climbed into the car, Jaciyah couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement bubbling within him. Demi and Jeyce were sitting in the back, sharing quiet, excited whispers, while he and Daya sat up front. Daya looked over at him, raising an eyebrow with a playful smirk.

“You okay there, Jaciyah?” she teased, noticing his lingering gaze.

Jaciyah blushed slightly, clearing his throat. “Yeah… just didn’t expect my night to be this interesting.”

Daya chuckled, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “Tonight’s just getting started.”

With that, they pulled out of the driveway, the night ahead filled with promise and excitement as each of them anticipated what the evening had in store.

—

Rhea stood up, grabbing her clothes from the floor, and headed toward the bathroom. Jey followed, scooping up his own clothes to change into something comfy. As he bent over to pick up his sweatpants, Rhea smirked and playfully smacked him on the derrière.

"What a dump truck..." she teased, laughing.

Jey straightened, giving her a look of mock disbelief as he rubbed the spot. "Damn, girl. Is this how you feel when I smack your ass?”

"Maybe," Rhea replied with a chuckle, tossing her clothes over her shoulder.

Jey grinned and followed her into the bathroom. They showered together, joking and laughing as the warm water washed over them. Afterward, they both changed into their coziest pajamas: Jey in gray joggers and a tank top, and Rhea in an oversized band tee and shorts.

As they made their way downstairs, Rhea went to the kitchen to make popcorn for their movie night. She had just finished when her phone buzzed on the counter. Seeing Liv's name, she smiled and answered.

"Hey, buttercup," Rhea said, cradling the phone between her shoulder and ear.

"Rheaaaaaaa!" Liv's voice was bright and excited. "What are you doing, my awesome blossom?"

Rhea laughed. "Me and baby daddy are about to watch a movie. What about you?"

Liv groaned. "Me and Dom are about to board a plane to Stamford, but our hotel just canceled on us. They overbooked! Total disaster."

Rhea frowned. "What? That's so annoying. Do you need a place to stay?"

"That's actually why I'm calling," Liv saio sheepishly. "Could we crash at your place for the weekend? We've got a last-minute corporate meeting tomorrow morning."

"Of course! You know you're always welcome," Rhea said without hesitation.

"Really? You're a lifesaver!" Liv exclaimed.

"We'll get in around 2 a.m. Hope that's okay."

"No problem," Rhea assured her. "I'll send you the address and door codes. I'll set up the guest room, so when you get here, just head upstairs. The door will be open."

"Thank you, Rhea. You're the best! I love you Blossom!” Liv said.

"Love you too, Buttercup..” Rhea said before hanging up.

She walked over to the living room, where Jey was lounging on the couch, scrolling through movie options. "Liv and Dom are staying with us this weekend," she said, placing the popcorn on the coffee table and sitting beside him.

Jey raised an eyebrow. "Staying here? When are they getting in?"

"2 a.m. Their hotel canceled on them, so l told them they could crash here."

Jey chuckled, shaking his head. "You're too nice. Ultimate host."

Rhea grinned. "What can I say? I take care of my people."

Jey pulled her closer, draping an arm around her. "Well, that means we've got the rest of the night to ourselves before the chaos starts."

"Exactly," Rhea said, grabbing a handful of popcorn. "Now, what movie are we watching?"

Jey grinned, holding up the remote. "Baby Boy. You're gonna love it."

Rhea groaned playfully. "You're always making me watch movies I've never seen."

"And you always end up liking them," Jey teased, hitting play.

They snuggled up together as the movie started, the sound of their laughter blending with the dialogue on screen. It was a perfect, cozy night before their friends arrived and the weekend brought its own set of adventures.

—

As the credits for Baby Boy rolled, Rhea leaned back into Jey, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. The popcorn bowl sat empty on the coffee table, and the quiet hum of the TV filled the cozy living room. The warmth of the evening wrapped around them, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

“You ever think about dyeing your mullet again?” Rhea asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Jey tilted his head, giving her a playful side-eye. “Dye it again? What color this time?”

Rhea grinned, her fingers tracing little patterns on his arm. “I’m thinking purple and blue.”

Jey chuckled, shaking his head. “Purple and blue? Girl, you trying to make me look like a wrestling unicorn.”

She laughed, giving his arm a light shove. “No, I’m serious. It’d look good on you. Trust me.”

He smiled, clearly entertained by her suggestion. “Alright, maybe. I’ll ask Liv and Dom when they get here if they can hook me up. Don’t want any of those fumes near you, though, preggers.”

Rhea’s heart warmed at his thoughtfulness, and she leaned up to kiss his cheek. “You’re sweet, you know that?”

“Only for you,” Jey replied with a smirk, wrapping his arm around her.

Just then, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the house. Both Jey and Rhea turned their heads as Jeyce and Jaciyah walked in, their faces lit up with matching, goofy grins.

Jey glanced at the clock on his phone and raised an eyebrow. “There you guys are. You’ve been gone a while.”

Rhea chimed in with a teasing smile, “Yeah, an awfully long time for a job application.”

Jaciyah scratched the back of his neck, trying to play it cool. “Uh, yeah, we decided to grab milkshakes after.”

Jeyce nodded enthusiastically. “Yup, a nice cherry milkshake.”

Jey and Rhea exchanged a look, both raising an eyebrow. The boys’ expressions were a dead giveaway—something more than milkshakes had them grinning like fools.

“Just milkshakes?” Jey asked, crossing his arms and leaning back on the couch.

Jaciyah nodded quickly. “Yup, just milkshakes. That’s all.”

Rhea narrowed her eyes playfully, trying to suppress a laugh. “Uh-huh. And here I thought you two didn’t even like cherry.”

Jeyce’s grin faltered for a second before he recovered. “We’re broadening our horizons.”

Jey shook his head, smirking. “Alright, alright. Well, Liv and Dom are coming over tonight, so, Jaciyah, can you help set up the guest bedroom?”

Jaciyah’s grin widened, and he nodded eagerly. “Anything you need, Dad.”

Without another word, both boys bounded up the stairs, whispering and chuckling to each other like they were sharing the greatest secret in the world.

Once the boys were out of sight, Jey and Rhea turned to each other, both wearing bemused expressions.

“That was weird,” Jey said, shaking his head.

Rhea leaned against him, her eyes still on the staircase. “Really weird. They looked like they just walked out of a rom-com.”

Jey let out a low whistle. “Well, looks like we’re in for an interesting weekend.”

Rhea nodded, her hand resting on his chest as she snuggled closer. “Let’s just hope Liv and Dom are ready for the chaos when they get here.”

Jey grinned, wrapping his arm tighter around her. “They better be. With those two upstairs acting all smitten, we’re gonna need backup.”

Rhea laughed softly, already imagining the teasing and stories to come. “This house just keeps getting more entertaining.”

—

Meanwhile, before Jeyce and Jaciyah had arrived home, the two pairs were still out, soaking in the last moments of the night. At one table, Jaciyah and Daya sat across from each other, sharing a banana split. At another, Jeyce and Demi were locked in their own little world, sharing a cherry milkshake, each taking turns sipping through the straw while exchanging shy smiles.

Jaciyah leaned back in his chair, spoon in hand, and asked, “So, why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”

Daya laughed softly, her eyes lighting up. “Well, I’m 17, and I’m already in college on a full ride to the University of New Haven. I’m studying Biochemistry.”

Jaciyah’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Biochemistry? Full ride? That’s impressive.”

Daya shrugged, her cheeks tinged with a hint of modest pride. “Thanks. I’ve always been a bit of a science nerd.”

Jaciyah nodded, clearly impressed. “That’s cool. I was supposed to enroll next week to finish up my senior year, but I’m thinking about talking to my dad and mom about enrolling online instead.”

Daya tilted her head curiously. “Rhea’s your bonus mom too, right?”

Jaciyah chuckled. “Yeah, she is. She’s been in our lives for a while now, and honestly, she’s been great.”

Daya smiled, stirring her spoon in the melting ice cream. “That’s awesome. So, if you’re not going back to school in person, what’s the plan? You wouldn’t want to wrestle like your dad?”

Jaciyah thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “Nah, wrestling’s cool and all, but it’s not for me. I actually want to be a police officer.”

Daya’s eyes sparkled with admiration. “Wow, that’s awesome. Stepping out of that shadow, huh?”

Jaciyah smiled, feeling seen. “Yeah, exactly. It’s important to me to find my own path, you know?”

Daya nodded thoughtfully. “Makes sense. So, what made you want to go into law enforcement?”

Jaciyah shrugged, his tone serious but passionate. “I’ve always been about helping people. I want to make a difference, you know? Be someone people can rely on.”

“That’s admirable,” Daya said, genuinely impressed. “The world could use more people like that.”

Jaciyah grinned. “Thanks. So, what made you want to pursue biochemistry? That sounds intense.”

Daya’s eyes lit up with excitement. “I’ve always loved science, but biochemistry caught my interest because of how it connects to real-world applications. I want to specialize in research and development, specifically in biotech. I like to imagine myself being part of creating life-changing medical advancements.”

Jaciyah leaned forward, clearly intrigued. “That’s incredible. You could end up saving lives.”

Daya smiled, a soft blush creeping up her cheeks. “That’s the goal. What about you? Any dream departments in mind if you become an officer?”

Jaciyah shrugged, his tone thoughtful. “I’d like to work in community policing or maybe even detective work. Something where I can really be involved in making neighborhoods safer.”

Daya nodded, her respect for him growing. “Sounds like you’ve got a solid plan.”

Meanwhile, at their table, Demi twirled the straw in the almost empty cherry milkshake, her cheeks tinged pink. She glanced over at her sister and Jaciyah, who were deep in conversation, then back at Jeyce. “I think my sister really likes your brother,” she said, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

Jeyce chuckled, his eyes never leaving Demi. “Well, I’m glad… because I really like you.”

Demi’s blush deepened, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m glad you enjoyed the listening party as much as I did,” she said softly, her voice almost shy.

Jeyce took another sip of the milkshake before sliding it over to her. “I liked it a lot. My favorite song was This Night Has Opened My Eyes from their Louder Than Bombs album. What about you?”

Demi’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling. “I really liked This Charming Man. It’s such a vibe.”

Jeyce smiled, clearly enjoying the way her face lit up when she talked about something she loved. “That’s a great one too.”

There was a brief moment of silence, filled only by the ambient noise of the small diner. Then, Jeyce took a deep breath and asked, “Does this mean… we’re boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Demi giggled, her cheeks turning a deep shade of red. She reached across the table, her hand hovering for a moment before clasping his. “Of course.”

Jeyce’s face broke into a wide grin, his heart racing in that giddy, almost teenage way. Their hands fit perfectly, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. It was just the two of them, their world reduced to a single booth in a quiet corner of the diner.

Young almost teenage love, pure and unfiltered, filled the space between them as they shared soft smiles and the quiet excitement of something new and beautiful.

—

Daya pulled up in front of Demi’s house, the soft hum of the engine cutting off as everyone stepped out of the car. The porch light flickered slightly, casting a warm glow on the small group.

Jaciyah lingered near the car, shuffling his feet a bit before finally speaking. “So, uh, can I get your number at least?”

Daya chuckled, her red and black hair catching the light as she reached for his phone. “Here,” she said, quickly typing her number into his contacts. Handing the phone back, she added with a smirk, “I’ll be back next weekend if you want to hang out.”

Jaciyah’s face lit up. “For sure.”

Before he could say anything else, Daya leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek. Jaciyah froze for a moment, his face turning a bright shade of red, and then he broke into a grin reminiscent of Patrick Star when Mindy kissed him in The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie. He looked like he was on cloud nine.

Seeing his brother momentarily dazed, Jeyce seized the opportunity. He leaned in close to Demi and gave her a quick, shy peck on the lips. It was brief but enough to make his heart race.

“That… that was my first kiss,” Jeyce admitted, his voice stuttering, overwhelmed with emotion. “So, uh, don’t make fun of me.”

Demi laughed softly, her eyes sparkling. “Never,” she promised, brushing a hand lightly against his arm.

The girls headed toward the house, waving as they disappeared inside. Jeyce and Jaciyah got back into their dad’s Mercedes, the silence in the car quickly filled with laughter.

As Jaciyah started the engine, Jeyce leaned back in his seat, a goofy smile plastered on his face. “I think I like puberty.”

Jaciyah burst out laughing, shaking his head as he pulled out of the driveway. “Man, you’re wild. Let’s get home before Dad and Rhea think we got lost.”

—

Liv and Dominik picked up their rental car from the airport, the late-night flight leaving them both tired and slightly on edge. It had been a long trip, and as they headed toward Rhea and Jey’s house, Liv couldn’t help but voice her discomfort.

“We are not taking any more late-night flights,” she said, stretching out her legs as she sank into the passenger seat.

Dominik, who was already struggling to keep his eyes open, let out a tired chuckle. “I’m already sleep-deprived,” he replied, glancing over at her with a small grin.

Liv shifted in her seat and smiled back. “Well, when we get there, will you massage my back? I can’t feel it at all..”

Dominik nodded, giving her a reassuring look. “Of course, you know I’ve got you.”

As they drove through the quiet road, the peace was shattered when a car suddenly turned on its high beams, blinding Dominik. He winced and squinted through the bright lights.

“What the hell?” Liv exclaimed, turning around to see the car behind them. The vehicle started honking loudly, its driver aggressively tailgating them.

Dominik frowned, his grip tightening on the wheel. “I don’t know what this guy’s problem is, but he’s on my tail.”

Liv glanced back again, her eyes wide with concern. “Dominik, lose them.”

“I’m trying!” Dominik growled, swerving into another lane, but the car behind them mirrored every move, following closely. The aggressive driver wasn’t letting up.

Before they knew it, the car was pushing against their rental, shoving them off course. Dominik’s heart raced as he struggled to regain control.

“Hold on!” Dominik shouted, slamming the brakes as the car skidded off the road, crashing into a ditch.

The impact threw both of them forward, and Liv hit her head against the side window. She winced, trying to shake off the disorientation as Dominik quickly unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Liv! Are you okay?” His voice was frantic, his hands reaching for her as she clutched her head.

Liv nodded, trying to regain her bearings. “Yeah, I think so. Just… a little dazed.”

They both looked ahead and heard the revving of an engine, the unmistakable sound of tires screeching. Dominik’s eyes widened, realizing the danger wasn’t over.

“Unbuckle, now!” he yelled, grabbing her hand and pulling it toward the door. Liv quickly obeyed, opening the door just as the massive headlights of a truck barreled toward them.

In a split second, they both jumped out of the car, narrowly escaping as the souped-up black four-by-four truck rammed into their rental car. The collision rocked the ground beneath them, but the truck didn’t stop. It backed up and sped off into the night, disappearing quickly from sight.

Liv and Dominik stood frozen in the ditch, their adrenaline pumping, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Liv clutched her head, still shaken from the impact. Dominik held her close, his eyes scanning the area, knowing they weren’t safe yet.

“What the hell was that?” Liv whispered, looking at the wrecked car, her voice trembling with disbelief.

“I don’t know,” Dominik said, his voice tense. “But that was no accident. Whoever was driving that truck—they were trying to take us out.”

They both stood there in stunned silence, the reality of the situation sinking in.

Dominik looked around, trying to think of their next move. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

But as they started to move toward the road, the sound of an engine returned, faint but growing louder. Liv and Dominik’s hearts raced as they turned, instinctively ducking behind some trees as a car approached.

The headlights of the vehicle blinded them momentarily, but they could make out the shape of the black truck, now circling them. It was back.

Liv gasped, clutching onto Dominik’s arm. “They’re coming back for us!”

Dominik’s mind raced. He had to think fast. They couldn’t keep hiding forever. “We need to move, fast. Find a place with people, get help.”

Without wasting another second, they sprinted through the woods, adrenaline fueling their escape. Their phones were out of service, leaving them with no way to call for help.

After what felt like forever, they finally spotted a faint light in the distance. A gas station, and a small convenience store attached to it. They bolted toward it, not caring about the time or how far they’d run. They just needed to be around other people—get somewhere safe.

Once inside, they immediately made their way to the counter, but the clerk behind it looked… off. There was something in his eyes—a nervousness, a tension that made Liv uneasy.

“Can I help you?” the man asked, his voice shaky.

“We need to call the police,” Dominik said, his voice firm. “We were attacked. Someone ran us off the road.”

The clerk hesitated, his eyes flicking toward the door. “I… I don’t think you should make that call here.”

Liv raised an eyebrow, confused. “Why not?”

The clerk lowered his voice, clearly nervous. “There’s been a lot of… strange stuff happening around here. People disappearing. People that drive cars like the one that just ran you off the road. It’s been happening for two weeks ever since those fancy people don’ moved in up at New Canaan border.”

Liv’s stomach dropped, Rhea and Jey. “Disappearing?”

The clerk nodded quickly, leaning in slightly. “I don’t know much, but… there’s something going on. I don’t know if it’s the same people, but something’s not right.”

Liv’s heart raced as the tension in the air thickened. The clerk’s behavior was growing more bizarre, and she could feel the sense of dread weighing heavily on her shoulders.

“Please, we just need to borrow a phone,” Liv pleaded, desperation creeping into her voice. “We’ve been attacked. We need help.”

The clerk shifted nervously behind the counter, casting furtive glances toward the door and then back at them. His eyes were filled with unease, and he chewed nervously on his lip before speaking.

“Only the man makes the call, sweetie,” he said, his voice low and strained.

Dominik exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling up inside him. “Look, anything. Please, we just need a phone. We were nearly killed out there, we need to contact the police.”

The clerk hesitated for a moment longer, glancing around the dimly lit store before slowly stepping out from behind the counter. His movements were cautious, as though afraid of something or someone.

Liv’s instincts screamed that something wasn’t right. She glanced at Dominik, who was equally uneasy.

“I’ll go in the back with him,” Dominik muttered, his protective instinct kicking in. “I’ll make the call.”

The clerk motioned for him to follow, his footsteps heavy on the creaky floorboards as he led Dominik into a back room. Liv stood frozen for a moment, her eyes darting around the gas station, trying to figure out what was going on. It felt wrong—everything about this place felt off.

A few moments passed before Dominik returned, his face tight with frustration. He walked briskly toward Liv, shaking his head.

“They said a unit’s close by,” he said quietly. “They should be here in a few minutes.”

Liv let out a relieved sigh, but the clerk’s odd behavior was still eating at her.

Dominik turned toward the counter to thank the clerk, but the man quickly responded with a low, hushed voice, his eyes darting around nervously. “Alright now, y’all get on now, ya hear? I don’t want to attract anyone here. This used to be a quiet place before those people moved to the New Canaan border.”

The mention of “those people” sent a cold shiver down Liv’s spine. She glanced at Dominik, exchanging a worried look.

She wasn’t going to let it go that easily. “Just one more thing,” Liv said, her voice steady despite the anxiety creeping up on her. “Is it a black four-by-four truck? The one that ran us off the road?”

The clerk froze. His eyes widened briefly, and Liv caught a fleeting glimpse of fear before he quickly masked it with a forced smile. He didn’t answer her question directly. Instead, he spoke more urgently, his hand brushing the counter as if to shove them along.

“You two need to leave,” the clerk said, his voice firm. “Go on now. No more questions. I don’t want to attract attention. Just get out.”

He quickly walked toward the front door, flipping the lock and shoving them out of the store without a second glance. Liv and Dominik barely had time to process the situation before the door slammed shut behind them, the sound of the lock clicking in place echoing through the quiet night.

“What the hell was that?” Liv muttered, still feeling the remnants of fear in her chest.

Dominik shook his head, gripping her arm lightly as he looked toward the road. “I don’t know, but we need to get out of here, now. Something’s not right.”

Liv couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being pushed into something they weren’t prepared for. It was like they’d stumbled into a nightmare, and the only thing they could do was try to outrun it. The mention of New Canaan border and the clerk’s strange behavior only fueled the unsettling feeling building inside her.

“Do you think… do you think they were involved?” she asked, her voice low and laced with suspicion.

“I don’t know,” Dominik replied, his jaw clenched. “But I think we just found ourselves in the middle of something bigger than we thought.”

The night seemed to close in around them, the quiet streets feeling heavier with every passing moment.

A few minutes later, the distant sound of a siren began to grow louder. It wasn’t the reassurance they had been hoping for, though; the noise only amplified their sense of unease.

“We’re not safe here,” Liv said, a hint of panic in her voice. “We need to find somewhere else to wait for the police.”

Dominik nodded, pulling her toward the edge of the road. “I agree Liv but the police are almost here..”

The blue and red lights flashed brighter as a cop car pulled up to Dominik and Liv, who were still standing in the gas station parking lot. The car screeched to a stop, and the officer inside rolled down the window, his gaze narrowing as he assessed the situation.

“You the boy that called about a run-off, I presume?” the officer asked, his tone even but slightly curious.

Dominik nodded quickly, trying to keep his cool despite the growing anxiety. “Yes, sir. Our car’s off on Lapham Road. We were heading to our friend’s house.”

The cop’s eyes lingered on Dominik for a moment longer, his brow furrowing. “You’re that Mysterio fella, ain’t ya?”

Dominik blinked, taken aback by the officer’s familiarity with his ring name. “Uh, yeah, that’s me,” he said slowly, trying to gauge why the officer would know about his stage persona. “But what does that have to do with our accident? We were just run off the road.”

The officer chuckled darkly, his voice tinged with an unsettling nonchalance. “Alright, I’ll take you to your car, and we’ll get a tow truck out for you. Y’all need a ride to your friend’s house, too?”

Dominik hesitated, glancing at Liv, who looked pale and disoriented. “Yeah… yeah, we could use a ride,” he said, but then, a thought nagged at him. “You’re not going to let us file a report, are you?”

The officer let out a long, drawn-out sigh as if the question was an inconvenience. “Let’s see what we’re working with first,” he muttered, unlocking the doors. Dominik and Liv exchanged a glance before getting into the backseat.

Once in the car, Dominik gave the officer the location of the car. “It’s Mile 41. That’s where we left it.”

The officer nodded in acknowledgment, his face still expressionless as he started the engine. The car pulled away from the gas station and began heading out to the road in question, the quiet hum of the engine filling the silence between them.

“So, is this some kind of prank?” the officer asked, turning his gaze to Dominik in the rearview mirror. His tone was flat, but there was something about the way he asked that made Dominik’s stomach drop.

Liv and Dominik exchanged a look of confusion. “What do you mean?” Dominik asked, a slight edge to his voice.

The officer didn’t respond immediately. He just continued driving, his focus on the road. But as the miles passed, a sinking feeling took over. Something wasn’t right.

Finally, they reached the stretch of road where Dominik had said their car was parked. But when the officer slowed down to pull over, Dominik’s heart sank. Their car was gone.

“Wait,” Dominik exclaimed. “Where’s the car? It was right here!”

The officer, now with a more serious expression, slowed to a stop and turned off the engine. “If there’s no car, then I can’t do anything about it. You got proof it was here?”

Dominik’s frustration flared. “What do you mean, no car? Look at the tire marks!” He gestured urgently to the ground, hoping the officer would see the evidence.

The officer stepped out of the car, flashing a light over the pavement. The beam illuminated faint tire tracks leading off the road, but no sign of their car.

He sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to tell you, son. I can’t do much if there’s no car.”

Liv’s voice was sharp as she spoke up, her worry escalating. “We were just run off the road! The car was here. It wasn’t just—” She stopped herself, realizing how strange it sounded. “What are you saying? We were just—”

The officer interrupted with a cold, almost detached tone. “Now hear this, son. I’ll take you to them uppitys up by the New Canaan border. Maybe they can help you out. But no guarantees.”

Dominik’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know where our friends live?”

The officer gave a low, knowing chuckle. “Son, I know everybody who lives around here.”

Something about his words struck a chord with Dominik. It didn’t make sense—why would this officer, a stranger to them, know the personal details about Jey and Rhea? Dominik glanced at Liv, seeing the same unease reflected in her eyes.

Liv’s grip on Dominik’s hand tightened as they both climbed back into the car. There was no escaping the strange feeling that this wasn’t just some random encounter. They were being led somewhere—somewhere they didn’t fully understand.

The officer drove in silence, the engine’s hum the only sound in the car as they passed through familiar stretches of road. Dominik’s mind raced. What was really going on? Why had their car disappeared? And why was the officer so calm, so unbothered by the fact that something was clearly off?

Eventually, they arrived at the entrance to Jey and Rhea’s subdivision. Dominik’s heart beat faster. There was something undeniably strange about this whole situation. Before the officer could make a turn, Dominik quickly spoke up.

“We’ll walk from here. Thank you,” he said firmly, trying to keep his composure.

The officer looked in the rearview mirror again, his expression unreadable. “You sure?” he asked, his voice flat.

“Yeah, it’s fine. We’ll walk,” Dominik said, pulling Liv closer to him.

The officer shrugged, pulling over to the side of the road. “Be sure and tell ‘em Demetri sent you folks,” he said as he threw the car in reverse, ready to leave them.

As the officer drove away, Dominik stood in the middle of the quiet road, still trying to process everything that had just happened. The strange, cryptic words hung in the air.

Liv stood still. Frozen in shock.

Dominik looked at her and he said, “Liv? What’s wrong?”

“We have to wake up Rhea and Jey…”

22 notes · View notes

parkingsunghoon · 2 days ago

Text

Special to you

Idol heeseung x f reader

[chapter 1]

Summary: you were working at one of enhypen concerts as a security guard. You didn’t really know enhypen and you only got the job because your friend had worked there the year prior. You never would’ve imagined you’d become someone special

Fluff, series

———————————————————————————

It was just another day for me. Get up, got to work, come home and rot in bed. Unfortunately it wasn’t the rot in my bed hour instead, I have to get up and get ready for work. I enjoyed being a security guard. I don’t know how I got the job, I have the build of a lasagna noodle but hey it’s money.

I got up and got ready in my usual outfit, long black pants, my black shirt with my name embroidered in it and my belt that holds all my necessities. I slicked back my hair in a bun before brushing my teeth. Today a band called enhypen are playing, I hope they’re good. The last concert I was a security guard for was honestly not my cup of tea.

Once I finished getting ready I grabbed my bag and keys and headed out the door. I got in my car and started making my way to the stadium.

“God the traffic is horrendous” I spoke to myself. I hadn’t even gotten half way down the road from my house and there is already a long line of cars.

……………………………………………………………………………………

I waited in traffic for half an hour before arriving to the stadium. I parked my car and booked it to the front door. I can’t risk being late.

I got inside quickly and made my way to the lounge room for employees. I hung my bag up and quickly clocked in. This band must be huge, the amount of people here was more than I’ve ever seen in my 3 months on the job.

I quickly equip all my necesites like my walkie talkie and water and I head out to the floor. Today I was positioned directly in front of the stage. I settled in and observed as fans begin to spill in. These fans must be here for VIP exclusive since the concert didn’t start for another hour.

Once all the fans had made their way to their designated areas, a voice came over the speakers.

“Hello engene! Are you guys ready for soundcheck?” A voice that sounded distinctly Australian spoke. All the fans screamed. Honestly I don’t know how I am going to survive the screams when all the fans are in here.

Enhypen and fans talked a little before starting sound check. Let me tell you when these guys started singing I felt like I could fly. Their voices were breath taking, it took everything in me not to turn around and watch myself.

That’s one of the worst parts about being a security guard, we have to keep our eyes on the crowd at all times.

Some time had passed and it was now time for the actual concert. A part of me was excited for it after listening to their soundcheck.

The lights turned off and the stage lights came on as fans screams shook the stadium. The energy in here was amazing. I could tell everyone was very excited.

“HELLO EVERYBODY!!!” A voice high pitched yet super smooth voice announced. I heard this voice a lot during their sound check. I assume he’s one of the lead singers and his adlibs were to die for.

Fans yelled back hello in response to his. I thought it was cute. I hadn’t attended a concert as a fan in a while so seeing others do it warms my heart in a sense.

Everyone went quiet before the song came over the speakers. Once the music hit their ears everyone went crazy. I watched in amazement. Fans jumping up and down, smiles painting their faces. The pure joy shown around the stadium was beautiful.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I was standing there watching them before the girls in front of me started going ballistic. They looked at me then behind me. I was really confused until I felt a breath brush against my ear as the person sang into their microphone.

I wanted to turn around so bad. I had to fight the itching urge at the back of my head.

“You can bite me, you complete me” he sung the words so smoothly next to me. I felt my body almost give away. I understood now why these fans go crazy over these men when they give them fan service like this.

I resisted the urge and he went back to performing I assume because I no longer felt his presence behind me.

More time had passed and the members were now walking off the stage to give high fives to fans as they sung their final song of the night.

Fans screamed and reached their arms out in hopes to be one of the lucky ones. It’s was such an adorable moment, and it was also a moment to finally see what they look like.

I analyzed all of them. They were all so tall and slender, perfect representation of vampires. None of their faces disappointed either. Their beauty deserves to be framed, maybe even sculpted and placed in a museum.

As I was analyzing them, one made eye contact with me. He was tall, with a cold yet warm demeanor. He had the prettiest doe eyes a girl has seen and his cheeks reminded me of a hamster.

I quickly looked away, I’d rather not become the center of attention. My luck seemed to fail though as he began walking in my direction. I acted professional none the less.

He looked at me one last time before climbing onto the barricade. I mentally cursed myself before going and grabbing his waist lightly feeling weird about it. It was apart of my job, to make sure none of them got hurt but something about grabbing and attractive man by the waist felt dirty.

He eventually stepped back down and looked at me once more. He smiled and bowed ever so slightly.

“Thank you beautiful” he said before walking away. I contained myself and went back to my spot. I couldn’t lie though, that one sentence did things to me. It was like my heart became liquid.

They all bid their goodbyes and reassuring fans that they’ll see them for their second concert here tomorrow. Then I realized, I will be working AGAIN tomorrow. I don’t think I can’t handle another day.

As my coworkers helped fans out of the stadium I went back stage to throw away trash left behind. As I was heading to the trash I bumped into someone.

I quickly apologized before realizing it was the same guy. I gave him a sheepish smile in hopes he won’t try to get me fired to this inconvenience.

“So we meet again?” The man said with a playful smile.

“I guess so I respond anxiously” I was not one to talk to men. I get flustered way too easily.

“My names heeseung..”

#enhypen #heeseung #heeseung fanfic #fanfic #enha #engene #heeseung x reader #fanfic series #lee heeseung #enhypen imagines #heeseung imagines #enha x reader #enha heeseung #enha fluff #heeseung fluff

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astro-b-o-y-d · 4 months ago

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Dang, was gonna do some more Triangulum editing once we got back. But I'm kinda beat from walking around all day :(

#Hayley Speaks #Oh well; I think I might just wait until that mystery website thing happens anyway on Tuesday #REALLY hope we don't get more Bill backstory stuff #I just want this all to be done #So I can focus on my fic #Quite honestly; I'm sick of waiting for new information #I had to wait over half a year for the book #Which turned out fine but I'm TIRED #I'M TIRED!!!!#ENOUGH!!!!

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zombeesknees · 5 months ago

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had to drop $812 at Midas today for all new tires/a realignment, and then i got home to find wimsey bleeding like a stuck pig from a giant gash across the underside of his neck (not sure if one of the other cats literally went for the throat, or if he just clawed all the fur and skin off), and then i had to work an extra two hours to make up for the Midas jaunt, so today has just been A Day.

picture of the recuperating, grompy patient:

#the only plus of the day is i read half of a new-to-me lucy parker book while waiting for the mechanics to finish #state of the angie b.#i've been SO GOT DAMN CAREFUL with my budget this month. i was $300 under it!!! i only had FOUR DAYS TO GO #and then today happened #so now i'm $500 over budget AGAIN and i'm not allowed to buy/do anything fun or get take-out for TWO MORE months #which is an EXTRA bummer because the oddities expo is july 20th #which means i can't get any new taxidermied friends or bones or nifty art this year. *sad siiiiigh*#also i gotta cut my groceries in half next month. i spent $300 on groceries alone this month. that's untenable.#(and it's not like i was buying fresh fruit and veg or meat or anything. that was just canned soup and pasta and microwave meals)#so july is gonna be a ramen month baaaaybeeee. what fun.#ANYWAY this is enough tag venting. i'm gonna go stab something 800 times (finish a cross-stitch to replace one lost in the mail)#(because YEAH a sampler that someone commissioned from me was lost in the mail and now i gotta make ANOTHER ONE #and then eat the extra cost for the second shipping. lololololol everything is GREAT.)

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d1stalker · 3 months ago

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All of You, All of Me [Logan Howlett]

Summary: In a world of black and white, the only person who could bring colour to your life is the last one who'd want to.

Warnings: au where everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate, fem!reader, slow burn, angst, running away from feelings, pining, grovelinggg WC: 14.2k - MASTERLIST - A/N: help i'm sorry i didn't mean for it to get this long, but this fic is my baby

----

You've always cherished the idea of having a soulmate—someone who would love you unconditionally, waiting just for you as you them. The thought of finding that perfect match, the one who complements you in every way, is something you’ve always dreamed of.

But as you get older, the hope you carry seems to dwindle more and more each year. Everyone around you has found their other half, reveling in the newfound ability to see colours in all their glory, and soaking up every moment of shared affection.

Everyone, except for you.

Your world remains a stark, colourless void, as if the universe is deliberately withholding the one thing you desire most.

And to make matters worse, despite not finding your soulmate, you are unequivocally, irrevocably in love with someone who has.

Logan Howlett.

You can’t remember a time where you didn’t feel anything toward him. His rugged, lone-wolf demeanor snuck its way deep into the crevices of your heart, and made itself a home there.

You and him formed an unlikely friendship, formed through the desire to fight back against all the people who’ve wronged mutants. Over the years, you had accepted the fact that while he wasn’t yours, at least you were alone together. Well, until she came.

Jean Grey.

She was strong, charming, and everything you felt you weren’t. It was no wonder her and Logan were meant to be together—the stoic, brooding mutant and his graceful, strong-willed counterpart.

You remember the day it happened so vividly, it’s almost like you were the one who found their life partner. You and him had been walking around the mansion, when Charles had called you into his office to meet someone new. One look at their faces when they made eye contact and you knew you’d lost him.

It pained you to see them all over each other, all the time. Your once-regular walks in the garden became rare, then vanished entirely. On missions, he no longer looked out for you; his attention was consumed by protecting her. And as much as it hurt, you couldn’t deny they seemed perfect for each other—just as soulmates should be. You had no right to feel jealous.

Then, just as quickly as she had entered his life, she left it.

The Pheonix was too strong, ripping her apart from the inside out. The pained scream he let out as not only his heart died, but as the world around him faded back into black and white, was forever ingrained into your memory.

Logan was never the same after that.

—

You trudge down the familiar halls of the mansion, your feet heavy with the weight of the day. It’s been long, filled with training sessions, team meetings, and a lot of paperwork. All you want to do is retreat to your room, lose yourself in a book, or maybe just sleep until the ache in your chest dulls.

As you walk, you hear faint commotion down the hallway—a low murmur of voices and the occasional clatter of something being moved. But you pay it no mind, too lost in your thoughts to care. Another mission, another discussion, another moment where you aren’t needed. It’s all so routine now.

Lost in your reverie, you don’t notice the figure walking toward you until it’s too late. You collide with a solid chest, the impact jolting you back to reality.

“Oh, sorry—” you begin, stepping back, but the words die on your lips as you look up.

It’s Logan.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, shock rippling through your body as you process his presence. And for a moment, neither of you speak. You just stand there, taking him in—the man who was once your closest friend, the man who was torn apart by grief and loss. His clothes are rumpled, his skin rougher than you remember, like he’s been through hell and back.

You hadn’t seem him in a long time. After the devastation, he stopped talking to everyone. He holed himself up in his room for days at a time, only coming out in the dead of night to eat. Either that, or he was away on a mission–anything to stay distracted.

But now, looking at him, there’s something different off. Something you can’t quite place your finger on. Did he always look like that? Maybe it’s the way the light above is reflecting off of him. Or maybe it’s—oh.

Looking around in surprise, you watch as the usually dark, stoic walls explode into a deep, rich shade. The carpet below you—no longer a mural of grey—radiates colors you can’t name. Your hands, his eyes, his hair-

You want to open your mouth and say something, anything, to the man who has caused your world to shift on its axis, but he’s already turned, walking away from you.

“Give me a fuckin’ break.”

----

Brown. Logan’s hair is brown.

After Logan leaves you paralyzed in the hallway, you run to your room, find the book on colors you had stashed in your bedside table, and throw open the cover. In it is a diagram that displays every known colour and their names. You learn that your favorite pair of pants are maroon, your bedsheets are navy green, and the X-Men suits are bright yellow and blue.

You stare at the page, each word blurring as your mind tries to process the impossible. Logan’s hair is brown. The thought keeps repeating in your head like a mantra, over and over again, until it becomes a steady thrum, drowning out everything else.

Brown.

You sit back on your bed, letting the book slip from your hands, the pages crumpling as it hits the floor.

Why him? Why me? Why now?

You begin to fidget, the adrenaline of the prior moment causing your heart to flail in your chest like crazy. You can’t stay here, you think to yourself. The idea of locked in your room with only your thoughts for company does not sound appealing. You need air, something to ground you, something to clear the haze clouding your head. Without thinking, you jump out of bed and find yourself heading up to the roof, the one place where you can breathe without feeling like the walls of the mansion closing in on you.

The trip up the stairs feels longer than ever before, each step heavy under the weight of your mind. It’s like every thought adds ten pounds. When you open the door, the cool night air hits you like a welcomed slap to the face, and you exhale deeply.

Walking to the edge, you lean against the railing. You’re in a daze - wondering if you made up the entire thing in your head. The only proof that you haven't, and that Logan being your soulmate is real, is the colours that coat the mansion’s grounds. The moonlight bathes everything in what you now know as a soft, silver glow, and for a moment, you just stand there, looking out into the distance.

It doesn’t make sense, and the more you try to wrap your head around it, the more tangled your thoughts become. You don’t want to face the possibility of what it could mean, but you can’t just brush it aside either. It has quite literally changed your entire life.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to quiet your racing mind. But when you open them again, you freeze.

Logan is standing at the other end of the roof, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the sky. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and for a split second, you consider turning back, retreating before he sees you. It would be a wise idea - he didn’t want to talk to you then, and he probably doesn’t want to talk to you now. But, it an act that can only be seen as your own body betraying you, you take a step forward.

The sudden movement catches his attention, and his head snaps in your direction, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Why are you here?” he asks accusingly.

You hesitate, unsure of how to answer. Seeing him out here was the last thing you had expected, and now that he’s in front of you, you are at a loss of words.

Logan’s eyes narrow, and he pushes off the wall, walking toward you. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I needed air,” you manage to say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just needed to clear my head.”

“Well, find somewhere else to do it,” he snaps, “I don’t want company.”

“Logan, I—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, not even bothering to hear you out. “Don’t start. I know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t want to hear it.”

You blink, taken aback, and hurt at his coldness. “What are you talking about?”

He lets out a low, humourless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? God, I… this is all so fucking stupid.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks. “I wasn’t—”

“Enough!” he barks, his voice echoing in the night. “I’m not interested, alright? Whatever it is you think is happening between us, it’s not real. It’s just some stupid trick of the universe, and I’m not playing along.”

His words hit you like a physical blow - like you’ve just been shot at right in the heart - and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. “I don’t understand. I didn’t mean for any of this—”

“Yeah, well, neither did I,” he snaps at you, “And I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like there’s something here,” he gestures between you two, “when there isn’t. You’re not mine, and I’m sure as hell not yours.”

The finality in his tone leaves you breathless, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. You have nothing to say back, he’s not giving you any slack. The reality of his rejection sinks in with a brutal, crushing weight, you have to put in effort to not stumble over.

After a long moment, you finally collect yourself. Then, “Okay,” you whisper. “I understand.”

Logan’s expression doesn’t soften; if anything, it grows colder, more distant.

“Good. Then stay away from me.”

You nod, eyes filling with tears. You quickly turn your face away, not wanting him to see just how much he’s hurt you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, barely audible. “I didn’t mean to make things worse for you.”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even acknowledge your apology. He just turns away, his back to you, effectively shutting you out.

You stand there for a long moment, watching him walk away for the second time that night. The colours that seemed so vibrant, so full of life just a moment ago, now feel like a cruel reminder of everything you could never have.

—

When you eventually return to your room, all you can do is lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling as your encounter with Logan on the roof replays in your mind on an endless loop, each harsh word he’d thrown at you cutting deeper than the last. It’s causes pain unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, pain that seems to have no end, no respite.

If he doesn’t want you in his life, you’ll accept that. You have to - it’s not like you have a choice. Soulmates are a two-way street.

You can’t force him to feel something he doesn’t, can’t make him see you in a way he clearly never will. And you understand, don’t you? You can’t even imagine how difficult this would be for him. Losing your soulmate, and then the universe saying Fuck You and giving you another?

You’ll never ever forget how wrecked he was when Jean died. How her death shattered him into pieces so small you weren’t–no–you’re still not sure he’ll ever be whole again.

And you—where do you stand in the grand scheme of things? Just as the unfortunate recipient of a bond that neither of you asked for? Are you even allowed to be upset about this?

—

Waking up the next morning, you honestly wish you hadn’t. You knew you weren’t on good terms with Logan after his little rooftop showcase of emotions, but nothing could have prepared you for the way he starts to treat you.

