#but maybe you were closer than you thought

[a-casxandra]

❝𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫.❞ part 2

Caleb as your boyfriend x you (non-mc), birthday angst.

𝗖𝗮𝗹𝗲𝗯'𝘀 𝗽𝗼𝘃

Caleb had never noticed it before—not really.

The way your smile never quite reached your eyes these days. The way your fingers fidgeted in your lap when MC leaned a little too close. The way Gideon looked at you with something that resembled… pity.

He thought things were fine. You never complained. You were always understanding. Supportive. Gentle. So he convinced himself you were okay.

That night at the club, he hadn’t thought twice about offering MC his jacket. She was cold, drunk. He didn’t even see your bare arms shivering just inches away. Didn’t notice the way your lips pressed into a tight line when MC clung to him in her usual, tipsy way.

Didn’t realize how wrong it all looked—until much, much later.

It wasn’t until he saw Gideon hand you his jacket, and you hesitated, almost embarrassed, that something in his chest stirred. A flicker. Just a flicker.

He should’ve checked in.

But MC laughed, and his attention shifted again. It always did.

Caleb had always thought love would be obvious.

Loud. Chaotic. Unavoidable. Like the kind he saw in movies, or felt years ago, when he was young and stupid and MC was the girl next door with a crooked smile and dreams bigger than both of them.

But maybe that was the problem.

He didn’t realize love could also be quiet.

Like someone sitting on his right side all night.

Someone who didn’t need to speak to be loud.

Someone who didn’t cry even when he deserved to be yelled at.

He didn’t realize until you were gone.

Caleb noticed your silence the morning after his birthday.

No good morning kiss. No breakfast for two. No light footsteps moving through the kitchen.

Just... silence. The kind that made his chest tight.

He walked into the living room. Your phone was gone. So was your jacket. The dress from last night? Folded neatly on the chair.

His heart sank.

A note sat on the table, your handwriting small, almost apologetic.

> “Happy birthday again. I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye in person. Take care of MC. She needs you.”

He read it twice. Then again. And again.

Then he said your name out loud, like maybe if he spoke it enough, you’d answer.

You didn’t.

Day 2.

He texted.

No reply.

Day 3.

Called. Straight to voicemail.

Day 5.

He showed up at your workplace. Your co-worker said you took leave. “Needed space,” was all they offered.

Day 7.

Gideon found him sitting on the floor of his apartment, surrounded by takeout containers and empty glasses. “You look like hell,” Gideon said, pulling him up by the arm.

“I think she’s gone,” Caleb croaked. “For real this time.”

Gideon didn’t say I told you so. But the look in his eyes said everything. “You hurt her, man. You didn’t even notice. I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, but damn, Caleb… the way you looked at MC that night? You should’ve seen yourself.”

Caleb ran a hand through his hair, chest aching. “She’s just my childhood friend.”

“No,” Gideon said, dead serious. “She was your future. And you treated her like a seat-filler.”

One week later, Caleb finally found you.

You were at the park, sitting alone on a bench with a takeaway coffee cup in hand, face tilted toward the pale sun. You looked peaceful.

And he hated himself for wanting to disturb that peace.

Caleb stood there for a moment, just watching. Then took a slow step forward.

You noticed him before he could say your name. “I thought you’d be with MC.” Your voice wasn’t bitter. Just… tired.

Caleb winced. “She’s not the one I want to be with.”

Silence.

“I was stupid,” he continued, swallowing down the guilt. “I didn’t see what I was doing until you left.”

“No,” you said, calmly. “You saw. You just didn’t care until I finally walked away.”

Caleb froze. Because you were right.

And it hurt. Because he deserved it.

“You looked at her like she was the only one in the room,” you whispered. “And I was there the whole time, Caleb. I was there.”

He stepped closer, voice raw. “You have every right to hate me. But I—God, I miss you. I miss us. I’d do anything to fix it. Anything.”

You looked at him then. Eyes glassy, but steady. “And if MC called you drunk again tonight?" Your words were like a dagger. “If she needed you again? Would you leave me in the backseat again?”

“…No,” he whispered. “Not anymore.”

You nodded slowly, letting his answer hang in the air like fog. Then you stood, brushing off your coat. “I don’t want to be your second choice, Caleb. Not anymore. I loved you enough to accept crumbs. I loved you enough to believe your silence meant safety. But I love myself more now.”

His hands trembled, he didn't think twice as he sank down on his knees, kneeling infront of you. “Please. I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you—”

But you shook your head. “I don’t want you to make it up to me. I just want you to feel it.”