His face is stuck in a perpetual scowl when you’re in his vicinity. He’s leaving every room the moment you enter, refusing to look at you, speak to you, or acknowledge your presence in any way. It’s as if you’ve become invisible, a ghost haunting the same halls you once shared with him. There’s only one thing you two seem to wordlessly agree on: don’t tell anyone.

Each day following becomes a struggle, an unbearable test of your strength as you try to make it through without breaking. You begin to avoid Logan as much as he avoids you, but the mansion is only so big, and there are always moments when you catch sight of him in the distance, his broad shoulders hunched, his brooding face glaring daggers in your direction.

It hurts you every time, an unending torture that leaves you stumbling. Still, you bite your tongue and keep moving, pretending you don’t care.

But you do care. You care more than you want to admit, more than you think is possible. Because despite everything—despite the rejection, the coldness, the anger—you still love him.

And that’s the cruelest twist of all.

So you endure it, day after day, week after week, month after month. Letting it tear you apart piece by piece, because what else can you do? You carry this burden alone, just as you’ve carried your feelings for him all these years. And maybe one day, the pain will fade, the bond will weaken, and you’ll be able to move on.

—

The only person you tell is Charles.

“What’s on your mind, my child?” he asks one day, while you’re sweeping the dust in his office.

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to your hands as you focus on cleaning. You know he’s just asking out of courtesy, and that he could easily crawl into your mind and figure it out himself. He probably wouldn’t even need to put in that much effort, given how loud your thoughts are. But still, you don’t yield to his probing.

“Nothing, really,” you mutter, forcing a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Just… tired, I guess.”

Charles watches you carefully, his eyes full of the warmth and compassion he always has, but this time, it makes you feel uncomfortable. Like he can see right through the facade you’re trying so hard to maintain, which you have no doubt, he does.

“I’m here to help, whatever the burden.”

You want to groan. It’s not like he’s doing it on purpose but damn does it feel like he’s trying to guilt you into confessing that you just recently had your heart shattered.

“I know, Professor. But… it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“You forget, I worry about all of you,” he replies gently. “It’s in my nature.”

The chuckle that crawls out your throat is nothing short of bitter. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t mean you have to face it alone.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep the emotions at bay. Do you really want to explain to him the insurmountable suffering you’re in, the rejection you faced from the one person who is supposed to be your soulmate? How can you tell him that the bond the universe forged is the very thing tearing you apart?

“It’s just… I don’t know how to make sense of it, Professor,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Everything’s so… wrong.”

He leans forward slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Wrong how?”

Knowing that you’re teetering into confession territory, you hesitate, needing time to collect your thoughts.

“Logan… he… we… It’s not supposed to be like this, is it?” you eventually get out. Not your best work, but you know he’d get the gist.

Understanding dawns in Charles’s eyes, and you can see the sympathy there, the quiet acceptance of the truth you’re struggling to voice. “The bond you share… it’s more than you expected, isn’t it?”

You nod, feeling the tears well up again. “But he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want me.”

The professor sighs softly, and he looks at you like you’re a lost puppy. “Logan has been through so much, more than most could bear. His heart has been wounded in ways that are difficult to heal, and it’s not surprising that he would resist this new connection.”

“So why me?” you ask. “Why bind me to someone who will never love me?”

Leaning back in his chair, his fingers steepled thoughtfully, he says, “I wish I had an answer for you, my dear. The universe works in mysterious ways, ways that often defy our understanding. But I do know this: the bond you share is there for a reason. Whether it’s meant to bring you closer or to teach you something important… that remains to be seen.”

“It feels like a punishment,” you whisper, the tears finally spilling over. As much as you hate being put on the hot seat, you can admit that it feels good talking to someone about it. “Every day, it hurts more. And he won’t even look at me. I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“The heartache you’re feeling is profound, but you must understand that it’s not your fault. Logan’s reaction isn’t a reflection of your worth, but of his own pain and fear.”

He reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your own before continuing.

“To love, even when it’s not returned, takes incredible courage. But you must also take care of yourself. Give Logan the space he needs, and in the meantime, allow yourself the grace to heal.”

So you do. In the days that follow your conversation with Charles, you make a promise to yourself—to try, really try, to focus on your own life, to reclaim the parts of yourself that have been overshadowed by the pain of this unrequited love.

The colours are still there, vivid and vibrant, and though they sometimes feel like a bittersweet reminder of what could never be, you find moments where they bring you joy. You marvel at the deep blue of the sky, the rich greens of the trees, the way the sunlight filters through the leaves and paints the world in golden hues. It’s like seeing the world anew, and in those moments, you allow yourself to feel happiness.

Moreover, you busy yourself, volunteering for every assignment that comes your way. The adrenaline, the focus, the purpose—they all help to drown out the pain, even if only temporarily. And when you return from each mission, tired but satisfied, you feel a little more like yourself again.

The mansion, too, becomes less of a prison and more of a home once more. You start spending more time with the others, rejoining them for meals, for training sessions, for movie nights.

You laugh with Rogue, spar with Scott, and even find yourself engaging in playful banter with Remy. It’s not perfect, and there are still moments where you catch yourself faltering, when the weight of everything threatens to pull you under, but those moments are becoming fewer and farther between.

You’re healing, slowly but surely, and with each passing day, you feel a little stronger, a little more in control of your life—of your emotions.

But then there are the times when you cross paths with Logan, and those moments are the hardest.

One evening, after returning from a particularly grueling mission, you find yourself heading toward the kitchen, your mind on the sandwich you plan to make. The place is quiet, most of the team out on various assignments, or finishing up on some work, and you relish the peace as you walk down the corridor.

However, just as you reach the kitchen door and push it open, you find Logan standing there, preparing to exit the room at the exact same moment. Your heart lurches, and you stop dead in your tracks, almost like a deer caught in headlights.

His gaze meets yours, and all you can see is his impassive, stoic expression. He steps back, giving you space to enter, but the tension between you is palpable.

“Sorry,” you mumble, stepping to the side, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

Logan doesn’t say anything, barely nodding—if you could even it that— before brushing past you, his shoulder grazing yours. The brief contact sends a jolt through your system, and you have to force yourself to stay still and not physically react.

Once he leaves, you let out a shaky breath, your heart still racing from the encounter. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to him—so long since you’ve seen the deep brown of his hair that you love so much. You hate this.

Why does he have no reaction to at all? Why is it only you who seems to care?

Because you are the only one who does care.

You move into the kitchen, still intent on eating, but it’s a challenge. Your hands are trembling.

—

It all comes to a head one night during dinner. In this rare occasion, both you and Logan are in the same room. You’re supposed to be celebrating Rogue and Gambit’s anniversary, and even though you insisted that they share this special moment together alone, they didn’t take no for an answer.

That’s how you find yourself, sitting at the grand dining table with all your friends, and Logan.

He’s across from you. Just your luck.

He refuses to spare you a single glance, his eyes staying busy the whole night. And while it’s been months and months of this, you have never gotten used to it. Still, you can’t help but sneak a few looks at that chocolate-coloured hair. Brown.

Everything seems to be going smoothly, the food is delicious and the dessert even better, but when Gambit presents Rogue with a giant painting, that’s when you slip up.

“I love how you blended the red with the blue!” You compliment, loving the way he managed to create the perfect contrast between shades. You’re too caught up in staring at the artwork to realize the table as gone deathly quiet, all eyes on you.

Rogue's expression is one of gentle confusion, her head tilted slightly as she tries to make sense of your words. “Darling, I thought you couldn’t see colour?”

In any other situation, you’re sure the team would have laughed at how comically large your eyes got, and how all the blood draining from your face makes you look like a gaping fish, but in this moment, nothing is funny. You can feel Logan’s eyes on you, and when you finally muster the courage to glance at him, you see that his all-too familiar glare you’ve been subject to for the last half-year. It makes your heart thud painfully in your chest

“I…” you begin, but you falter. Your mind is going through a thousand thoughts per minute, searching for an excuse you can use to deflect, to pretend it was just a mistake, but the silence is too heavy, too demanding.

Rogue’s confusion deepens, her gaze flickering between you and Logan, who is now staring at you with an expression that’s impossible to read. She starts to say something, but Remy gently places a hand on her arm, shaking his head slightly as if to tell her to let you speak.

Logan’s gaze stays locked on you for a moment longer. Then, without a word, he pushes his chair back, the legs scraping harshly against the floor. The sound echoes in the silence, and before you can react, he stands up and walks out of the room, his movements stiff, almost mechanical.

The door closes behind him with a quiet click, and the tension in the room thickens. You feel a rush of embarrassment flood through you, your heart sinking as the reality of what just happened crashes over you.

You lower your head, your eyes stinging with tears that you fight desperately to hold back. But it’s no use. The emotions you’ve been trying to keep buried for so long bubble to the surface, and before you can stop yourself, the tears start to fall.

“I think I need a moment,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling as you stand up from the table. Without waiting for a response, you hastily excuse yourself and head for the door, not before mumbling a quick apology to the couple in which you were there for.

Soon you find yourself outside in the gardens, the nightly breeze hitting your face as you make your way to a secluded bench. You can’t even appreciate the beauty in what you see, because all you feel is the overwhelming sense of failure and sadness that threatens to swallow you whole.

Sitting down heavily on the bench, you bury your face in your hands and let go. The sobs come hard and fast, each one ripping through you with a force that leaves you breathless. You’re heartbroken and angry and absolutely over it, but at the same time you feel like a massive asshole because who are you to be upset with a man who’s mourning the loss of a soulmate?

It’s not fair.

You don’t know how long you sit there, lost in your grief, but eventually, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching. You look up, wiping at your eyes, and see Scott walking toward you.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks gently.

You shake your head, unable to find your voice, and Scott sits down beside you on the bench.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, “I didn’t mean to ruin the night.”

Scott clicks his tongue in disagreement, his gaze focused on the gardens ahead. “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s clear you’ve been carrying this burden for a long time. It’s no wonder it slipped out tonight.”

“So everyone knows now?” you ask. He nods.

“It wasn’t hard to put two and two together,” he concludes, and you groan, bringing your hands to your face.

“I just… I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want to be pitied.”

“Pity isn’t what anyone feels right now,” Scott says softly. “We’re worried about you. You’ve been hurting, and we didn’t see it. That’s on us.”

“It’s not your fault,” you bring your hands down from your face. “I’ve been trying to deal with it on my own. I thought I could handle it, but… clearly I was wrong”

With a serious expression, Scott turns to look at you. “I know what you’re going through, more than you might realize.”

You glance at him, surprised by his words. “You do?”

He nods, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was in love with Jean, remember? When her and Logan found out they were soulmates… it tore me apart. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move on, and for a long time, I couldn’t.”

The mention of Jean’s name brings a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you, but there’s also a strange comfort in knowing that Scott understands your pain. “How did you… how did you get through it?”

He sighs, “It wasn’t easy. It took a long time, and I had to accept it.”

You wipe at your eyes again, sniffling as you try to compose yourself. “I’ve been thinking about leaving for a while. Taking a longer mission, just to get away for a bit. Maybe then I can figure out how to move on.”

He is quiet for a moment, considering your words. “If that’s what you need to do, I understand,” he says, “sometimes, a change of scenery can help. Though I think you should try to talk to Logan again.”

Letting out a bitter laugh, you shake your head. “I don’t know if he’ll even listen to me. He’s made it pretty clear how he feels.”

“He’s hurting too,” He decides, “He’s not handling it well, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. You both need closure, and running away won’t give you that.”

“What if it just makes things worse?”

“It might.” Scott places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “But it might also give you both the chance to start healing. You deserve that chance.”

You nod slowly, letting the weight of his words sink in. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Take the time you need,” he says. “We’re all here for you.”

“Thanks, Scott. That means a lot.” You offer him a small, grateful smile.

With a final nod, he turns and walks back toward the mansion, leaving you once again alone in the quiet of the gardens. You take a deep breath, the idea of leaving still tugs at you, but now, there’s also the thought of confronting Logan—of finding some kind of closure, whatever that might mean.

You really don’t want to do it, and you’re pretty sure it’s just going to end the same way it did last time - with him shutting you out. But Scott’s words echo in your mind, reminding you that healing often requires confrontation, not avoidance.

Goddamn it.

You huff as you stand up from where you’re seated. You can’t keep running from this, can’t keep letting him run from this. You need to talk to Logan, to lay everything out on the table, even if it tears you apart in the process.

Your anxiety builds with each step as you approach his room, and you pause outside his door, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he could hear it if he was listening. This is it. There’s no turning back now. With a shaky breath, you finally raise your hand and knock.

There’s a long, agonizing pause, making you strain to hear any movement on the other side. For a second, the silence causes you think he might not answer, that he might just ignore you like he’s done so many times before. But then, you hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching the door. Your heart catches in your throat as it slowly opens, revealing Logan standing there, his expression hard and unreadable.

The moment he realizes it’s you, his eyes darken, and he immediately moves to close the door, shutting you out yet again. However, you’re not letting him get away that easily. Before the door can fully close, you stick your foot out, blocking it with more force than you intended.

“C’mon, Logan,” you press. “You know we need to talk.”

He freezes, his grip on the door tightening until his knuckles turn white. His jaw clenches and unclenches, nostrils flaring. He still doesn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on some distant point as if he can will you away if he tries hard enough. But he doesn’t push the door shut either. The room is thick with suspense, both of you standing there in a silent standoff.

Finally, with a low growl of frustration, Logan steps back, opening the door just a smidge wider, barely enough for you to squeeze through. It’s a reluctant invitation, but it’s all you need.

“Fine,” he mutters, his voice rough, edged with irritation. “Talk.”

You step into the room, and he closes the door behind you, lingering close to it, as if he’s ready to bolt at any second. You feel vulnerable and exposed. It’s suddenly hard to gather your thoughts when he’s standing so close, when the heat of his presence and the distance he’s placed between is right in your face.

“Why did you come?” Logan questions. He still refuses to look directly at you, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder.

“Because we can’t keep pretending this isn’t happening,” you reply, “We need to talk about what’s going on between us.”

His jaw tightens further, and his teeth grind with barely contained frustration. He finally looks at you, his eyes hard and defensive. “There’s nothing to say,” he says bitterly. “I told you how I feel. I thought that was enough.”

“It’s not enough!” you shoot back, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. “You think you can just push me away, pretend like this bond doesn’t exist, and that’s supposed to solve everything? It doesn’t work like that, Logan.”

He flinches slightly at your words, but his keeps his expression hard. “Well what do you want me to say?” he demands, his voice rising. “That I’m sorry? That I didn’t mean to hurt you? Because I am, and I didn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t be what you want me to be.”

His words hurt.

“I know you told me how you feel,” you start, “but you’ve never let me tell you how I feel. You’ve never given me the chance to say that it’s been tearing me apart.”

A flash of guilt. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think you needed to say it. I already knew.”

“That isn’t fair,” you argue.

“You don’t understand,” he counters, “I lost Jean. I loved her, and when she died, it broke something in me. And now… now I’m supposed to just… move on? With you? It’s not that simple.”

“I never asked you to love me, Logan,” you say, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. “I never pushed for anything more than friendship—it’s not like you gave me the chance! You’ve been shutting me out, ignoring me, making me feel like I’m nothing more than a burden, like I don’t even matter!”

You can see that the pain in your voice hitting him hard, but he doesn’t apologize. Instead, he looks away, his expression conflicted. “I’m trying to protect you,” he mutters, the words sounding hollow even to him

“Protect me?” you echo incredulously. “All you’re doing is make me feel like shit. Like I’m worthless. I can’t even be your friend, to help you through this.”

You pause. “You expect us all to know how you’re feeling, but you can’t even communicate it.”

Logan winces, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, filled with a torment you’ve never seen before. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words seem to get caught in his throat. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I can’t be what you want me to be,” he admits, his tone filled with a deep, aching sadness. “I don’t know how to let you in. Without her, I feel like… I can’t let anyone in.”

Your eyes soften a fraction his confession, but there’s also a deep frustration that burns inside you, a frustration born of months of pain and rejection.

“You haven’t even tried,” you say softly with a quiet resignation, “You haven’t even tried to let me in, to see what we could have been, even if it was just as friends.”

What follows is a long, nagging silence. You let it linger, giving Logan the chance he needs to think of something to say. But there’s no answer, no promise that things will change, and then you realize, with a sinking feeling, that he’s not going to take that step, too broken to try.

That’s when it really hits you.

Whatever you were fighting for, was a losing battle from the start.

You give up.

This time, it is you who turns your back on him.

“Goodbye, Logan. Take care of yourself.”

You don’t wait for a response. You don’t glance back. You walk out of the room, the door closing softly behind you, and with it, the last remnants of hope you had for something more.

—

You decide to go on the mission.

It’s nothing complicated. Your task is to survey different regions of Europe, ensuring that there are no burgeoning anti-mutant operations threatening the safety of anyone. The primary goal is gathering information, and quiet observation. No violence, Charles told you in the debrief.

The lack of immediate danger doesn’t make leaving any easier, though. This is as much about finding yourself as it is about fulfilling your duty.

Rogue and Kitty are with you during your final preparations, helping you pack the essentials and offering support in their own ways. They don’t ask many questions, probably sensing that this decision was not just made on a whim. And for that, you’re grateful.

“I still think you’re crazy for going solo,” Rogue says with a half-smile as she zips up your bag. “But if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”

You manage a small smile in return. “Thanks, Rogue. I just need some time…”

Kitty, who’s been quietly folding clothes and tucking them into your bag, looks up, seriousness clouding her gaze. “We get it. Just promise you’ll keep in touch, okay? And don’t hesitate to call if you need backup.”

“I promise,” you assure.

She hesitates for a moment before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small device—the X-Men communicator gadget. She holds it out to you, and you reach your hand out.

“Here,” she says softly, pressing the device into your hand. “This is so you can update us on your whereabouts, your status, or any important mission details. Even if you don’t need anything, just… let us know you’re okay, alright?”

You look down at the communicator in your hand, and close your fingers around it, nodding as you meet Kitty’s gaze.

“Alright, I’ll check in regularly. I won’t leave you guys in the dark.”

Rogue finishes the last bit of organization. “You’ve got this,” she says, “And we’ve got your back, even from a distance.” You nod, appreciating their support more than you can express.

It almost feels like a walk of shame—leaving the mansion. Everyone knows why too, and that makes it a thousand times worse. But you won’t let it get to you. With one last look, you get in your car and begin on the windy path to the airport.

—

When you arrive in Europe, the first thing that strikes you is the sheer beauty of the landscape. Each city, each town, has its own unique charm, its own story to tell. The bustling uphill streets of Porto, the serene canals of Venice, the ancient ruins of Athens—they all offer a distraction from the turmoil inside you.

The only good part about this whole mess is that you can see colour, and truly appreciate the sights before you.

You move from one place to the next, blending in with the crowds, quietly observing, gathering information, and sending brief updates to the team through the communicator Kitty gave you. Every message is short, to the point, just enough to let them know you’re safe and on track. You don’t share much beyond the essentials, not wanting to burden them with your personal struggles.

Then, in a small café in Rome, you meet a man named Marco. He’s a traveler like you, exploring Europe with a curiosity that matches your own. He’s warm, easygoing, and before long, the two of you strike up a conversation over coffee.

He is charming in a way that makes you feel at ease, his laughter infectious as he shares stories of his travels. You don’t tell him much about yourself, keeping the details of your mission and your mutant abilities hidden. To him, you’re just another traveler, searching for something—though he doesn’t pry into what that something is.

As the days pass, you and Marco continue to cross paths, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to, someone who doesn’t know about your past, about the things you’re running from. With him, you can be anyone, and for the first time in a long while, you start to feel a little lighter. You find yourself laughing more, the weight on your chest lifting a little each day. You don’t talk about the mission, and you certainly don’t talk about Logan.

One evening, as you’re both sitting on the steps of the Spanish Steps in Rome, watching the sunset, he turns to you with a grin. “So, where are you off to next?”

You hesitate, not wanting to reveal too much, but then you smile. “I’m heading to Florence. There are some places I need to check out.”

His eyes light up. “Florence? I’ve been meaning to re-visit. Mind if I tag along?”

A part of you wants to say no, to keep the distance you’ve carefully maintained, but another part—the part that’s been lonely for so long—nods in agreement. “Sure, why not?”

—

Back at the mansion, things haven’t been as positive. The once lively atmosphere has dimmed, replaced by an uneasy tension that lingers in the halls. The X-Men carry on with their duties, but there’s a noticeable shift—a missing piece that everyone feels but no one talks about. Logan, in particular, has become even more withdrawn, if that’s possible. The man who was once brooding and distant now seems even more so, his mood volatile and unpredictable.

His behavior has become a source of concern for the team. He’s always been rough around the edges, but now, it’s like the slightest thing can set him off. He snaps at everyone, his temper flaring at the smallest provocation. On missions, he’s reckless, throwing himself into danger without a second thought, as if he’s trying to outrun something—or someone.

In many evenings, Logan finds himself in the mansion’s gym, trying to work off the restless energy that’s been plaguing him for months. The room is always empty, save for him, the steady rhythm of his fists pounding against the punching bag being the only sound. Sweat drips down his face, his muscles straining as he channels all his frustration and anger into each punch. Yet, no matter how hard he hits, he can’t seem to shake the thoughts of you that have been haunting him.

This night, door to the gym creaks open, and Logan doesn’t need to look up to know who it is. He can sense the other man’s presence, feel the weight of his gaze as he steps inside. He doesn’t slow his punches, doesn’t acknowledge Scott’s presence, but he knows why he’s here. They’ve had this conversation before—or something like it—but nothing’s changed. Nothing’s gotten better.

Scott watches him for a moment, his expression unreadable. He’s been watching Logan spiral for weeks now, but he’s kept his distance, knowing that he’d only be pushed away. But this can’t go on—Logan can’t keep doing this, can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he refuses to confront.

“She wouldn’t want this,” he finally says, voice cutting through the steady thud of Logan’s fists against the bag.

Logan’s movements falter for just a second before he resumes, his jaw tightening. “Who?” he growls, not bothering to turn around. “Her or Jean?”

Scott doesn’t flinch at the harshness in the other man’s tone. He steps closer, his eyes steady on their target as he answers, “Both.”

Finally, Logan stops. His fists still as he leans against the bag, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His shoulders are tense, the weight of Scott’s words pressing down on him like a physical burden. He doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t want to be reminded of what he’s lost—of who he’s lost.

Taking a step closer, Scott’s voice is firm. “Look, I’m not a spiritual person. But I also don’t think the universe messed up with this.”

Clenching, his fists, Logan knows what the other man is getting at, but he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Doesn’t want to think about what could have been, what he’s been too scared to even consider.

“I know you know how I felt about Jean,” Scott says quietly, knowing he’s breaching a sensitive subject. “Losing her… it killed me too. And if I had been given a chance—a real chance to be with her, to make things right—I would have taken it. No hesitation.”

Logan’s breath hitches at that. The truth is, he’s been running—running from you, from the bond you share, from the possibility of something real.

“I’m not saying you should chase after her,” he continues. “But I am saying that you need to stop running from her. The universe doesn’t just throw things like this at us for no reason. And you know that.”

The weight of Scott’s words settle over Logan like a shroud. He knows the other man is right—deep down, he’s always known. But that doesn’t make it any easier. The fear, the guilt, the pain of losing Jean—it’s all still there, gnawing at him, holding him back.

There’s something else too, something he’s been trying to ignore but can’t any longer: the way he feels about you, the way he’s always felt, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself. One of the first thought’s that ran through his head when his world re-erupted into colour was that, had this happened before Jean, maybe it could have worked. Maybe he could have been what you wanted, felt something real.

Scott takes a step back, giving Logan the space he needs. “Just think about it,” he says softly. “Think about what you really want. And don’t wait until it’s too late to figure it out.”

Logan doesn’t respond, but Scott doesn’t need him to. He’s said what he needed to say, and now it’s up to him to decide what comes next. With a final look, Scott turns and leaves the gym, the door closing softly behind him.

The clawed mutant stands there for a long time, his fists still clenched, his mind racing. He knows he can’t keep doing this—can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he can’t change, something he’s too afraid to confront.

But change is terrifying, especially when it means facing the truth. The truth that maybe, just maybe, the bond he shares with you is something worth fighting for. Something that Jean wouldn’t want him to throw away.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Logan finally lets his fists unclench, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away. He doesn’t have all the answers—hell, he barely knows where to start—but he knows one thing for sure: he's can’t run away anymore. Not from this, not from you.

—

You’ve now spent days in Florence, wandering through the Uffizi Gallery, marveling at the works of the Renaissance masters, and evenings enjoying the quiet serenity of the Arno River. With you, Marco. You’ve grown to trust him. He’s never made you uncomfortable, never had any intentions to take advantage of you, and knows all the best restaurants.

But there’s always been a small, nagging doubt that you’ve pushed aside—a feeling that something isn’t quite right. You’ve ignored it, convincing yourself that you’re just being paranoid after everything you’ve been through. After all, he has been nothing but kind, always knowing the right thing to say, always showing up just when you need someone.

It isn’t until the two of you are exploring a quieter part of Florence, that the doubt flares into something more. You’re walking through an old, narrow alleyway, the kind that tourists rarely venture into, when Marco suggests you take a shortcut through a small, unmarked door in the side of a building.

“I found this place the last time I was here,” Marco says, his smile as easy as ever. “It’s a hidden gem, leads right to a beautiful courtyard. You’ll love it.”

You hesitate, something in his tone—or maybe it’s the way his eyes gleam just a little too brightly—sets off alarm bells in your mind. You’ve come to trust him though, haven’t you? You’ve traveled together for weeks, shared countless stories and laughs. Surely, he wouldn’t lead you into danger.

Still, as you step through the door, the darkened space beyond immediately feels wrong. The air is colder, damp, and the walls are lined with strange, unidentifiable equipment. You glance back at Marco, and that’s when you see it—the change in his expression. The warmth is gone, replaced by something cold and calculating.

Before you can react, you feel a sharp prick in your arm. Your vision blurs, and your body goes numb almost instantly. You stumble back, trying to push away, but your legs give out, and you collapse to the floor.

Marco looms over you, the smile gone from his face, replaced by a look of triumph. “Did you really think I didn’t know?” he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re a mutant, and you thought you could hide it from me?”

The world around you spins as the drug takes full effect, but you force your mind to stay focused. “What… why?” you manage to whisper, the betrayal cutting deep.

“Why?” He laughs, the sound harsh and devoid of any warmth. “Because mutants like you are worth a fortune. My clients pay top dollar for… research subjects. And you, my dear, are about to make me very, very rich.”

You try to move, to fight back, but your body refuses to respond. Panic rises in your chest as he kneels beside you, pulling out a small device that looks like a portable scanner. He runs it over you, and it emits a low hum as it registers your vital signs, confirming what he already knows. You’re weak.

“You won’t get away with this,” you say.

“Oh, but I already have,” he replies with cruel satisfaction. “No one knows where you are. And even if they did, it’ll be too late by the time they find you.”

With the last bit of strength you can muster, you reach into your pocket, fingers trembling as you fumble with the X-Men communicator that Kitty gave you. His attention is momentarily distracted as he prepares a syringe filled with a clear liquid, and you seize the opportunity. You manage to pull out the communicator, your fingers barely able to grip it. Then, with a deep breath, you press the SOS button, the screen flashing to life.

You type in the message as quickly as you can, your vision blurring even more as the drug takes hold.

Location: Florence.

Message: Help.

Just as you hit send, Marco notices what you’re doing. His eyes widen in anger, and he grabs your wrist, yanking the communicator out of your hand. “You little—!” he snarls, but it’s too late. The message has already been sent.

His face contorts in rage as he slams the gadget against the ground, smashing it to pieces. He glares down at you, his hand tightening painfully around your wrist. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? But it doesn’t matter. They’ll never get here in time.”

Your strength is nearly gone, the drug pulling you into unconsciousness, but you manage one last defiant look. “You won’t win,” you whisper with the last of your energy.

Marco releases your wrist with a sneer, standing up and looking down at you with contempt again. “We’ll see about that,” he mutters before turning away, leaving you on the cold, hard floor as darkness overtakes you.

You can only hope they—that Logan—will reach you in time.

—

The signal comes through during a meeting. A sudden, loud beep cuts through the room, and everyone freezes, their attention immediately drawn to the source of the sound. To Kitty’s pocket. It’s the X-Men communicator, the one linked to your device.

Logan’s head snaps up, his eyes narrowing as he recognizes the tone. He’s on his feet before anyone else can react, his heart pounding in his chest. “What the hell was that?” he demands, his voice tense with urgency.

Kitty quickly pulls it out of her pocket, her eyes widening as she reads the message that’s flashed across the screen. Her face pales, and she looks up at the others, her voice trembling as she speaks. “It’s from her… Florence… Help.”

There’s a brief pause, maybe a second long in length, and then the room erupts into a flurry of movement.

Chairs scrape against the floor as the team rises to their feet, already preparing for action. But Logan is the first to react, his face a mask of fury and determination. “I’m going,” he growls, already heading for the door.

“Logan, wait!” Scott steps forward, blocking Logan’s path with a firm hand on his chest.

“Get out of my way, Summers,” He snarls, his voice filled with barely controlled rage. “I’m not waiting around while she’s in danger.”

“We can’t just rush in without a plan,” Scott insists, trying to keep his own emotions in check. “We need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Logan shoves the other mutant’s hand away, his eyes blazing with anger. “She sent an SOS, Scott! She needs help, and we’re wasting time standing here talking about it!”

The rest of the team watches the confrontation with anxious eyes, knowing that things could easily escalate. Logan’s been on edge for weeks, and the urgency of the situation—of you— has pushed him to the brink.

“Logan,” Ororo interjects, “We understand how you feel, but we need to think this through. If this is a trap—”

“I don’t give a damn if it’s a trap!” He snaps, his voice rising. “She’s part of our team! We can’t just leave her there!”

“That’s not what we’re saying,” Scott tries to reason, but Logan isn’t having it.

“Then what the hell are you sayin’?” He demands, his frustration boiling over. “Why are we wasting time when we should be getting her out of there?”

There’s a brief, uncomfortable silence, and then it’s Rogue who steps forward, conflicted. “Logan… what if… what if she doesn’t want to see you?”

He freezes, the words hitting him harder than any physical blow could. He stares at Rogue, disbelief and anger warring in his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he growls.

Rogue swallows, her eyes filled with worry. “She left because she needed time, Logan. Because things between you two… they weren’t good. Maybe she—maybe she doesn’t want you to be the one to save her.”

Clenching his hands into fists, his body is taut with tension. “Fuck that!” he roars with a fierce, protective rage. “She’s part of our team! She sent that message to us, to the X-Men, because she needs our help. I don’t care what’s happened between us, I’m not leavin’ her there!”

The room falls silent, the weight of Logan’s words settling over everyone. They know Logan is right—she’s part of the team, and they can’t leave her behind. But they also know that the situation is more complicated than that.

Scott takes a deep breath, his gaze steady as he looks at Logan. “We’re not saying we shouldn’t go after her, Logan. We’re saying that you need to be prepared for whatever we might find when we get there. She might be in a bad place, and she might not be ready to face you.”

“I don’t care,” he says after a brief pause, his voice quieter now, but no less determined. “I’m going to get her out of there. Whether she wants to see me or not, I’m not lettin’ her go through this alone.”

Scott studies Logan for a long moment, then finally nods. “Alright. But we do this together, as a team.”

Logan nods, his jaw set in a grim line. “Fine. Let’s go.”

—

Your eyes snap open, the dim light of the room piercing your vision. You’re in a large, abandoned warehouse. Your head feels heavy, like it’s filled with cotton, and there’s a dull, throbbing pain at the base of your skull. As you try to move, you realize with a jolt of fear that you’re restrained, your arms and legs strapped tightly to a chair. Panic flares in your chest, and you struggle against the bonds, but they don’t budge.

And then you see him—Marco, standing a few feet away, watching you with a smirk that sends a chill down your spine. His eyes gleam with satisfaction, and you realize with horror that you’ve been caught, trapped in whatever twisted game he’s been playing.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he says, voice dripping with mock concern. “I was starting to wonder if I’d given you too much of the sedative. But it seems you’re tougher than I thought.”

You try to respond, but a gag in your mouth muffles your words, turning them into incoherent sounds. You glare at him your eyes burning with fury.

He only chuckles, clearly amused by your resistance. “Oh, don’t bother trying to speak. We wouldn’t want you calling for help, now would we? Though, I must say, I’m impressed you managed to send that little SOS before I caught on. Clever, but ultimately futile.”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing as he looks you over, his expression turning cold. “You know, I’ve dealt with a lot of mutants in my time, but there’s something special about you. Something… unique.” He reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Too bad your powers won’t do you any good here. The drug I gave you should keep you nice and powerless for the foreseeable future.”

Straining against the bonds, you continue to try to break free, but he drug in your system dulls your abilities, leaving you feeling weak and vulnerable. All you can do is stare at him with hatred as he continues to taunt you.

“Such fire in your eyes,” Marco murmurs, almost to himself. “It’s a shame you’ll never see the light of day again. But don’t worry—I’ll make sure your abilities are put to good use.”

He lets go of your chin, his hand trailing down to your shoulder in a way that makes your skin crawl. “Now, let’s see what we can do to make you a little more… compliant.”

Just as he reaches into his coat pocket, presumably for another syringe, a sudden, loud crash echoes through the warehouse. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass fills the air, followed by the unmistakable hum of energy blasts and the heavy thud of boots on the concrete floor.

The X-Men have arrived.

Marco’s eyes widen in surprise and then narrow in anger. He spins around, barking orders at the security guards scattered throughout the warehouse. “Stop them! Don’t let them get near her!”

The guards rush forward, weapons drawn, but they’re no match for your friends. The familiar sounds of battle flood your ears—Rogue’s powerful punches, Scott’s optic blasts, and Storm’s lightning crackling through the air. You struggle against your restraints again, desperate to free yourself, but it’s no use.

Then, you catch a glimpse of Logan. He’s fighting his way toward you, his claws out, slicing through anyone who gets in his way. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, your eyes meet his, and you can see the raw determination in his gaze. He’s coming for you.

But just as he takes a step forward, something changes. He hesitates. You can’t hear what he’s thinking, but you can see the conflict on his face—the way he seems to second-guess himself, the way his steps falter. Your heart sinks as you realize he’s unsure, almost as if he's torn between wanting to save you and fearing that you don’t want him to.

In that split second of hesitation, Rogue swoops in, landing beside you with a determined look on her face. She doesn’t waste any time, using her strength to tear through the restraints that bind you. “We’ve got you, sugah,” she says, her voice steady and reassuring as she pulls the gag from your mouth. “You’re safe now.”

You nod, your throat too dry and your body too weak to speak. Your muscles scream in protest as you try to stand, but she quickly wraps an arm around you, helping you to your feet. You’re shaky, your body still reeling from the effects of the drug, but you’re free. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Logan still standing there, his eyes locked on you, his expression unreadable. He wanted to save you. He wanted to be the one to pull you out of that nightmare, but something held him back.

Rogue helps you toward the exit as the rest of the team continues to subdue the guards and Marco. You lean heavily on her, your legs barely able to support your weight, but you force yourself to keep moving.

And when everyone else has back in the jet, hugging you and comforting you, you look over to Logan, who sits far away, on the opposite side, refusing to meet your gaze.

—

Returning to the mansion feels like stepping back into a familiar, comforting embrace. You missed the soft, warm bed in your room, the quiet serenity of the gardens, and the comforting presence of your friends. It's been a few days since the whole ordeal in Florence, and the drug has finally worked its way out of your system. Your strength has returned, and physically, you feel like yourself again. The mansion, too, seems unchanged—still the safe haven you’ve always known.

But as the days pass, you begin to notice that while many things have returned to normal, some things have not. You’ve seen most of your friends, their faces lighting up when they see you, their hugs tight and full of relief. There have been quiet conversations and laughter, shared meals in the kitchen, and moments that remind you why this place is home.

Except, there’s one person you haven’t seen. Logan.

His absence is like a shadow that follows you wherever you go. You’ve felt his presence in the mansion—heard his voice in the halls, the sound of his footsteps on the floorboards—but he’s kept his distance. He hasn’t sought you out, hasn’t tried to talk to you, and that stings more than you want to admit.

You’ve tried to stay strong, to remind yourself of the resilience you found during your time away. You’ve reminded yourself over and over that you don’t need anyone else to validate your worth, that you can stand on your own. Yet the longer Logan avoids you, the harder it is to hold on to that strength. The old wounds, the ones you thought had begun to heal, start to ache again, and you can’t help but wonder if anything has really changed at all.

More often than not, you find yourself retreating to the front lawn. The sun is warm on your skin as you lie down in the grass, a book in hand. The soft rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of life inside the mansion create a peaceful background, and for a moment, you manage to lose yourself in the pages of your book.

Still, even here, in the sanctuary of the garden, the thoughts you’ve been trying to push aside keep creeping back in. The memory of Florence, of Logan’s hesitation, lingers like a bitter aftertaste. You replay the moment over and over in your mind, trying to make sense of it, trying to understand why he stopped, why he didn’t come for you.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice the shadow that falls across your page until a deep, familiar voice breaks the silence.

“I’m glad you’re alright.”

The voice startles you, and you jerk slightly, looking up to see Logan standing above you. His expression is guarded, as if he’s not sure how you’ll react to his presence. There’s a tautness to his posture, a stiffness that you recognize all too well.

For a moment, you just stare at him, caught off guard by the suddenness of his appearance. He’s as rugged and intimidating as ever, but there’s something different in his eyes—something a tad bit softer. You close your book, sitting up slowly as you meet his gaze. The question that’s been gnawing at you since Florence rises to the surface, and you know you can’t keep it inside any longer.

“What happened?” you ask, your voice steady but filled with quiet intensity. “In Florence?”

His jaw tightens, and he looks away for a moment, his gaze shifting to the trees in the distance. He doesn’t answer immediately, and the silence stretches out between you, thick with unspoken words.

You just watch him, waiting for an explanation, but there’s a part of you that’s already bracing for disappointment. You’ve been here before, waiting for Logan to decide what happens next, to take the lead. And you’re tired of it. You’re tired of being the one left in the dark, of being the one who has to wait for him to be ready.

Finally, he lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of the world is pressing down on him. “I… I hesitated,” he admits huskily, almost in a growl. “I wanted to save you. Hell, I was going to. But then… I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

His confession hangs in the air, and you feel a mix of emotions—surprise, confusion, and sadness. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t realized that his hesitation was rooted in something so painfully human.

“Why wouldn’t I want you to?” you ask softly, searching his face for answers.

Logan finally looks at you, really looks at you, and the raw emotion in his eyes takes your breath away. “Because of everything that’s happened between us. Because I pushed you away. I hurt you, and I thought… maybe you’d be better off if it wasn’t me.”

You shake your head, trying to make sense of his reasoning. “Logan, this can’t keep being about what you think is best,” you begin. “And it’s not about who saves who. It’s about being there when it counts. You were there. You came for me.”

He doesn’t have a response to that, at least not right away. He looks down at the ground, his fists unclenching, his shoulders slumping even further. It’s like he’s carrying the weight of everything he’s done, everything he’s failed to do, and it’s crushing him.

“I’m sorry,” he finally manages to get out. “For everything.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I know I’ve messed up,” he continues. “I know I haven’t been there for you like I should’ve. But I’m here now. And if you’ll let me… I want to try to make things right.”

You know you should be happy—this is everything you’ve wanted to hear from him for so long. But it’s also too much, too late. The doubt, the pain, it can’t just disappear with a snap of your fingers.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” you admit.

There’s pain on his face. “I get it,” he says, his voice rough but steady. “I know I’ve got a lot to make up for. And I know it’s not going to happen overnight. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes, if it means I can earn your trust back.”

“I need time. I need time to figure out where I stand, and where you stand with me.”

He nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the ground again. “Take all the time you need,” he says quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I appreciate that,” With a small nod, you stand up, brushing the grass off your clothes. “I need time,” you repeat, more for your own benefit than his.

“And you’ve got it,” Logan replies. “As much as you need.”

—

Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. You focus on yourself, on healing the wounds that were reopened during your conversation with Logan. It feels strange, being the one who needs space, but you know it’s necessary. You find things to take your mind off him: you train more, read more, spend more time with Rogue, Kitty, or Remy. It’s nice.

But Logan… Logan doesn’t give up. He knows you need time, and he respects that. He doesn’t push, doesn’t pressure you to make a decision, but he makes it clear through his actions that he hasn’t forgotten about you, and more importantly, that he isn’t going anywhere.

It starts with the small things—things so subtle that you almost don’t notice at first. You probably wouldn’t have suspected anything if you hadn’t known the kind of person he is. He’s nothing if not persistent. He knows you better than you realize—the rift he created after Jean’s death muddling with your memory—and he uses that knowledge to quietly, almost imperceptibly, work his way back into your life.

In the mornings, you wake up to find your favorite snacks waiting for you in the kitchen, carefully placed where you’d be sure to see them. He never mentions it, never takes credit, but you know it’s him. It’s in the way he glances at you from the corner of his eye as you take a bite, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He never makes a big deal out of it—just a quiet, unspoken gesture that says, I’m thinking of you.

Then there are the late-night training sessions. You go down to the Danger Room or the gym, hoping to clear your mind with a bit of solitary exercise, only to find Logan already there. At first, you’re tempted to leave, to find somewhere else to work out, but something in his demeanor stops you. He doesn’t approach you, doesn’t speak unless you initiate it. Instead, he just… exists beside you, his presence steady and reassuring, like a rock in the storm.