And with one last look, you turned and walked away.

Caleb kneeled there long after you disappeared, clenching his fist, throat burning.

And for the first time in years, Caleb finally understood:

𝗛𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗱𝗻’𝘁 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂.

𝗛𝗲’𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜.

soo here's caleb with my mc! (●'◡'●)

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being Zayne's non-mc significant other. part2

Imagine growing up, Zayne has never been the loudest in a room. He was more of a constant quiet yet present and warm person other could lean on into. He doesn't speak often but when he does, people listen. Especially you, his lover. The one who loved him before he even knew how to love himself.

Imagine the way he watched you across the room as the two of you where now separated by a small sea of people. His eyes out of habit looked and found you. He knew that look on your face, the kind of face that others would mistake as absentmindedness but he knew that look. But he recognized the way your brows softened when you are lost in your own thoughts. He knew you were thinking. About him, maybe. About what you two have.

Imagine the way he smile softly to himself, even as he turned back to the conversation. As a joke passed around the group, he let out a small laugh, not forced, but not full either. And then something caught his attention. A familiar laugh rang out from somewhere in the room. It was bright and child like, MC. She had always laughed like that, ever since they were kids. Zayne didn't need to turn his head to know where it came from. He already knew.

Imagine she had been under his care for a while now. Her recovery had been long but she was making progress. She was strong, even if she didn't believe it. And he? He was protective of her. Not in a romantic way, but in the way that an older brother might be for a younger sibling. But that didn't stop people from speculating. The familiarity between them, the shared glances of old memories they painted as a picture, people misunderstood too easily.

Imagine, he hated that you, his lover had to see that. Especially when he caught your eyes again. Your friend was sitting next to you speaking softly. He couldn't hear what your guys were saying, but the tension in your posture told him more than words ever could. Then you look at him. No, past him before looking away. That hurt more than he expected.

Imagine Zayne love you with everything he had. From the quiet moments to the loud. From the days were you two barely spoke to the nights were he held you like a lifeline. He love you. He never said it as much as he should have, but it was always there in his actions. The way he picked up your favorite drink on his way home. The way he listened to your ramble about your day even when his own had left him drained. The way his hand always found yours under the table, steady and sure.

Imagine he knew something had shifted. Not his love. Never his love. But your trust.

Imagine he knew what it looked like. The way his eyes drifted when MC laughed. The way he softened around her. But what no one else saw, what you did not seem to realize was that it wasn't love. It was duty. About family. MC was a girl he grew up with, a patient he'd watched fight her demons tooth and nail. She was a reminder, not a desire.

Imagine, he saw it in your eyes, the creeping doubt. The belief that you were nothing but a second place to someone who wasn't even playing the same game. That realization shattered him. He remembered the conversation you two had once, late at night, your head on his chest. "Do you think you could ever love someone more than you love me?" You asked, not accusing or something, just plain curiosity.

Imagine the way he had pulled you closer, kissing the crown of your head and saying "No, there's no one else for me. Only you.” He meant it. He still meant it. But something had crept in between the two of your lately. An invisible wall neither of you had placed but both felt. It was born from the silence. From the misunderstandings. From him not being careful enough with the way others saw his kindness, and you being too quiet about how much it hurt.

Imagine watching you smile faintly at a conversation you aren't really in, Zayne felt a pang of guilt. Not because he had done anything wrong but because he hadn't done enough to make you feel safe. Loved. Chosen.

Imagine the way he wanted to cross the room. Sit beside you. Take your hand in his and whisper 'It's only ever been you.' But the timing never seemed right and maybe, you wouldn’t believe it anymore. So he stayed seated. Eyes lingering just a little too long. Not on MC. But on you. The one who had seen him. Chosen him. And loved him with a kind of quiet bravery that both terrified and humbled him.

Imagine the way he swore to himself that he'd stop being silent. Stop letting the shadows of old relationships or misunderstood bond blurs the truth. He was yours. And he'll prove it, every day from here on out.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

:happy ending? Not quite. Sorry it took so long, I was playing valorant and was editing everytime I died.

[bbyg4rl]

stay the night . . .

cw: soft!protective!jj, fluff, hurt/comfort themes, implied alcohol-related trauma/panic response.

JJ’s already here by the time the sun dips below the rooftops, curled up in your bed like it’s his, hoodie half-zipped, cap tossed on your chair. He snuck in through the window with gummy worms and that crooked grin that always makes your chest feel a little lighter.