It’s in these moments that you begin to see a different side of Logan—one that’s patient, understanding, and perhaps a little unsure of himself. He follows your lead, mirroring your exercises or silently spotting you during weightlifting, always attentive to your needs without ever making you feel pressured or overwhelmed. He’s just there, offering his support in the quietest, most understated way possible.

And then there are the little surprises in your room—small, thoughtful gestures that you can’t help but notice. A favorite book you’d mentioned in passing suddenly appears on your nightstand, its pages pristine and waiting for you to dive into. The time-worn leather straps on your gear are suddenly replaced with new ones that fit perfectly, the stitching unmistakably done by Logan’s hand. Even your plants, the ones you’d worried would wither away while you were on a mission, seem to thrive in your absence, the soil freshly watered and the leaves turned toward the sun.

He never asks for thanks, never draws attention to what he’s doing. It’s all done quietly, behind the scenes, as if he’s afraid that if you notice too much, you might push him away. But you do notice. How could you not?

At first, you try to ignore it, telling yourself that these gestures don’t change anything, that they’re just a way for Logan to assuage his guilt. You tell yourself that he’s just doing this because he feels bad, because he wants to make up for the past, not because he actually cares. You’ve built walls around your heart for a reason, and you’re not ready to let them down just because he’s being nice.

But over time, those small gestures begin to chip away at those walls, brick by brick. You start to realize that Logan isn’t just going through the motions—he’s really paying attention, noticing the little things that make you who you are. It isn’t just about the snacks or the books or the plants—it’s about the way he remembers the details of your life, the things that matter to you, the things that make you feel seen and understood.

After a particularly long and stressful day, you return to your room exhausted, and all you want is to collapse into bed and forget the world for a while. But when you walk in, you find a small bouquet of wildflowers sitting on your nightstand, the beautiful colors a stark contrast to the dark thoughts that have been swirling in your mind all day. There’s no note, no explanation—there never is—but you know who left them.

You just stand there, staring at the flowers, your heart squeezing in your chest. It’s such a simple gesture, and yet it means so much. You’d forgotten that Logan knew how much you love wildflowers—you’d mentioned it once, years ago. The way they’re resilient, thriving even in the harshest conditions, blooming where others wouldn’t. It’s as if he’s telling you that he sees that strength in you, that he admires it.

And it’s then, in the quiet of your room, surrounded by the small, thoughtful gestures that Logan has left behind, that you realize something. This isn’t just about making up for the past. Logan is showing you, in the only way he knows how, that he wants this. Wants you.

He's finally picked up the pieces of him that fell apart after Jean’s death, and he is willing to pick up the pieces of you that fell apart after his rejection.

So, one evening, months after that fateful conversation on the lawn, you find yourself standing in the common room, staring at the fireplace, lost in thought. The mansion is quiet, the rest of the team either out on a mission or asleep. It’s just you and the flickering flames, the soft crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.

But when you hear footsteps behind you, heavy and deliberate, you know instantly who it is. Without turning, you can sense his presence, the way he moves with that quiet confidence, the way the air seems to shift when he is near. Logan has always had a way of grounding you, even when you don’t want him to.

He walks up beside you, stopping just short of touching you, his warmth radiating in the small space between your bodies. He doesn’t say anything at first, doesn’t ask why you’re here or try to force a conversation. He just stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets, waiting patiently, giving you the time you need. It’s something you’ve come to appreciate about him in recent months—his newfound ability to just be, without pushing or demanding more than you’re ready to give.

"I’ve been thinking," you say finally, your voice soft, as you continue to gaze into the flames.

"Yeah?" Logan asks, his tone careful, as if he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing.

You turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "You’ve been… different. Doing all these little things… I see them, you know."

Logan’s eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long time, you see hope there. "I just wanted you to know that I care. That I’m sorry," he says, with so much emotion. “You were never a burden to me.”

You swallow hard. "It’s hard for me, Logan," you admit, "I’ve been hurt before, and I’m scared. Scared that if I let myself love you again, you’ll just… break me."

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "I’d never hurt you again," he says, "I’d rather cut off my own damn hand than hurt you. The past is the past, and you are my future."

That’s enough to make your walls crumble completely. You know, deep down, that Logan is telling the truth. That he’s willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.

And in that moment, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re ready to let him.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you let your actions speak for you. You close the distance between you, standing on your toes as you press your lips to his in a gentle, tentative kiss. Logan freezes for a split second, as if he can’t believe this is really happening, but then he kisses you back, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close, holding you as if he never wants to let go.

The kiss is slow, tender, full of everything that has been building between you for so long. It isn’t just a kiss—it’s a promise, a commitment to try again, to rebuild what has been broken. When you finally pull back, your breath mingling with his, you rest your head on his shoulder. "I’m still scared," you whisper.

"I know," Logan replies, his arms tightening around you. "But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll take this slow, darlin’. Whatever you need."

You nod. "Okay."

Logan smiles then, a real, genuine smile that makes your heart flutter in a way it hasn’t in years. It’s a smile full of relief, of gratitude, of love—a smile that tells you that he understands just how much this moment means, just how much you’re giving him by letting him back into your heart.

—

The time that follows is a slow, steady journey of rebuilding trust. Logan is true to his word—he is patient, understanding, and surprisingly tender in ways you hadn’t expected. The small gestures continue—coffee waiting for you in the morning, a gentle hand on your back during missions, quiet moments of companionship where no words are needed.

You can feel the doubts you’ve been holding onto slowly begin to fade. Each time Logan shows up for you, each time he puts your needs above his own, it chips away at the fear that has kept you guarded for so long. It’s in the way he listens when you talk, truly listens, as if every word you say matters. It’s in the way he looks at you—not with the same fury he once had, but with a steady, enduring affection that speaks of something deeper.

With Jean, he loved her because she was his soulmate, she was who the universe destined him to be with. He loved her because that’s what he thought he had to do.

With you, he has a choice. He doesn’t need to acknowledge the bond, but he chooses to. He chooses to everyday and he’ll never stop. He loves you because he wants to, not because he has to.

One evening, you find yourself sitting on the mansion’s porch watching the sunset. Logan joins you without a word, sitting close enough that your shoulders brush.

“You’ve been quiet today,” he says softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“I’ve just been thinking,” you reply, leaning your head on his shoulder. It’s a simple gesture, but one that speaks volumes about how far you’ve come in trusting him again.

“’Bout what?” he asks, his voice gentle.

“About us,” you say, your voice steady. “About how things have changed. How… how good they’ve been.”

Logan’s hand finds yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a way that feels so natural, so right. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you echo, squeezing his hand. “I’m not scared anymore, Logan. Not like I was.”

He turns to face you, his eyes searching yours. “You sure?”

You nod, smiling softly. “I’m sure. You’ve shown me that this bond means something to you, that you’re not going to hurt me. And… I want this. I want us.”

Logan’s face lights up with so much love, that it takes your breath away. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad, darlin’. Because I want us too. More than anything.”

—

It isn’t long before the rest of the X-Men begin to notice the change in Logan as well. At first, it’s subtle—small things like the way he looks at you during briefings, or the way he seems to be more patient, more relaxed when you’re around. But over time, it becomes impossible to ignore.

During a training session in the Danger Room, you’re paired with Logan for a simulated mission. The others watch as Logan moves with you in perfect sync, his focus not just on the mission but on you—making sure you’re safe, supporting you when needed, and trusting you completely. It’s a far cry from the Logan they had seen when he was in mourning, where his moves were rash and careless.

After the session, as you and Logan leave the Danger Room, you catch sight of Ororo and Scott exchanging a look, the kind of look that speaks volumes, full of surprise and a touch of amusement.

“What?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you approach them.

Ororo smiles warmly, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Nothing, just… noticing how good you two are together.”

Scott nods in agreement, his expression softening as he glances at Logan. “Yeah, it’s… different, finally seeing him like this. In a good way.”

Logan shrugs, but there’s no hiding the small smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’re you guys talking about?”

“Just that it’s nice to see you happy, Logan,” Ororo says gently. “Really happy.”

Logan looks at you then, his smile growing as he meets your gaze. “Yeah. It is.”

More members of the team begin to notice the change in Logan as time goes on. Rogue, who has always had a soft spot for him, comments on how he seems more at ease, less burdened by the weight of his past. Hank, ever the observer, points out how Logan’s demeanor has shifted—less brooding, more open. Even Charles, who has seen Logan through his darkest times, pulls you aside one day to express his approval.

“I must say,” Charles says, his tone warm and approving, “I haven’t seen Logan like this in a very long time. Whatever you two have managed to sort out, it’s working.”

And it is. Slowly but surely, the wounds that had once held you back have healed. The doubts that had kept you from fully embracing your relationship with Logan have faded, replaced by a deep, abiding love. It isn’t just the little gestures anymore—it’s the way Logan makes you feel seen, heard, and cherished in a way that no one else ever has.

—

“I never thought we’d get here,” you admit one night whilst looking up at the stars.

Logan looks at you, his expression tender. “Neither did I,” he says, his voice full of sincerity. “But I’m damn glad we did.”

You smile, leaning into him as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I love you, Logan. And I trust you. Completely.”

His grip tightens slightly, as if to hold onto the moment, to hold onto you. “I love you too, darlin’. I never thought I’d feel this way about someone.”

You know what he’s trying to say. So without thinking, you reach up and cup his face, drawing him closer until your lips are just a breath away from his. “Show me,” you whisper, your voice low and filled with desire.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. He closes the small gap between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that is soft at first, almost tentative, as if he’s savoring the feel of you.

You can feel the heat between you building, the kiss growing more fervent as your hands roam over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt, then into his hair. Brown.

His hands slide up your back, one hand tangling in your hair as he angles your head, deepening the kiss further until you’re both breathless.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads resting against each other’s, you’re both panting, your hearts racing in sync. His eyes are dark with desire, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he holds you close.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmurs. “I never thought I’d get my happy ending, but here you are… and I’m never lettin’ you go.”

You smile, feeling the last remnants of pain melt away, replaced by a certainty that this is where you’re meant to be. “And I’m never leaving,” you whisper back, sealing your words with another kiss that quickly reignites the fire between you.

This kiss is hungrier, more urgent, as if you both need to make up for lost time. Logan’s hands roam your body with a possessiveness that sends shivers down your spine, his touch igniting a fire in your core.

That night, you lose yourself in him, in the way he tastes, in the way he makes love to you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. Because this time, you’re not just in love—you’re in love with a man who loves you back, fully and completely.

And that makes all the difference.

----

a/n: i love you if you made it this far. please check out my new series The Feeling's Mutual

4K notes · View notes

gutsby · 1 month ago

Text

Seeing Pink

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel steals more of your innocence every day. Fortunately, you love to give as much as he loves to take.

Warnings: 18+. DD/LG—DON’T LIKE IT, DON’T READ IT. This depicts two consenting adults in a fictional setting! Freeuse & somnophilia with a pre-negotiated safeword. Unprotected p-in-v/a. Soft dom!Joel. Corruption kink (!!) Reading a Regency novel while fucking…for the culture.

Note: ***Spoilers*** for Jane Austen’s Emma. The book has been out for 208 years, but I wanted to give y’all a heads-up.

Word count: 4.4k

You woke with your pants around your ankles.

You don’t remember falling asleep that way.

In fact, you’d always taken great pains to follow the rules: ‘Don’t play while daddy’s away,’ ‘Clothes on if he’s gone.’ So to find yourself sprawled out on the couch, just as you’d been when you dozed off waiting for him to come home—sans bottoms—was unnerving, to say the least. Glancing at your hand, you found your book was still in it. Only the words were harder to read now that your eyes were bleary and the letters were all…jumpy. Jumping?

Bouncing.

As your mind made the slow, steady descent back into your body, you sensed you were rocking back and forth.

Someone was rocking you with the force of his thrusts.

“Daddy!” you gasped, nose half-buried in a cushion.

You were lying face-down on the old, weathered sofa, and you could feel your old, weathered man behind you. Inside you. Stuffing that tight, shiny space between your legs as he straddled your hips from above. His own hips made a soft click, click, click with every piston of his weary bones. He said it’d been that way since the day he’d turned forty. You just might’ve giggled if the sound hadn’t been paired with the chorus of a soft, wet, and sticky-sweet pleasure you knew to be coming from you.

The head of his dick then carved a delectable path to the center of you, like he’d made it himself. You whimpered.

“‘M’sorry to wake ya, bug.”

You could hear his voice was strained.

Daddy never got a head start on playtime unless his day had been particularly rough—unless he really needed it.

Unless he saw pink in your hair, and knew this was okay.

It was your own, secret language, of course. A silly idea brought to fruition by an even sillier admission: when Joel had told you one night that there were times he just wanted to use your body to feel good. When his big one had been at work for hours, and you were so invested in your book and just couldn’t bear looking away, or you’d fallen asleep—would it be alright if daddy put himself inside you for a little while then? I’ll be nice and gentle.

The code was a pink satin bow.

When you tied that ribbon in your hair, Joel knew you were giving him permission to use you as he pleased.

And then there were other ways to make sure he only did what you wanted to do, even in this special ‘scene’; if it ever got to be too much, or you just didn’t want him to be in you or on you anymore, all you had to say was ‘cinnamon’ and your playtime stopped right there. Joel made sure of it every time, and he didn’t make you wait.

When you’d fastened the satin in your hair that night before nestling down to read, you hadn’t expected him to be taking you up on it, really. He’d been so tired lately.

“It’s alright,” you told him, while the air was knocked out of your body through the place he kept pounding you.

“I-I missed you, daddy.” You added, a bit sheepish.

At that—or perhaps just feeling your walls pulse around him—Joel groaned. He placed a broad, callused palm over your spine and held you steady while he fucked you.

“I missed you…more, sweet girl.” And it sounded like a confession. The smallest sliver of an apology: ‘I know I haven’t been here as much as I’d like to be—I’m sorry.’

You’d accept that attempt at making amends, and any other kind Joel would try to proffer, in a position like this. With his hand on your hip and the small of your back, wet member gliding back and forth between your folds, you felt useful to him. His sweet girl. No better thing to be.

Him filling you, and then you, in turn, filling the whole living room with your soft, staccato whines. So nice.

So kind of him to spend his days toiling in the heat to put a roof over your head, a book in your hand, and the silkiest, comfiest pyjamas that money could buy—pooling around your ankles now, but you didn’t mind.

You dropped the novel so you could use your hands. Try to lower your touch to the curve of your cheeks, then spread yourself open for his eyes to drink you in: your tight, dripping hole getting stretched around his cock.

That was what you’d wanted to do, anyway. What Joel liked to see, ostensibly. But the second your fingers lifted from the book, he tightened his grip and shook his head.

“Keep readin’, baby. Looks like you’re close to the end.”

You didn’t know what to say. His observation was correct; you were ten pages shy of completing Emma—but why finish now? Why read when he was right here? If you ever spread your legs while you read it was because you were too engrossed in the plot, and Joel needed release. It was rare he made the suggestion himself.

As if to answer your questions, he wedged his cock even deeper. Confirming his wants with a gentle authority:

“You do like your book, don’t you, sweet pea?”

He’d bought it just weeks ago. You nodded, emphatic.

“I— I do, daddy! I do. I just…” you trailed off, trying to find the right words while his cock made you dizzy with pleasure, “Just…like you better, is all. Wanna feel you.”

You suspected that would work. From the rhythm of his hips, you guessed he’d be likely to assent at any second.

Then he didn’t.

Joel picked the book up and pushed it back to you.

“You can feel me just fine with your eyes on the paper. You did say you wanted to read to be more like a…?”

Uh.

Your brain blanked.

Then you remembered.

“Like a big girl,” you said, in a breath.

Those had been your words. Hardly of note to you now, with your cunt so happily occupied, but ones that Joel wasn’t ready to dispense with yet. Not when you’d been so eager to read these last weeks, to try proving yourself.

You braced your knees against the leather. Tried to shift yourself slightly while Joel kept knocking you back, again and again, with his balls slapping hard against your rear.

Then he slowed, and lowered himself, and came to rest with half his weight blanketing your soft, prone body and his face closer to yours. He kissed the shell of your ear.

“You do wanna get fucked like a big girl, don’t ya, baby?”

And he drove his cock in all the way down to the hilt.

You felt him in your tummy. Your fingers trembled as you reached for the book again and tried to nod your head.

This was a game you liked. An angle Joel loved. A dynamic between you two that turned your insides to syrup and your mind a soft, compliant puddle. He’d shown you what kind of treatment big girls get, and you felt your body wilt with the idea. Joel was laying overtop you now, hips rutting mindlessly against your ass and his arms sliding under you. Grazing the skin and feeling your breasts and telling you again, ‘You can show me, baby. No need to be shy. Daddy’s right here. You’re alright.’

Now it wasn’t so much the command which compelled you but the praise in that sweet Texan drawl. The patience. You could feel him stiff and hard and aching, but he was disciplined enough to wait—let you take your own pace now and show him, in your own special way.

You opened your book to the last page you’d read. Joel stroked your hair, and he kissed the edge of your cheek.

“You’ve made it so far, baby,” he said, admiringly, “Barely been two weeks and you’ve already finished it, nearly.”

You nodded. You let him play with your hair and graze your soft skin with his lips, and when his hips had stilled, you tried not to betray your disappointment. Daddy just wanted to see you could behave—you definitely could.

Even if all you wanted him to do was hold your body to his and fuck you senseless, make you cry and whine and squeeze all down his big, leaking cock while you came for him, you could stay calm. Good girls always did.

Big girls knew how to listen, and when to hold still.

“I like it…like it— a lot,” you told him, and you knew he knew there was more to those words than just the book.

With his hands still underneath you, Joel propped you up to rest more comfortably against a pillow. He slid one hand down your tummy and in between your legs, while the other kept squeezing your breast—tweaking the pebbled nub between forefinger and thumb and feeling you squirm under his touch. You gripped your book tight.

“Keep readin’, sweet pea,” he encouraged, words gentle, “I’d hate to be the one…distractin’ you from all the fun.”

How he could be so calm while talking such nonsense was beyond you. Maybe he’d grinned, too. You didn’t have the strength to peek behind you while his index started rubbing between your folds, and your walls clenched tighter. You wanted to wriggle your hips for friction, but as it was, you knew what you had to do.

You had to try.

At first you read a couple words. A short fragment of a sentence. You yearned to get more, really digest what the passage was attempting to convey—a friend of Emma��s getting engaged, as it was—but prospects were poor. Joel kissed your neck and toyed with your wetness and made you want to whine from all the tension within.

His cock was nestled deep. The smooth, bulbous head had found reprieve near the cusp of your cervix, and with every flick of his finger, it was like you could feel him sinking deeper. Kissing the most intimate parts of you while you had only to breathe. And think. And try to read.

“Learnin’ a lot?” Joel hummed in your ear.

You bit your lip and nodded. He knew you were full of it.

Your legs were now trembling around his hand and your eyes hadn’t moved so much as an inch across the page.

“Enjoyin’ yourself?” he pressed.

“I— I— yeah. Yeah,” you whimpered.

“What’s been your favorite part to read?”

Not this one, that’s for sure. You swallowed.

“W— When…” Again, your mind was wiped of all memory.

“When…”

His index drew a slick, pretty lemniscate on your clit, and you wanted to cry. But you had to keep trying. For him.

“When— when Frank finally shows up,” you huffed.

“Frank who?”

“Frank Churchill. He’s…Emma’s old governess’s stepson. He visits for a little, and then Mr. Knightley gets jealous.”

You were out of breath. Joel was trying his best not to smile behind your back, but you could feel him now—there, and between your legs, making speech a struggle.

“Who’s he?”

The man sounded like a father with all his sweet and calm curiosity. Like he wasn’t balls deep in your heat.

“Old family friend. But he…he’s got a thing for Emma.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah—” And you had to pause to swallow. Suck in a breath when Joel nosed your cheek and told you softly, ‘Doin’ so good for me’ “—but he doesn’t know it at first.”

You felt encouraged by Joel’s words. Enlivened by the pulse of his cock inside you, and pushed toward release with every circuit of his fingers. He was treating you well, making sure it felt good no matter how much he teased.

And then he reached up, leaving your poor little clit to throb all on its own. Something caught between a moan and a plea—‘Joe-el’—bubbled deep in your throat. But Joel was too focused on the book in your hand; he had a wet, sticky finger flipping the page in a second. He’d turned it back, to a passage you had marked in pink.

The sight of the line you’d highlighted made your cheeks heat instantly. That made you want to wriggle away.

Joel held you closer.

“Why’d you mark this, honey?”

Again with the loving, probing tone. You couldn’t bear the thought of explaining your reasoning here. Not now.

But he urged you to read it. Pulled your body nearer to his and kissed the side of your head, while his body blanketed yours and his words were spoken as gentle as ever. He wanted to know what it meant. Why you’d marked it in pink, no less. No diffidence would do.

You balked. Blinked. Remembered that big girls listened.

‘If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.’

And when you said it, it almost felt like telling him yourself. Your grip loosened from the book as soon as the words came out of your mouth, leaving Joel to hold it

“Knightley said that to Emma, did he?”

His eyes were scanning the page, eyes alight and lips smiling. From between your legs, you felt full, and yet nothing was more hollow or harrowing than presently hearing this man chuckle at the words that had made your heart swell in your chest that night. It felt belittling.

And not in the way you liked. Joel reached for your chin to tilt your face to him, and when you mumbled a short ‘yes’ to his question, he softened his hold. He hummed.

“I’m sorry, baby. ‘M’sorry. Knightley’s sweet, isn’t he?”

He nudged your cheek with his nose.

“Uh-hm,” you said, low. Ignoring the urge to be mature.

“Sweeter’n daddy?”

“Maybe.”

Joel grinned again. He shifted his weight. You were just about to tilt your head more, when he sat up completely. You felt his pelvis prod the flesh of your ass, and he left your book to you. He readjusted his grip on your hip in his hand while he used the other to knead your skin.

You keened at the change of angle—feeling the friction between the coarse grey hairs at the base of his tummy and the swell of your bottom, the brush of his manhood.

“Yeah? He treat Emma like this?”

And, to punctuate the question, Joel withdrew himself to the tip and slammed back in. He groaned with pleasure.

“Daddy,” you hissed, and he started sawing back and forth, gently like before, “He just…I— I— I don’t know.”

“400 pages in and they still haven’t fucked?”

“Daddy!”

“What?”

“They don’t do that. Mr. Knightley is a…a…gentleman.”

His thrusts were shaking you again, and you struggled to hold your book. Joel kept his motions shallow. Teasing.

“Is daddy not a gentleman when he does this to you?”

You could’ve laughed at that question. You did, a little bit.

“Plenty gentleman-ly, daddy,” you giggled, “Plenty.”

��Good,” Joel returned, swift.

Then, without warning or ceremony, he spit in his hand. He slicked his fingers with the stuff and sank his index and middle fingers between your cheeks—right above the hole he was stretching with his cock—and pressed.

You jumped, still getting fucked face-down, but now with the tips of Joel’s fingers circling a tiny ring of muscles.

His favorite to tease you with, of late. He leaned in.

“Even here?”

But before you could respond, and while thoughts of love, betrothals, and Georgian-era decorum were still floating through your mind, you felt one finger breach your hole. As his cock continued to slide messily, greedily inside your cunt, you let out a whine.

“Da-a-ddy.”

He knew what it would do to you. What it always did. Particularly when he was taking you from behind and telling you sweet and dirty things. Making you feel it.

You hardly knew what else to do but hold your book to your chest and purse your lips, sensing a familiar sting.

“Did men like him do this to sweet little girls like you?”

“I— I—”

“Or is that just daddy?” He pushed the finger deeper.

Your tender, yet-empty hole sucked him in like a dream. You almost couldn’t believe how quickly you spread for him, having only gotten touched in that new, precious place with just the tip of his thumb before. It was tight.

And tighter still, with Joel’s cock gliding in and out of your cunt and his finger sinking further in a hole he’d never fucked. You pressed your cheek to the couch.

“Go on,” Joel urged, gentle, “Use your words.”

You tried. You parted your lips and squeezed a nearby pillow for support, and Joel even pushed your book down flat on the sofa in front of you so you could see the words more clearly. Focus on those instead of his finger.

He pushed in to the second knuckle, and you whined.

Your mind was blanking again. You had only to say:

“He’s…like you, daddy. Knightley’s kinda…like you.”

Joel didn’t hamper the path of his index, but he did slow his hips. He let them peter off to only the gentlest of thrusts, while the motions of his finger flowed like a white-hot stream between your legs. Petting that tender little ring while diving in and out, swiftly, and teasing.

He stoked the flames of desire inside you with each new touch. He flattened his one free hand beside your book, anchoring himself a comfortable height above, and while you tried stealing a glance behind you, he peered down. Reading—or appearing to, anyway—as he fucked one hole with a gentle resolve and caressed the other. You’d never felt more full, or fucking insane to feel more of him.

Before you could even venture to beg, though, Joel said:

“How are we alike, honey? Tell me.”

You almost wanted to cry as his finger wiggled deeper. You had to answer, though. Recollect as best you could.

Stammering only the slightest bit: “He’s, uh, o— older.”

“Older?”

You could feel the smile start to stretch again overhead.

“Yeah. Emma’s twenty-one and he’s…a-almost forty.”

Presently, Joel’s smile morphed into a chuckle. Low.

“Almost forty? That must make me a fuckin’ fossil, then.”

“No!” you squeaked. And just when you had, Joel’s finger breached your hole straight down to the last knuckle. He let it rest while you squirmed, then dragged it out a little.

“I only—” You quickly tried resuming, but your brain was fried. Your body was limp, and all you could feel, or think, was the slow, sweet, and wet sensation tingling between your cheeks as Joel pushed his thick finger in and out, “—only meant he’s a bit more…experienced…than her. Knows her better than just about anyone, and he— he—”

Made you think of Joel. Made you dream of your own fifty-something lover situated amidst a world more than two centuries old, rousing the most romantic notions. You felt silly. You wanted to bury your face in your hands, were it not for the fear that your cheeks might sear them.

It didn’t matter, at length. Your sweet old man ensured it.

“‘S’okay, little bug. It’s alright. Makes me glad to think you’re thinkin’ of me while you read,” he told you, calm.

He stroked your hair. He stalled his hips, momentarily. And just when you thought you might’ve mustered the courage to speak to him yourself, you heard him again.

Except it wasn’t a word you heard—just a wet noise.

A glob of spit hitting the small of your back and sliding down, crawling slow between your cheeks for Joel’s warm, waiting finger. He withdrew the digit, and then he smeared his saliva all over the place he’d pried you open. Likely knowing you’d be too stunned to talk, he went on.

He worked his finger back in, now coated with a sheen of spit: “Always readin’…feelin’ new things, ain’t ya, baby?”

You nodded, and you scarcely even knew it.

“Only natural it happens like that,” Joel assured you, soft, “Daddy teaches, and you learn…and learn…like a big girl.”

With each new word he wanted to drive home, he pushed his finger in. Dragged it out. Curled it gently, as though beckoning you to him, then watched you rut your hips at the feeling of needing more. He sucked a breath through his teeth when he felt you ooze more, warm.

Nectar trickled down his length while your lips above were drooling, too. Your face was smushed to the cushion below, and your hips were tilted up, desperate.

“Daddypleasejustfuckit—fuck—now,” you cried out.

In all the time you’d been together, Joel had never heard you beg like that. The sound was gratifying to his ears, and his cock grew even stiffer inside you. Just barely checking himself, he moved his other hand to your hip.

Squeezing.

Trying to chide your lack of manners, your swearing.

“That ain’t how you ask daddy nicely, little lady—”

“Just make it full like my pussy, daddy, please.”

Though it was clear you knew better than to interrupt the man mid-sentence, you had used your ‘please,’ at least. Joel was strong, unyielding, in just about every place but the one between your thighs—and with words like those, he had only a moment before his primal drive kicked in and he wouldn’t be able to say no after that, for anything.

He would try to sound stern. Gruff, even. Mumbling something or other about how you had to be sweet to get this dick where you needed it, but the truth was that Joel couldn’t wait much longer for you, either. He caved.

He withdrew his finger, quick. Grabbed your hips. Spit.

Spit again. Smeared again. Felt perfectly depraved making this mess, but you seemed to like it all the same.

“Need daddy to teach you that, too?” he asked, hasty.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you answered, helpless.

“Yeah? Teach you how to take it up the ass?”

“Please, daddy.”

“Dirty fuckin’ girl.”

He smacked your ass, just before poising his tip where his finger had been. He would’ve liked to drag it out. But as it was, the old man was probably four pumps shy of blowing his load; you were all but melted on the sofa.

Joel couldn’t deny it drove him out of his fucking mind to see you like that. Legs spread, slit wet, eyes glossy and listless and so wholly bereft of any other idea in the world but the need for him. It made him sick. He loved you so much. And he’d show you, in ways that any mentor worth his weight in salt was apt to do: he let you feel it.

Slowly, at first. Just the tip made you flinch, and your teeth grit together. Joel found your hand and held it.

“Nice and slow—you’re doin’ so good,” he said.

Even if you didn’t feel like you were in the moment, he always made sure to let you know how much he liked it. How nice you felt stretched for him, how good you took it, and how he had no doubts his girl was made for this.

“Made for me,” he added gently, feeding you some more.

And when he surmised from your soft, strangled sounds that this change was a lot, breaths fast, he knew better than to press again. He pulled out and turned you over.

He had your legs over his shoulders in no time at all and, afforded this new view, was delighted to find a trace of a smile still on your lips. He kissed them. Then he tried to make it fit again. He felt you tremble and held you closer.

“That’s it—that’s my girl—almost there.”

“C’mon baby, just a little bit more to go.”

When you keened at the stretch over halfway through, he brushed the hair from your face and kissed your forehead

“I know. I know. Keep goin’, little one. I know.”

Like he knew what to say to get you the wettest you could be. Your eyes winced, and your cunt dripped a dizzying amount—leaking liquid heat down your slit to coat Joel’s tummy, his overgrowth of hair, and your aching hole, of course. The whole thing was taking you out of yourself with every thrust, and your fingers were laced tight in his. Letting him shower you with kisses.

“Daddy’s so mean for doin’ this, isn’t he?”

He was teasing again, nipping at the hinge of your jaw and pressing kiss after kiss while he stuffed you full. Your eyes were ablaze and fucked-out of their mind, as it was, but still, you managed to smile when he spoke it so soft.

“Not— not mean at all, daddy.”

“You sure?”

Joel wedged himself in to the hilt and grinned back.

You might’ve whined, but you felt too full. Euphoric.

“Uh-huh,” you breathed, head reeling, “I like it.”

“How much?”

Your gut clenched with the punch of his thrusts. Lids fluttered as Joel trailed his tongue up your cheek—another mindless, feral tendency he had close to climax. He held your face and fucked you tender as ever, and when the feeling in your tummy grew and grew and almost bloomed, he slipped his tongue in your mouth. Groaning when your teeth met the muscle and bit it.

“I love it, Joel,” you corrected, panting against him.

He could’ve spanked you for saying his name—breaking character was your favorite way to get punished—but, at present, the man didn’t have the strength to do a thing. He just nodded, and grinned, and licked into your mouth and drove his dick so far up your body that he could’ve sworn he’d grazed your lungs. You kissed him again.

“I love you—” he groaned.

“I know, daddy,” you smiled.

“—so much.”

“I love you more.”

He spilled his warm, thick seed inside. You came undone. Your bodies melded and rutted together in a few last shuddering bursts, and with Joel pinning you down, kissing you more, guiding your lips against his own in a wanton tumult, you felt it—contentment. Full pleasure.

Another soft, dizzying, cum-drenched lesson with daddy.

You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing when Joel reached for you next, expression all smug and beaming.

Licking the sweat off your cheek like the freak he was.

“Did I ever tell you pink is my favorite fucking color?”

anyway this was my irl reaction to reading That Line for the first time:

#needthat

#HEY SO………………………………………………THIS IS INSANE #I FEEL INSANE #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller tlou #the last of us fic #tlou

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pbandnoj · 3 months ago

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PartnerToji who had never regretted his vasectomy… until you came along. Having it done was great, sure he didn’t like someone being all up in his business but it was affective. To him Megumi was more than enough, actually he could barely handle the kid. Plus it was easy to mess around and not have to worry about rubber or a scary missing period text.

Oh but sometimes, sometimes you made him question it. You had been together a few years, gotten accustomed to Megs, who sometime even preferred you over his dad, teaming up with you against him. And Toji knew you’d be a permanent thing ever since he cut off all his women he used to visit, and started working a real respectable job.

And the fantasies that filled his head when he looked at you were enough to fill a whole book series, you had made him consider having a second kid… but wait that’s right, he can’t have one. Every time you bent over, wear something even partially revealing, or hell when you took especially good care of Megumi he knew he wanted to make you a real mom, even if you did convince him you were fine with just Megs.

The idea of seeing you all round and plump, with his baby inside of you, god it made him rock solid. And you felt his wrath in the bedroom. He was making you work double time. Wishing, praying somehow, his sperm could make it past the little procedure, yet it never happened.

One day you got home from wherever you went, Toji didn’t pay much attention when you were telling him. Slipping your shoes off and walking up to see him on the couch, Megumi sitting on the floor fiddling with a new toy train he got, but it was odd… the tv wasn’t on. And he was on his phone? Honestly you couldn’t remember the last time he even spent more than a few minutes on it, that being pretty much only to text you or email his boss.

Slipping your arms around his shoulders from behind the couch as you looked down, “Watcha looking at Toj’?” You asked, only to have him grunt in response. A brow raised as you looked down catching a glimpse of what he was reading… a medical page? Was something wrong with him? Did something happen?

“Baby what’s wrong?” You cooed out as you softly ran your hand over his collarbone, he huffed shaking his head, “Nothin’” the one letter response making you roll your eyes. He huffed upon seeing the look on your face, “I’m looking at a reversal.”

A reversal? Reversal of what? “What’s that sweets?” You asked a raised brow, before he smirked, “I wanna be able to put a baby in ya.” Choking on your spit, removing your arms so you could quickly cough up a lung.

“What?” You half yelled, partially startling the quiet boy sitting on the floor. “My vasectomy doll,” You grumbled… so that’s what this was about? Why he’d been actin so weird.

“Toji,” you huffed out as you looked back at him, “You seriously wanna have to go back to using condoms just so you can put one baby in me?” You asked, a brow quirking up. A soft snicker leaving your lips before he cursed under his breath.

“Besides, I’d rather put my attention on Megumi right now,” You noted, causing Toji to nod. “Yeah besides my insurance ain’t gonna cover it and I’m not givin up what little luxury I have,” he huffed out, “See? You should stop worrying about it.”

And with that the vasectomy debacle was solved… at least for now. That man has crazy baby fever.

#toji fluff #toji x y/n #toji x you #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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the-impossible-bird · 1 year ago

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this last week has been the absolute Worst for me mentally and also made me feel like I'm despicable as a person and don't deserve anything nice and I'm not even that glad it's over for multiple reasons

#so the last half a year me and my friends were expecting to go to this animation festival in zagreb in june #we'd hoped our uni would sponsor us but that didn't work out #whatever #but another thing was that i am Not From Here and i need Visas to travel Virtually Anywhere in europe #and my passport had expired so i waited for 3 months to get a new one (thats how long it takes normally through the consulate of my country)#basically i got it like a week before the fest and the croatian embassy was booked til JULY. no visas for me.#plus i found out my id had expired too so i couldn't even get another Schengen visa or to go Anywhere At All before i renew it #which also takes a month and a half because foreign citizens don't deserve things done quickly i guess #so i didn't go and two of my friends went to the fest anyway #the festival week was absolutely excruciating to get through with constant reminders that they're there and im not #a wild mix of fomo and envy #and i obviously dont want to shit on my friends for sharing how the fest was going because i genuinely want to be happy for them #and they have all the rights to share and get positive feedback from people they love #but i cannot find enough virtue in me to support them in spite of my Unfortunate Situation and #i fully believe that im not a good friend or a good person in the first place because of that #they came back last night and i cant even respond to their “so sad its over” stories with genuine sympathy because im still #so fucking bitter. that i was not there with them. and they had fun. and i didnt.#why am i like this and how can i stop being so fucking disgusting at this point i doubt if i even deserve any friends #why cant i just be happy for them.#lets hope none of them see this #feel free to reply #lord knows i need any support i can get i am Not Well #vent #personal #ellis.txt

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jjungkookislife · 2 months ago

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Navigating Tides

♡ pairing: ex-boyfriend!jungkook x f. reader

♡ genre: exes to lovers, angst, fluff, smut [18+]

♡ summary: A cruise is the last place you expect to see your ex-boyfriend, Jeon Jungkook. You broke up six months ago, and your best friends Jimin and Yoongi assured you your ex wouldn't even remember this cruise that you booked a year in advance. However, on your first night on board, you discover your ex isn't only on the cruise ship, but there are no rooms available for him to stay in other than yours.

♡ wc: 18.9k

♡ warnings: alcohol use/mention, food mentions, mention of murder on cruise ship documentaries, threats of violence, sexual thoughts, jealousy, making out, marking (hickeys, biting, scratching), hair pulling, oral sex (f. giving and receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

♡ a/n: a huge thank you to the anon who suggested the title ❤

♡ date: September 1, 2024

“Jimin, I don’t think this is a good idea,” you sigh heavily as you adjust your sunhat. Your large sunglasses keep the sun out of your eyes and make it easier to take in your surroundings.

Passengers stand around you, some checking their tickets, others counting their luggage, and your best friend scoping out your next boyfriend while he checks his phone for messages regarding his beloved cat, Moon.

“Come on! You bought the ticket in advance! You know Jungkook isn’t going to show. You broke up six months ago, he wouldn’t come on this cruise if you paid him!” Jimin exclaims trying (and failing) to ease your worries.

“He’s right,” Yoongi chimes in once he gets a photo of his cat from his parents. “Jungkook wouldn’t leave his office to come on a cruise his ex and best friends booked a year in advance. He probably doesn’t even remember it.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you give in as the line moves forward. You pull your luggage beside you. “There’s no way he’d be here.”

Jimin nods as Yoongi moves their luggage. You stand in line with your ticket and passport in hand as Jimin rattles on about all the things he wants to do for the next seven days out on the ocean. You half-listen, looking around at the passengers, hoping for a relaxing time.

“We’re a few doors down,” Jimin continues, “but we’ll come get you for all our meals and we can figure out what to do that day. There’s a casino and a karaoke night.”

You nod, smiling as the line moves again. The breeze ruffles your hair beneath your hat and you close your eyes momentarily.

A vacation was just what you needed.

Jeon Jungkook is a strong man. He’s got a lean body and hands that could rip open a pineapple with ease. He normally doesn’t demonstrate his great strength, but the women are eating it up at the bar closest to the dock.

His assistant had reminded him about his vacation last week. A cruise, she had informed him as she showed him the next ten days blocked off his calendar.

Jungkook had denied taking the time off but his assistant had insisted he go. When he tried to protest again, the assistant threatened to call his mother.

Jungkook took a bite of the pineapple before throwing a handful of bills on the bar.

“Gotta go!” He yelled over the ruckus he had caused and grabbed his suitcase with his sticky hands. The women were sad to see him go, but Jungkook had minutes before the cruise ship left the dock.

“Welcome,” Jungkook is greeted before his ticket and passport are checked. He was directed to his floor but Jungkook headed straight for the bar, where more passengers were gathered to get their vacation started.

By the time you get to your room, you’re pleased to see your luggage waiting for you. You head to the balcony, admiring the view as the ship pulls away from the dock.

You take a few minutes to fix your makeup and grab your sunblock before shoving your suitcase under your bed. Yoongi had insisted you cram everything into one large suitcase and he’d bring an extra one for souvenirs. Jimin had allowed you to sneak some more outfits into his luggage since Yoongi knew better than to try to limit his clothing options.

“That should do it,” you say to yourself as you head out of the cabin, just to spot Yoongi and Jimin heading your way.

“Let’s get something to eat and hit the pool,” Jimin grins as he takes your hand and Yoongi’s in the other.

Meanwhile, Jungkook has finished his drink at the bar and heads toward his cabin.

He’s glad to see his suitcase has been delivered and he slides it under the bed easily. He takes his room key and heads back out to see what there’s to do on this cruise.

He wishes he had paid more attention to the details when you had booked it.

Yoongi is soaking wet, shaking his long black hair, making you and Jimin scream. He laughs, his gummy smile makes Jimin melt.

“You’re drying yourself off like a dog,” you comment as he sits in the chair with Jimin.

Yoongi shrugs, leaning forward to take a large bite of the watermelon slice Jimin holds out for him.

Jimin had slathered the three of you in sunblock, lecturing on the dangers of the UV rays and whatnot. You knew better than to ignore his advice, seeing as he was a dermatologist and Yoongi was a plastic surgeon.

“Are either of you going to get in the pool?” Yoongi asks as he cards his fingers through his wet hair. Jimin bites his bottom lip as he watches Yoongi with a look that’s all too familiar.

“Don’t you dare!” You swat at Jimin with your book. The couple laughs.

“You promised I wouldn’t be a third-wheel,” you remind them.

Yoongi nods. “We promised.”

Jimin nods. “Of course, we’re just teasing.”

“More like setting up foreplay,” you mutter but they ignore you as Jimin hands you a slice of watermelon and a cube of pineapple. The two of you were waiting for this evening’s dinner to have drinks, though the cocktails of the passengers around you looked delicious.

“Since we’re on vacation, are you gonna be seeking a dance partner?” Jimin asks wiggling his eyebrows.

“You know, for the horizontal hula?” Yoongi smirks, earning a swat to his arm.

“No! I’m here to relax!” you insist as you open your book. You clasp your kitten bookmark before it can slip out of the worn pages.

Jimin sighs dramatically as he falls over onto your chair. “Come on! You don’t have to marry anyone, just flirt.”

“Min,” Yoongi warns, noting the shift in your posture.

Jimin mimes zipping his lips as he sits up.

“I just worry about you.”

“There’s no need, Minnie. If it happens, it happens, okay?” you ask as you close your book once more, giving up on getting any reading done.

Yoongi places his hand on Jimin’s shoulder, tugging him to their chair. Jimin goes easily, placated for the moment.

You steal a grape from Jimin’s plate before lying back on the chair with your hat covering your face.

Jimin smiles as he grabs his book and lies back to read, his fruit plate long forgotten.

As Yoongi reaches for a grape, his eyes catch a familiar tattoo sleeve but when he blinks, it’s gone.

Must have been the heat playing tricks on him.

Dinner had been a blast.

Yoongi and Jimin had gotten every cocktail that you had eyes on earlier in the day. You danced, laughed, and forgot all about Jungkook.

“We’ll see you in the morning,” Jimin said as he walked you to your cabin. Yoongi waited out in the hall outside of theirs’ to make sure Jimin was in his eyesight. He’d seen too many documentaries on shit going sideways on cruises to leave either of you unsupervised.

“Goodnight, Minnie. Love you,” you hug him tight before he leaves you with a kiss to your temple.

Once he’s gone, you kick your shoes off in your cabin. It’s just as you left it.

You let your hair down as you begin to unbutton your blue dress, allowing the thin straps to fall off your shoulders.

You’re startled when the bathroom door swings open, steam flooding out of it, obscuring whoever is there.

You scream!

The steam clears and out walks a man with a colorful tattoo sleeve on one arm, his other hand holding the white towel around his waist.

His doe eyes widen as he spots you.

“What are you doing here?!” you shout at the same time. “Me?! YOU?! Stop that!”

You both stomp a foot at the same time.

Water runs down your ex’s sculpted chest and abs—you can’t help but stare. You remember tracing those delicious abs with your tongue, ending up on your knees with his cock down your throat.

A shiver rolls down your back.

“What are you doing here, Jungkook?” you huff, stomping your foot. You hope your next-door neighbors don’t complain about the noise.

“I’m on vacation,” he answers in a duh tone.

“In my cabin?”

“I didn’t know you were going to be here! We haven’t talked since…” Jungkook trails off, sighing heavily. He feels the knots in his throat, the ache of holding back tears.

“You never take vacations. Why did you come?” you demand answers as you cross your arms over your chest, eyes widening when you realize your bra-clad tits are exposed. You immediately turn around, fixing your dress before facing him once again.

Jungkook rubs his nape awkwardly. He grabs the robe from the bathroom and puts it on.

“I know. My assistant insisted. I never canceled the vacation request and she made plans,” Jungkook shrugged.

“Well, you can’t stay here!” you exclaim, pointing toward the door sharply.

Jungkook says your name, but you glare at him. He raises his hands in defeat.

“At least let me get dressed, okay?”

“Fine,” you grumble as he grabs his suitcase from under the bed. You head to the balcony to sit while Jungkook gets dressed.

This was not how you wanted to spend your vacation. Was it too late to fly home from the next port? You couldn’t be stuck on the same ship with Jungkook for the next seven days and six nights. Just knowing he was on board would drive you up the wall.

Five minutes later, Jungkook is dressed as you reenter the cabin. You go with him to the front of the ship, flagging down someone who could help you.

Jungkook explains the situation, and the cruise worker listens while searching for any available rooms.

“I apologize, but there are no other rooms available. We’re fully booked. You’ll have to stay in the room, sir.”

“But-” You go to protest but the worker cuts you off.

“There’s nothing we can do, ma’am. I apologize but we’re in the middle of the ocean, hours from our first stop.”

“Thanks for checking,” you state in defeat as you turn on your heel with Jungkook behind you.

Back in your cabin, you go to the bathroom to shower. You come out in a robe, going for your suitcase to grab your pajamas before going back into the bathroom.

Jungkook stays out on the balcony until you’re getting into bed.

“I’m sorry. If I had known-”

“Just don’t,” you stop him. He shuts up immediately. “I just want to get through tonight, okay?”

Jungkook nods as you pull the covers over your body. You tug the pillows and place a few between you and the spot where Jungkook will have to sleep.

Silently, Jungkook climbs into bed.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Jungkook whispers as you turn out the lights.

Heat stifles you as you arouse from your sleep. You moan as you push the covers but the pillows’ warmth is still making you hot. You push at them, trying to shove them off the bed, but a grunt greets you instead.

“Quit,” a familiar sleepy voice wakes you up in an instant.

You scramble to sit up, but you’ve wrapped yourself around Jungkook, who is shirtless. His bed head looks adorable as he whines at the loss of warmth before he tugs the covers toward him, sleeping some more.

Quickly, you get dressed and storm out of your cabin.

You could not deal with this without a stiff drink and your best friends.

Part of you hoped you were dreaming.

“He’s here!” you yell when you reach Yoongi and Jimin’s table. Plates of fruit, eggs, and pancakes greet you along with glasses filled with water, some with various types of juices, and mimosas.

You plop down on a free chair, reaching for a mimosa and then Jimin’s. Both men watch you with wide eyes as Yoongi offers you his drink.

“Who’s here?” Jimin asks, befuddled.

Jimin and Yoongi exchange a look. They had watched you go to your room before they retired for the night.

Who could you have run into?

“Jungkook!” You hiss in explanation. “He’s here!”

Yoongi frowns. “I thought that was him.”

You whip your head to face him. “You knew?!”

Yoongi rapidly shakes his head. “I thought I saw him yesterday but when I blinked, he was gone. I thought the heat had gotten to me.”

You cackle, nearly losing your mind. “Well, he’s fucking here! And he’s staying in my room!”

Jimin and Yoongi’s mouths drop open wide in shock.

“He’s what?!” Jimin recovers first as he waves down a waiter and orders more mimosas for the three of you. This revelation demanded a drink.

“Can’t he get a room for himself? Lord knows he can afford it,” Yoongi grumbles as he picks at his buttery toast.

“No, it’s booked solid,” you sigh as you cover your face with your hands.

“Good morning, everyone!” Jungkook greets you before he takes the empty seat beside you. He helps himself to some fruit and some of your mimosa.

Jimin and Yoongi stare at him with wide eyes. So you weren’t lying to go home.

“Hey,” Jimin waves weakly. “Surprising to see you out of the office.”

Jungkook ignores the jab at him. “You look good, Jimin. Very good.”

“Watch it,” Yoongi growls. “Just because he’ll be amicable doesn’t mean I won’t wipe the table with your face.”

Jungkook raises his hands in defeat. “Just being friendly. We are spending the week together after all. Isn’t that right, roomie?”

Jungkook nudges you with his elbow.

“Eat dirt,” you respond as you ignore him and grab a stack of pancakes. You drown them in syrup and ignore Jungkook and Jimin catching up. Yoongi glares at him the whole time before breakfast ends and you head back to your room to get ready to reach the first port.

The first two days on board, you manage to avoid Jungkook after his appearance at breakfast that one morning.

You were three days into your cruise when you were hanging poolside with Jimin and Yoongi once again. The warmth of the sun felt nice on your skin, even with Jimin’s nagging about flipping over and reapplying sunblock.

Your swimsuit was something sexy Jimin had picked out to accentuate your favorite features of your body. He had picked out a few outfits for you and Yoongi to match his. You looked more like a polytriad than a group of friends, but you liked the outfits.

Your sun hat and sunglasses kept out the gazes of any men who would have the slightest interest in you, much to Jimin’s annoyance.

Jimin sits on his sun lounger slathering more sunblock on his skin while Yoongi goes off to get the three of you drinks. You’ve been busy the past few days shopping, eating, dancing, laughing, and enjoying life away from the claws of capitalism.

Shade casts over you, and you look up to see Jungkook’s smiling face, dimples and all.

“What do you want, Jeon?” you huff as you sit up, removing your sunglasses.

Jungkook stands over you, checking you out in your swimsuit. He briefly remembers the times he held you in his arms, when his touch aroused you, not repulsed you.

Jungkook sits down at the end of your seat. His body glistened as if he had just gotten out of the pool. You’re sure there’s at least a gaggle of men and women staring at the both of you. Jungkook attracted attention wherever he went. His glorious body, tattoos, hair, and a radiant smile broke more than just your heart.

His piercings catch the sun, the glint hitting your eyes.

“Yeah,” Jimin pipes up. “This zone is for loading future husbands only.”

You roll your eyes at Jimin but lean back as Jungkook’s body freezes.

“Husbands?”

“Yes,” Jimin retorts, “Husbands.”

“I didn’t know you were looking,” Jungkook said as he looked at you, perplexed.

You shrug.

“I figure the next person I date will be the one.”

Jungkook remains silent. He cards a tattooed hand through his wet hair, and you curse him in your mind. He knew how hot he looked, he just wanted to make you suffer.

You weren’t going to give in to his tricks though.

You move your legs toward you, pretending you don’t want to get hit with water droplets but you can’t ignore the rapid heartbeat between your legs.

“JK!” Yoongi shouts as he approaches, squirting Jungkook with a water gun.

“Hey!” Jungkook shouts as he chases Yoongi, quickly catching up to the older man. A fight ensues as both men try to gain control of the water gun before Jungkook acquires one from a bystander.

“Fuck,” you groan as you put your sun hat back on.

“He’s fucking hot,” Jimin groans as he lies back. You look at each other and burst out laughing.

“He’s a menace,” you sigh but your heart flutters as you spot him in the pool with Yoongi. The two are splashing each other and some of the other passengers but they don’t seem to mind as they join in.

Jimin is silent for a few minutes before he turns to face you.

“Be honest with me, babe. You still love him?”

“Do you even have to ask?” you respond as you watch Jungkook shake the water out of his hair before he pulls himself out of the pool.

Jungkook ignores the way his cock throbs at the sight of you in your sundress as you walk down the hall to meet Jimin and Yoongi. He nearly drools at the sway of your hips as your body shows off all your best assets.

His thoughts easily wander, you were the only one he ever felt like he could be himself. You were his best friend and he’d lost you over a heated argument about him working so much. He had said some things he had regretted, especially when he lost you.

He had spent the last six months thrown into work, avoiding any socialization wherever possible. He didn’t want to meet someone new, he wanted you. But you had blocked him, made it clear that you wanted nothing to do with him and now you were confined to a cruise ship and he would do whatever it took to get you back.

You turn when you hear your name being called, and heat rushes to your cheeks when you spot the captain, Kim Namjoon.

He looks divine in his crisp white uniform, his hat tucked under his right arm.

“Good evening,” he greets you with a dimpled grin. You smile brightly at him, asking him about his day.

He had heard about your predicament with Jungkook the following morning and had invited you to a special dinner with him tonight as an apology for the inconvenience.

Normally, you would have denied any sort of offer, not wanting to inconvenience anyone but Namjoon was hot, smart, and funny.

Namjoon offers you his arm, which you take giddily as he escorts you to your private dinner.

Within five minutes he had you laughing, wine threatening to shoot out of your nose.

Jimin had encouraged you to go to dinner after he spotted the captain later that day, and now that Namjoon’s schedule allowed, you sat in front of him in a candlelit room with a spectacular view.

A white ceramic vase sat in the middle of the table with fresh pink peonies. Soft music played from a speaker overhead, and the sound of the ocean filled the background.

Namjoon’s eyes lit up every time he shared a snippet of his tales from the sea. You listened intently, batting your lashes whenever he’d smile with his dimples on display.

You know this wasn’t a date, and it would never work out with how long Namjoon had to be out at sea, but it was nice to get back into the game after such a long time. You never imagined being tossed back into the dating pool after Jungkook.

The thought makes your smile waver for a moment, and you reach for your glass of wine instead.

Two silver-covered trays arrive shortly, stopping Namjoon mid-sentence as he smiles proudly.

“I caught tonight’s dinner. I had our chef cook it with a special sauce that you’ll enjoy,” Namjoon states as your tray is set in front of you and you nod excitedly.

All excitement vanishes as you see two little beady eyes staring back at you.

Jungkook looks immaculate. His undercut is on display, his tattoos pop against his white-button shirt, and his smile can dazzle just about anyone… except Min Yoongi.

Yoongi is the first to spot Jungkook heading to the table where he sits beside his boyfriend. Yoongi had loved Jungkook, still did but his loyalty to you made him pull away from the younger man. An annoyance brewed where he held brotherly love for him once. If you decided to get back with him, it would take Yoongi a while to thaw out.

Jungkook looks around the area, finally asking Jimin where you are.

“She’s on a date,” Yoongi smirks as Jungkook’s hopeful smile turns into a frown. The younger man toys with his lip piercings worriedly.

“With the Captain,” Yoongi continues, ignoring the jab of his boyfriend’s sharp elbow to his ribs. “So she’ll be late coming to bed tonight… if she goes to bed at all.”

Jungkook’s heart deflates further as he twiddles his fingers. His eyes shine as he blinks back tears. Jimin scowls at Yoongi.

Perhaps, he had gone too far. Yoongi slouches into his seat, abashed.

“It’s just dinner,” Jimin tries to assure Jungkook. “They’re on the balcony by the lobby.”

“Jimin!” Yoongi hisses before Jimin elbows his ribs again.

“What? He loves her!” Jimin exclaims, gaining the attention of a few patrons.

Jungkook feels his ears burn from the attention as he thanks Jimin quietly before leaving the couple to enjoy dinner.

Heartache is quick to consume Jungkook despite Jimin’s poor assurance of you and the captain’s night. He remembered how mesmerized Captain Kim had seemed when he offered his apologies before asking you to dinner right in front of Jungkook. As if he were invisible!

Okay, maybe Jungkook was jealous. He never wanted to end things, and he didn’t mean any of the things he said that awful night of your breakup. He had taken steps to fix himself, working less, going home more, and prioritizing himself and his family. He was a new man, even his mother had noticed the change. She was hopeful you and him would get back together.

Jungkook wallows in his sadness as he heads down one hallway and down another. He ignored the conversations around him and anyone who tried to strike up a conversation.

Before he knows it, he arrives at the kitchen with the swinging doors. He’s about to turn away when he gets grabbed by a man in a white hat with a stern look.

“Why are you just standing around?!” The man shouts as he hands Jungkook a silver tray with a thick lid that reflects his befuddled expression.

Jungkook looks at the name tag on the man’s white coat that reads, Soobin.

“Listen,” Jungkook tries to protest but he’s shoved in the direction of the other doors that lead who-knows-where. Jungkook stumbles before righting himself as the staff in the kitchen zoom back and forth adding garnish, stirring bubbling pots, and plating elaborate dishes in pristine white ceramic plates

“Hurry!” Soobin shouts from across the kitchen, his scowl sends a shiver of fear down Jungkook’s spine. He balances the tray in one hand as he pushes the black doors in front of him.

Jungkook’s not even sure where he’s going, or how he got into this situation from just losing himself in his thoughts but now he had to deliver whatever was under the tray and look for an exit.

Perhaps he could scale the side of the ship to get on another floor.

There was no way he’d be facing Chef Soobin’s wrath again. That much he was sure of.

“We’ve been waiting on you,” someone else hisses at him once he goes through the swinging door, biting his lip when one of the doors smacks his back and jolts him forward.

“I don’t-” Jungkook tries to explain but is interrupted as someone apologizes to a man clad in white.

Jungkook’s heart sinks as he recognizes you with every step he takes.

“Here is dessert,” the person grins as Jungkook sets the tray on the table.

Your eyes widen in surprise when you see him, confusion forming on your brow.

Jungkook looks to the side where the waiter is placing the remains of your dinner on a cart, and two black beady eyes seem to follow his movements as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“Kookie?” You ask in surprise and his heart flips at the nickname he’d only allow you to use.

However, before he can bask in the sweetness of it, you clear your throat and correct yourself, using his full name instead.

“What are you doing here?”

Jungkook bites his lip. This looks bad from all angles. The truth sounds like a fabricated lie and a lie would sound worse.

Namjoon raises a brow at the two of you, quickly putting the pieces together.

“Join us for dessert,” Namjoon smiles warmly as he waves over the waiter to ask for another chair but Jungkook shakes his head.

“No, that’s okay! I just got lost is all,” Jungkook blushes as he cards a hand through his hair nervously. You follow the action closely, studying Jungkook and the way his fingers twitch at his side. He avoids your gaze and Namjoon’s, apologizing as he takes a step back.

“I’ll go find my way back to Jimin and Yoongi. Please, don’t let me interrupt any further,” Jungkook can taste the vileness of his words but he’s at odds with his words and his thoughts.

“Why don’t I walk you back,” you offer, surprising him and Namjoon.

“Oh, no that’s not necessary,” Jungkook shakes his head but makes eye contact with the little beady eyes from before.

Had Namjoon tried to feed you that prawn? Did he not know food with eyes freaked you out? How long had you stared at those bead-like eyes before the plate had been removed from the table?

“Of course it is,” you say as you rise from your seat. Namjoon remains silent as you thank him for dinner.

“It was a pleasure,” Namjoon responds as he stands. He takes your hand in his and kisses it, making you smile bashfully.

“I’ll be going now!” Jungkook squeaks, his face red like the prawn still staring at him. Why hadn’t the waiter taken that abomination back to the kitchen yet?

Was he hiding out of Chef Soobin’s wrath too?

“Kook!” You huff, flustered as you take his arm to link with yours. Jungkook stays silent as you lead him out of the private dining quarters through a door he could have easily spotted if he hadn’t been so flustered by the events.

Weakly, Jungkook waves at Namjoon, who watches the two of you leave.

Jungkook gets a good look at the captain, admiring the long, thick hair that sits at his shoulders. He looks dapper in his uniform and hat, with thick arms and thighs to die for.

Jungkook was glad he had appeared just in time, or you’d be Captain Kim’s wife before the end of the cruise.

Hell, Jungkook would vie for Namjoon.

You remain silent as you drag Jungkook by the arm. He goes willingly as you lead him toward the giant dining room with the rest of the passengers.

You come to a halt before entering, ignoring the hunger pangs in your belly.

“What exactly is it that you are doing, Jungkook!” You ask as your anger bubbles over now that you’re alone with him.

Jungkook steeled himself, biting his lower lip in the way you love.

“I apologize,” Jungkook says sincerely, though the words taste like poison. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your date.”

“It wasn’t a date,” you respond automatically, cringing at the speed of your words.

Jungkook visibly perks up.

“Don’t go getting any ideas,” you mutter as you cross your arms over your chest, drawing Jungkook’s saddened gaze for a moment. “Though I did need some rescuing, so thank you.”

Jungkook perks up again, smiling cutely.

Before any more words are exchanged, your stomach rumbles loudly. Jungkook bites back his laughter as you cover your face.

“Oh my!” Jungkook giggles when your tummy rumbles again.

“Kook!” You whine, stomping your foot. “Stop laughing!”

Jungkook continues to laugh, broad shoulders shaking as he does so. You pout, flipping him off.

“Come on, let’s get you something to eat,” Jungkook smiles as he takes your hand to lead you to the buffet. You thank him sheepishly as he hands you a clean plate to fill with food.

You ignore the rumble of your stomach as you sit beside Jungkook in a booth. The dinner rush has come and gone, only you and a few stragglers are left behind as the servers clean tables and stack dirty dishes a few tables away.

“How long did you have a staring contest with that thing at the table?” Jungkook asks midway through dinner as he chews his food. For a moment he looks upset as he chews but you know it’s just him enjoying his meal.

“Hey! Namjoon is a nice guy!” You retort as you move your mashed potatoes around your plate.

Jungkook blinks owlishly, his cheeks stuffed with food. He resembles a cute little chipmunk.

He swallows, pounding his chest with his fist before he speaks. “I meant the prawn.”

“Oh!” you squeak as your body heats with embarrassment while Jungkook bursts into laughter.

His eyes crinkle at the corners, his pretty nose scrunches and his teeth make an appearance. Your heart flutters in your chest, his laughter healing the wounds he’d left behind.

No matter how much you tried to deny it, you were still hopelessly in love with him.

You’re up bright and early the next morning. Jungkook snores softly beside you, cuddled to the pillow between the two of you.

His hair is splayed on the pillow, one arm tucked under it to support his head.

His broad back is on display, the covers hanging on his hips as he rolls over an inch. You had spent several mornings waking up beside him, cuddled up, sharing kisses and each other's bodies. Mornings filled with happiness and love, memories you held onto, wishing to relive.

Instead, you get ready for the day. Jimin and Yoongi are excited to get to the port. There will be tons to do today before coming aboard for dinner and a show.

You put your swimsuit on under your sundress. You pack a change of clothes, sunblock, sunglasses, wallet, water bottle, mini first aid kit, and lip balm in your bag before heading out.

Jimin waits for you in the hallway, informing you that his other half has gone to secure a table in the dining room before the early risers can fill up the area.

“Soooo,” Jimin wiggles his eyebrows as the two of you sit down with Yoongi. Your plates are filled with eggs and sausage, fruits, and muffins.

“So what?” You ask as you eat a slice of an apple Jimin cut for you, the only way you could easily eat fruit.

Jimin is exasperated as he rolls his eyes at you.

“What happened on your date?” Jimin asks as he takes a sip of his iced coffee.

“It wasn’t a date,” you shake your head. “Just dinner.”

“Dinner with the cruise ship captain,” Yoongi cuts in. “That’s a big deal.”

“A private dinner with the cruise ship captain,” Jimin rephrased as he gave you his undivided attention.

A heavy sigh escapes your beeswax-sticky lips. Should lip balm tingle?

“He served prawns,” you whisper, looking around to make sure Namjoon and his staff are not around.

“Oooh,” Jimin smiles.

“No, they had beady little eyes like marbles. They stared into my soul,” you shiver at the memory.

“Yikes,” Yoongi shakes his head in disdain. He knew how much eyeballs freaked you out.

“I couldn’t eat it,” you continue as you munch on a grape. “Then Jungkook came in and I didn’t have to.”

Jimin and Yoongi exchange a bewildered look. “What do you mean Jungkook came in?”

“Yeah,” you nod as you stab a cube of watermelon with your fork. “He brought dessert? The whole thing was odd now that I think about it.”

“You didn’t ask him?” Yoongi questions but you shrug as you finish eating.

“We came to have dinner and it didn’t come up,” you explain with a second shrug.

Yoongi raises a brow at you. It wasn’t normal for you to be so nonchalant about this, especially with how you’d reacted to Jungkook interrupting your vacation so far. You always had a quip or snide attitude when it came to your ex, so interrupting your not date was major.

“Your ex-boyfriend interrupts your date and you don’t ask him why?” Yoongi is blunt with his question, seeking a direct answer. Jimin would have toed around it all day but Yoongi wanted to enjoy his cruise, plus he needed all drama set aside when he proposed soon.

“It wasn’t a date,” you remind him in a sing-song tone. “I didn’t want to eat the eyes, sue me if I was grateful he showed up.”

“Jungkook aside, how was dinner with Namjoon? Do you like him? Do you wanna go on a date date?” Jimin inquires, hopeful that his friend may move on from Jungkook at last. You seem to want to but he knows you still love the dark-haired, tattooed man.

“No,” you shake your head firmly. “He’d be away too much. That’s why Jungkook and I didn’t work out. Why go get involved in the same situation?”

“Fair,” Yoongi agrees as he clears his plate. “Come on then, we have a city to explore.”

“Yeah!” Jimin cheers as he takes your hand in his to lead you toward the exit with Yoongi in tow. You smiled brightly as you headed for the port, excited to spend the day with your two best friends.

No matter what life threw at you, they’d be by your side always.

Jimin was excited as he watched the waves crash against the boat.

You had stripped down to your bathing suit, and gotten lathered up in sunblock thanks to Jimin.

Your sun hat sat on your head and your sunglasses nearly covered half your face as you laid back enjoying the breeze.

You were doing your best to ignore Jungkook’s shirtless body. Jimin had rubbed his back with sunblock after he’d done you.

The three of you had been surprised to see Jungkook jogging toward you at the pier, making it just in time to join you for your scheduled scuba diving session.

Great.

Okay, so you were a little happy to see him. After all, you had planned this excursion with the four of you in mind.

Though after the breakup, you never imagined it would be the four of you here in the ocean breeze.

Music plays softly from Yoongi’s speaker. He’s got a thick book in his lap, as his sunglasses cover his shut eyes. He takes a cat nap, lulled by the sound of the waves crashing.

Beside you, Jungkook puts his life jacket on, tightening the straps to keep himself safe but all it does is draw attention to his tiny waist, a waist you used to trace with your tongue. You flush at the thought, memories of you on your knees licking him up and down, teasing him just to hear him whimper and cry out your name…

“Hmmm?” You look up when you realize someone is calling your name.

“I asked if you needed help with your life jacket?” Jungkook asks as he holds out the red monstrosity. You doubt it would look as good on you as it did him. You always felt like they were choking you.

“I’ve got it, thanks,” you say as you take the jacket from him. Cordial. You could do this. It was your vacation, you should enjoy it to the best of your abilities. You should be relaxing, and thankful to be away from the world of work.

The boat stops soon after and a tall, lean man comes to join you. Yoongi yawns as he awakens from his nap at Jimin’s prodding. He’d be damned if his boyfriend spent the entire vacation snoozing.

“My name is Taehyung or Tae. Whichever you prefer,” the man introduced himself with a boxy grin. His dark curly hair moved with the breeze and his sun-kissed skin seemed to glow beautifully under the early morning sun.

“Today we’ll be scuba diving in one of my favorite spots. We’ll be using the buddy system for this excursion, break for lunch, and then sail until four pm.”

You groan. The buddy system. You were shit out of luck as Jimin grabs Yoongi and leads him to the edge of the boat as Taehyung goes over a few more rules.

Your two best friends hold hands as they get into the water, laughing as they resurface.

Taehyung approaches you, smiling. “Let me know if you have any questions or if there’s anything specific you’d like to see today. The weather seems to be cooperating with us this morning.”

“Thank you,” you say graciously as you begin to snap the buckles of your life jacket. You cry out when your hair gets caught in one and Taehyung is quick to unsnap the buckle and release your hair.

“Here you go,” he coos gently as he pulls your hair upward to tie it in a loose bun. “Safety first.”

You lock your gaze on him as he easily ties your hair. He’s so close it makes your heart flip. His minty breath brushes your skin as he leans in closer to make sure he’s got all of your hair in one hand before tying a scrunchie around it.

“There we go,” he muses as he takes a step back to admire his handiwork. “Perfect.”

Jungkook glares at the back of Taehyung’s head, cursing him in his mind. Would pushing Taehyung off his boat be rude? Jungkook didn’t think so. However, he didn’t need to be charged and stranded overseas. So he’d play nice.

For now.

“Can we get in the water now?” Jungkook huffs as he puts his goggles on. “We came here to scuba dive.”

“Yeah,” you nod as you put your goggles on with Taehyung's help, much to Jungkook’s indignation.

“There we go, love. Don’t want you getting hurt,” Taehyung smiles warmly as he helps you into the water.

“It’s cold!” You exclaim, giggling as Taehyung dips into the water only to resurface moments later. He brushes his wet hair back, and you bite your bottom lip as he shakes the excess water off.

Jimin notices the interaction and swims toward you, easily escaping Yoongi’s attempts to stop him from playing Cupid in the middle of the ocean.

“Tae, can we go down now?” Jimin asks pleasantly, ignoring the death flares from

Yoongi and Jungkook.

“Sure,” Taehyung responds as he leads the group to an area a few feet away from the boat. He gives them some information about the sea creatures lurking about, warning them to be careful as all are not friendly.

Jungkook sticks close to you, grinning when you go underwater with him.

The two of you take photos with his camera, giggling at the bubbles that escape underwater before coming up for air.

“This is amazing!” You grin as you float on your back for a moment. Jungkook watches you, his heart fluttering giddily in his chest.

All he wanted was for you to be happy. How could he have allowed his work to consume him to the point of breaking up? He always swore to himself he’d be nothing like his workaholic father, and now here he was recreating his old man’s mistakes.

Never again, Jungkook swears to himself. He would not lose the love of his life over the company. You mattered more, you always would. He had lost sight of that but never again. Being without you these past six months had been torturous.

Somehow he had spent days in bed, wearing ramen-stained pajamas to go with his red-rimmed eyes. Jungkook didn’t know your eyes could hurt so much from crying, that the ache would almost rival that of his broken heart.

He didn’t want to imagine what you had gone through. The pain he had caused.

“Earth to Kook! Are you there?” Jungkook is startled out of his thoughts as you wave your hand in front of his face. “We’re going to the boat for lunch.”

Jungkook follows you as you swim back to the boat. Taehyung helps you out of the water, offering you a towel to dry off with before joining Jimin and Yoongi.

Taehyung gives the four of you space as the boat hits the waves once more.

“I’m so hungry,” Jimin hums as he takes a seat to look at the spread on the table.

“Ooh, guacamole, tacos, and burritos,” Jungkook nearly drools as you grab a plate for him and one for yourself.

The four of you enjoy lunch before Jimin falls asleep with Yoongi’s head on his lap. You dab some sunblock on their faces, and hope the sun doesn’t hit them.

“Today was fun,” Jungkook said as he sipped his beer. He sets it between you, and you reach for it to sip it. You weren’t a fan of beer but now and then you’d enjoy a sip of Jungkook’s. Old habits die hard apparently.

Jungkook remains silent at the indirect kiss. However, on the inside, he’s giggling to himself.

“It was,” you agree as you lie back, moaning as your muscles relax. You could easily fall asleep right there with the waves gently rocking the boat.

“I’m sorry for crashing your vacation,” Jungkook apologizes after a moment of silence. “I wouldn’t have come if I knew you’d be here.”

“Gee, thanks,” you huff, offended.

“No, no!” Jungkook shakes his head quickly. “I meant because I know you wouldn’t want to see me after…”

Your heart sinks in your chest as you toy with the edge of the towel to distract yourself. The wind ruffles your hair as you stare out into the ocean.

“Despite everything that’s happened, I’ve had fun on this cruise. We can be cordial, right?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook nods, ignoring the crack in his heart. “Of course.”

You turn to face Jungkook, his dark brown eyes locked on yours. For a split second, you consider leaning in closer, kissing him for old-time’s sake but you don’t. No matter how many times you fantasized about being with him, he wasn’t yours. Not even the cute mole under his lip could tempt you enough to kiss him, and you loved that mole!

“I accept your apology,” you say, focusing your eyes on his instead of the mole beneath his lip or his tongue tracing his piercings like you used to.

Fuck, why were you denying him again?

“Friends?” Jungkook asks as he offers his tattooed hand for a handshake.

Your eyes flit from his to his hand and back before sighing. “Friends.”

Jungkook smiles brightly, fireworks going off in his chest.

“But try anything fishy, and you’re out of here!” You inform him.

Jungkook chuckles but agrees nonetheless. “I’m not planning on feeding you beady eyes or anything.”

“Good,” you stuck your tongue out at him and lay back on your towel. Jungkook lies beside you as you stare at the sky.

You’re dozing off, and you swear it’s just your imagination playing tricks on you when you hear a whisper, “I missed you. I still love you.”

“They’re adorable,” Jimin cooed quietly as he looked at you curled up with Jungkook.

“We should take a picture of them,” Yoongi agrees as he hands his phone to Jimin. Eagerly, Jimin takes a handful of pictures from different angles, all blackmail material for later.

Once the photos are taken, Yoongi kicks Jungkook’s butt. “Get up! We’re here!”

Groaning, Jungkook stirs before Yoongi kicks him again. This time harder.

“Hey!” Jungkook grunts as he swats Yoongi’s foot away. His shout wakes you, an annoyed frown on your face.

“What is it?” You ask as you rub your eyes. The life jacket is still tied to your chest as you sit up. You probably shouldn’t have slept in it.

“We gotta get back on the ship. We’re having dinner and a show, remember?” Jimin offers you his hand to help you up. You nod as you gather your belongings and Jimin helps Yoongi gather his.

“I hope you enjoyed your time,” Taehyung bows as Jimin and Yoongi climb off the boat and onto the dock.

“We did!” Jimin assured him as they waited for you.

“Oh, need some help?” Taehyung asks as you struggle to undo the buckles of the life jacket. They had gotten tangled while you slept.

“Please,” you pout as you try to untangle one strap only to tangle it more. Taehyung chuckles softly as his fingers make quick work of the buckles, setting you free in moments.

“There we go, love. All set,” Taehyung smiles warmly at you as he helps you out of the life jacket. You thank him sincerely as you put your sundress over your bathing suit.

“Thank you so much for today, Taehyung. I had a great time,” you say as you take his hand to get off his boat.

Taehyung kisses your hand gently. “I hope to see you again, love. Take care.”

You giggle as you wave goodbye to the curly-haired cutie.

Jungkook grunts as he gets off the boat last, rolling his eyes at Taehyung.

He knew he had no right to be jealous but that was easier said than done.

When you got back on the cruise ship, you were still smiling whilst looking at your hand.

Jungkook was beyond jealous.

“What was that between you and Taehyung?” Jimin clasps his hands at dinner.

You giggle at his excitement, knowing you’re gonna nip any hope of finding a man at sea in the bud.

“It was nothing,” you assure him. “He’s just friendly.”

Jungkook scoffs from his seat, his eyes glued to his menu.

Yoongi kicks him under the table.

The three men are dressed to the nines. Jimin wears a black tuxedo with a white button-down shirt and skinny black tie. Beside him, Yoongi looks just as hot in a matching tuxedo with a black bow tie.

Next to you, Jungkook is in all black. He looks delectable, and it takes all your willpower to keep your eyes off him. He had the same problem earlier when you stepped out of the bathroom in your maroon A-line dress with the deep v-cut that made your breasts look fabulous. He nearly proposed to you then and there.

“Looked like something was blooming,” Jimin insists as a server brings a basket full of fresh rolls and butter.

“We had a few conversations while I booked the excursion,” you shrug, nonchalantly. “Nothing came of it.”

“Until he kissed your hand,” Jungkook grumbles into his menu.

“Ow!” He yelps when Yoongi’s foot kicks him again.

“Anyway, he kissed your hand,” Yoongi grinned devilishly. “Could mean something.”

You wave him off. “He’s just being friendly.”

“He wasn’t that friendly with me,” Jungkook muttered.

You ignore him.

You take a roll from the basket, cut it in half, and share it with Jungkook out of habit. You don’t notice the surprised look on your friends’ faces.

“Who’s headlining anyway?” You ask as you spread butter on your roll. “I heard the act had backed out and someone else took their place.”

“Kim Seokjin,” Yoongi responds as he sips his whiskey. “I looked him up before dinner. He’s got an amazing voice. You’ll like him.”

You nod, eager to get to the show after dinner.

Jungkook looks up Seokjin on his phone, pouting when he sees an image of him on the screen.

Did everyone you came in contact with on this cruise have to be so fucking attractive?

The lights dim as the last member of the audience takes their seat. Jungkook pouts beside you, not the least bit enthused about the handsome man who will be serenading the crowd in a few moments.

Jimin is excited, chatting your ear off as he looks through the set list on the table. A few waiters come and go with trays filled with drinks and tiny napkins.

The candlelit tables are the only form of light until the spotlight comes on and the first few notes of a song fill the air.

“Welcome everyone,” a sultry voice greets the crowd from his spot at a piano. His hair is long and curly, it reaches his shoulders. He wears an all-white suit with a pink shirt underneath, the first few buttons undone to show a bit of his chest.

His lips are plush and look oh-so kissable. He’s gorgeous, more so than his pictures. He is truly a vision that your eyes are blessed to behold.

“Wow!” You breathe in awe as he sings a beautiful song about loving oneself. Jungkook frowns, what are the chances of him being able to steal the microphone and serenade you instead?

Nobody pays him attention as he watches Seokjin both in awe and jealousy. You seem enamored with the man as he dances with a group, never missing a note, and never sounding out of breath.

On top of it all, he’s funny too. After the first three songs, he takes a seat on a stool set out for him. He has a guitar beside him, and Jungkook wonders if there’s anything Seokjin can’t do.

“This one goes out to all the loves that could have been, the broken hearts, and the ones hoping for a second chance,” Seokjin introduces the next song as the lights dim and he strums his guitar.

“And it feels like you’re getting further away,” Seokjin croons as his eyes mist with tears but he continues to sing.

Jungkook sits up in his chair, turning to look at you. You’re focused on Seokjin but tears are rolling down your cheeks as you take in every lyric, feeling as if it’s being engrained into your heart.

Gently, Jungkook wipes your tears with his monogrammed silk handkerchief. You gasp in surprise but soon smile through your tears, thanking him. Jungkook nods, remaining silent as the song comes to an end, and you take a shaky breath.

The show goes on, and after a few more songs, Seokjin rises from his seat. He does a few upbeat songs, getting the crowd clapping and singing along with him.

Seokjin pulls members from the audience to join him, teaching them simple choreography before he has them perform alongside him.

Yoongi and Jimin get pulled on stage, and they do amazing beside Seokjin. You cheer the loudest for them as they do body rolls all while sending flirty gazes to the audience. They both enjoy the attention, smiling as they thank Seokjin once the song ends.

Jimin blushes once he’s back in his seat. You hug him tightly, kissing his cheek. “You’re wonderful!”

“That?” Jimin giggles. “That was nothing.”

“Please,” Jungkook adds. “You were made for the stage. The both of you!”

You nod in agreement, smiling when people stop by your table to compliment the couple. Seokjin takes the stage once more, sitting on the stool for a moment while he introduces the last song.

“I’d like to end this night on a higher note,” Seokjin states as he looks out into the crowd. “Feel free to grab a partner and dance.”

Seokjin heads to the crowd while singing. A few couples head to the dancefloor, swaying slowly to his beautiful voice.

Jimin and Yoongi join the other couples shortly after, whispering sweet-nothings to each other as they go.

Awkwardness bubbles inside you, as you look down at the tablecloth. Would it be possible to leave the show unnoticed? Seokjin was nearby, surely nobody would notice if you made a hasty exit.

You rise from your seat sharply, surprising Jungkook. He stares at you with wide eyes, wondering where you’re going.

However, before Jungkook can ask, Seokjin chooses that moment to take your hand, dancing with you at your table for a moment.

“When I’m with you, there is no one else,” he sings beautifully. Your heart skips a beat as you place your hand on his shoulder, smiling bashfully as he spins you once.

Jungkook is ready to head back to the cabin, not wanting to see another man fall for you just as he had. He knew when it was time to throw in the towel, and you may have accepted his apology and agreed to be friends, but how often did that actually pan out? Would you still talk to him once you weren’t stuck on a cruise ship? Jungkook wasn’t sure.

He wasn’t going to stand around and watch you fall for someone else. That much he was sure of.

Seokjin stills you once he finishes spinning you. He then places your hand in Jungkook’s before leaving to another table.

Jungkook’s doe eyes are wide with surprise. You look shocked, but lead him to the dancefloor beside Jimin and Yoongi.

“You were shining towards me, the only light found in the darkness,” Seokjin sings wholeheartedly as Jungkook holds you close. It’s been so long since the last time he held you like this; since he realized how perfect you fit in your arms. He promised if you gave him one more chance, he would make sure to never ruin it. He’d never hurt you again. He’d be more mindful of his words, he’d prioritize you over his company. Jungkook would make sure you never felt like you were an afterthought. It saddens him to think he had made you feel like that, and that it took losing you for it to snap him into reality.

How long had you been unhappy at his side? Was he selfish in wanting you back? In pursuing you still? Had his appearance on this cruise been a divine intervention or a simple coincidence?

Jungkook forces himself to focus on you and not the downward spiral of despair brewing in his mind. You rest your head on his shoulder, swaying with him as he holds you closer.

Perhaps tonight the two of you could have a private moment to talk things out. Or maybe he’d be asking for too much?

Too soon for Jungkook’s liking, the song ends. He blinks his unshed tears away as you take a step back, clapping with everyone else.

“I’m going to head to the bar,” you inform him as you leave as quickly as possible. Jimin and Yoongi watch you go, and Yoongi places his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Tough break, man.”

Jungkook nods as he watches you squeeze through the crowd, disappearing soon after.

Jimin and Yoongi leave him by himself, the two enamored with each other after a romantic evening, both eager to get to their room for some privacy.

Jungkook is a little envious.

“Screwdriver, please,” you tell the bartender once you reach the bar. You need something to take the edge off, just a few minutes away from Jungkook and your array of emotions.

“I’ll have the same,” the voice beside you says. The bartender nods as he goes to make the drinks. You turn to your left to see Seokjin.

“You were wonderful,” you compliment, smiling genuinely. You hope you’re not bothering him. Surely he has people circling him at all times, especially after his shows.

“Thank you,” Seokjin bows his head, his ears turning red.

The bartender places the drinks in front of you on black napkins with a gold border. You thank him before sipping your drink.

“Fuck, I needed that,” you muttter as you take a second sip.

“Trouble in paradise?” Seokjin asks as he sips from his glass.

“You don’t know the half of it,” you respond sadly stirring your drink with your paper straw.

“I’m all ears,” Seokjin smiles, disarming any protests you might have had.

“Don’t you have another show?” You ask with wide eyes, surprised this stranger would want to hear about your woes.

“Nope, that was the last one for the night,” Seokjin informs you. He holds out his hand for you to shake as he introduces himself. You shake his hand after giving him your name.

The two of you scoot to the end of the bar with your drinks. It takes you a few more sips of your screwdriver before you fill in Seokjin about your trip thus far and how you were stuck sharing your cabin with your ex.

“Sounds to me like there’s a lot of love there,” Seokjin responds after you’re done telling your tale. He waves down the bartender, asking for two glasses of water before he continues. “If you’ve forgiven him, what’s holding you back?”

You bite your bottom lip as you try to make a list of your doubts.

“What if he hasn’t changed? What if we get back together and I’m brushed aside again?”

Seokjin thanks the bartender as he pushes a glass of water toward you. He clicks his tongue before shrugging.

“There’s no way to find out unless you try. Second chances are few and far between. Some people don’t get second chances, most try to make it work the second time. If at first you don’t succeed, try and try again,” Seokjin grins as he chugs his water.

“So you do greeting cards on the side, huh?” You tease, playfully bumping into Seokjin. He laughs wholeheartedly, his eyes turning into half-moons.

“I could, couldn’t I,” he says after his laughter has subsided. “But on a serious note, the two of you looked great on the dance floor. I didn’t know you were broken up when I danced with you.”

“Why do things have to be so complicated?” You huff as you finish your water.

“They don’t have to be,” Seokjin assures you. “They’re only complicated if you make it so. You love him, he loves you, what more is there to it?”

You sigh heavily, you know Seokjin’s reasoning is a little half-baked but it makes sense. What’s keeping you from giving it a second shot? You love Jungkook so much, and despite Jimin’s attempts at fixing you up with someone, you always compare them to Jungkook. He was the love of your life, knew it from the moment you laid eyes on him in your flower shop. He had walked in looking frazzled. His black suit was well fitted and his broad chest showed from the few buttons left undone at the top. His hair had been brushed back, his undercut on display.

Frazzled, he’d asked you for a custom bouquet. His mother’s birthday dinner was that evening and though he had a birthday present for her, he didn’t want to show up without flowers. She adored flowers, he’d informed you. All kinds, any color, any array. He never went empty-handed but the last floralist he’d ordered from had sent him nothing but stems and wilted roses.

After that day, he made daily appearances, until eventually he asked you out.

On your third month of dating, he had you meet his mother, her house filled with flowers from your shop.

“It’s so nice to meet the woman responsible for my new garden,” she joked as she welcomed you into her home with a tight hug.

Jungkook had blushed, hiding his face in his hands.

His mother adored you right off the bat, and that’s when Jungkook knew he couldn’t live without you, didn’t want to.

Your relationship had been perfect at first, something out of a fairytale. You spent a lot of time together, went on dates, spent the night, and tried his hobbies which involved rock climbing, kayaking, and bungee jumping. He tried yours, cooking, baking, painting, candle making. However, as your relationship wore on, Jungkook spent more and more time at work at his company. Business trips overseas, meetings late into the night, days off spent sleeping or moody.

You understood at first. You were supportive and gave him space when he needed it but soon came the canceled dates, the forgotten anniversaries, and the forgotten birthdays.

“I’m tired of coming second all the time, Jungkook,” you told him one day in his office after another canceled dinner.

“I have to work, babe. I can’t put it off for dinner,” he said as he sat at his desk, barely looking up from his laptop.

“It wasn’t always like this, Kook. You used to make an effort to come home,” you frowned as you placed your hands on your hips.

“You know I would of I could,” Jungkook huffs as he rubs his face with his hands. He had a knot in his shoulders from the stress and a headache was building rapidly. He didn’t have time for this argument. The longer you interrupted him the longer it would take for him to finish and go home to your shared apartment.

“Kookie,” you sigh, defeated. “I’m tired of waiting for you.”

“Nobody asked you to!” He exclaims as he shuts his laptop.

His words shattered your heart and a knot formed in your throat. You held back tears, simply nodding.

“Don’t worry, I’m done waiting on you.”

You had walked out of his office without another word. You headed straight to your shared apartment to pack up your belongings and crash on Jimin’s couch.

Jungkook had gone home late that night exhausted from his day at work. He had been put off by the complete silence. The lights were all off which was unusual since you were scared of the dark. You always had one light on, whether it was the living room lamp or the light over the stove.

Jungkook called out for you but got no response as he made his way to the bedroom.

The silence was eerie, just like the darkness. When he flicked the light switch, his eyes widened and his heart sank in his chest.

Drawers were open and emptied. Your half of the closet had nothing but empty clothes hangers.

Jungkook shook his head, this couldn’t be happening.

He rushed to the bathroom to see your makeup, face products, and toiletries were gone. He heaved, resisting the urge to puke as cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

Jungkook went to the kitchen, opening cabinets to see if your favorite mug was gone. There wasn’t an item left that belonged to you in the apartment.

You truly had grown tired of waiting for him.

Jungkook fell to his knees on the cold kitchen floor. His heart felt like it was cracking into tiny pieces. He had lost you. He was sure of it.

You were gone.

“Hello?” Seokjin waves his hand in front of your face when his question goes unanswered.

You apologize before he repeats his question. “What more is there to it?”

Seokjin had a point. What was keeping you from making amends? Jungkook was here, you’d forgiven him, and secretly his mother had called you throughout the six months to check on you but also fill you in on Jungkook’s change. No longer was he missing dinner, he was at her home promptly at six every evening. He had his days off, and spent more time with her, which she loved but she missed the shine in her son’s eyes, the little sparkle he got when he was with you.

Fear wasn’t a good enough reason to stay away, not anymore.

“You’re right,” you give in with a small smile.

“I always am,” Seokjin chuckles as he reaches into his suit pocket and hands you a card. “Here, call me when you need a singer for your wedding. I’ll give you ten percent off.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Thanks, Seokjin.”

Seokjin shakes his head. “Think nothing of it. Now go, get your man back.”

“You only want us together so we’ll book you,” you laugh as his cheeks turn pink.

“Hey, I gotta make a living somehow,” he winks at you to make you laugh. “Now quit stalling and go!”

“All right! All right! I’m going!” You laugh as you hug him goodbye, promising to update him before the cruise is over. Seokjin waves as you go, hopeful that you and Jungkook will make amends.

Seokjin orders a shot, raising it in your honor before downing it.

Perhaps his next endeavor would lead him to matchmaking.

You’re filled with nerves by the time you reach your cabin. You use your bracelet to let yourself into the room, hoping the butterflies in your stomach will settle.

However, your nerves are for naught as you spot Jungkook asleep in your bed.

Disappointed, you head to the bathroom to change and wash your face.

Jungkook opens his eyes once he hears the bathroom door shut. He looks at the time and notes you’ve been gone a little over an hour.

He hopes you and Seokjin will be happy together.

The next morning you’re up bright and early. You roll over expecting to see Jungkook, but instead, you find his spot empty and the sheets cold.

Frowning, you get out of bed to get ready for the day.

You were hoping to talk to him before reaching the next port.

“Good morning!” Jimin sings as he enters your bedroom after knocking incessantly while you get dressed.

“Morning,” you mumble as you grab your purse and sunglasses. Another sundress covers your body, this one purple with white flowers. Your bathing suit hides beneath the cool fabric, riding up a bit as you bend down to fix the strap on your sandal.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Jimin raised a brow at your response. “I thought you and Seokjin hit it off last night. At least it looked that way when we were heading to bed.”

“Nothing happened,” you roll your eyes at Jimin’s nosiness. “We talked about Jungkook.”

“Ew, talking about an ex on the first date is such a downer,” Jimin comments as he follows you out of the cabin and into the hallway.

“It wasn’t a date,” you insist as you face forward. “Have you seen Jungkook? He wasn’t in bed this morning.”

“He’s probably at breakfast with Yoongi. I sent him ahead to get us a table,” Jimin explains.

“Oh,” you say dejected. “So you haven’t seen Kookie?”

“Kookie?” Jimin’s eyes widen in surprise. “You’re calling him Kookie again? He’s not a dick anymore?”

“Jimin,” you huff. “Have you seen Jungkook or not?”

Jimin shakes his head. “Not since last night.”

You frown. You wanted to speak with him sooner rather than later. Tonight was one of the last nights on board, and if he was nowhere to be found you’re not sure if you’d have the courage to reach out to him once you went back home.

“Let’s have breakfast and go about our day. I’m sure he’ll show up at some point.”

“What if he doesn’t?” You bite your lip nervously.

Jimin scoffs. “Please, this is the man who somehow found you in the captain’s private dining room. He’ll find you.”

You giggle as you take Jimin’s arm in yours, feeling much lighter as you head to the dining area.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Aren’t I always,” Jimin states cheekily.

However, Jungkook isn’t at breakfast and he’s nowhere to be seen when you get off the ship at the next port.

“Don’t worry about him, babe,” Jimin links his left arm with your right. “He’ll show up.”

“I hope you’re right,” you sigh. “I need to talk to him.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Don’t let him ruin your day. We’ve got a whole day at the beach.”

You smile as you go with the couple to check out the market on the way to the beach. You fill your bag with souvenirs for your family and friends. Jimin buys you snacks, trying them all on the way to the beach.

“This weather is so nice,” you sigh happily as you rest on your lounger under a large blue umbrella Yoongi had set up for the four of you, despite Jungkook being nowhere to be found.

“I’ll go get us some drinks,” Yoongi volunteers as Jimin mentions wanting a blue drink with an umbrella that the person a few feet away from you was sipping on.

“Get me one too!” you call after him as he raises his hand over his shoulder to assure you he heard your request.

The sand is hot on Yoongi’s feet as he reaches the bar. There’s a crowd at one end of the bar, cheering as some shirtless dude rips open a watermelon with his bare hands. Yoongi rolls his eyes as he orders your drinks and a bottle of water for himself.

“JK! JK! JK!” The crowd cheers. Yoongi whips his head to the crowd, spotting Jungkook’s tattooed arm dripping with watermelon juice. He pours the juice into a few shot glasses, while the bartender adds vodka.

“Cheers!” Jungkook grabs a shot as do a few of his fans.

“Thanks!” Yoongi pays for the drinks, sliding the cold water bottle into the pocket of his swim trunks. He barrels through Jungkook’s onlookers, earning a few angry looks as he grabs Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Hey! No touchy!” Jungkook exclaims before he realizes it’s Yoongi grabbing his shoulder.

“Oh! Yoongi! What’s up?”

“You know your girl’s been looking for you all morning?” Yoongi raises a brow as he tugs Jungkook away from the bar, ignoring the onlookers’ protests.

“She’s Seokjin’s girl now,” Jungkook shrugs.

“You’re an idiot! You know that?”

“I do,” Jungkook agrees easily and Yoongi hands him his water.

“Drink this and come join us. I’m proposing to Jimin tonight and I don’t need you ruining this for us.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. “Oh shit! You’re proposing! Congrats! Does he know?!”

Yoongi’s forehead vein twitches. “I haven’t done it yet.”

Jungkook nods, smiling. “You should.”

“I’m gonna.”

“Good,” Jungkook grins. “You should.”

“I’m gonna,” Yoongi rolls his eyes at the younger man.

“You should.” Jungkook bobs his head.

“I’m gonna,” Yoongi insists before carding a hand through his long black hair. “Will you shut up?! Let’s go!”

Jungkook chugs the bottle of water before following Yoongi to where you and Jimin chat under the large umbrella.

“Hey stranger,” Jimin greets Jungkook as Yoongi hands you and Jimin your drinks.

“Hey,” Jungkook waves weakly as he takes a seat on the end of Jimin’s chair. Jimin eyes Yoongi, silently asking him what gives. Yoongi answers with a shrug.

“Okay…” Jimin grins. “Glad we’re all here.”

You nod as you sip your blue drink, not knowing what to say or do. Yoongi sits on your chair, stretching out. You poke his chest, and he pouts.

“Be good,” he swats at your hand, making you laugh as you and Jimin talk about the drink. Jungkook remains silent as he watches the ocean, wondering what he can do to make things between you less awkward.

Hours pass, and soon it’s almost sunset.

“It’s right over here,” Yoongi says as he leads Jimin by the hand to a place further down the beach.

“Hello!” A bright voice greets the four of you along with three giant horses.

“Horseback riding?” Jimin squeals in delight. He kisses Yoongi on the cheek.

“I’m Hoseok,” the man introduces himself. “I’ll be giving you a tour.”

You all introduce yourselves.

Hoseok has Jimin and Yoongi meet their horse, becoming familiar with the steed before helping them onto Pepper, a beautiful black stallion.

“All right you two, you’re on Sugar,” Hoseok states as he hands you and Jungkook sugar cubes for the horse. “She’s the sweetest I own. Be good to her and she’ll be good to you.”

Hoseok helps you onto the horse, his hands gently guiding you forward so he can get Jungkook on behind you.

“Place your hands around her waist and place them here,” Hoseok instructs before telling you where to place yours.

“Aren’t you a good girl?” Hoseok coos, and you giggle.

Hoseok pets Sugar, but winks at you before he gets on his horse, a beautiful sandy brown mare named Cinnamon.

Unknowingly, Hoseok is leading you to the spot Yoongi will propose. However, he takes the long way around, showing you as much of his beautiful city as possible.

Hoseok hangs beside you and Jungkook. He’s very outgoing, filling any awkward pauses with jokes, and information you’re eager to hear.

“Why don’t you two hang back a bit?” Hoseok raises a brow, winking at you once more before he goes to Yoongi and Jimin. Sugar comes to a stop, and Jungkook jolts forward, his chest hitting your back.

“Sorry,” he apologizes as he grips your waist tighter to keep himself on the horse.

“What’s going on?” you ask as you watch Hoseok lead Yoongi and Jimin further up before he hands Jimin a blindfold. Hoseok calls for Sugar, and she goes willingly.

“Whoa!” you hold tight to the horse and Jungkook, scared you’ll fall off and get a mouthful of sand in the process.

Soon, lights appear in the sand in the shape of a heart. Rose petals are spread perfectly throughout, spelling out the words, Will you marry me?

“Oh my god,” you whisper, tears immediately filling your eyes.

“What’s going on?” Jimin asks as Hoseok helps him off the horse once Yoongi gets into position. A photographer and videographer stand nearby, waiting as Hoseok leads Jimin to Yoongi. Hoseok then comes for you and Jungkook, helping you off the horse before leading you to the side.

“You may remove your blindfold,” Hoseok instructs as he grabs the three horses' reins to get them out of the photos.

Jimin is confused but does as he’s told. His heart is racing in his chest, his hands have grown sweaty from nerves, and butterflies swirl in his tummy.

A gasp escapes him as the silk blindfold flutters to the sand. His hands cover his mouth as he looks at Yoongi kneeling in front of him with a black velvet box containing a perfect amethyst ring.

“Will you marry me?” Yoongi asks with hope in his eyes.

Jimin nods, “Yes. Yes!”

You grab Jungkook, shaking him in your excitement as your two best friends kiss. Yoongi places the ring on Jimin’s finger, and you allow them to have their moment, waiting for the happy couple to turn to you and wave you over.

You wrap your arms around them both, squeezing them until they tell you they can’t breathe. You release them, admiring Jimin’s ring, giggling in your excitement as you begin talking about wedding plans.

“Congratulations,” Jungkook tells Yoongi as he watches you and Jimin bounce ideas off each other as Hoseok approaches with the horses.

“Thanks,” Yoongi smiles brightly, love in his eyes when he looks at Jimin.

“We should get going before the ship leaves without us,” Jimin turns to face the two, urging them onto the horses. Hoseok helps you back onto Sugar, his hand lingering on your waist as you settle. You laugh at something he says, gently swatting him as he laughs before he goes to help Jimin and Yoongi.

Jungkook gets on Sugar without any help, his hands gripping your waist as Hoseok gets on Cinnamon and leads the four of you back to his office.

Jimin and Yoongi are all smiles at dinner. Champagne glasses in your hands as you toast their engagement before they go off on their own.

“I’m so happy for them,” you grin as you watch your best friends leave.

Jungkook nods in agreement.

“What should we do now?”

“Want to check out the party on deck?” You ask as you see fireworks going off in the distance. Jungkook nods as he follows you out onto the deck.

The two of you haven’t had a chance to have a serious conversation due to all the excitement but now with Jimin and Yoongi gone, you were unsure how to approach the subject.

More fireworks go off as you find a spot for the two of you to watch the rest of the show, amazed by the beautiful colors and patterns of the fireworks.

Jungkook smiles as the last few go off before the passengers clap and disperse.

“Should we head back to the room?” you ask Jungkook as a chill runs down your spine, your hands rubbing your arms.

Jungkook nods. He takes his jacket off to drape over your shoulders as he follows you back into the ship, going down the halls until you reach your cabin.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” you inform him as you set his jacket on the bed before going to the bathroom with your pajamas in tow. Jungkook nods, as he hangs his jacket in the small closet.

He cards a hand through his hair before he heads out to the balcony to watch the waves. Something about the endless ocean at night made him uneasy but he couldn’t stand the tightness he felt in his chest being in such a small room feeling somewhat awkward.

“Bathroom’s free!” You call twenty minutes later as you climb into bed before Jungkook can see you wearing one of his old t-shirts to bed. You had packed it with the thought that he wouldn’t be joining you on this cruise and now you were stuck hiding under the sheets.

“Thanks!” He responds before he heads into the shower. You scroll on your phone absentmindedly, humming until he comes out. He’s shirtless as he does his nighttime skincare routine, singing a song softly to himself.

You stare at his perfect abdomen, wishing you could run your hands over his broad shoulders and tapered waist. Your lips ache to kiss every mole and scar on his body, to taste him once more.

“Jungkook, can we talk?” You ask as you muster all the courage you can.

Jungkook's eyes widen in surprise, his toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

He nods as he rushes to the bathroom sink to spit out the toothpaste.

You wait patiently for him to finish before he sits on the edge of the bed.

Jungkook waits apprehensively for you to speak as you play with the sheets.

“I’ve been talking to your mom these past few months,” you say, avoiding his gaze.

“My mom?” Jungkook is surprised at the revelation. “Why?”

You shrug. “I didn’t break up with her.”

You’ve got him there.

“She says you’ve changed a lot these past six months,” you continue as you finally meet his gaze. “That you’re different now.”

“I am,” Jungkook nods eagerly. “I swear.”

“I want to believe you,” you respond honestly as you focus on the sheets, tugging them to peaks. “I’m just scared of getting hurt again.”

“I know,” Jungkook sighs heavily. “I’ve been kicking myself for how I treated you back then. I was an idiot. I said things I didn’t mean. I missed so many events and dinners. I’m truly sorry.”

“I still love you, Jungkook. I never stopped,” you admit sheepishly as you feel heat rush to your cheeks.

Jungkook moves closer, his hand gently cupping your face. He waits patiently until you meet his gaze.

“I never stopped loving you, baby. I want to be the man you deserve. I want to be everything I wasn’t. You are my priority. I’m sorry it took me losing you to figure it out,” Jungkook gently caresses your cheek. Tears well in your eyes as you try to blink them away.

When one rolls down your cheek, Jungkook tenderly wipes it away with his thumb.

“I never meant to hurt you, love. And I swear that I never will,” Jungkook promises as he hooks his pinkie with yours. You smile through your tears, wrapping your arms around him to hold him close.

Jungkook rubs your back softly, holding you tight, afraid to let you go. He can feel your tears land on his shoulder as he holds you, whispering assurances and sweet nothings until you’re sniffling instead of crying.

When you let go, you wipe your eyes and smile at him sheepishly.

Jungkook holds your hands in his, kissing each of them before pressing his lips to yours. His forehead rests on yours, and your gaze meets his hopeful one.

“You are my everything,” Jungkook whispers. “Today, tomorrow, and for the rest of my life. I love you.”

“One last kiss before we head out,” Jungkook pouts as he stands in front of the door to your cabin, his back pressed to it.

You roll your eyes playfully, but lean in close to kiss him. Jungkook’s large hands grip your waist, tugging you closer as he deepens the kiss, making you moan when he sucks on your bottom lip.

“Fuck,” you curse when you take a breath. Jungkook smirks, his hand moving higher on your back.

“We could say we’re sick,” Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at you.

“Please,” you scoff. “You know Jimin would break the door down if he thought I was sick.”

Jungkook pouts, “But we just got together. I want to make up for lost time.”

You run your hands over the smooth planes of his chest. You have lunch plans with Jimin and Yoongi, some wedding planning, and more celebrating you’re sure. It’s why you’ve decided not to announce your relationship to the happy couple just yet.

Your plans for the day are very relaxed for your last night on board, until the farewell party this evening. Seokjin will be performing at dinner once again, and then the passengers will get to have one last big hurrah before going home in the morning. You were apprehensive about going home, would Jungkook keep his promise? Could you put yourself through a second breakup if things didn’t work out?*

Should you just come clean to your two best friends and ask for their advice?

“We can do all that tonight,” You assure Jungkook as you kiss the corner of his mouth and reach for the doorknob behind him.

Jungkook smiles, nodding as he steps aside to let you by.

“I was about to go banging on your door!” Jimin huffs as you and Jungkook sit at the table with Jimin and Yoongi.

“So dramatic,” you mutter as you stab a cube of watermelon from Jimin’s plate.

Yoongi looks at Jungkook with a frown. “I see you’re still here.”

“Where else am I supposed to go?” Jungkook asks with a raised brow as he reaches for a roll.

“Kinda hoped our girl here would have pushed you over the balcony by now,” Yoongi huffs, a disappointed look on his face as he turns to you. “I guess there’s always tonight.”

“Yoongi,” you roll your eyes. “Be nice. This is a happy time for the two of you. We should celebrate!”

“We have been,” Jimin giggles, ignoring Yoongi’s rosy cheeks.

“Did you bring your wedding binder?” You ask Jimin as you sip your mimosa. Jimin shakes his head but hands you his phone where he keeps a digital copy just in case.

“Of course, you’ll have to be my maid of honor!” Jimin exclaims as he shows you his ideas for themes and colors.

“Duh,” you grin as you scroll onto the next page on his phone. The two of you are lost in wedding planning mode but Yoongi is watching you.

Something about you seemed different and he can’t quite put his finger on it.

Jungkook eats his lunch quietly listening to you and Jimin chatter about the wedding. He keeps one hand in his lap as he tries not to look over at you too much. It’s harder than he thought pretending you weren’t back together. He wanted to hold your hand, to lean his head on your shoulder, or to even hold a conversation with you but he knew it would be too risky.

If it were up to him, he’d announce it to the whole ship, so that they knew you were his once again.

However, instead, he eats his lunch and keeps to himself.

Yoongi can’t shake the feeling. As lunch ends and the four of you head to the pool, Yoongi keeps his watchful eye on you.

He notes the way you laugh at Jungkook’s jokes, how you seem to lean into him more as the day goes by, sharing snacks and drinks when you would have poured them on Jungkook at the start of the cruise.

Jungkook’s longing stares are almost nonexistent. He seems to have regained the sparkle in his eye as he laughs with you and Jimin. His nose is scrunched, and his eyes are closed into pretty little half-moons.

“Something’s off,” Yoongi whispers to himself before the four of you split to get ready for the last evening on board.

Music played softly in the background as dinner was served to the passengers. Everyone wore their best gowns and suits. Diamonds, pearls, rubies, and all other colorful gems were in abundance on passenger’s necks and ears.

The candlelit room gave a softer, more romantic feel to the evening as you awaited your waiter to get to your table.

“I’m so sad it’s our last night,” Jimin pouts as he places his hand over his fiancé’s.

“I know,” you frown. “I wish we had more time on board.”

“You can always honeymoon on a cruise,” Jungkook suggests as he reaches for his glass of water, trying to ignore Yoongi’s intense gaze.

“Ooh, what a marvelous idea!” Jimin chirps as he claps. He turns to Yoongi with a smile, “What do you think, babe?”

Yoongi blinks once. “You’re fucking him.”

Jimin’s eyes widen as Jungkook chokes on his water.

“What?!” Jimin is scandalized, protests sitting heavy on his tongue. He was most definitely not fucking Jungkook or anyone else for that matter.

Yoongi looks pointedly at you, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Of course not!” You hiss, shaking your head as Jungkook coughs repeatedly. You pat his back gently, asking if he needs anything as his face turns red.

“There’s something up with you two,” Yoongi states as he stares into your soul. He quirks his head to the side as he notes the way you gently rub Jungkook’s back, offering him your glass of water and checking on him again.

“You’re back together!” Jimin exclaims as he looks at Yoongi, who is frowning now.

“Ew, I wish you two were just fucking again,” he spits.

“Oh, you love me,” Jungkook laughs but doesn’t deny Jimin’s allegation.

“Can we not do this right now?” You ask as you smile at the waiter approaching the table.

Surprisingly, Yoongi and Jimin remain quiet as your dinner is set on the table.

Jungkook stuffs his mouth with food, nearly choking so he can avoid speaking.

Once the waiter leaves, Jimin smirks. “So, are you two back together?”

Jungkook chews noisily beside you, looking at nearby tables instead of Jimin.

“Technically,” you answer, giggling when Jungkook pokes your side.

“Kookie!”

“Oh, no! They’re going to be insufferable again!” Yoongi whines as he pouts.

“I know,” Jungkook chirps. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

Yoongi groans, but despite his outward displeasure of your revelation, inside he’s delighted to have you happy once again.

Though he will tear Jungkook a new one if he breaks your heart again. Jimin and you won’t be able to hold him back again…

“I’m so exhausted,” you groan as you kick your heels off in your cabin.

Jungkook is fresh out of the shower, drying his hair with a towel on his way to the bed as you unzip your dress before scurrying into the steamy bathroom with Jimin’s gift tucked behind your back.

Jimin had insisted you walk him to his cabin despite his confused fiancé being at his side.

“Go away, Jungkook! I’ll walk her back,” Jimin had pushed Jungkook towards your shared room, insisting he needed to talk to you.

“What is it, Jimin?” You ask as you follow him into his room. Jimin waves you off as he lugs his suitcase in front of you.

He searches through his clothing and some of yours that he’s packed for you. He pushed everything out of the way until he finally came out with a pretty bubblegum pink gift bag.

“What is it?” You ask with wide eyes as he hands it to you.

“You’re welcome!” Jimin grins as he stuffs everything back into his suitcase.

“Jimin!” You're scandalized as you see the tiny pieces of black fabric he expects you to wear for Jungkook tonight.

Jimin shrugs. “I had hoped you’d meet some hottie on the ship and bang his brains out. The fact that it’s Jungkook works for me.”

You turn to Yoongi who shakes his head, chuckling. “Leave me out of this.”

“Go,” Jimin pushes you gently towards the door. “Fuck his brains out. Get an orgasm or six, was that the record?”

Jimin looks over at Yoongi who holds up seven fingers.

“Ooh, seven like that song we like. Fuck him to that,” Jimin snickers as he leads you out of his cabin and walks you to yours.

“What if it’s too soon?” You whisper as you reach your door.

“Only do what feels right. Whether it’s on the cruise or later on,” Jimin says. “The gift is yours regardless.”

You unlock your bedroom door, leaning against it. You hug Jimin tightly, kissing his cheek.

“Thanks, Jimin. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” you squeeze him once more.

When you part, you spot Yoongi waiting for Jimin in the hall, you blow him a kiss and step into your cabin.

“Thank you, Jimin,” you whisper as you look at yourself in the mirror. You admire the way the ruffles are soft on your skin, the lace not itchy like some sets you’ve worn before. You’re thankful Jimin cut the tags off because you don’t even want to imagine how much your best friend spent on something to get you laid.

You smile, tugging on Jungkook’s shirt that you stole from his suitcase while he showered before dinner and hid in the bathroom for this moment.

It felt surreal to be back together, and you swore you’d take things slow this time around but tonight had been so lovely. From dinner with your favorite people in the world to dancing the night away under the stars.

Jungkook was just as he was, and you hoped he kept true to his word. You love him so much, sometimes it feels overwhelming but you’re sure he’s your person and you are his.

Your love knows no bounds, and being back together makes your heart sing.

“You can do this,” you tell yourself, trying to hype yourself up but it feels like the first time all over again. You had been nervous that night, spilled wine on his pants, and bonked his head with yours when you both reached for a napkin to dab at the wine.

Jungkook ended up wearing some of your Kuromi pajama pants while his pants were in the wash. Who knew he’d look so good in them?

Jungkook is in bed when you finally open the bathroom door. He’s shirtless, scrolling on his phone until he hears the door.

“Oh,” his doe eyes widen when he spots you in his t-shirt. You climb into bed beside him as he sets his phone on the nightstand.

“Hi,” you whisper shyly.

“Hi,” Jungkook giggles in response as you get under the covers with him. He lies on his side so he can face you, his hand rests on your hip while the other gets tucked under his pillow.

Silence envelopes the two of you, shy smiles on your lips. Your heart beats in tune with his as he pulls you closer. Your forehead rests on his, your noses brushed, and Jungkook breathed you in.

It only takes a moment or two before his lips meet yours, kissing you softly. Slowly, your lips move with his feeling the slight pressure from his lip rings.

You moan, gripping his bare shoulders as he tugs you over him, making you straddle his tiny waist.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathes in between kisses and light touches. “So much.”

“Jungkook,” you whisper, afraid that speaking too loudly will pop this bubble of comfort.

Jungkook hushes you with a finger to your lips, shaking his head befo he moves his hand to the back of your head to pull you towards him. Fiery lips meet yours as desire pools in your abdomen.

“Fuck,” he curses gripping you tightly, afraid to let you go lest he lose you again. He’s not sure he could survive it one more time.

“I’ve missed you. I love you. I need you.” Jungkook states as he kisses his way down your jaw towards your neck. Your fingers thread in his thick black hair, tugging as he nips at your neck.

“I missed you,” you confess in a heady tone as he tugs the collar of the shirt to the side. He’s eager to kiss any bit of you within reach, wanting to familiarize himself with your body once more and hopefully hear those dulcet sounds he loves so much.

Just hearing you moan his name might be enough to send him into the stars, dispersing among the sky.

“I love you,” you admit. Jungkook pauses, his gaze locked on yours as his heart flits in his chest, a sweet grin on his lips. You kiss him. You kiss the mole on beneath his lip, the mole on his nose, the scar on his cheek, and the mole on his neck; your favorite.

Perhaps later you’ll kiss the scar on his shoulder, the one on his ribs, and any new ones acquired in your time apart. You’ll familiarize yourself with his body once again, and become one just like you were always meant to.

Jungkook’s hand cups your face, moaning your name as his hands grip the shirt you’re wearing. “Let’s get you out of this, love.”

You nod, raising your arms to aid him.

“Wow!” Jungkook exclaims, admiring the lace that barely covers your body. He tongues his lip rings, his eyes dark and hooded as you grab his hands to place on your hips.

“Don’t just stare, baby.”

Jungkook nods, smiling as he pecks your lips before you guide his hands to your breasts.

His fingers toy with the string tying the two cups together, knowing he could easily get this undone.

Without a second thought, Jungkook easily flips the two of you over. You giggle when your head meets the pillows, your body caged between Jungkook’s broad shoulders and deliciously thick arms. You run your hands over his bicep, clenching around nothing when he flexes for you.

The list of things you’d love to do to him is endless but right now all you can focus on is him and the needy whimper that escapes him when his cock rubs against your cunt.

“I don’t want to rush,” Jungkook admits but a roll of your hips has him seeing stars.

Your hand laces with his, your thumb gently stroking his skin. “We can go slow, babe.”

Jungkook nods as he kisses you again, his hand cupping your cheek as your legs wind around his hips to pull him closer. Your name escapes him in a groan, the sound shooting straight to your cunt. Your eyes flutter shut as you curse, kissing him hungrily as your nails drag down his back. Jungkook kisses you feverishly, his tongue meeting yours, sucking it into his mouth. He pulls back, nipping your lip before he kisses his way down your body until he settles between your tits.

“I’ve missed these fucking tits,” Jungkook grunts as you tug his hair.

“Kook!”

He smirks, “Soon, baby. Be patient.”

“It’s been six months,” you whine as you tug his hair again, earning a tiny bite on your wrist.

“I know,” he responds, kissing your sternum. “But we have all night and I want these in my mouth.”

Jungkook grabs the black string between his teeth and tugs until the bow comes undone. Your breasts are exposed as the thin lace material goes in opposite directions.

It feels like heaven when his lips meet your heated skin. His soft lips draw out the sweetest moans from your parted lips with each kiss pressed to your skin.

“So beautiful,” Jungkook whispers as his eyes meet yours for a brief moment. He grins when you whine his name, begging him to keep going.

Jungkook aims to please as he takes a hard nipple into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around it slowly, gently tugging on it to make you groan before he sucks it into his mouth.

His hand grips your other breast, rolling your nipple between his fingertips before he switches.

Your nails scratch at his scalp, gripping his hair to hold him closer to your tit. He sucks until your legs clamp around him, your hips writhing as you grind against him.

You’re soaking wet, dripping through your lingerie and soaking his sweatpants.

“Stop teasing me,” you plead as you arch into him, head lolled back as your hair splays on the pillow.

Chuckling, Jungkook releases you before he licks and sucks his way down your body until he’s gripping your hips with his hands. He tugs you onto his lap.

“I love you so much, baby,” Jungkook says as runs his hand over your mound. He pressed his index finger to your pussy, teasing you for a moment before he undoes the bows on your hips.

You lay bare underneath him. He’s transfixed by your arousal slick on your thighs, and he licks his lips. Fuck, he’s missed you so much.

“I love you, Koo,” you respond as he grips each of your thighs in his hands. He lies flat on his stomach as he drags you closer, draping your legs over his shoulders.

His tongue is flat as he licks a stripe on your folds. His tight hold on your thighs makes you moan as he teases your clit with his tongue.

A sigh escapes you as you stare at the ceiling, thighs trembling as Jungkook buries himself in the apex of your legs. Your hand reaches for his, fingers laced as he continues to feast on you. The sounds that escape the two of you are lewd, and if you weren’t so focused on the pleasure you’d be embarrassed by how loud you were being.

“That’s it, baby. Pull my fucking hair,” Jungkook encourages as you do as he’s asked. You squeeze his head between your thighs as his experienced tongue makes you cry out his name, covering your mouth with your hand to muffle your pleasurable cries.

“Don’t,” Jungkook huffs as he licks his lips. His dark gaze makes you clench around nothing as you focus on him. His lips and nose shine with your arousal, his hair is in disarray from all your tugging and pulling, and his eyes darken further as he moves your hand off your mouth. “I want to hear how good I make you feel. I want all your moans. I want everything.”

You nod, cursing as he slides two fingers into you and you arch, moaning when his thumb rubs your clit in circles. Jungkook kisses your thighs, his lips joining his fingers soon after.

Heat races through your veins as Jungkook curls your fingers, watching you intently as you begin to unravel. Your breathing has changed, your moans have risen in octave, and you dig your nails into his shoulder as your orgasm hits, and your back arches off the bed as a loud moan of his name fills the room.

Jungkook rubs himself on the mattress, your moans going straight to his cock as his chest fills with pride.

“Kookie,” you whine when the last tremors of your orgasm leave you feeling overstimulated.

Giggling, Jungkook kisses your clit before sitting up between your legs. His hands move up and down your thighs, settling on your hips.

“It’s been so long,” he admits in a soft tone. “Way too long.”

You sit up, cupping his face in your hands. Your noses brush as you look him in the eyes.

“Let’s make up for lost time.”

Nodding, Jungkook kisses you gently, falling deeper in love, if that were possible. With each kiss, he promises to be a better man for you, to be the one you deserve.

“Lie down for me, baby,” you instruct as you get on your knees to allow your “beefcake” of a boyfriend to take your spot. Perhaps you should have laid down a towel before ensuing your activities but it was too late now.

With Jungkook beneath you, your hands are free to roam where they please. You straddle him, your bare cunt on his erection with only the sweatpants keeping you from feeling him. Soon, you promise yourself. Soon.

A kiss here, a kiss there. You kiss each of his moles, licking and sucking his skin beside his neck mole to leave a pretty little mark. Perhaps you’d be more cautious, knowing he’d have work soon but you don’t care in the moment. You’d cover him in love bites from head to toe if you could.

Your finger traces the scar on his shoulder, and Jungkook watches you with bated breath. When you kiss it, he gives a quick anecdote of how it happened before you move across his chest to the scar on his ribs. You trace it as Jungkook fills you in on what occurred.

Your hands run over his chest, feeling the strong muscles beneath. Jungkook’s always had a wonderful body. Such a beautiful man, inside and out. Everything about him makes you fall for him even more.

Your lips trail kisses down his taut abdomen, leaving hickeys on his hips, near his navel, and below his scar.

Teasingly, you stroke his hard cock over his sweatpants. He moans your name, begging you not to tease him. You giggle, kissing his cock over the sweatpants before slowly tugging them down his thighs.

You help him take them off before wrapping your hand around him, but your fingers still don’t meet. You smile as you stroke him, his soft whimpers making you wet.

“So pretty like this,” you coo, and Jungkook gasps when you spit on his cock.

“Please, baby,” he pleads as you lower your mouth, kissing the underside of his dick.

“You can beg better than that, can’t you?” You smirk.

Jungkook nods hastily, begging for you to touch him and stop teasing him. You reward him by wrapping your lips around his cock, your tongue swirling around the leaking head.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans as you slowly bob up and down his length. His hand finds its way into your hair, gently gripping it to steady himself.

You start slow, ignoring the ache in your knees as you slurp and tongue at his slit. His moans flow prettily from his pretty pink lips as you take more of him in your mouth. You do your best to take all of him but you gag, spluttering around him as you focus on breathing through your nose.

“Don’t push yourself too hard,” Jungkook breathes as his eyes roll back when he hits the your throat and you choke on him before pulling off. A bridge of saliva connects your lips to his cock as your eyes water before you take him back in.

You spit on him, using your hand to stroke him while taking his balls in your mouth. Jungkook curses, eyes squeezed shut as the knot in his stomach tightened. Fuck, if he didn’t know any better, he’d be sure you were torturing him to get back at him.

But you want to please him, you’ve missed having him just like this.

His whimpers encourage you as you release him, kissing the head of his cock once more before you bob up and down his length.

It’s Jungkook who stops you with a tug of your hair, wiping the tear that rubs down your cheek.

“I’ll cum down your throat if you keep going, my love,” he chuckles as you release him petulantly.

“But I want more,” you pout as Jungkook kisses you, his hand on the back of your head as yours winds around his neck.

“So greedy,” he chuckles before kissing your nose. “Don’t worry, I am too.”

“How do you want me, Koo?” You ask bashfully as you sit back on your knees, ready to get into any position he desires.

“Lay down for me, baby. I want to look at you while we make love again,” Jungkook helps you lie down beneath him.

His fingers lace with yours when you settle under him. Your heart races in your chest as he kisses you gently..

You spread your legs further for him, wrapping them around his waist to pull him closer. Jungkook lines his cock at your entrance, moaning when he slides home.

“Fuck,” he grunts as you curse against his lips. “Fuck, love.”

“I know,” you sigh as you take all of him, the stretch delectable as you remember. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you free your hand from his to grip his forearm. “Fuck, Kook.”

Jungkook tongues his lip piercings as he watches pleasure overcome you. He gives you a moment to adjust to his length. Your nails dig into his arm for a moment before your lustful gaze meets his.

“More,” you plead in a whisper as Jungkook pushes a little deeper, bottoming out when you feel like he’ll reach your throat.

Fire blooms in your belly, desire swirling deep inside you as you kiss Jungkook.

Jungkook pulls out nearly all the way before sliding back into you. Your back arches as he sets a pace that makes you moan incoherently. He kisses you, all teeth and tongues, and dulcet moans.

His lips trail kisses to your neck, sucking and biting, leaving marks behind as he moves his greedy lips to your breasts.

Jungkook’s broad frame cages you beneath him, his hips meeting yours as the lewd sounds of your lovemaking fill the room.

“Jungkook!” you cry out as you drag your nails down his perfect back.

“Baby,” he moans, slamming into you again and again, enthralled by the way your tits jiggle with each of his thrusts. You tighten around him, biting back a guttural moan as fire courses through your veins.

“So fucking wet for me,” Jungkook praises. His hand moves between your bodies to rub your clit while his lips find your tits.

“Love you. I love you,” you gasp as he grabs your hips, squeezing as he pulls you onto his cock.

“I love you,” he responds, groaning when your thighs quiver at his sides. You whimper, eyes fluttering shut as his name rolls off your tongue in a heady tone that makes his head spin.

“Jungkook, fuck,” you can’t think straight, too overwhelmed with pleasure to warn him of your approaching orgasm, but this is Jungkook, he knows you better than you know yourself.

“I know, baby. I’ve got you,” he assures you as your hips meet his, and his lips meet yours in a messy kiss that swallows your moans as you hit your high. Your body tightens for a moment, your cunt milking Jungkook as he moans your name into your neck.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he whines as he fucks you through your orgasm and then through his. Sweat beads on your forehead and his. His black hair sticks to his face as he rocks his hips, sure he’s fucked you full of his seed before he pulls out and lays at your side.

Silence envelopes you two for a moment before you’re giggling with each other.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” you grin foolishly as you roll onto your side to face Jungkook, who is already watching you.

“Definitely,” he agrees, his hand pushing your hair out of your eyes. “You’re amazing.”

“Don’t get cheesy with me,” you poke his chest, smiling when he bites your finger playfully.

“You love it when I’m cheesy,” Jungkook responds as he pulls you to his chest. You’re both hot, and sticky with sweat but you’re willing to ignore it for now, at least until you can drag yourself up to use the bathroom and shower again.

“I love you,” you confirm as you place your hand in his. He laces your fingers together, moving your joined hands over his heart, kissing them.

“I love you too, baby. I always have, and I always will.” Jungkook swears as you lay your head on his chest, beside your joined hands, falling asleep to the sound of his heart beating for you.

The next morning is a haze.

You wake with Jungkook draped around you, his leg over your hip as he snores by your ear. You hate to wake him, but after you fell asleep, Jungkook had to wake you to shower, clean up, and change the sheets.

“Don’t get up,” Jungkook whines in his sleepy tone. “Stay with me.”

“We leave in a few hours and we haven’t packed,” you remind him. Jungkook groans as he clings to you.

You kiss him, morning breath not bothering you. “You’ll get more kisses if you get up.”

Jungkook whines. “No up, just kiss.”

“That’s not how this will work,” you laugh as you wiggle out of his grasp. Jungkook sighs as he sits up, his adorable bedhead makes you smile.

Lazily, Jungkook gets out of bed, yawning as he heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth and style his hair.

“I don’t wanna leave,” he says, well, you think that’s what he said with his toothbrush in his mouth. You shake your head when he spits into the sink as you pack your belongings in your bag, including the tiny pieces of fabric Jimin gifted you.

“We can vacation again soon,” you tell him as you shut your bag, and tug on the zippers to close it. It’s funny how you didn’t even want to come on this cruise, and now you weren’t sure you wanted to leave. However, you’d come without Jungkook and now you were leaving with him at your side.

Perhaps this trip hadn’t been so bad after all.

“I’ll hold you to it, babe. Now, when are we having breakfast? I’m hungry as hell after last night,” Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “And this morning.”

You laugh at him, throwing a shirt at him.

Jungkook ducks out of the way, cackling as he shuts the bathroom door.

Jimin and Yoongi meet you for breakfast. The two are in their bubble as you approach with Jungkook at your side.

You sit beside Jimin, kissing his cheek. “Thanks for the gift.”

Jimin brightens, “You used it?”

Jungkook and Yoongi look at each other confused.

“Used what?” Jungkook asks as he takes a biscuit from the basket on the table. He bites into it before Jimin answers.

“The lingerie.”

Jungkook chokes on his biscuit, hitting his chest with his fist before he forces himself to swallow. Yoongi hands him a glass of juice, and Jungkook thanks him with a thumbs-up.

“You’re so back together!” Jimin cheers as he hugs you tightly. Yoongi rolls his eyes in annoyance, but a pleased smile appears on his lips.

“Can we stop talking about them fucking and move onto our wedding plans?” Yoongi asks as he stifles a yawn.

“How about a destination wedding?” you offer as you rub Jungkook’s back soothingly. He smiles weakly at you, his cheeks pink.

“I like the way you think,” Jimin grins as he rattles off ideas with you and Yoongi. Jungkook is too focused on breakfast to offer any input, but he’s sure you’ll catch him up on the way home.

Things were looking up for him.

Jungkook would have to give his assistant a bonus upon his return.

“Do we have to go?” Jungkook whines as he wraps his arm around your waist.

Jimin and Yoongi are packing the bags into the trunk of your airport shuttle.

“We do, work awaits,” you remind him as he frowns.

“What if we take a few days for ourselves? Just the two of us?” Jungkook questions.

“Oh?” You raise a brow. “What did you have in mind?”

“It’ll be a surprise until we get to the airport,” Jungkook smiles brightly. “I want you all to myself for just a little longer.”

“Then I am all yours,” you rest your head on his chest as he leads you to your friends.

“Ready to go?” Yoongi asks as he shuts the trunk.

“Definitely,” you answer as you take Jungkook's hand in yours.

You’re not sure what the future holds for the both of you, but you’re hopeful it’ll be bright with Jungkook at your side once more.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader insert #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst and smut #captain!namjoon #cruise au #exes to lovers jungkook #fic: navigating tides #jimin x yoongi side pairing #ex!jungkook

2K notes · View notes

adorekento · 2 months ago

Note

been thinking about dad!sukuna where no matter how hard he is, he'll always be soft to your kids, if possible add nsfw in the end too ;)

So Needy...

synopsis: They say that no matter how tough or rude your man is, he'll always and will be sweet to your kid. But when your little one's tucked in tight, they say... get ready for a freaky night!

warnings (18+): MDNI. dad!sukuna x mom!reader, fluff to smut, explicit SMUT, P in V, unprotected sex (take it or leave it /j wrap it up y'all), dominance, possessiveness, creampie, breeding kink, foreplay (if u closed ur eyes), begging, dry humping, fingering, riding, edging (?), cursing, pet names, mature, and strong language, etc.

wc: 4.8K (proofread)

a/n: this got me giggling and SHIT BRO I want him so bababbabaaadddd GOT IT MOANING HIS NAME IN MORSE CODE (29381837812)¡!!!!!!¡!!¡! I weote this liek Bro 3am PLZ Tske this ignore the errors I'm still Half aslewp

"Mama... good morning..." your 5 year old daughter mumbled as she shuffled over to you on the couch, resting her head on your lap.

"Mornin', sweetie. How’d you sleep?" you asked softly, closing your book and gently running your fingers through her messy hair.

"Still… sleepy, Mama…"

"Well, why did you get up then? You could’ve stayed in bed and slept better..." you said while adjusting her pajamas.

"But Mama, you and Papa aren’t there..." she pouted, looking up at you with those big eyes. "Where’s Papa, Mama?"

"He went out to get breakfast stuff. We didn’t expect you to wake up so early. Are you hungry? I can make something while we wait for your Papa."

"Nooo Mama. Let’s wait for Papa. Then we can all eat together at the same time.."

"Alright.. How about you get a bit more sleep here and then I’ll wake you up when Papa's back?" you suggested with a smile and she nodded sleepily.

—

Not too long after, the door opened and Sukuna walked in with groceries in his hand.

His eyes immediately found you and your daughter, curled up on the couch. You gave him a soft smile and placed a finger over your lips.

"She was asking for you when she woke up, you know?" you whispered softly, carefully adjusting your daughter’s head onto a pillow before standing up slowly, making sure not to disturb her.

"Why? you two can't live without me?" he said while placing the bags on the counter and glancing down at his peacefully sleeping daughter.

You moved to the kitchen, wrapping your arms around his waist as he started unpacking. "She insisted on waiting for you so we can have breakfast together." you said as you rest your head on his back.

"Tch, that stubborn brat." He rolled his eyes.

"Shut up, I know you love her."

"You sayin’ I’m going soft?" Sukuna turned around and leaned in closer, his hand brushing your waist.

"You? Soft? Never!" you chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Sukuna pulled you closer, his breath warm against your ear. "You’re lucky she’s asleep." he murmured, his voice husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

His hand slid down your back, fingers lightly tracing patterns through your clothes.

"Soft definitely isn’t the word for you... not even right now..." you whispered with a smirk, biting your lip as you felt something hard pressing against you from below, teasing him as you shifted your hips just slightly, feeling his grip tighten around you.

"You really wanna test me, huh?" he growled softly, brushing his lips against your neck.

Before things could escalate, you heard a yawn from the couch. Your daughter had started to wake up, she's rubbing her eyes and stretching lazily.

Sukuna clicked his tongue in annoyance, pulling away with a reluctant sigh but not before snagging a quick kiss. "Guess we’ll have to continue this later." he said making you giggle.

"Papa!"

Sukuna crouched down, catching her effortlessly and lifting her into his arms. "Morning, brat." She giggled when he kissed her cheek, hugging his neck tightly.

"Are we having breakfast now?" she asked, her eyes bright as she looked between the two of you.

"Yeah." Sukuna said, ruffling her hair before setting her down. He glanced over at you with a playful glint in his eye. "You owe me later."

"I’ll think about it."

"You owe Papa something, Mama?" your daughter asked, playing with her spoon and fork.

"I don’t know, do I now, honey?" you teased, grabbing the comb to brush her hair.

"Shut up."

"Mama, if Papa is making you angry, tell me, okay? I’ll talk to him!" your daughter said, pumping her fist.

"Oh, my sweetie... Papa’s making Mama angry! What’s my little one gonna do about it?" you laughed, combing her hair.

"Then I won’t talk to Papa anymore!" she pouted, making you giggle.

"Aww, you didn't even hesitate! But wouldn’t it make Papa sad? What if Papa cries, sweetie?" you pouted back, making Sukuna’s eye twitch.

"Who says I’m gonna cry?"

"I did, a problem?"

"Papa! What did I say about speaking gently to Mama?!" your daughter shouted.

"Right, right! Remember, baby, never copy your dad’s behavior, okay? Never speak rudely. Mama doesn’t like it. If Mama catches you speaking like that... Mama will be sad." you said, barely containing your giggles.

Your daughter nodded seriously, clearly taking the lesson to heart. "Okay, Mama. I’ll be nice every day."

"That's my good girl!"

—

After breakfast, Sukuna helped clean up while you tended to your daughter. She mentioned she was still sleepy and wanted to head back to bed. You tucked her in, smoothing her blankets and brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.

"Sleep tight, sweetie." you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Mhm... I love you, Mama and Papa..." she murmured, already drifting off.

"We love you more, baby." You said softly, leaving her room and closing the door gently behind you.

When you returned to the living room, you found Sukuna lounging on the couch, his head resting on his hand.

"Come here."

"You’re so full of yourself today and it’s not even noon yet." you teased, raising an eyebrow.

"Or maybe I’m just waiting for my reward." he said as you sat down beside him, draping your arms around his neck.

"And what makes you think you deserve a reward?" you asked, leaning in.

"Because I’m an amazing dad and a handsome husband?" he replied with a grin.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "You're acting as if that's your full-time job."

Sukuna leaned closer, his hand brushing your hair behind your ear. His touch was warm and comforting. "C'mon... don’t keep me waiting, baby..." he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

"Needy, aren’t you?"

"Yeah, I'm worth it."

You chuckled. "Oh, really? And what makes you so sure about that?"

Sukuna’s hand continued to trace gentle patterns on your back as he leaned in closer. "I’ve got my ways," he said, his voice low and filled with confidence. "I think you’ve got a pretty good idea of what I’m talking about."

You laughed softly, tilting your head to the side. "Not at all... I know you're insufferable though..."

"Insufferable AND irresistible."

You slid closer, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours. "Anddd... what if... I’m not in the mood to reward you right now?"

"Then I guess I’ll just have to make you change your mind, baby." he said, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke.

"I wanna see you try?"

"Oh, I don't have to try." he said with a smirk.

You leaned in closer, your faces inches apart. "Well, don’t keep me waiting," you teased, your voice barely a whisper.

Without breaking eye contact, he reached up, his fingers gently grazing your cheek as he closed the distance between you.

His kiss was slow and deliberate, brimming with the unique combination of passion and affection that only he can ever give.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with satisfaction. "Is that enough convincing?"

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his kiss linger. "Maybe." you said playfully. "But I think you might need to keep trying if you want to really win me over."

Sukuna chuckled, his hands resting on your hips as he drew you closer. "You wanna play, huh..." he groaned.

You leaned in closer, your lips almost brushing against his ear. "Mhm..." you teased, your breath warm against his skin. "Show me."

With a wicked grin, Sukuna’s hands slid up your back, pulling you even closer. His lips traced a slow, deliberate path along your jawline, sending shivers down your spine. His touch was light yet intense, every movement filled with purpose.

"Is this convincing enough?"

You could barely suppress a moan as his lips moved closer to yours. "Nah..." you said, your voice breathy and teasing. "I think you’re going to have to work a bit harder..."

Sukuna’s smirk widened as he guided you to sit on his lap, the firm pressure of his bulge pressing against you. His hands rested possessively on your hips, keeping you securely in place.

"Look who’s getting comfortable." he murmured, his voice low and full of amusement. "Guess I’m doing something right."

You shifted slightly, feeling the heat radiating from him. "Oh, you think so?" you teased, leaning in closer so your lips were near his ear. "But you still haven’t convinced me."

Sukuna’s hands slid up your back, his touch both firm and gentle as he pulled you closer. His lips brushed your neck in a teasing trail, making your breath hitch.

"You're just pushing your luck." he growled, his voice a dark promise. "But I’m more than happy to oblige."

You felt a shiver run down your spine as his lips lingered near your ear, his breath warm and tantalizing.

"And how do you plan on doing that?" you asked breathlessly, trying to maintain your teasing tone despite the growing heat.

"Oh, I have my methods." he said, his hands moving to your waist and gripping you tightly.

"But first... I really want to see you squirm."

You tried to adjust yourself, but your fumbling only seemed to heighten the tension between you. "You’re really making it hard for me to focus." you admitted with a laugh.

"Good, I love it when you’re a little off balance."

His lips finally met yours, you found yourself responding eagerly, the playful challenge melting into a deeper, more connection.

As he deepened the kiss, his hands roamed over your back, his touch were electrifying. Every press was calculated to make you feel the pleasure as his teasing never let you settled.

Sukuna’s hands slid up and down your back as the kiss became more insistent, more consuming, as he deepened it, making your head spin with the intensity of his desire.

His fingers found their way to the small of your back, pulling you even closer against him. The heat of his body pressed into you, accentuating the playful struggle you were having to stay balanced on his lap.

You could feel every subtle shift of his muscles beneath you, each one making the heat between you grow.

You broke the kiss just long enough to catch your breath, your eyes fluttering open to meet his intense gaze. "You’re really not making this easy..." you murmured.

"Isn’t that the point?"

He trailed kisses along your jawline and down your neck, his lips brushing lightly against your skin, making you shiver with anticipation.

You adjusted his collar, unbuttoning his shirt with deliberate slowness. Your icy fingers against his warm skin only heightened the growing heat between you.

The thought of where this is leading had your pussy throbbing.

The thought of taking this to the living room was dangerously exciting.

You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d manage to stay quiet—or if Sukuna would even let you. He loved hearing your voice, especially when he’s the one pushing you to lose control.

The thought of him pushing you to your limits and making sure everyone knew he was the one making you feel this way was seriously hot.

Leaning in closer, your lips brushed against his ear as you whispered provocatively, "Think you can handle letting me decide how loud this gets?"

Sukuna’s breath was hot against your neck as he growled low, "If that’s what you want, I’ll let you have it—for now." His hands gripped you tightly, pulling you flush against him, making it almost impossible to think about anything but the intense fire building between you.

"For now? I’m not sure how much longer I can keep quiet..."

"So you just want me to make you scream, huh?"

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan. "Yeah..." you admitted, your voice wavering slightly with the intensity of the moment. "But I also want you to make me lose control completely."

He chuckled darkly, his hands sliding down to your hips and pulling you into a closer, more intimate position. "I’ve been thinking about that..." he murmured, his lips brushing yours before he kissed you deeply again.

Sukuna’s hands roamed your body with a possessive, eager touch, his kisses getting hotter and more urgent. He gripped your hips tighter, pulling you in.

"Fuckkk..." you whispered, your voice shaky as his lips worked their way down your neck and shoulders.

"I haven’t even started yet and you’re already a moaning mess..." he growled, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you hard. His kiss was all-consuming, making you gasp for air and wanting more.

His lips moved to your ear, his breath hot and teasing. "You want this, don’t you?" he growled, his voice rough and making your spine tingle.

"Yes..." you gasped, fingers digging into his hair as you pulled him closer. "I want this. I want you."

Sukuna’s grip on your waist was firm and possessive. "Good..." he smirked, his tone both demanding and confident. "'Cause I’m about to give you everything you’re craving."

He lifted you slightly, his movements were smooth as he shifted you into a more intimate position. His body pressed firmly against yours and the heat of his desire was undeniable.

Every touch and every kiss from him was making you crazy like it's impossible to focus on anything but heat that's rising between you.

Sukuna’s large hands explored your body as he lifted you with an ease, adjusting you.

Your body radiates a heat that was impossible to ignore.

His kisses wandered from your lips to your cheeks, then to your neck, and finally, he lifted your right arm to kiss your wrist.

You couldn’t help but giggle as you ground yourself against his straining cock, the thin barrier of clothing the only thing keeping you apart.

The direct contact between your bodies made the moment even more intense.

His hands slid down your body, lifting your dress and exploring your thighs, dangerously close to your aching pussy.

’He's doing this on purpose...’ you groaned, feeling the teasing touch. "Stop teasing me..." You bit your lip.

"Shh... we have all the time we need, baby..."

"That doesn’t mean you can’t just drop the act and fuck me senseless!" you whispered.

"Shut up. You can’t tell me what to do." he retorted.

"But you promised you’d give me what I want!" you whispered-yelled, making him scoff at your impatience.

Sukuna’s smirk widened at your frustration, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Promises, promises." he said, "But you know I enjoy making you work for it."

His hands continued the exploration, clicking the edge of your underwear. His touch made it hard for you to stay as sane, your breath coming in uneven gasps.

You shifted on his lap, trying to ease the pressure, but nothing. "C'mon..." you breathed, "don’t make me beg."

"Begging, huh?"

"But I love hearing you beg."

Sukuna’s smirk grew more intense as he continued his teasing. His fingers brushed your clit on your underwear, and the sensation made you shiver with frustration.

You tried to shift on his lap, desperate for more contact, but he only seemed to enjoy making you squirm.

"Begging suits you, princess." he said, his voice a low murmur, filled with desire. "It’s cute hearing you ask for it."

You bit your lip, trying to control your breathing. "Stop playing and just—" you started, but he cut you off with a sudden heated kiss.

His hands gripped your hips firmly, pulling you closer. The kiss was rough, filled with raw passion and his touch became more insistent. His fingers finally slid underneath your underwear, his touch direct and electrifying.

"You’re really eager, huh?" Sukuna murmured, his voice rough and low as it brushed against your lips. "But I guess I can’t make you wait forever."

You gasped as he pulled your panties aside, His fingers began to rub your clit with a good pressure, sending waves of pleasure through your veins with every touch.

"Finally...!" you moaned, pressing against his fingers, your frustration giving way to your unfiltered desire.

"There you go..."

Sukuna's touch became more insistent, his fingers moving with a steady rhythm that matched the increasing urgency of your moans.

He grinned, clearly getting off on your reactions. Each time his fingers touched you, you gasped and squirmed.

"Enjoying this?" he teased, his voice rough and low as he kept teasing you just the way he knew you liked.

You could only respond with breathy moans and nods, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations. The world around you seemed to narrow to just the two of you, your focus entirely on the pleasure he was giving you.

The way his fingers slid in and out of your pussy had you moaning loudly, unable to hold back your noise.

Sukuna shoved his fingers into your mouth, making you gag. "I know you’re into making sounds, but you really don’t want our kid to wake up, do you?" he said with a dark chuckle, clearly amused by the situation.

‘Damn, I totally forgot…’ you thought, panic setting in. You’d been so wrapped up in everything happening right then that your daughter sleeping nearby had completely slipped your mind.

"Mmm, sorry baby... Faster please..." you mumbled around his fingers, your voice muffled. You dug your nails into his forearms, your need clear despite the gagging.

He quickly picked up the pace, his fingers moving in and out faster, pushing you closer to the edge.

He could feel you getting near your peak, no need for you to say a word.

He knew exactly how to push you to that intense climax you were craving.

All that teasing and buildup has left you intensely on edge, craving release more than anything.

You’re practically desperate to just hop on his cock, and have him give you what you need.

But you can’t take charge here as you know Sukuna likes to do everything. It’s not like you have no say at all, but you trust that he knows exactly how to handle things.

So, you let him take the lead, knowing he’ll do what’s necessary to make sure you get what you’re yearning for.

"Come on my fingers, babe. Show me how badly you need it." Sukuna murmured in your ear, his voice sending shivers all over.

The way he spoke made your face flush, and before long, you were dripping all over his fingers, completely lost in the sensation.

You arched your back, gasping for air as the pleasure surged through you. Every part of your body trembled, and you struggled to catch your breath.

The room seemed to spin around you as you tried to steady yourself, every muscle in your body feeling tight and quivering. Sukuna’s fingers, coated with your release, brushed gently over your skin.

"You’re still so worked up..." he said, his voice low and teasing, clearly enjoying the sight.

He trails his fingers slowly down your body, feeling every quiver, every reaction.

The way you’re still catching your breath, the way your eyes flutter open and closed—it's all fueling his desire.

He leans in again, his voice a soft, seductive whisper. "I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? For me to keep pushing you like this?"

Your body practically aches toward him, craving more. Sukuna pulls his fingers out, a smirk playing on his lips as he looks at the mess you made.

"So dirty." he chuckled, eyeing your juices on his fingers with a smirk.

You straightened up, covering your mouth with your hand and turning away, feeling a flush of embarrassment. "You didn’t have to put it like that..." you mumbled.

"Why so shy all of a sudden?" he teased, his grin widening as he slipped his fingers into his mouth, savoring every drop of your release.

The way he looked at you, his eyes dark with desire as he licked his fingers made your pussy clench with need.

"Can you just fuck me already?" you begged, your voice desperate. "Please…"

He pulled his fingers from his mouth, gripping your neck as he pressed his lips against yours with an intimate kiss.

His other hand slid beneath your shirt, teasing your nipples. He gave them a quick flick, causing you to gasp. Seizing the moment, he deepened the kiss, letting you taste yourself.

He continued to kiss you wild. His touch was making the heat between you grow more crazy with every second.

You could feel the pressure building and the anticipation almost unbearable as he made his intentions clear.

He pulled away just enough to look into your eyes. "Are you ready for more?" he asked and you could only nod in response, completely caught up in the moment.

You propped yourself up as he unzipped his pants, pulling them down. You took this chance to peel off your shirt, leaving yourself in just your bra and panties.

He guided your hips to rest on his lap, his lips crashing onto your neck with a forceful, almost feverish intensity.

The kisses were deep and relentless, driving you wild. He found that sensitive spot on your neck, pressing into it with a knowing touch.

It wasn’t just that he found it—he knew exactly how to hit it, making you moan loudly at the sensation.

He seemed to know your body even better than you do.

He kept his focus on your neck, his kisses growing more insistent, making you shiver with every touch.

His left hand moved skillfully across your back, effortlessly undoing your bra in one swift motion. His lips never left your neck, their heat intensifying as he found that sensitive spot.

With your bra now removed, his hand slid to your chest, his fingers brushing lightly over your bare skin.

The sensation made you gasp, your breath hitching as he explored further. He continued his slow kisses on your neck.

He paused for a moment, just above your collarbone, breathing heavily against your skin.

His hand—that's now free to explore—moved up to cup your breast.

His thumb brushed over your nipple, causing it to get hard instantly. He teased your nipple with slow circles making you moan softly.

"So fucking... wild."

You moaned softly as his cold thick fingers toyed with your other nipple, sending sharp jolts of pleasure through you.

His mouth latched onto your breast, and the sudden pressure made you bite down hard on your lip, a whimper escaping before you could stop it.

You ground your hips against his, your soaked panties sliding over his hard cock. The slickness between you made the friction even more intense and you could feel his pre-cum through the fabric.

He groaned against your chest, teeth grazing your nipple, causing you to squirm and press harder against him.

Your hands gripped his head, pushing him closer, desperate for more. "Fuck... baby." he groaned.

His mouth moved eagerly against your skin, his groans vibrating through you as his teeth grazed your sensitive nipple again, sending another shiver down your spine.

His hands slid down your body, gripping your hips and guiding your grinding, pushing you harder against him.

The friction was electric, your panties soaked as you rubbed yourself against his cock. Every brush made your body tremble with need.

"You’re making it hard for me to control myself." he growled into your skin, his voice thick with lust. His lips moved up to your neck, biting gently before soothing it with his tongue, leaving you breathless and wanting even more.

You gasped, rolling your hips faster, the pressure inside you building rapidly. The way his hands gripped you tighter, the way his lips kept teasing your skin—it was all too much.

You needed more, and you needed it now.

"W-Who told you to—control yourself..." you groaned, pressing down even harder against his cock, the need almost unbearable.

"Just fuck me now... Please..." your voice shaky with desperation, your breath hot against his ear as you ground your hips, begging for him to give you exactly what you craved.

His fingers trailed down from your nipples to your thighs, edging closer to your core. This time, though, he pushed your panties aside, teasingly rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance.

Just the tip, but it was already making you moan utterly loud, your mind spinning in a whirlwind of thoughts.

A part of you—in this heat—wondered if you'd even mind having another kid, the idea of him breeding you leaving your mind foggy with desire.

But you’d never admit it—not when he already had more than enough of an ego.

He smirked, feeling the way your body reacted to his teasing, pressing the tip against your entrance but not pushing in, making you tremble with anticipation. "So needy... look at you, already so desperate and I haven’t even put it in yet."

"Then put it in now!" You bucked your hips against him, trying to push him inside, but he held your hips firmly, keeping you still.

"Patience..." he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

Your mind was racing, the teasing too much, the feeling of his cock so close but not enough. You could feel your pulse pounding in your ears, your body on fire, aching for him to just take you.

"Bet you’d want me to—"

You cut him off with an urgent kiss, catching him off guard as you lowered yourself onto his thick cock, feeling him fill you completely.

You pulled back from the kiss, burying your face in his neck and biting down hard to keep your moans quiet. You knew you'd leave a mark, but you didn’t give a damn.

His cock twitched inside you, and his groans grew louder as he felt your sudden, intense move.

He gripped on your ass tightly and gave them a smack. "Looks like my girl’s a real freak." he chuckled. His comment made you clench around him even more.

In that moment, you lost all sense of anything, even the truth that he's your husband but damn the idea of repeating this only fueled your excitement as you eagerly rode his cock.

His size was fucking insane... you felt every ridge and vein of him and it's like he was sculpted just for you.

As you moved on him, his groans grew louder. The way he responded to every shift and motion of your body made you even more eager.

His hands on your hips were perfect, guiding you just the way you wanted.

You noticed how your husband’s eyes were glued to your bouncing breasts and the way you were taking him in and out.

His hesitation to meet your gaze just made you feel more in control. You grabbed his face firmly, making him look up at you.

"Eyes up here, baby." you said firmly, making sure he had no choice but to focus on you.

"Alright, Woman..." he chuckled, clearly enjoying how his words made you tighten around him. He knew his words drove you wild, making you squirm with desire every time he spoke.

"You’ve got me wanting to put a brat in you again.” he said with a smirk. His words made you close your eyes, and your movements grew more desperate.

"You’re seriously.. making me want to fill you up and maybe even get you pregnant..." Sukuna said, "Makes me wonder how you’d handle at least six—of them running.. around the house. You’re so damn good with our little one…" He watched you lower your head, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

The thought of Sukuna wanting another child with you is overwhelming. Even though pregnancy isn’t your favorite thing, the idea of him wanting to completely fill you up is making you wetter.

You grip him tighter, making him groan. "Hah..—Already thinking about it? Want me to fill you up, yeah? Tell me what you want." he teased, his voice dripping with desire.

The intensity of the moment leaves you speechless, and you can only nod in agreement.

His cock pulses and throbs deep inside you, and as you climax, the intense pleasure overwhelms you. You can feel his warm release filling you up completely, amplifying your own pleasure.

The simultaneous rush of your orgasms causes you to moan loudly, your body shaking.

As the waves of pleasure went down, Sukuna’s breath comes in deep ragged gasps. His grip on your hips loosens, but his cock remains firmly nestled inside you.

"So... you’re really full of surprises, huh?" he drawls, his voice low and rough, laced with a dangerous edge.

You arch an eyebrow, smirking as you shift slightly. "You think.. you know everything about me?... There’s always something new with me."

He chuckles darkly, his fingers lazily fixing your hair from behind. "Oh, I’m aware. It’s part of what makes this so damn interesting. You push boundaries."

You let out a soft laugh, enjoying the shift in his demeanour. "And you don’t exactly play it safe yourself."

"That’s one way to put it."

"I wouldn’t want it any other way. Boring isn’t really my style, Suuu-kuna~"

"Good. Because I’m far from done with you."

1K notes · View notes

thewispsings · 3 months ago

Note

Oscar piastri x reader smau, but she’s completely anonymous and people are trying to find her after Oscar revealed he was married to someone?

nobody ever asked me | oscar piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: oscar piastri shocks the world by letting it be known that he is married, and has been for the past two years

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, logansargent, and 1,017,827 others!

oscarpiastri: vacation with the wifey! 🧡

view comments below!

user1: oh that’s not

user2: excuse me the what?

user3: this is interesting!

landonorris: wait what

oscarpiastri; what?

landonorris: wait what are you being serious?

oscarpiastri: about what?

landonorris: oh i don’t know maybe you having a WIFE???

oscarpiastri; yes i do have a wife!

landonorris: WHAT THE FUCK

user4: oh so oscar not joking?...

user5: feeling like lando rn because what the fuck???

user6; this just ruined my day

maxverstappen1: i knew you were lying about SOMETHING

oscarpiastri: ive never lied to anyone, nobody ever asked me if i had a wife

maxverstappen1; that’s….fair

user7: THATS NOT FAIR??? OSCAR WTF?? YOU CANT JUST SPRING THIS ON PEOPLE???

charles_leclerc: nice pictures oscar!!!!

charles_lelcerc: wait a minute...

charles_leclerc: wife????

charles_leclerc: what?? what? what??

charles_leclerc: i am so bamboozled right now!

charles_leclerc: am i walking the prank? i feel like i am walking the prank

oscarpiastri: no you aren't walking the prank? whatever that means? ive been married for a little over two years now!

user8: TWO YEASR??? LIKE 730 DAYS??????

user9: no you guys actually dont understand, this is driving me crazy?

user10: this is SUCH an oscar thing to do tho.. like randomly announcing thats hes been married for 2 years??

user11: he took oscar core to a whole new level

user12: my heart just broke

user13: you should've announced that you had a gf first, my heart cant take this

danielricciardo: i'm a little late, don't know whats going on..so? congratulations? my condolences?

oscarpiastri: thank you daniel!!

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, and 691,616 others!

oscarpiastri: some more pictures of the wife since you all seem so curious! here’s my wife, yn, and her book store 🧡

view comments below!

user14: YN!!!! WE GOT HER NAME

user15: HALLELUJAH

user15: yn is a beautiful name

user16: HER bookstore?? she owns a bookstore??

user17: the way she probably has so much lore and we will never learn about it is so??

user18: we're only going to learn about when oscar randomly decides to drop some info: key example: THIS POST 😭

maxverstappen1: I KNEW HER NAME FIRST!!!

oscarpiastri: only because she's your biggest fan and she begged to meet you

maxverstappen1: stay mad

oscarpiastri: she's married to me??

maxverstappen1: and yet she's MY biggest fan

user19: DAMN MAX

user20: oscar was SILENCED

user21: i need to know when he them, how they got together, and what theyre wedding was like

user22: it kills me to know we will never get this information

user22: its actually so crazy how oscar said yn has been to all of the races so far?? like how didnt we notice her 😭

user23: what if shes been in front of us the whole time and we just mistook her for like a mclaren team member or something

user24: well now I have to go look at every single oscar picture out there and try to find something

user25: or you could, idk? respect that she doesnt want to show her face online?

user26: but thats no fun

charles_leclerc: it was great meeting her!! ❤️

user27: they met her? 💔💔💔

oscarpiastri: she says thanks for the lec ice cream!

user27: he gave her lec icecream?? 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

user28: ive only known about yns existence for a month and a half, but if anything happened to her, i would kill everyone on earth and then myself.

liked by oscarpiastri

. . .

note: thanks for requesting!! hope you enjoyed(*≧▽≦)

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scarletssienna · 5 months ago

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I Was Heavenstruck

Summary - Wanda takes a liking for a young coffee shop worker. The only issue is, Wanda’s married. word count: 4.7k

Warnings - cheating, mommy wanda, age gap relationship, oral, begging, fighting, obsessed wanda, dom!sub undertones, angst

AN - milf wanda milf wanda milf wanda - I suppose I should post this rather than hiding all my writings in my drafts. Literally have like 3 currently held hostage begging to be let out. Part 2 here

18+ minors/men dni

Coffee shops have always been one of your favorite places. Luckily for you, your little college town had the cutest one. You’d applied nearly the second you’d gotten settled. Now you were happily on your third year of working there. You loved the busy work. It kept your mind occupied and distracted as you could focus on the coffee and making the customers happy. Recently, you found yourself getting slightly distracted at work. There was a woman who came in every morning at the same time. She would order the same cappuccino and chocolate croissant and sit at one of the corner tables while she caught up on emails. Lately, she had begun to get a little chatty. She would stop at the pickup spot, leaning over the counter as she would laugh and ask you about your day. The amount of darlings and sweethearts she used in each sentence never failed to make you blush. While she was older something pulled you towards her. You didn’t notice a ring on her finger. You found yourself quickly falling for her. Now, after two months of the same back and forth you needed more. Your hand shook as you wrote on a napkin your phone number. You placed it on the little dish visible next to the mug. You passed the dish over to her with a slightly shaky hand and a dark blush on your face. Her eyes glistened and riddled with confusion at your nervousness. She hadn’t seen your little note yet.

“Sweetheart, are you feeling okay? Maybe you should take a break. Come sit with me?” She offered as she set the dish down and reached to your arm. You shook your head politely declining. As much as you would love to sit with her, you couldn’t just leave what you were doing. There were other orders needed. She nodded and looked down at her mug as she went to pick it back up. It was her turn to blush as she noticed the note. She hummed a little ‘oh’ of contentment and understanding before hurrying to her typical table.

She was sitting there grinning to herself as she sipped her coffee. She pulled out her phone and you did your best not to stare as you tried to keep occupied. When you felt a buzz from your phone you glanced up at Wanda and your face quickly turned red as you locked eyes. Quickly, you looked away and pulled out your phone to see the notification. It’s from a new number with a simple text. “Hey <3”

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

After three days of spending much longer than you would care to admit texting you finally worked up the courage to ask her out. From there you’d decided on sandwiches and a walk in the park after your shift on Friday. Nervous as ever you’d woken up much earlier than anticipated but spent the entire morning anxiously getting ready for work. You did your hair in a half-up half-down look with two pieces in the front. You then did a simple makeup look. You got dressed before heading to work. Watching the time like a hawk, just on cue Wanda came in. She walked to the counter and ordered her usual drink but disregarded the croissant.

Your smile when you saw her had been apparent. She seemed almost as nervous as you as she made simple small talk as you made her coffee. When you passed it to her she smiled and winked before heading to her table. By the time she’d come in you’d have half an hour left of your shift. She waited patiently as she read a book, glancing up at you every once in a while. When you finished your shift she seemed to be lost in her book. You disappeared into the bathroom to put on a bit more of a casual appearance, changing your shirt and stuffing your old one into your purse. Looking into the mirror you took a few deep breaths to gain confidence before walking towards Wanda. She hadn’t even noticed you approaching her until you carefully settled your fingers on her book, pressing it into her lap softly.

“Ready?” You smiled down at her before pulling your bottom lip into your mouth with a nervous giggle. She nodded excitedly and shut her book, putting it into her bag before standing up.

“Ready.” She hummed and looked down at you now. She stood just a few inches taller than you which always made you blush. Her hand reached down and held yours confidently as if they were meant to be that way. She then softly tugged you out of the cafe and outside. Once outside she smiled down at you. “Where to?” You smiled and led her to your favorite sandwich shop. The conversation flowed easily as she confidently led you around. Anytime you would move too slowly a soft squeeze would be applied to your hand as a reminder, causing you to hurry next to her side again. The two of you walked closely, arms brushing every once in a while. The touch barrier is typically broken after several dates have been broken almost instantly with Wanda’s constant desire to be close to you. You didn’t mind it though. Her closeness and gentle grazes and touches made you feel comfortable as you moved down the busy streets. Eventually, you made your way to the park. She led you to a blanket with a small picnic basket and a bouquet on top. How she had set this up without you knowing and had nothing happen to it surprised you. You grinned excitedly as she handed you the fresh pink tulips. You practically squeezed with excitement and wrapped your arms around her engulfing her in a hug. She pressed a gentle kiss to your temple as you spoke. The action causes you to stutter slightly.

“I’ve never been given flowers before.” You muttered softly and she smiled at you before wrinkling her eyebrows in confusion.

“A pretty girl like you deserves flowers. What a shame. I’ll just have to fulfill that desire for you now.” She said with a little wink as she sat down. She motioned next to her for you to sit and you obliged, setting the flowers next to you. “Any other desires you need to be fulfilled, pretty girl?” She asked with a small smirk on her face. You blushed a bright shade and quickly looked away from her gaze. Flustered, you reached for the sandwiches and passed her hers. She grabbed the picnic basket and opened it. Inside she pulled out some fresh strawberries she had sliced up, a small container of veggies and hummus, and a bottle of wine with two glasses. You giggled when you saw the wine and bit your bottom lip slightly.

“Wanda is like barely noon.” You teased her for her drink of choice. You’d just barely turned 21 and despite how many college kids behaved you rarely drank underage. It had all been very new to you. She just chuckled and poured two small glasses, passing one towards you. You two fell into a simple conversation as you ate happily. Eventually, somehow you ended up lying, looking up at the clouds with your head in Wanda’s lap. Her fingers tangled delicately through your hair as she relaxed in the closeness. From an outside perspective, you two were moving quite quickly. But in reality, this was months of pining and small talk. Finally, you two were able to be close and together. When Wanda’s phone rang for the third time in a row neither of you could ignore it anymore. You reached over and grabbed it for her, passing it to her. You tried not to be nosy and avoided looking at the screen to see who was calling. She declined the call and set the phone to the side. You thought for a second before looking up at her, deciding to ask.

“Who’s in such a need for your attention?” You asked as you took her hand that wasn’t tangled in your hair into your own hands. Softly you played with her fingers, directing your attention to the clouds.

“Other than you? Nobody that deserves it.” She stated simply as she smiled down at you. You smiled at the answer before sitting up and flipping around to face her. You kicked your legs over hers carefully draping them over her lap. Her hands rested on your legs with a smile.

“Hmm.” You thought out loud as you leaned in a little bit. “I want you to tell me something.” You stated as you reached up to her hands with one of yours.

“Mmhm.” She hummed in response, causing you to continue.

“I want you to tell me a secret. Something no one else knows.” You said as a matter of fact. She chuckled at you and raised one of her eyebrows.

“No one else, huh.” She questioned as she leaned in a tiny bit. You nodded in response as you awaited her answer. “I want to kiss you right now.” She replied in a little whisper as she glanced down at your lips. You wasted no time as you quickly closed the gap between you. She immediately kissed back as one of her hands moved to your waist and the other settled on the back of your head. It was gentle and sweet. Delicate almost. She didn’t want to spook you too much. You weren’t exactly satisfied with her softness. When she pulled away you glanced back and forth between her lips and her eyes.

“Wanna know my secret?” You asked, desperation heard through your voice. She just nodded as the scene unfolded in front of her. Carefully you made your way to straddling her lap. Her breath hitched in her throat as it was finally your turn to fluster her. “I want you to kiss me, kiss me, Wanda.” You stated as your finger pressed into the center of her chest softly. She leaned in to kiss you again. This time it was real. It was passionate and deep and everything you could ask for. Her hands grabbed at your hips as she pulled you closer, your body’s flush. Her tongue swooped against your bottom lip, eagerly seeking entrance. You obliged happily as your hips ground softly against her. When you two eventually pulled away you became suddenly very aware of your public presence. You blushed red as you glanced around before hiding your face in the crook of her neck. She held you close as her hand found a slow pattern tracing up and down your back.

The next few days were electric. Then weeks passed and you continued strong. You’d hit the three month mark of your first date last Friday and you just felt more encapsulated with Wanda's aura than ever before. Sometimes after your shift ends you two would walk around the shops that line the street. Other times it was late and you just needed a break from the textbooks. You would end up tangled up in the backseat of her car like a high school couple hiding from the world. Your favorites have been when she shows up for her usual at work. Several minutes after she’s served, you take a ‘break’ and disappear off into the bathroom for hidden kisses. Never once have you gone all the way though. And never once has the conversation of going to either of your houses come up: Until today.

When Wanda came in for her usual you saw her and a big smile grew across your face at the sight of her. It quickly faded as you noticed her discomfort. You frowned in confusion as you saw the man surprisingly close to her. His hand rested on her back as they quietly discussed their orders. Wanda looked quite uncomfortable but you didn’t notice as you were trying to figure out who the man with her was. You knew you recognized him but weren’t sure where from. When he came to order you immediately realized.

“We’ll take a cappuccino and,” he started but you quickly cut him off.

“Vision?” You asked confused before gasping. “Vision. No way.” You exclaimed. Wanda’s confusion was evident as you two shared shocked expressions and surprised laughter.

“Wow! Oh my gosh! What are you doing here? Wow. Wanda!” He exclaimed as he looked down at her. “Our families were quite close when we were young! They still are but after college started I kinda disappeared into my own world.” He said as he shook his head. “We practically grew up together. Well, she is several years younger than me but you know.” He teased slightly before looking back at you. “This is my wife, Wanda.” He smiled. The words hit you heavily and suddenly you noticed all of Wanda’s discomfort. She was married. Your smile faded and you heard the blood rushing in your ears. You covered it well as he happily carried on.

“Yeah, uh, we’ve met sorta.” You said with a squinted look. “She’s quite the regular here.” You said with a faint laugh.

“We have to catch up soon.” He said suddenly and you just nodded sheepishly. “Friday. We’re having a little party. It’d be great to have you. Bring a plus one if you’d like? Boyfriend? Friend? Whatever.” You just nodded in agreement before smiling lightly. You scribbled down your phone number before sliding it to him and mumbling about getting their orders. They ordered it to go before leaving. The look on Wanda’s face stuck with you. How could she not have mentioned she was married? What was she doing with you?

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Friday came quicker than you’d expected. Throughout the rest of the week, you’d avoided Wanda: Her calls, her desperate texts, even your typical work hours. What you couldn’t stay away from was Friday. But you had a plan. Natasha. Your best friend. You’d asked her for a favor and she was quick to agree. Vision had approved you bringing a guest so there you did. You had a bottle of wine in your hand. You both were dressed quite nicely. Natasha in a tight red dress that complimented her hair nicely and accentuated her chest and ass. You were wearing clothes nicer than you’d put on in forever. A tight black dress that hugged your hips just perfectly and left your chest quite out and exposed. Despite your pleas of denial Natasha had encouraged you to wear heals and boy did they do wonders for your legs. You knocked on the door and waited nervously. Wanda opened it with a desperate but nervous smile. It faded when she noticed you had a plus one. She was wearing a white jumpsuit, a little more conservative than you two but it had you blushing anyways. You exchanged awkward highs and smiles. She let you in with a fake smile as she attempted to seem normal.

“This is Natasha. My girlfriend.” You smiled fakely as you watched them introduce themselves.

“Your girlfriend! Wow yes. So nice to meet you.” Wanda bore fakely through gritted teeth. She knew you didn’t have a girlfriend. Vision didn’t. And you planned on making the whole scene very convincing. You two entered and Vision made his appearance. You and Natasha were quickly pulled off into a conversation, weaving your way throughout the crowded house. You both found drinks and made attempts at casual conversation with people. Natasha made the practice of being extremely touchy. She would lean down and whisper in your ear which caused shivers down your spine. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you blush. Wanda watched the two of you interact from her place as she sipped her drink quietly. The quick kisses you and Natasha would share and her quite apparent hand on your ass caused Wanda to squirm from across the room. Your drinks were set down as you two moved off to the side of the crowd. Her hands roamed across your body as if there was no one else in the room. She leaned down and whispered in your ear causing you to blush deeply.

“Who knew this would all come so naturally.” She paused, her hands settling on your hips as she pulled your body’s flush. “I want more.” She whispered before leaning down to kiss you deeply. Thus began a heavy make-out. Her tongue made a quick fashion of taking control of the kiss. You moaned as you opened your mouth further. Your hand tangled softly in her hair as she squeezed at your ass. You grumbled a little when she eventually pulled away. She wasn’t done yet. She leaned down once more to whisper in your ear. “Forget Wanda. I could treat you so right baby. Let’s just get out of here.” Your eyes flickered over to where Wanda was standing as you made accidental eye contact. She was schaithing as she faked enjoyment with the people surrounding her. Her eyes rarely left you. You couldn’t even tell if this was all an act anymore or not. You didn’t even have a chance to consider the proposition Natasha had put up when Wanda practically stormed over. She seemed to have taken your eye contact as a signal to come over. A giant smile plastered on her face when she reached out and touched your arm.

“Honey, can we step over here for a second? I’d love to just have a word with you?” She asked as her arm slid down to your hand, gripping it tightly. She didn’t wait for a response as she began pulling you off down a hallway and away from everyone. You glanced back at Natasha and all she did was wink. The house was bigger than you’d expected it to be. She looked around making sure no one was paying attention before pulling you up the stairs. She tugged you into the nearest room and you clumsily fell into her embrace. She shut the door, catching you carefully before pushing you up against the wall. “What the hell is all this?” She started, as if she was allowed to be the person upset here. Your eyes avoided her as you looked around the room, noticing a bed and dresser you were suddenly fearful she had brought you into her bedroom. The one she shared with her husband. “Oh don’t get your panties all tied in a knot, this is the guest room.” She said coldly as she shook her head. You pulled against her grip causing her to just tighten it. You looked up into her eyes as you struggled with what to even say. Her cold demeanor dropped suddenly as she sighed. Her hands fell to her sides and her eyes looked into yours, now glossy.

“When were you planning on telling me you were married?” You started, cautiously. “That you have this whole extravagant life. And you just sneak around with me.” You groaned. “Because you’re married!” You practically yelled causing Wanda to quickly snap her hand up and cover your mouth.

“Shh.” She hushed you softly. You shook your head, shaking her hand off of your face as you swatted at her.

“Don’t shush me.” You growled as you frowned. She sighed and took a step back, giving you a little bit of space. Your arms fell to your sides in defeat as you finally showed how you really felt. The pit in your stomach grew as you spoke quietly. “I just thought it was real.” You looked away from her and shook your head as tears filled your eyes. “Was any of it even real?” You asked, not even sure if you’d want to know the answer. She stepped back towards you again and cupped your face softly.

“Sweetheart, it was real. It was all real.” She said, her voice cracking as she spoke. “It was more real than anything I’ve felt in so,” she sighed. “So long.” You finally looked back into her eyes. They were glossy as tears threatened to fall. “I got in too deep.” She whispered. “I fucked up Detka. It was never supposed to go as far as it did.” She now looked away from you, feeling guilty. “You were just supposed to be my little distraction in the morning. My beaming ray of sunshine I would get to enjoy with my coffee. I fell for you though. I hoped the date would be terrible and would push us apart and I would lose interest.” She looked back at you. You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth and frowned. “I didn’t. In fact, I grew to really quite adore you.” She smiled a tiny bit. It was a sad, guilty smile that faded when she saw your frown. Her thumb wiped your tears away and she kissed your cheek repeatedly.

“You used me Wanda. You used me as a distraction from your sad, boring life, and unhappy marriage.” Your words were cold and mean. They took her by surprise but she knew it all already. She frowned and sighed.

“Please sweetheart. You have to forgive me.” She pleaded, her hands sliding down your face and down your arms to your hands. The tears that had been threatening to escape finally fell. She gripped your hands tightly in hers as she began to beg. “Please.” She leaned forward again and began to kiss at your face and neck. Between each kiss a beg or plead would follow. Her hands moved to your hips and back to your ass. Her hands stilled as she leaned to whisper in your ear. “It can be our little secret Detka. No one has to know.” She nipped at your earlobe slightly, causing you to groan. You felt sick sneaking around like this. Though there was something that drew you to the situation so strongly. It pulled and urged you against all of your better judgment. You broke, nodding weakly. She saw you nod and gasped relieved as she kissed you deeply, passionately. It was a kind of desperation you had never felt from her before. The feeling suffocated you. Her utter obsession with you fueled a fire in you you hadn’t ever even dreamt of. She dropped to her knees, looking up to you with desperate eyes.

“Let me thank you.” She murmured, her hands sliding up your thighs underneath your dress. You groaned at her touches and nodded again as your hand went to her hair. It gently tangled in her curls as she left wet kisses up your thighs. You separated your legs a little as you leaned up against the wall. She pulled your panties down your thighs and faked a gasp at the wet spot on them. “I’ve barely even touched you sweetheart.” She teased and stuffed your panties into her pocket, not planning on giving them back. You whined softly as you pulled her head closer to where you needed it. She immediately gave you the attention you deserved. She lifted your leg over her shoulder for easier access. Her head was immediately buried in your cunt as she licked moved as if she was starved. Her tongue moved skillfully through your folds and around your clit. You had to hold back gasps and moans as you fell back against the wall harder. A hand covered your mouth to stifle the moanes she created as she hungrily ate between your thighs. Your hand held tighter in her hair as you pulled her closely, directing her to what you liked. You could feel her smiling below you, this caused you to blush a dark color as you closed your eyes tightly. The embarrassment washed away as you only felt pleasure. Her tongue brought you to a quick orgasm. You bit down on your hand softly to muffle the moans she was so easily eliciting from your body. As you came down from the high you nearly fell over. She was quick to catch you as she held you up carefully. Your eyes were still closed as you leaned your head against the door, catching your breath tiredly. She wiped her face a little as she chuckled at your exhaustion. She leaned forward kissing you deeply. You kissed back with desire. You moaned as you tasted yourself on her. You whined into the kiss as it turned sloppy. She pulled you into her arms, holding you closely as you snuggled into her embrace, leaning your entire body weight on her.

“Come here darling.” She whispered soothingly as she held you. “Mommy’s got you.” She whispered instinctively. The nickname she used on herself caught you a little off guard at first. But you smiled and blushed at the comfort and fuzzy feelings you were feeling. She lifted you carefully and walked you to the bed before gently setting you down. You laid back on the bed and reached for her to lay with you. She stayed standing though and tried to part from your body. When she tried to let go of you your eyes snapped open and you whined.

“No mommy.” You complained and grabbed her clothes. She leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, soothing your worries.

“I’m just going to grab some things to clean you up sweetheart I’ll be right back.” She whispered, causing you to reluctantly let go of her. She disappeared into the bathroom and was gone far too long as she collected some things. She returned only a moment later and sat down next to you. You squirmed up against her and she made gentle work of cleaning you up. Her hands gripped at your thighs causing you to instinctively open them for her, whining at the touch. She gently wiped you up before setting the wash cloth aside and carefully taking off your makeup. Your eyes stayed closed as you drifted off into a relaxed, sleepy state. When she finished she peppered soft kisses across your face before stopping at your lips. Her tongue was immediately seeking entrance again, causing you to moan and press your legs together once again. She pulled away when she noticed your reaction, tisking you no softly.

“Mommy’s sorry honey, no more tonight.” She hummed and soothed your cheek. You nodded and looked up at her with big eyes.

“The party.” You looked up with concern. She shook her head a little with a sweet smile.

“I have it handled. I’ll be right back okay?” She assured you as she waited to leave your embrace until you approved. You nodded and she stood up. She went to the mirror and fixed up her appearance. You turned your body so you could watch her, a small smile on your face. She smiled back at you before leaving the room and going downstairs. She explained to Vision that you were quite ill and would have to stay the night. When he offered to come up and help she politely declined, explaining how he needed to stay to finish up the party. He agreed and Wanda returned upstairs. She stopped in her room first and grabbed some pajamas before returning to the guest room, locking the door behind her. You reached for her impatiently, whines leaving your lips.

“Come here.” You murmured, clinging onto her jumpsuit when she was within reach. She stood next to the bed while you nuzzled your face up against her thigh. She took your phone from you one hair playing softly though your hair.

“What’s your password honey?” She asked, causing you to mumble it out. She typed it in before finding Natasha’s contact. She sent her a text saying she could leave and you would be alright for the night. You didn’t even question what Wanda was doing on your phone, all you cared about was being close to the older woman. She then set to work getting you out of your dress and into some comfortable clothes. All of her touches felt like fire on your body. You squirmed beneath her as her fingers grazed up your thighs. She then stepped back and changed out of her clothes. You watched in awe, biting your bottom lip as she stripped in front of you. Her confidence radiated as she didn’t even hesitate changing with your watchful eyes. When she finished she climbed in bed behind you. You scooted back against her body as she pulled you flush against her. You relaxed in her embrace, falling asleep quickly. All of your comfort would be taken away though in just a few short hours when she had to return to bed with her husband.

#mommy wanda #wanda #wanda maximoff #wandavision #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda x reader #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x you

2K notes · View notes

ariestrxsh · 17 days ago

Text

🍕 content warning: smut, oral (m! & f!receiving), praise, edging, masturbation, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, small age gap (both characters are adults), pizzaboy!chris, servicesub!chris, dom!reader, low-key the reader exchanges money for sex

🍕 summary: your delivery boy, chris, is used to getting away with everything due to his dashing good looks, but it does him no good when he tries to resist your magnetic charm. when he arrives with your meat lovers earlier than expected, you're hungry for more than just the pizza.

(if it's cheesy, it's because i wanted it to be. 🧀 may this fic make you cum whilst you laugh at my stupid wordplay.)

pizza guy

It was a cool, late-autumn evening, the wind rustling through the falling dead leaves and the temperature slowly dropping with every day that winter neared. You were at home, lounging in a silk pajama set on your couch, curled up with a book and a glass of wine while you were waiting for the pizza you'd ordered to arrive.

Suddenly, a knock at the door broke your attention away from the page and brought you back to the present moment. You glanced over at the clock. Surely, that couldn't have been the pizza. You weren't expecting it for another half-hour.

You pulled open the door to reveal a cute blue-eyed brunette in his work uniform who greeted you with a sweet smile. He was a few inches taller than you but looked to be a few years younger than you, and he had this innocent demeanor about him that immediately sparked your interest.

You wet your lips as your gaze scanned the delivery boy's features. You were drawn to his captivating eyes, his pink cheeks, and his pouty lips. "Hello, ma'am. I have your meat lovers pizza with extra Italian sausage," he said, double-checking the box he held in his hands.

"You're gonna hate me. I left my wallet upstairs," you stuck your bottom lip out at him in a little frown. "Oh, that's fine, ma'am. I can wait here," he kindly responded, the corners of his mouth turning up again. "Aren't you gonna get cold out here?" You asked, giving him a sympathetic look. "I'll be alright," he shrugged, his eyes dancing over your attractive features.

"I can't make you wait out in this weather, sweet boy. Why don't you come inside?" You replied in a nurturing tone as you crossed your arms, pushing up your breasts and revealing your hardening nipples that were straining against the soft fabric of your silk button-down.

"I don't think I should," he softly answered even though he was contemplating it, his eyes drawn towards your chest. "I'm not even standing out there, and I'm freezing. What if you catch a cold because of me? I couldn't live with myself," you said in an endearing voice as you ran your fingertips along your arm, trying to warm up.

He knew it was against store policy to enter a customer's home, but he figured he could bend the rules just this once. After all, the only thing providing his hands warmth was the pizza box he was holding, and the tip of his nose was growing red from the biting chill. He nibbled on his lip and nodded, accepting your generous offer and hesitantly stepping into your home.

"Make yourself comfortable," you told him, letting him in. You turned around to retrieve your wallet from upstairs, and Chris' stare migrated to the way your ass jiggled in your silk bottoms as you hurried up the steps. He couldn't help himself. You were just so hot. He glanced at the fancy bottle of red wine you had sitting on your coffee table along with the romance novel that laid beside it.

He wondered what a gorgeous woman like you was doing on a Saturday night, drinking alone and reading a book about love instead of making it.

You trotted back down the steps with your wallet in hand, sights fixed on the boy standing in your cozy living room who immediately noticed you'd undone the top two buttons of your shirt while you were upstairs. He knew exactly what you were doing, but he couldn't entertain it. It was a weekend, and he knew there would be plenty of pizzas to deliver and a lot of money to make.

"What's your name, baby?" You wondered as you reached into your wallet to count your bills. "Chris," he replied, loving the pet names you called him. "Alright, Chris. How much do I owe you, sweetie?" You asked, peering into his gorgeous blue eyes. "Um, $19.69," he blushed, clearing his throat and looking down at the price on your receipt he had pinned between his thumb and the box.

You smirked at him, pulling two $20 bills out of your wallet. "Here's for being so patient with me," you leaned in and whispered into his ear as you hooked two of your fingers into Chris' front pocket and slowly slid the cash in. While your were leaned in so closely, you could feel the heat radiating from his body and you picked up on the scent of pepperoni and hint of weed that lingered on his clothing.

"Thank you, ma'am. That's so generous. I don't know if I can accept that much," he replied, feeling all the blood rush to the tip of his cock as you flirted with the idea of breaking the touch barrier but not doing so just yet. "Sure, you can. You deserve it." You took the pizza box from him and placed it gently on your coffee table.

"You should stay a little longer. I'll make you a cup of hot chocolate, and you can warm up a little before you have to go back out into the cold," you offered, licking your lips while you examined his softening expression. "I should really get back to the shop," Chris said, breaking eye contact and trying to exercise self-control.

"Oh, come on. Stay for one cup of hot cocoa, sweet boy. You can just tell your boss you had trouble finding my house. Do you like it made with milk or water?" You asked, not giving him another chance to decline your proposition.

His gaze flickered back up at yours. He had your money. He could have easily excused himself and gone back to work, but he was secretly hoping for an excuse to stall and spend a little more time with you.

"Milk," he softly responded, completely in a trance with your caring nature. "You want whipped cream on top, baby? And marshmallows?" You cooed. "Yes, ma'am. Both please," he nodded, accepting your kind gesture. "Have a seat, Chris. Have a piece of pizza," you motioned towards the couch as you stepped into the kitchen to warm up some milk.

"How long have you been a delivery boy?" You asked, lighting the front left burner of your stove. "About a year," Chris replied, plopping down onto the sofa and reaching into the box to grab a slice. "Yeah? You make good money?" You inquired, fillling up a pot with milk. "Yeah, about $150 a night," he told you with his mouth full of pizza.

"Wow. That's a lot of money for this area. It must be because you're so timely and polite. And so handsome," you casually added, peeking up at him. He blushed and gave you a shy smile. "Oh, I don't know about that," he humbly replied. "Sure you are. You're cute, and you know it, too," you smirked at him. He took another big bite of pizza.

"So, do you always come quick?" You asked him. "Excuse me?" he politely answered you, nearly choking on his food and raising his eyebrows, unsure if he heard the question correctly. "I mean, when you're delivering pizza. Do you always arrive so quickly? I wasn't expecting you for another thirty minutes," you said, your eyes shifting between the boy on your couch and the clock on the wall. "I drive fast," he smiled.

"You really care about pleasing the customer, don't you?" You insinuated, bringing over the cup of hot chocolate. Your fingertips gently grazed his as you passed him the warm, ceramic mug. "Yes ma'am. I do. I live for it," he said in a submissive tone, glancing up at you.

"You ever get pulled over because you were driving too fast?" You wondered, raising an eyebrow at him and taking a seat on the couch beside him. "A handful of times, but it's always by the same officer in the same area I drive through. She always gives me shit, runs my license, registration, and insurance, and the whole bit, but she always lets me off with a warning," Chris replied before taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

"Mmmm, this is good," Chris said, licking the whipped topping off his lip. "Oh, baby. You missed a spot," you chuckled, moving a bit closer and gently running the pad of your thumb against the smudge and cleaning it off his upper lip while you stared deep into his eyes. You slowly licked the sugary cream from your thumb and grinned at him. He secretly liked the way you babied him and how in touch you were with your maternal instincts.

He took a few more sips of his chocolatey drink, savoring the warmth and sweetness it provided. "How much longer is your shift?" You wondered, studying his jawline and his full lips. "I close tonight, so at least another six hours," he gave a disappointed half-smile. "Awh. I can't believe they're making you work late on a Saturday night," you gave him a little frown. "It's alright. It's good money," he replied, drinking more of his hot cocoa.

"You know, I really appreciate the tip, the slice of pizza, and the hot chocolate, but I really should get going," Chris replied, setting the nearly empty mug on the coffee table. "Oh, sweet boy. Look at your pants. They're a mess," you chuckled, brushing crumbs off of his lap and gently grazing his cock that twitched in response to your light touch.

"Ma'am, you're making this very hard for me right now," Chris said in a serious tone, grabbing your wrist and looking into your eyes. "What am I making hard for you, baby?" You cooed. "I know what you're doing," Chris looked at you with his submissive eyes.

"Then why don't you let me keep doing it? I'll take good care of you, darling," you placed a hand on his cheek, cradling his face and searching for the answers in his expression to get him to stay. "It wouldn't be right.." he started to say, but his voice trailed off and he loosened his grip on your wrist as you leaned in, closing the distance between his lips and yours. You pulled him into a trance with your deep, passionate kiss, swirling your tongue around in his mouth.

"Says who? Isn't the customer always right? Don't you wanna leave me satisfied, baby?" You asked him, nudging his chin up with your nose, exposing his throat, and planting a soft kiss on the side of his neck. Chris was such a sucker for neck kisses and pleasing the customer. He couldn't stop you now. He wanted you too badly and so desperately craved to satisfy you.

"What would I even say?" Chris wondered out loud, racking his brain for an excuse to get out of the rest of his shift but getting distracted by your luscious lips. "I'm sure you'll think of something," you mumbled, pressing your tongue against a sensitive spot on his neck and giving him another passionate kiss.

"I can't think about anything except how amazing your mouth feels," Chris whimpered, giving into the sensation. "Give me your cellphone," you said, pulling away and holding out your hand. "What for?" He asked you, hesitantly reaching into his pocket and placing it in your palm. You handed Chris back his phone after dialing the number to his work and tapping the speaker button.

"Just tell your boss you got a flat tire or something, and that you can't come back to work for the rest of the night. I'll make it worth your while," you seductively suggested, whispering as you gently nibbled on his ear. He let out a soft moan as your teeth grazed his earlobe. "Hey, Chris. What's up? You've been gone a while. You find the delivery address?" A man answered the phone, recognizing Chris' caller ID.

"I got kind of lost on the way there, but I eventually found it. Um, I actually called because someone slashed my tires when I stopped to take a leak. Could you put a manager on so I can explain the situation?" He asked, trying to keep his composure as your lips traveled back to his neck, sinking your teeth into his sensitive flesh. He bit down on his lip to suppress another moan.

"Of course. Give me a sec. I'm gonna put you on hold," the guy on the other end of the line replied. You grabbed the hem of Chris' work shirt, pulling it up and off over his head, disheveling his hair while you did so. "I can't believe you have me doing this right now," he whispered as you fell to your knees in front of him. You smirked up at him, your hands reaching for his belt.

"What are you doing?" He whispered, looking down at his lap wide-eyed, the sound of the metal clanking against itself as you unbuckled it. "You just get so many nice tips, I thought maybe you could spare one," you chuckled. "While I'm on the phone with my boss?" He peered down at you in disbelief. "Let's see how well you can hold it together," you smirked.

"Oh my god. I don't usually mix business and pleasure in this manner, ma'am," he innocently whispered as you reached into his underwear. "You can save the I don't usually do this talk for someone else, because guess what? You're already doing it," you giggled. He sharply inhaled as you pulled out his half-erect cock.

"Wow, it's so big, and it's not even all the way hard yet," you gasped, taking it into your hand and slowly beginning to stroke his shaft.

It was long and veiny, and the head was pink, smooth, and already beginning to swell with arousal. He was so flattered by the way you lovingly looked at it, gently petting it and causing more blood to flow to it. He peered down at you with hungry eyes and a lustful expression.

"Chris? Someone slashed your tires?" A woman spoke into the phone as you slowly licked from the base of his length, stopping right where the heads meets his staff. Chris' jaw dropped and his breath hitched in his throat as he watched the way you teased him. His cock, that had now grown to its full size, twitched at the sensation of your heavenly tongue, and a bit of pre-cum gushed from his slit.

"Chris?" The woman said again, sounding agitated. "Yes ma'am," Chris said in a strangled voice as you began spiraling slow licks around the tip, cleaning up the clear fluid. "Chris, are you stoned right now? You know, we've talked about this. If it were anyone else, I would've fired them on the spot after the first time. You're just such a hard worker and get such good reviews-" his boss started to scold him.

"No, no. Nothing like that, ma'am. I'm just shaken up. That's all," Chris cut her off, trying to keep his composure while he stared down at the way you flickered your tongue over his slit. Her tone immediately changed. "Awh, Chris. I'm so sorry I accused you of being high on the job. Do you need a ride home, sweetie?" She tenderly asked him.

"No, ma'am. I appreciate it. I already got one. I just wanted to call to let you know I can't get new tires until tomorrow, so I won't be able to finish my shift," Chris managed to get out before a small sigh escaped his lips and his head fell back as you worked your magical tongue on him. "Of course. Let me know if you need anything, Chris," his manager relayed in a tone you swore was almost seductive. "Anything at all," she emphasized, the desperation in her voice coming through.

He was so mesmerized by the way you sheathed his marble-smooth, pink head between your soft lips that he nearly forgot he was on the phone. "Chris?" His manager broke him out of his trance. "Yes. Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate that," Chris responded, staring down and nodding at you as you started to move your lips down his length, taking more of him into your mouth, massaging the backside of his dick with your tongue.

"Good night, Chris. Do whatever you need to do to relax," she said, definitely picturing him masturbating. "Good night, ma'am," Chris replied before concluding the call just in time for a guttural moan to pass through his lips and fill the room. You paused for a moment, taking Chris' dick out of your mouth with a faint pop, creating a wonderful suction for his nerve endings.

"Are you fucking her?" You narrowed your eyes at him and gave him a smirk. "My boss?" He asked with a surprised inflection, raising his eyebrows. You nodded at him. "No, ma'am. I swear I'm not," he quickly shook his head. "Well, she wants you to," you smiled. "Anything at all," you mockingly exaggerated her desperation. "I know. She's so obvious about it," Chris smirked down at you as you made his cock disappear behind your lips again.

He could finally enjoy the way you gently suckled on it, rolling your tongue around on his tip, and he didn't have to hold back his delighted noises anymore. Whimpers escaped his lips, one cascading after the other, filling the room with the sweet sound of his pleasure. He started to comb through your hair with his fingers as he sank further into the couch and further into his desire to fill your mouth with his seed.

"You work so hard, always taking care of everyone, but at the end of the day, who takes good care of you, hmm?" You cooed, stroking his length. He moaned loudly at your words. "Good boy. Enjoy it. You deserve it," you whispered before teasing the head with your tongue again.

"Ma'am, I don't know how much more I can take," he looked down at you lustfully, studying how you encircled the head with your licks. His dick involuntarily jerked again, a reflex to the way you intuitively knew what he liked. "I know you can take it, and you're going to," you whispered seductively. "Yes, ma'am," he whimpered as you took more of him into your mouth, sliding your lips all the way down until his tip hit the back of throat.

You loved how respectful he was even when he was on the brink of orgasm.

He clawed at the seat cushion underneath him, a desperate attempt to keep himself from finishing too soon. He thoughtfully watched your every move, thoroughly enjoying every subtlety of your technique that was becoming sloppier and messier. "Please, I need to cum," he whined, furrowing his brow, wetting his lips, and looking down at you with carnal desire in his eyes.

But you couldn't give into him just yet. You wanted to hear the desperation seeping into his tone of voice and see the neediness carved into his expression before you even thought about letting him finish.

"You don't understand how bad I need it," his luscious voice poured into the room. You carried on, ignoring his pleas to cum and fervently bobbing your head up and down on his cock some more. His moans became more strained as you continued to make him hold out, letting his head fall back and closing his eyes.

"Look at me, baby," you ordered him before you resumed manipulating all his tender nerve-endings. He loved the way you bossed him around, obediently following your directions. He did as he was told, peering back down at you and your tongue that was dancing around his tip, relentlessly teasing him.

"Please, ma'am. I've been such a good boy," he urgently begged, becoming teary-eyed. That's it, you thought to yourself. That was the kind of desperation you'd been patiently waiting for. You nodded at him, giving him silently permission as a tear rolled down his cheek. He let out a few loud, guttural moans, his voice cracking and his breath getting caught in his throat again.

You felt his dick pulse between your lips while you hummed against it, pressing the flat part of your tongue against his tip and causing his sweet and salty substance to spray off into different streams into your mouth, intensifying his orgasm. A few more primal sounds poured from his lips while you drained his throbbing member of his tasty seed.

"Thank you, ma'am. Thank you," he graciously praised you as you collected every last bit onto your tongue before swallowing it, making sure not to waste a single drop. He stared down at you breathlessly with his bedroom eyes, his flushed cheeks, and his slightly parted lips, his heart beating out of his chest.

"You're so good with your mouth, ma'am. How can I ever repay you?" Chris wondered, wiping away his tears of satisfaction and slipping his cock back into his pants. "Not necessary. It was my pleasure," you whispered, winking at him. "Ma'am. I insist. Please let me show you how good I can make you feel," he said in a soft, subservient voice, giving you puppy dog eyes.

You nibbled on your lip as you stood up in front of Chris. You reached down and picked up your glass of wine, taking a long sip before you started to unbutton your silk shirt. He watched as you slowly opened your blouse, exposing your breasts to him as you peered into his blue eyes.

"You'd do that for me, sweet boy?" You cooed, brushing your thumb against his cheek while you tilted your head down at him and held eye-contact. "I'd do anything to please you," he whispered, tipping his chin up at you. "Be a good boy and get on your knees for me," you said in a soft and sweet but domineering manner. He nodded before he dropped to his knees in front of you.

He curled his fingers into your waistband and slowly stripped your bottoms off of you. You stepped out of them, one leg at a time, Chris' eyes fixed on the treasure between your thighs. Chris bent your knee and slung your leg over his shoulder, so you could rest your foot on the edge of the couch while he nestled into your warmth. His tongue gently flickered over your clit, sending a lovely sensation through you.

Despite having just finished, the act of eating your pussy had him all worked up and needy again, his hand slithering below his waist as it found its way into his the waistband of his boxers. He wrapped his fingers around his shaft and started pumping back and forth. He clamped his lips down on your sensitive bud, moaning against it.

"Good boy," you whimpered, running your digits through his hair and brushing it out of his pretty face. He was so gentle and tender, taking his time with his licks, but they were perfectly sensual and effective nonetheless. You gasped as he suckled on your most delicate nerve-endings, and the sound of him hungrily lapping up your wetness filled the room.

You let go, allowing yourself to be swept up in the delightful feeling his tongue brought you as it expertly prodded around your glistening folds. "That's it, baby. You're doing such a good job," you commended him. You smiled down at him, whimpering and licking your lips.

"Ma'am, you taste so sweet," Chris softly replied right before taking his hand out of his pants and placing his middle finger at your entrance. "I'm gonna make you feel so good," he smirked up at you, sinking his digit into your hole.

He noted how tight you felt wrapped around just one finger. He couldn't keep himself from fantasizing about how your pussy would feel encasing his cock.

He went back to delicately licking your clit while he worked his curled finger into your heat, pulling it almost all the way out and pushing it back in again. You loved the way it felt, but it left your core aching for more.

"Chris.. I need something else from you, sweetie," you responded, looking down lovingly at the obvious bulge in his jeans. "What do you need from me?" He sweetly asked, resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh and peering up at you, eager to serve you in any way he could.

You loved his subordinate nature, his obedient tone, and his enthusiasm about doing anything for you that you wanted him to. "Let me ride you, sweet boy," you requested, playing with his hair. "Oh, yes, ma'am. I thought you'd never ask," he softly whined, hypnotizing you with his desperate eyes.

You unhooked your leg from the boy's shoulder, and when he stood up, you placed your pointer finger on his chest and lightly pushed him back. He bent to your will, allowing your gentle shove to subdue him onto your sofa. He sunk into the furniture and pulled his dick out of his waistband once more, presenting it to you in all its glory. It was still incredibly hard.

You straddled him, sticking your breasts in his face, and he eagerly took one of your nipples into his mouth. You grabbed onto his cock, holding it in place, so you could lower yourself onto it. You gasped as you enveloped the tip, and you let out a delighted sigh as you sat all the way down on it. Chris moaned against your breast, relishing in the sensation of having your heat wrapped around him.

He placed his hands on your waist so he could feel every intricacy in the way you rolled your hips forward, grinding on him as you rode him. You slid up and down on his rod with ease, becoming increasingly wet. "You're so big," you complimented him, feeling the way his dimensions filled you snugly, and he blushed at your praise.

You reached between your legs and started drawing tight circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves while you maintained your stamina. "Ma'am, this is the best tip I've ever received," Chris whimpered, breathlessly. "I'd have to say the same," you smirked down at him. A few subtle whimpers escaped the boy's lips as you sped up your pace.

Chris' eyes started to roll back, but you gently tugged onto his ear, and whispered, "Look at me while you cum, sweet boy." He weakly nodded at you, his expression drenched in sheer lust and his facial features making it apparent to you how good you were making him feel.

"I'm so lucky I got you as my pizza delivery boy," you moaned, looking into his eyes. "Respectfully, ma'am, I think I'm the lucky one," he whimpered, furrowing his brow and digging into your sides with his fingertips.

"You've been such a good boy. Why don't you cum for me, sweetie?" You cooed, recognizing how close he was and how badly he needed this. "Inside?" He politely clarified. "Yes, Chris. Fill me up," you responded, nodding at him. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, letting all his muscles relax as his orgasm washed over him like a rising tide.

His climax ebbed and flowed through him. His cock twitched inside of you, pumping you full of his seed until it started leaking down his length and making a mess on his jeans. He was incredibly sensitive, but he waited patiently until your orgasm followed shortly after.

"Oh, Chris," you called out in a sultry moan as you clenched around him, finishing onto his rod and adding to the mess of fluids that were leaking onto his lap. The pace of your fingers on your clit slowed down as well as the movement of your hips until you finally came to a halt. You smiled down at Chris, pulling him into one more intense kiss and overwhelming his tastebuds with notes of red wine.

You climbed off of him, and started to slip back into your clothes. He admired your body one last time as you covered back up, taking a few moments to recover from the powerful sensation. His chest rose and fell as his breathing began to regulate itself, and he tucked himself back into his jeans, pulling his zipper closed, buttoning them back up, and buckling his belt.

You reached into your wallet again, pulling out $150, the amount Chris told you he would've made had he worked the rest of his shift, and you tucked it into his pocket. "Ma'am. Do you think I'm some kind of hooker or something? I can't accept money for sex," he smiled at you, pulling his work shirt back on over his head.

"You were on the job. I'm only paying you for your valuable time. We just so happened to have sex," you shrugged, winking at him while you did up the buttons on your silky pajama top. He shook his head, ready to decline your money offer.

"Come on, if you had trouble making rent this month because I got greedy and wouldn't let you leave, I'd feel just awful," you seductively said, tilting his chin up with your finger. "Even if you just spend it on weed," you winked at him. He chuckled and rolled his eyes in response.

"I can't wait to leave you a good review. Let everyone in town know how filling the Italian sausage is."

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januaryembrs · 3 months ago

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MY BABY, HERE ON EARTH | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [BONUS]

Description: the NINE months of pregnancy

Word count: 10.9k

warnings: pregnancy duh, babies, giving birth, c-section, ummm body fluids? lots of emotions, nausea & sickness, talks of weight gain and stretch marks.

authors note: y'all... there you have it. I will be back to finish their story but until then this is my goodbye piece until I have finished my hiatus to write my own book and start uni (again). I can't wait to take these two (three) on the final lap they deserve but for now.. I hope you enjoy pookies being pookies.

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MONTH ONE. The one where she finds out.

She hadn’t meant to find out when she did. It had been just a routine implant swap that she’d had twice already in the last six years.

“Any blood clotting, any pain at all?” The nurse asked, jotting down a few notes on her form as she sat back on the bed and waiting for the numbing cream to take hold.

She shook her head. “It’s weird as hell to feel and when I think about it too long it freaks me out, but no, no pain,” She said and the nurse chuckled, nudging her glasses up her nose.

“And finally, is there any chance that you’re pregnant?” She asked, no doubt having rehearsed the same script about thirty times that day alone.

Bugsy gave her a flat smile, “Small chance, but I guess that’s what this is for, huh?”

The nurse looked at her then, as if mulling over the words before she said something, “Small chance?”

“I mean, nothing is a hundred percent effective,” Bugsy tried to weasel her way out of the awkward conversation, because she had absolutely no intention of letting the nurse know her and Spencer had been at it like bunnies since the Hotch had forced them to take medical leave. Who knew having so much time on her hands with her very handsome boyfriend would have that effect?

The nurse pursed her lips, and already the woman felt like she’d said too much.

“Alright, we’re going to do a routine test, just need a quick urine sample,” Bugsy felt her cheeks heat, though she was in no position to argue. Her discomfort must have been more obvious than she thought, however, as the nurse went on to explain, “If I give you this implant and there’s a fertilised egg, it can lead to ectopic pregnancy, in which case you’ll need surgery. Trust me, honey, peeing in a cup is your easy option,”

She gave the practitioner a small nod, wondering if she needed to message Spencer to say she’d be running a little late. She knew he was likely doing the sudoku in the waiting room magazine, since he’d refused to let her come alone. And even though she’d told him she would be fine on her own, he’d seen through it, had even offered to get her ice cream on the way home for putting on a brave face.

And yet her face was nothing short of horror struck not even half an hour later when the nurse showed her the stick with empathetic eyes.

“Congratulations,” The woman said cautiously, a fake smile plastered on her face as the girl stared at her, utterly gobsmacked.

“But, I thought…” Bugsy stammered, running a finger over where the nurse had removed her implant, “But I had everything ready, I never let it get late, I did what I was supposed to,”

“You said it yourself, honey, nothing is a hundred percent effective besides abstinence-”

“That’s just what parents say to make sure their kids aren’t banging every Tom, Dick and Harry out there!” Bugsy was near screeching, the worry in her tone clear as a bell and her chest hot with panic.

Pregnant. She was pregnant, there was no way she could be…

Except there was exactly a way she could be, seeing as she struggled even on a dry spell to keep her hands off Spencer longer than a few days at a time. And he was just as bad.

The nurse huffed, rifling through her drawers for a handful of pamphlets. She passed them to Bugsy whose mouth was still bobbing with more expletives she held herself back from saying, and it wasn’t until she saw the happy couple on the front of the first one, holding a very swollen and round bump that she thought she might be sick.

Comical timing, she hissed at herself.

“There are always options, sweetheart. Abortion is legal in Virginia, if that is what you decide, however there is always information and support that we recommend looking into before you make a solid decision,” Her response was professional even though her expression was compassionate, and Bugsy knew she must have looked scared because that was exactly how she felt and she had little to no room to hide it.

Abortion? Is that what she wanted? Except it wasn’t just about what she wanted, it was what Spencer wanted too. Even if he would argue against that being the case in a heartbeat, even if he would tell her she had every right to be the only one to make a decision, no matter what he thought. But maybe it wasn’t so much about needing his opinion for that reason, and more it was because she had absolutely no clue what to do and Spencer was always good at making sense of the things she didn’t know how to deal with.

She nodded silently, her mouth dry as sandpaper as she took the leaflets and stuffed them in the bottom of her purse where she hoped Spencer wouldn’t go looking.

She barely remembered standing on liquid legs, barely remembered the way her chest felt tight and her head spun as she thought of the fact her body had a baby growing inside it.

No, it wasn’t a baby. Not yet. It was likely the size of a grain of sand, miniscule. That wasn’t a baby, that was nothing.

But it would be. Eventually. It would be hers and Spencer’s baby.

And she wanted to tell him, wanted to tell him the second she saw him there in the waiting room, his head shooting up the second the door opened and she left looking a little ill and shaken.

“All done? Everything go as normal?” He preened, standing immediately as she neared him, his hand immediately weaving around her shoulder to pull her close by. Gently, ofcourse, because she had a big, fat bandage where her implant should have been.

“Y-yeah,” She stammered, hoping he didn’t hear the shake in her throat. Yet she knew immediately that he did. Because he leaned in to give her a delicate kiss to her forehead not even a moment later, “C-can we go straight home, I’m not feeling ice cream anymore,”

He looked worried, as anyone who knew her would because Bugsy turning down free pudding was a blaring red siren in his eyes.

“Yeah, sure,” He said, stroking a gentle hand over the side of her head and leading her where he’d parked the car.

And it was that worry, the same cloud that hung over him for months with Scratch and his mom and the Dirty Dozen and everything else that was put onto his shoulder that made her shut her mouth right then and there. He didn’t need one other thing to contend with, not when he was already carrying the weight of the world.

And so she wouldn’t tell him. Not yet at least.

MONTH TWO. The one with the scan.

“Spence, would you stop worrying, I’m sure everything will be fine,” She urged in the gentlest tone she could muster. Yet she was a hypocrite, because she felt her hands shaking as she sat in the chair, trying to adjust her sleeves for something to do and Spencer stopped his leg from bouncing.

Looking over at her, he sighed, holding out a large palm and weaving her fingers in between his and she flicked a look over at him, her own eyes nervous.

“I’m sorry,” He gave her a guilty smile, “If it helps, it’s half excitement too,”

And she smiled then, shaking her head as he squeezed her hand gently.

“Me too,” She confessed, looking down at her stomach that didn’t seem all too different than usual. She’d felt a few symptoms up until this point, a bit of nausea but that was nothing she couldn’t handle, headaches here and there. But it wasn’t anything exactly life changing that she’d expected when she’d always thought of pregnancy.

If anything, none of it felt real quite just yet. Having only been a few weeks since she’d told Spencer, they’d spent the majority of the time searching for houses and appointments and gynaecologists and neonatal care, and whenever they were free, they were trying to get used to the idea of the two of them as parents.

“Did you know they’re around half an inch long by now,” Spencer said, his hazel eyes falling to where her shirt hid her stomach that had yet to change no matter how many times he stared at it, “About a third of that is made up of their head,”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” She shrugged, stroking her thumb along the edge of his pinky finger, “It’s your kid, they’re going to have biggest brain out there,”

He snickered, lifting her hand to press a kiss to the back of it softly, “If they have even half your brains, we’re going to be raising the next Galileo,”

“Mr and Mrs Reid,” Their heads shot up at the midwife, Bugsy fumbling for words to correct him as the two of them stood up to greet him with bashful smiles. She didn’t need to look at Spencer’s face to know he’d gone bright red.

“It’s uh, Prentiss-Reid,” Spencer spluttered as they entered and the nurse looked again at his chart with wide eyes, his cheeks a little pink himself and he ushered the two of them into his office with a smile.

“So it is, I do apologise,” He said earnestly, holding a hand out to gesture Bugsy to sit on the reclining bed, “I hate to stereotype, but usually when dad books the appointments, its because their wives are already doing a hundred other things,”

“It’s okay, it happens,” She said with an awkward chuckle, avoiding Spencer’s eyes because they still hadn’t had that talk. Even though she knew her mother would frown at her grandchild being born a bastard, she didn’t care much for Elizabeth’s opinion. It wasn’t like marriages had ever led to good things for her mother anyway.

She hopped up onto the examination cot, her heart quivering just the slightest in worry because the smell of bleach and rubber made the whole thing real. Until then, having a grain of rice growing inside her seemed like a fever dream since she’d only had a handful of side effects, throwing up could have easily been passed off as bad chicken, the head aches could have just been her eyes straining from using her computer too much.

“Okay, everything feels okay, Mom? Nothing concerning at all?” And then the midwife said things like that, mom, and the part of her that almost forgot she was pregnant came to a screeching halt.

She’d be a mom. Someone would call her mom. The thought of it made her suck in a breath.

“Uh, no.” She cleared her throat and felt Spencer grab her hand, “Morning sickness is kicking my ass, but nothing worrying,”

The nurse chuckled, and she felt Spencer rubbing his thumb over the back of her palm, his eyes burning into the side of her head.

“Well, if it’s alright, I need you to lift your shirt up a little so we can have a see what’s going on,” He said with a kind smile, and she realised then he’d slipped latex gloves over his hands, and brandished a bottle of gel.

She nodded absently, doing as he said and lifting her shirt to sit under her breasts, drawing the hem of her skirt down so he had a space to apply. And the second he did she sucked in breath through her nose, the cold of the air conditioning chilling her to her marrow, and she tried telling herself that’s why her hands were shaking.

She felt Spencer’s fingers curve through her hair, and she reminded herself to breathe, looking over at him with nervous eyes she hoped he didn’t see straight through. But judging by the way he scooted the chair forward and gave her an encouraging smile, she guessed he’d seen the flicker of doubt in an instant.

“It’s okay, it’s going to be fine,” He murmured, his own fear buried deep somewhere she couldn’t see anymore the second she had been the one to look to him for help. She knew she wanted this, knew she’d always dreamed of Spencer and her having their happily ever after. She knew whenever she’d let herself think of a little boy with chocolate curls and hazel eyes that she wanted all of that and more.

But it was all so… real. Like seeing a movie come to life, and she was starring centre stage. Her body wasn’t a disposable shell that held thirty plus years of stupid mistakes and regrets and tattoos she’d decided she hated now. Her body had a whole other human inside it.

The midwife clicked the machine on, the transducer wand ready in his hand as he gently put it on her lower stomach, barely a few centimetres from her panties, and she wondered why they showed the wand roaming over the woman’s belly button on tv shows since that was entirely wrong and not nearly as embarrassing. She let out a shaky breath, and Spencer stroked her head again, forcing her to give him an unsure look, like she was trying to calm herself for his sake but couldn’t.

His eyes were anxious though he squeezed her again with a smile and she saw it immediately, like he too was trying to be brave for her.

She had never loved him so much.

“Apologies for the shock, I know the gel can be a little cold,” The nurse said with a grin, and it was only then she realised the screen had lit up with a black and white image, one she’d seen a thousand times when she’d studied neonatal procedures for her degree.

She knew that was her womb lining, and that was the amniotic fluid and that right there-

Bugsy froze, and judging by the way Spencer’s hand tightened around her own, he had too. She felt her mouth drop with a laugh of shock, and she sat up slightly to take a closer look at the monitor.

“And there is baby,” The midwife said, his expression warming as he watched Spencer’s stand up to lean over the bed, not once letting go of the woman’s hand, the two of them utterly enraptured in the screen, “Probably about the size of a raspberry,”

And Bugsy laughed, her eyes lined with tears as she looked up at Spencer’s equally wetted hues. He was grinning from ear to ear when he looked down at her, and it wasn’t long before he brought his lips to her forehead, his nose and throat burning with a held cry.

“Do you hear that? A whole raspberry already?” She said, her voice wobbling and he giggled, sitting back in his seat and rubbing his cheeks with his sleeve. “I am good at this cooking thing, might as well call me an easy bake oven,”

Spencer shook his head with another chuckle, his eyes trailing back to the little blob on the screen that looked more like a toy alien than anything else, and held her hand between both of his like he was in prayer.

Because Spencer never believed in anything sacred and divine until he met Bugsy.

MONTH THREE. The one where they tell everyone.

“What are you doing?” Bugsy jumped out of her skin as JJ all but materialised behind her. She looked over her shoulder guiltily, her hand still half way through pouring out her mug of coffee Derek had handed her before he left to get lunch.

She turned to see the blonde with her own steaming mug of decaf in her hands. She’d been taking the lack of caffeine much better this time around since having a second baby to breastfeed, considering she was nothing short of evil when she’d had Henry, which had been Spencer’s words not Bugsy’s. And it wasn’t as if the woman could blame her. She was grouchy when she didn’t get her regular dose even before being pregnancy, Derek had once gotten a kick to the shin when he’d disturbed her on a day she’d been too busy to grab one on her way to the office.

She was a fiend for the bitter god. And everyone knew it. Which was exactly why JJ’s eyebrows were all but raised into her hairline seeing the girl who would usually be in the stages of withdrawal by now tipping the drink away.

“Uh, the milk tasted funky,” She excused, though the way JJ narrowed her eyes at the poor excuse told her it hadn’t passed by a mile.

“Right, the milk that Hotch picked up this morning?” JJ pursed her lips, sliding her own mug onto the side and jutting her hip.

And as if he were summoned, Hotch sidled up to the kitchenette, Rossi and Tara hot on his heels as they flicked through some paperwork, and his head shot up the minute he heard his name.

His eyes trailed to where the girl flipped her mug upside on the drying rack, and his brow furrowed.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, and she huffed in response, wiping her hands on her jeans.

“Yes, I’m fine,” She grumbled, shaking her head, “I don’t know what you’re all so wound up about, it’s not like I’m dying, I just don’t feel like coffee today-”

“Oh my god,” Penelope gasped where she crept behind Hotch with her very favourite octopus mug in tow, one that was nearly thrown to the floor when she heard the words pour from the girl’s mouth, “Are you sick? Like in the body or in the head? Rossi, check her pulse, I’m going to get a thermometer-”

“Pen, I’m fine,” She said unconvincingly and she tried to skirt past the group that seemed to have her surrounded. Seeing Spencer pulling up the rear in search of lunch she felt herself sigh in relief, because he would think of a much better excuse than she ever could.

She had barely been able to keep her mouth shut for the months they had been secretly dating, and had relished in the peace it brought her when everyone knew. But the midwife had said it was common to keep things under wraps at least until the first trimester was over. Apparently the million of questions that were sure to be heading their way would cause her unnecessary stress, though she’d argue having to sneak to the sink every morning and dispose of a delicious looking coffee was torture enough.

“What’s up?” Spencer asked as she ducked towards him, his hand consciously wrapping around her waist, and she huffed again, looking to him with a silent plea.

“They’re profiling me,” Bugsy said, and he felt his gut knot because he should have known it wouldn’t be long before they caught on. It was their job to pick apart out of the ordinary behaviour, and Bugsy going teetotal on caffeine was definitely something of a head turner.

“I told you that diet would cause a stir,” He joked, hoping they bought his pathetic attempt of an excuse, as he gave her side a gentle squeeze, and hoped that he could lead her back to her desk like she was a lost little lamb being prowled upon by nosy wolves that rarely took no for an answer.

And it almost worked, almost, until JJ snapped her fingers and pointed at his wandering hand.

“See that, that is the fourth time you’ve been all touchy and weird this week,” The blonde surprised, her brows furrowing, “Bugsy hates PDA, usually by now she would have whacked you over the head and called you a perv,”

Bugsy smashed her lips together because she couldn’t exactly disagree with her. That’s exactly what she usually did. Usually would tell Spencer to stop being so horny in a place of work even if she felt her cheeks heat at the delicate grabs of her stomach fat.

But whether it was the little bean now around the size of a small lemon that had made her mellow and affectionate, or whether the lack of caffeine really was making her feel vulnerable, she wasn’t sure. And the whole thing was only made worse by Hotch’s eyes burning into the side of her, and she felt the trail of his gaze head straight for her stomach.

“Come to think of it, I only saw you with a lime and soda at Savannah’s birthday last week,” Rossi pointed out, wagging his finger in her direction, his brown hues widening in thought, “When Penelope asked if you wanted tequila you said-”

“I’m all tequila-ed out,” Penelope chimed in with the same frown, “But that can’t be, when have you ever been tequila-ed out, that’s like impossible, even that night we had to help Spencer get you in the shower because you’d thrown up everywhere you were demanding more,”

She felt her cheeks heat thinking about her twenty ninth birthday, or atleast the parts of it she could remember of it before the rest of the gaps were filled with black spaces of time that she guessed had been robbed from her by the shots she piled on.

“Maybe I just didn’t feel like tequila, can a girl not live in the moment?” She tried to rebuttal, only Penelope gave her a blank look that told her to try again because the Bugsy she knew would slap her for saying something so dumb. She opened her mouth to correct her again, but Hotch beat her to it.

“You know Hayley got really affectionate a couple months into being pregnant,” The man said, his eyes swirling with something proud and warm when he saw Bugsy’s head flick to him like she’d been caught red handed, which they had. “Though, if you ask me I think she was just a little sorry for herself that I took the coffee away,”

There was a beat of silence, and the room held its breath. Even Tara, who had only known them the best part of a few months raised her hand to her mouth in shock, and Bugsy shot a look at Spencer in utter defeat.

“We tried,” She said with her shoulders shrugging, and it was then that the office was filled with a piercing scream that turned a fair few heads and the infamous octopus mug was thrown clear across the kitchen floor, one of his tentacles snapping clean off.

“OH MY GOD, IT’S TRUE? YOU’RE PREGNANT?” Penelope wailed like a banshee, and Bugsy couldn’t help but break into a smile, nodding at the woman who screeched again and yanked her in for a tight hug, “Oh my god, there's going to be three of you, three geniuses, three little einsteins that I want to smush together and kiss all over-”

“Garcia, I think she needs air if she’s going to make another little genius,” Rossi said, and the tech analyst pulled away aghast, cupping Bugsy’s face that was still grinning ear to ear with a chuckle.

“Oh my god, I didn’t hurt you did I? Or the baby- Oh my god there’s a baby in there!”

Hotch wrapped a rare yet tender arm around Spencer’s shoulder, giving him a little pat and a “Congratulations” while Rossi smiled knowingly between the couple and JJ had her turn smothering Bugsy in a tearful hug.

And by the time Derek had walked into the office with his everything bagel hanging between his teeth and a tea in his hands, his onyx hues fell to Penelope, JJ and Bugsy exchanging weepy words while Tara handed them tissues with her own sparkling eyes.

“What fresh hell did I miss?”

MONTH FOUR. The one where she starts looking different.

She huffed, her fingers gripping the edge of her jeans and yanking them up her thighs as far as they would go. She felt like everything had shrunk in the wash, or like she was trying on a doll’s wardrobe. Surely she hadn’t gained that much weight in just a few months, but then again she’d been all but living off chocolate pudding cups since the Bean decided it wanted sugar, sugar and more sugar.

She grunted in annoyance, her arms and back aching where she was leaning over to pull at the infernal things. She barely had a second to pout childishly, before kind hands were wrapping around her stomach and a mouth kissed at her neck tenderly.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” His voice was honey sweet, thick and goopy with love overflowing as he pulled her to his chest, his hand caressed the bump that seemed to be getting in the way of her and her favourite jeans. Spencer knew she tried to ignore the symptoms that almost every woman felt during pregnancy, he knew she compared herself to how JJ had handled both pregnancies gracefully and looked better than ever even as a mother of two. He knew she hated complaining because she didn’t want him to think she was miserable carrying their kid, but god was she getting sick of her clothes pinching her in.

“I’m getting fatter,” Bugsy grumbled, her eyes darting to the vivid lines that had deepened into the crease of her hips within a few weeks and she winced, “I’m not even halfway, how does this kid want to eat pudding all the time?”

Spencer frowned, shaking his head slightly because he refrained from telling her what a silly statement it was, knowing it would only make her feel worse, and instead pressed delicate kisses to her jaw, squeezing her closer. He’d noticed the stretch marks, just as he’d noticed her face and hips gathering weight a bit more than usual, and was just grateful there was even more Bugsy to love.

“You’re eating for two, you’re literally growing a whole life inside of you. I think that is more than enough grounds to eat whatever you want,” He murmured, biting the inside of his cheek when she sighed as though she didn’t believe him, “Honey, clothes are replaceable. What your body’s trying to do is create a little bubble around you and this little pudding fiend so you can feed them when they’re out here,”

Bugsy knew he was right. She’d spent well over a hundred hours researching hormone levels and how pregnant bodies are changing all hours of the day to accommodate the foetus, she knew it was normal for things to look different. Had it been on anyone else she wouldn’t have batted an eye. But it didn’t make the sting of seeing her body morph into one she didn’t recognise any less harsh.

“I know,” She hummed somewhat defeated, turning in his arms to press her face in his neck, “I just didn’t expect it to happen so fast is all,”

Spencer smiled warmly, because every day he thought she had gotten impossibly prettier. He hadn’t believed in ‘pregnancy glow’, in fact he’d chalked it down to some sort of innate scientific survival tactic that associated a vulnerable woman with looking angelic, at least not until he’d woken up to see her stomach protruding from her pyjama top in a clear curve shape and he thought her face looked like she should be in some Monet painting, dozing in a field like a wide eyed doe.

“I know, it’s a lot for anyone to go through. But you know I’m so grateful for you,” Spencer said, and he felt her smile without even seeing it. Her fingers wove into his hair at the nape of his neck, kissing a trail up his chest because he suspected she looked somewhat embarrassed. “Besides, I’m not complaining. It means I get to do this,”

She felt two large hands grab at the fat of her bum cheeks and she squeaked in surprise, even though she heard him laugh in her ear at her reaction. That had been another thing she’d noticed, and how could she not. Penelope said just the other day that she was ‘baking a bun in the oven and cake in the trunk’ with a little wink, and she’d had to excuse herself quickly for lack of a response.

And Spencer wasn’t lying. He wasn’t complaining with any of it, not by a long shot.

MONTH FIVE. The one with the mood swings.

“So you guys really don’t want to know the sex?” JJ asked, sipping on her tea as she chatted with Bugsy who was balancing biscuits on top of her now protruding stomach. It was as if overnight the baby had stretched out enough to make themselves a damn penthouse suite in Bugsy’s tummy.

“We want it to be a surprise, either way we’re going to love the little bean, even if they do keep kicking my bladder at four am,” She said, balancing the tenth cookie on the tower she’d made, reaching over carefully for another one, “I swear if the bean kicks my cookie tower I’m giving them a hideous name,”

“It’s good to feel the baby kicking at this stage, it helps develop their joints and bones so they’re stronger when they’re born.” Spencer inputted helpfully as he slid a fresh mug of decaf tea over to her desk.

“Next time the baby kicks your uterus walls, Spence, gimme a shout and we’ll discuss how great it is,” Bugsy said with a small smile and he paused, looking at JJ as if he was caught in a trap, suddenly well aware of his mistake.

“Point taken,” He conceded quietly, and JJ chuckled because she’d seen Will just as hesitant to piss her off in both of her pregnancies. And she knew Bugsy would never hold it against him, that Spencer’s head just ran away from him sometimes.

She halted her little game and carefully leaned over to draw the mug to her lips, too impatient to wait for it to cool down fully and she barely spotted Derek swooping around the corner of the desk.

“Good morning, Mommies and Daddy Genius,” He greeted in that chirpy tone, his hand snatching up the top cookie and scarfing it down before she could protest.

Bugsy shared her snacks all the time, it was a no brainer that they took a bite here and there out of each other's goodies before they could get a smack to the wrist. And Derek had certainly noticed a few of his Rolos missing the last time he bought a pack, and a particularly cheerful Bugsy smirking at him over her desk.

It wasn’t a huge deal, and yet Bugsy sat up in a gasp, and the entire biscuit tower fell to a crumbling mess on the floor.

“Well done, princess, Hotch is going to-” Derek stopped mid sentence when he saw her sniffle, and his eyes widened at the sight of her eyes glistening with tears, “Bugsy- are you okay-”

“My cookies! Derek!” She whined pitifully, and she buried her face in her hands, “My cookies, I was so going to eat the shit out of those, they were gonna be so good, Derek,”

Morgan looked gobsmacked, his head whipping between the woman leaning against the desk with an understanding smile and Spencer who was already rubbing her shoulders with his lips smashed together, trying not to laugh.

“Honey, it’s okay, he didn’t mean to,” Her partner tried to coo, though he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the way Derek scrambled to draw out his wallet.

“I’ll get you more, Bug, I swear, they sell them by the deli down the street, right?” He asked, jittering in his bones because he’d never made her cry before. He worried or a moment Hotch might just put him on sabbatical leave for such an offense. Emily would probably fly to Virginia just to cave his skull in, “I’m sorry, I’ll go get more, I’ll even get you strawberry milk-”

“Chocolate milk,” She wailed, and JJ slid a box of tissues over to the pitiful girl with a silent snicker. She remembered all too well the feeling of unexplained emotion crashing over her, and she didn’t doubt that the tough faced Bugsy would be back to normal any moment soon.

“Chocolate milk, got it,” Derek said, with a nod, and he all but darted for the elevators, in a hurry Spencer somewhat suspected was down to the fact he feared for his life if Penelope got a whiff of what happened.

Bugsy sniffled for a moment, drawing a tissue out the box and dabbing her eyes sullenly, her feelings slightly worse for wear even if she had a small inkling of doubt that she was really so torn up about the cookies as her body made it seem.

But she had been thinking about them all morning; made herself promise she would only eat them once she got the stack fifteen high at least.

“Are you okay, baby?” Spencer asked, his gaze empathetic as she snuffled her sobs into the palm of her hands. He wasn’t too worried, even if he hated seeing her cry just as much as anyone else did. And it wasn’t that he didn’t take her seriously. But when she’d been crying just that morning because her shower gel spilled on the floor and tipped almost all the way out, or even when she’d stepped on a snail walking into the building and smushed it into the ground, effectively killing it, he seemed to be getting used to her mood swings.

She sniffed woefully, “I was really looking forward to those, and now I think I was too mean to Derek and…” Her eyes glistened with fresh tears, and the sight of it made Spencer sigh, leaning forward to kiss the side of her head because it must be difficult being so out of your usual self for nine months.

“And what?” He prompted softly. Only she burst out crying again, reaching forward to drag him into a hug that told him she was feeling extra sorry for herself.

He wouldn’t blame her. Would sit through every weep and sob and tantrum if it meant he got to show her even more times over that he loved her endlessly.

However he did have to hold in the giggle when she wailed; “I think I really do want strawberry milk,”

MONTH SIX. The one with the false labour.

She had been in Hotch’s office when she felt it.

Embarrassingly so, her first thought was trapped gas. She’d gotten a lot of that considering the baby had decided it craved spice, and had been planning to excuse herself when it felt like her whole abdomen seized as if she’d been hit with a particularly nasty period cramp.

Her hand flew to her stomach where she sat with Hotch reviewing her latest reports, the same quarterly check the whole team was mandated to have with their boss since Cruz became section chief. Hotch didn’t miss a beat, the folder in his hand hitting the desk in an instant as he tensed, looking at her with caution.

“Are you alright?” He asked, and she held her breath for a moment. Spencer was out with Rossi giving a lecture in Washington DC, JJ had the day off for her mom’s birthday, Penelope and Morgan were taking Tara to lunch to show her a few more of their regular spots. It was just them and Anderson in the office for the next few hours, possibly the worst time out of any to have an empty floor.

“Yeah- I just, woah,” Her stomach gave another lurch of a painful twist and her hand slapped on the table to keep herself steady. She breathed through the pain, because she’d had much worse only that wasn’t what was making her heart race. It was fear. Because she wasn’t due for another twelve weeks at least, and while she’d heard of baby’s being born as premature as six months, she knew premy babies suffered major complications later on, let alone the stress their body goes under during the actual birth.

Bean, as the team had affectionately named the baby since the couple had firmly decided they didn’t want to know the sex, was about the size of red cabbage, tiny in the scheme of things even though it felt like just a few minutes ago they were a grain of rice.

“Okay, it’s okay, stay calm,” Hotch said in a smooth voice, gentle yet reassuring as he rounded his desk in a flash and put his hand on her shoulder, “Do you feel like you need to use the toilet? Any back ache or irritability?”

Bugsy breathed out through her nose as her lungs jittered with nerves, “N-no, I don’t need the bathroom, why would that matter?”

Aaron stroked a large kind hand down her spine, watching her face scrunch in pain for a second time, and he slowly began directing her towards the door, taking small steps so she wasn’t rushing. “Needing to use the bathroom is an early sign of labour, it’s your body's way of helping expand your pelvis to accommodate the head. Any back ache or frustration at all?”

He didn’t care that he’d had to repeat himself, not even when he was usually so against it, because he could feel the own unease rising in his throat like bile even if he tried to keep his face as neutral as possible.

He would be damned if he let her see how worried he was, and so he swallowed heavily, holding his other hand out for her to take when they approached the stairs. Anderson was on his feet in seconds when he saw his unit chief leading the woman with a tightly concealed frown, fumbling around for his phone.

“Agent Prentiss?” He exclaimed, darting around the mess of chairs and paper and desks to approach them, “Would you like me to call Dr Reid? An ambulance, perhaps?”

“She's alright, I’m driving her to the ER, thank you Anderson,” Aaron responded politely, his hand still resting on her back, and the agent nodded, digging around for his keys.

“I can drive, if you’d like to ride in the back with her,” Grant offered with worried eyes as Bugsy’s face crumpled in agony again, and Hotch’s head whipped to her, and his composure crumbled for a moment.

“Bugsy, hey, it’s okay, we’re gonna be okay, honey,” He cooed, and Anderson was quick to open the glass doors, “Did you pack a bag at all-”

“No, Spencer told me I should but I said it was too early, why is that man always right,” She grumbled, her footsteps weary and jittery as the three of them got into the elevator.

Hotch fought a smile, trying to remember everything he’d memorised before Hailey had Jack. The 5-1-1 rule blared through his head, and he glanced at his watch for a fraction of a second, and he wondered for a moment if he was going to have to write off a company vehicle for the fact his youngest agent gave birth in the back seat.

“I’m afraid that’s just how Reid operates,” Hotch said, pulling his phone out to dial the man in question and let him know where they were headed, “It’s probably nothing, Hailey was getting cramps all the time once she reached her third trimester, but we’ll get you checked out to be safe,”

“Really?” She looked at him with pitiful eyes and he nodded with a tight smile, committing to his illusion of calmness even if he swore he hadn’t felt so scared in months.

Because it wasn’t just Bugsy anymore, it was Bugsy and her baby. Her and Reid’s baby. The two people who deserved their happy ending more so than anyone else he knew.

And he felt her hand slip into his then as she accepted his answer, in fact she didn’t let go the entire time she waited on Spencer and Aaron was in no rush to leave her side. Even when she lay back on the table and had the midwife checking everything over, he stayed by her head (no doubt to avoid a very awkward conversation), stroked her hair when she fretted through a few more cramps, even when Spencer burst in through the door with Morgan at his heels looking like the two of them had just ran a marathon.

“Is everything okay- what’s wrong- do you need fluids- do you need ice-” Spencer rushed on his odd breath, his chest puffing with inhales, and he pretended he wasn’t seeing stars floating across his vision.

“I’m assuming by your reaction you’re dad,” The nurse said, pulling off the blue gloves and dropping her mask from her mouth.

“Yes, he is, he’s dad,” Morgan filled in for him as Spencer all but fell back against the wall, because he really should have drank something other than soda and coffee this morning. He was close to swaying on his feet when he stepped over to his girlfriend, and she took his hand in the her own, or atleast the one that wasn’t occupied by Hotch’s tight hold.

“Don’t worry, everything is alright with mom and baby,” She said, noting down a few things on her chart and the four of them took an audible sigh of relief, “Braxton Hicks contractions are very common in your final trimester, it probably felt like a lot because your baby is moving to into the anterior position ready for birth,”

Bugsy’s head flopped back against the pillow in comfort and she forced herself to take a few deep breaths, willing her heart rate to go back to normal. Braxton Hicks, she should have known. Her head had been fuzzy the past few weeks as it was, but she supposed the moment she’d thought there might be something wrong with the Bean, all of her logic had flown out the window.

But at least she’d had Hotch to keep her level headed, and-

“Oh my god, Anderson,” She jolted up, her legs stuck in the stirrups the midwife had place her into while she examined everything, “We need to tell Anderson, the poor guy was so worried,”

Hotch chose not to tell her he’d seen Anderson go as white as a ghost the second she’d turned her back, and instead patted her leg as Spencer went to speak to the midwife a little more, no doubt picking apart every single symptom she’d presented in that huge, worried head of his.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Anderson is fine, honey,” He said earnestly, and she looked at him like a kicked puppy, entirely sorry for the panic she’d caused, “Let’s just get you your underwear back, huh?”

MONTH SEVEN. The one where they decorate the nursery.

“What about Elias,”

“Veto,”

Bugsy pulled a shunned expression as she carefully rolled the wallpaper up the wall.

“Mason? Niko, stop,” She proposed, one hand on the wall while using the other to push the nosey feline away from the wet paste she’d been brushing on the wall.

He sat politely at her chide, blinking at her with those big eyes as he watched her work with a twitching tail, almost entertained at the woman who had ballooned up in just a few weeks struggling to do a relatively easy task.

“Hmm, Mason can go on the bench,” Spencer responded where he was sitting at the other end of the wall doing the same thing only much faster, though she’d argue it was a little easier since he wasn't carrying a large coconut strapped to his stomach.

They’d left the apartment just two weeks ago. Derek had been the one to help them cart their small amount of furniture into the modest house on the outskirts of West Springfield. It was large by Spencer’s standards, even if Bugsy had seen what grandeur looked like in her own childhood homes, but it didn’t matter. Because walls and floors and fancy grand pianos had never bought her love. Yet the first evening they’d spent in their new home they had slept on a mattress on the floor, the list of things to do the following day rattling around their heads. But they had a home. They had the picket fence with the nice school down the road and the bus stop within eyesight of the kitchen where their kid would one day walk to their door with a book bag and glasses like Spencer’s.

She had never felt like she belonged somewhere until she had a home with him.

“What about Ada for a girl?” Spencer called over his shoulder, where he had almost caught up to where she was still working on the small patch of wall. The paper was proving frustrating for her swollen fingers, considering the entire thing, when put together, made up a mural of little woodland creatures amidst a forest and left zero room for error, “Named after Ada Lovelace, the woman who pioneered computers,”

Considering it for a moment, she nodded, “That’s pretty. Ada makes top ten,”

Flipping the last part up to stick against the thick glue, she ran her hands over the seams to be sure it aligned perfectly with the rest of the picture. Satisfied when it matched and a little fox stared down at her, she smiled, tilting her head up where Spencer was standing over her, watching her concentrate.

“All done!” She chirped, and he bent down to give her a kiss to her puckered lips, sliding a hand beneath her arm to help her up.

“Looks perfect, you’re really carrying the team honey,” He mused as she got to her feet with a little whine, wrapping her arms around his middle in a proud hug.

“I know, what would you ever do without me?”

He laughed, looking at her with an adoring gaze.

The light cracked through the open window, laying over her face delicately. The house was still bare, still in need of carpets and a good dusting, still had leaky pipes and ants in the pantry. Yes, they had a pantry now. But it was a start. It was a home.

“I say we leave the cradle for another day, baby is calling for frozen grapes again,” She said, rubbing a hand over her protruding belly button and he smiled. Spencer could have sworn he was the luckiest guy in the world when he called her his friend. He thought maybe he should have bought a lottery ticket the same day she told him she loved him. The day she became his girlfriend he thinks he may have died and the past three years have been purely a dream.

But watching the breeze kiss her cheeks and stroke her hair, watching her eyes rove over the room that would keep their baby safe and warm in just a few weeks, even seeing her smile at him like he had handed her the whole universe in a box when she was the one growing a whole human inside her; Spencer felt like his life was so much better than he ever hoped it would be.

“Frozen grapes, coming right up,” He said, slipping his fingers in between his to help her down the winding staircase which had been a winner for her immediately. It’s like we have a castle, Spence. “You or the baby could ask for a whole damn ox and I’d give it to you.”

She laughed, holding onto the bannister as they headed downstairs to the kitchen that was in dire need of fresh paint.

“What if I said baby wants a holiday to Cancun and another cat,”

“I’d say baby is onto something there,” Spencer said, sweeping her from the final step and giving her a wet kiss to her head, “But first, grapes.”

MONTH EIGHT. The one where she gets cranky.

“Oh my god,” She groaned as she threw herself into her wheely chair, her button up shirt barely accommodating her stomach that was well and truly ready to pop.

Derek Morgan loved her, he truly loved her like she was one of his sisters, dare say he had loved her since that day he’d carried her out of the church she was held hostage in by Cyrus. He had seen her at her rock bottom, had seen her graduate with flying colours, had even put his job on the line for her; covered her back from a stupid mistake at a bar when she popped a little molly on government pay.

Derek loved her. He did. But the moment he saw her slump into her chair, her face scrunched up in frustration, he was collecting his mug of coffee and all but bolting for the door and heading straight for Penelope’s lair.

“Back pain again?” JJ asked, flitting past a very frantic Morgan and heading towards Rossi’s office with a stack of papers in her arms. Bugsy let out something close to a growl in return, and JJ took it as a yes.

“I swear I have been pregnant for years,” She huffed, barely reaching over to where her keyboard sat at her desk. Tara nudged it forward for her to grab, because it seemed like she was on her breaking point enough as it was, and received a brief nod of thanks “I can’t remember a time when my back didn’t hurt, or my boobs were aching or my head wasn’t all fuzzy and weird and- OH for the love of god SWITCH ON YOU PIECE OF SHIT,”

JJ’s brows raised as the keyboard mouse went flying off the side of her desk in protest, rolling straight past where Hotch and Spencer were strolling through the office, her boyfriend carrying the biggest Strawberry Milkshake he could find on this side of town.

If Hotch wanted to say anything about her damaging property, he thought it smarter to keep his mouth shut as she swivelled to face the two of them, her expression already irritated by the worried stare they shot her way.

“What?” She said with a bite, and Spencer raised his hands in surrender, which left her gaze to slide to Hotch.

And Hotch loved her too, loved her more than he would ever admit. But he swore he the second her eyes clamped on his, Aaron Hotchner considered an exorcism might be necessary.

“What, what are you staring at me for?” She snapped, throwing her hands out like a bratty teenager, and Hotch cleared his throat before he spoke, something embarrassingly close to fear shaking his vocal chords.

“Have you given any more thought to maternity leave, yet?” He asked and her eye twitched, and it was as if he saw the stapler was next on her list of things to send flying off the table, preferably straight at his head. “I would be more than happy to pull some strings so you take longer off after the baby is born, maybe even Spencer could start his paternity early-”

“What?” She said for a third time, like she was a broken record. And she knew she was being unfair, perhaps even cruelly so. But she would make it up to them later, when she was in a better frame of mind. Her underwear rode up and pinched where her uterus had begun to drop, her trousers itched for whatever reason, her face was hot from just walking from the elevator to her chair and that was just since she’d entered the office. She hadn’t got much energy for showers anymore and so washing her hair became some ugly affair where Spencer got in with her and did it for her, only last time he put a little too much product on and got the suds in her eyes and they had spent twenty minutes rinsing her face, naked and dripping wet, over the sink. She felt awful, awful for how she was being so irrationally rude, but it was like every inch of her being was uncomfortable. And there was still another month to go.

“Good god, man, don’t poke the bear,” Tara hummed as she passed, taking her own half full mug to the kitchen to escape whatever was rumbling in that hot head of hers.

Hotch swallowed heavily, noticing how Spencer stayed deadly quiet no doubt because he’d learned his lesson in trying to force Bugsy into doing something when she was like this, “I’m saying I think it would be good for you to take some time off, you’ve both worked hard enough as it is and with the baby being so close, it would be good to take it easy for a few weeks-”

She pressed her lips together, because she knew he was probably trying to help, probably trying to be considerate, and yet the heat of annoyance bubbled up inside her all the same like a kettle on the precipice of boiling.

“If you want the big scary pregnant lady out of your way just spit it out, Hotch,” She snapped, scowling at him in a way he remembered Hailey doing when he so much as sneezed too loud.

And he couldn’t find it in him to be mad at her. Because anyone with eyes saw she was uncomfortable, he knew if she was anything like his own ex-wife then she wouldn’t be sleeping nearly as much as she should, that more than likely their kid would be already kicking with long, scrawny legs to get out and show the world what they were made of.

Hotch was saved from the firing line when his guess was proved almost immediately, and she groaned with a hand to her abdomen.

“Spencer, would you tell your kid they’re not a linebacker and that my kidneys aren’t the damn ball,” She complained, and her partner flashed her a brave smile, leaning over her to rub where she was caressing her battered organs.

“Actually, right about here will be your spleen since the baby has pushed everything around at this stage-” And with that Hotch darted towards his office because Bugsy looked ready to clip someone around the ear, and he didn’t have the heart to write her up for it.

Although for the sanctity of his team, he rushed her documents through the same afternoon and gave her an extra four weeks pay in lieu of a truce.

MONTH NINE. The one with the birth.

It had been fourteen hours already when the doctor mentioned the word caesarean.

“Caesarean? We never planned for a C-section,” Bugsy’s eyes widened where she was intermittently sucking down gas and air, Spencer patting her forehead down with an ice wet cloth.

But then again she supposed she had never planned to go into labour when getting the laundry off the washing line while Spence painted the porch.

He looked at her with nervous hazel hues where her face sparkled with sweat and water, her hand squeezing him tightly as another contraction hit.

“I’m afraid we have few options left, Miss Prentiss,” The midwife said, a woman around her age that was already masked up after prodding around her cervix for a few hours, “Fourteen hours is rough on anyone and we’re not seeing any movement past your pelvis. Any longer and you or your baby might be at risk,”

And it was the truth, but it was a harsh one, and tears sprung to her eyes hearing those last few words. She had never had any delusions it would be easy giving birth, it was revered as the most painful thing anyone could go through, but she had assumed on a hope and a prayer that things would go smoothly.

“I know it’s scary,” Spencer found his voice after a second, their hands clasped tightly together because there was more chance of snow in hell than there was he was letting her do this alone, “But, baby, you’re doing so well, and you’re almost there,” He said in a watery sweet tone, dabbing at her brow once more and the two of them exchanged a teary look, “It’s going to be okay, you’re going to be okay, they’re going to numb you for the whole thing and when it’s over we’re going to have our baby, huh?”

She smiled ruefully because he was trying desperately to cheer her up, even though it sounded like he was reassuring himself just as much as he was her.

And she nodded, because she knew he was right, and more than anything she wanted their baby to be safe, even if it meant having her insides scooped out like she was some russian nesting doll.

“O-okay, yeah, c-can Spencer stay with me?” She asked nervously, and the midwife smiled, pressing a button to call for the anesthesiologist.

“Ofcourse, honey. Just try to relax, we’re going to arrange an epidural for you,” She said in a voice that told Bugsy she’d practised staying calm in an emergency a thousand times.

Bugsy breathed through her nose, feeling Spencer swoop in to wipe the lone few tears dribbling down her cheeks.

“It’s gonna be okay, we’re gonna be okay,” He said, his voice bustling with nerves and she wanted to tell him the same, wanted to tell him she loved him more than ever for trying to put a brave face on for her sake. But she couldn’t, so she nodded frantically, leaning her forehead against his cheek and taking a few more deep breaths.

–

“You’re doing great, honey, you’re being so brave,” Spencer reassured in his biggest voice, his hand carding over the side of her hot face gently. There was blood, there was so much blood, and the sound of her monitor was the only sound that was constant and not at all worrying with its steady heart beat.

The midwives were flitting around the room, the lead obstetrician making careful incisions and handing various things Spencer didn’t want to see over to his co-workers. Because he loved their baby already, couldn’t wait to meet the mini him he’d been dreaming about since he was a boy himself, but Bugsy needed him first. She was his everything, his whole life, his whole universe fading between clear consciousness and a slightly loopy gaze as she relaxed on the table.

“Is it over? Are they here, are they okay?” She slurred, looking over at him where his hair was covered in a blue scrub cap, his entire body wrapped in protective uniform to minimise the risk of infection on her body.

He cradled her face again, shaking his head, “Not yet honey, you’re doing so good, it’s nearly over,” Spencer said, pressing his brow against hers because he had a mask over his mouth and couldn’t kiss her properly, “I love you so much, I swear I’ll try every day of my life to repay you,”

“You’re being mushy, you’re freaking me out,” She joked as if she was her regular self, because the midwives had all warned him that the sedatives would take the edge off her nerves. And he chuckled, even if he was worrying enough for the two of them, sniffling behind the stuffy mask he had to keep on until she was in recovery.

“I’m sorry, baby, I just want you to be okay,” Spencer said earnestly, and he pressed a kiss to her head anyway even if she wouldn’t feel it with his mask, “I’m gonna get you so many milkshakes when this is-”

There was a wail behind the curtain they had draped over her stomach, and both their breaths stopped in their chests.

“Is that…” Bugsy started, her eyes wide and alert even if seconds ago she had been almost drunk, “Is that it- is that them?”

And another scream resounded around the room as if to answer her.

Spencer swore he had never felt tears well in his eyes so fast until one of the midwives brought a wriggling, wrinkly bundle around the curtain, and within seconds he felt his cheeks sodden with tears.

“Oh my god,” He said his smile reaching his eyes as the little creature was put on Bugsy’s chest, and it was only then he realised she was weeping too and he resumed his position stroking her head, “It’s a-”

“It’s a girl! Spencer, we have a girl!” Bugsy’s grin went from ear to ear, her eyes round and adoring at the ugly, scrunched face still screaming at them, her eyes closed and her skin covered in a white goop, “Oh my god, she’s so beautiful,”

“I told you she’d take after you,” Spencer said, not minding the nurses sewing Bugsy up as they stared at their little girl, Bugsy’s arms holding her body weight delicately though she didn’t quite know what she was doing.

Spencer was quick to remove the mask once they cleared him to, and the second he was freed he pushed his lips to his girlfriend’s, their mouths equally as salty and sodden as one another with the way their cheeks washed with tears. Pulling away, he looked at her in the eyes, the same eyes he’d always loved, the same eyes he’d know in any life, in any world, in any fog, and their smiles were damn near blinding.

“I love you so much, I swear I’m going to make it up to you, anything you want,” Spencer said, kissing her again, his hand resting over hers where she held their baby girl on her bare chest.

She didn’t have the heart to tell him she already had everything she’d ever wanted right there with her.

“I love you so much more, Spencer,” She said quietly, the two of them pulling away when the little girl squealed again and they chuckled, quickly rushing to calm her cries as they looked at her as if they had yet to realise she was real and she was theirs, “Oh my god Spencer, you’re a daddy,”

“Bugsy, you’re a mommy,” He said with raised brows and she gasped, giggling with glee as her free hand flew to grab his face and pull him in to kiss her again, “We’re a mommy and daddy,”

The two of them burst out laughing even though overjoyed tears lined their eyes again, and Spencer trailed a large finger down her chubby cheek softly, her skin shrivelled and pruney like she’d been submerged in a bath for too long.

“Spencer, she’s perfect,” She said after a moment, her breath completely stolen when she took her in, the small head completely covered in dark hair, which she had already suspected would be there from the amount of times she found herself itching at her stomach. Her tiny fists waved in the air as her sobs subsided, beginning to warm up to the skin on Bugsy’s chest, and Spencer audibly choked in a cry of his own when her eyelids slowly blinked open and revealed forest hues damn near identical to his own. He pushed his temple to Bugsy’s again as she carefully swayed her from side to side.

“I’m never going to let anything hurt you,” He murmured, his breath warm on her collarbone and his baby girl stared back at him like she understood, even though he knew that was pretty much impossible, “Either of you,”

Bugsy sniffled with a wobbly smile, her hands shaking as she held her daughter up, “Do you want to hold her?”

Spencer looked ready to wail all over again, not that she would ever hold it against him. The two of them had been weeping all day, and their kid was a real tear jerker to look at with her thick lashes and wide eyes.

He was quick to pop open his shirt, holding his hands out nervously as she placed the baby in his arms, his fingers supporting under her head the whole time he brought her to his chest.

Bugsy smiled, the midwife checking in with her for a moment before they were ready to wheel her into the other room to rest up, while Spencer looked entirely enamoured with the little bundle in his arms.

He was a dad. He had made this beautiful, perfect little girl with the woman he loved more than anything in the world, and somehow she had given him even more reasons to feel so lucky.

“Hello, you,” He said through bleary eyes, smiling through a chuckle when he saw just how tiny she looked in his arms, and he had never seen anything look so fragile, “I’m going to try be the best dad you could ever have, okay? I’m gonna be there for all the lame parties, and the sleepovers and the big games and every single time you need help on your homework, I’m gonna be right there with you.”

“What name are we putting on the chart?” The midwife asked as Bugsy watched Spencer murmur to the sweet face that looked up at him in wonder, “Or is it just Baby Girl Prentiss for the moment?”

“It’s Reid,” Bugsy said with a smile, as Spencer poured even more of his gentle heart out in promises she knew he would keep until the day he died. And she knew without checking with him the name they chose weeks ago was perfect; the one they’d decided on just a few days after the nursery was finished and she had yet another bowl of frozen grapes to chow down on while they admired their work.

One for his mother, one for Emily.

“Ana Emilia Reid,”

–

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