Now, he’s on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, the other lazily slung around your waist. Your cheek rests against his chest, rising and falling with each slow breath, and his fingertips trace soft shapes on the fabric of your shirt.

You’re talking about duck names. JJ had been insisting his duck be named “Quackson.” when you hear it—the sound of the front door slamming, a loud crash following it, like glass or something falling. Maybe both. Then, the sound of staggered, heavy footsteps, And slurred words you can’t make out.

You freeze, go still like someone hit pause on your whole body. Your fingers twitch where they were playing with the drawstrings on JJ’s hoodie. And then, you take a shaky breath.

It’s just a tiny movement. Barely anything.

But JJ notices.

His hand stops moving on your arm. His whole body stills too. You don’t look at him, you’re staring at your wall now, eyes wide, jaw tense, your shoulders curling in on themselves before you shake your head a little, brushing it off.

You try to keep going, voice shaky and thin. “I—um, I was saying, like, if I had a duck, I’d probably…uh…name her something dumb. Like Miss Quackers, or—or maybe…” Your words fumble, lose shape, crumble mid-thought. You’re trying to say something, anything, but the rhythm’s gone. You’re stuttering now, the syllables not quite making it out right.

JJ watches you for a second, chest tight. He knows that feeling. That crash. That kind of silence that comes right after, the kind that’s trying so hard to pretend everything’s fine. He’s felt it before.

He doesn’t say anything. Just shifts, gently guiding your head back to his chest and wrapping both arms around you. “C’mere. I got you.”

You let him pull you in. And the second your cheek hits his hoodie, it’s like your lungs forget how to work. Your breathing goes fast and shallow; uneven. But JJ doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t press. “Shh,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to your hair. “You’re safe. You’re okay. I promise. I’ve got you.”

Your fists twist into his hoodie and you nod, feeling him rock you slightly, swaying without even thinking. “No one’s gonna hurt you,” he says quietly, a little more serious now, “Not while I’m here.”

When you finally speak again, your voice is small and shaky against his chest. “Can you…stay tonight?”

JJ doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah, baby. ‘Course I can.”

You feel him shift a little, his hand brushing your back, his chin resting on top of your head now. You nod again, still pressed to his chest, and let out a breath that shakes a little less than before.

JJ tucks you even closer. “You don’t have to say anything. You don’t even have to think about it,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

You finally look up at him, and your eyes are glassy but no longer scared. Just tired. A little safer. “Thank you,” you whisper.

He squeezes your arm, thumb brushing slow circles to soothe after, “Always.”

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[himasgod]

hi! I would like to request a Leona x yuu/reader story/oneshot where do to a potion accident leona shrinks(he can now fit in your palm) and reader Takes care of him till it wears off orsomething inspired by The secret world of Arrietty(borrower au)✨😺

LEONA X READER

Where, due to an accident with a potion, Leona becomes tiny for a couple of days

Potions class was going mostly fine—until Cater dropped an entire vial of powdered moonflower root into your shared cauldron.

One puff of smoke later, and Leona Kingscholar was gone.

Or, rather, shrunk.

"…Yuu. Pick me up. Now."

You stared down at the source of the growl—your heart catching in your throat as you spotted tiny Leona, barely five inches tall, arms crossed, looking unimpressed while standing on your open textbook.

"Oh my Great Seven…" you whispered, trying not to laugh. "You look like a plushie."

"I’ll bite you," he growled, but it came out too squeaky to be threatening.

The spell wouldn't wear off until the next full moon—four days from now.

Professor Crewel, barely hiding his laughter, had told you to keep an eye on Leona in the meantime.

So now you had a pocketsized lion living in your dorm.

And he was not happy about it.

"Stop carrying me like a doll."

"You're literally the size of a doll, Leona."

"I can walk."

"You can, but you almost got stepped on by Jack this morning. You're staying in my hoodie pocket."

"...Tch."

He didn’t complain too much after that.

Surprisingly, you began to enjoy it.

Leona napped in your hand, curling up like a cat in your palm when he was tired.

He'd tug at your hair if you walked too fast, or grumble when you were too loud.

“…You don’t think I’m ridiculous like this?” he asked voice muffled from the folds of cloth.

“What? No. You’re still you—just... tiny.”

He turned away.

“Could’ve fooled me. I’ve never felt so helpless.”

You reached out, offering your finger. He hesitated... then rested his hand against it.

“You’re not helpless. I think you’re being really brave about this.”

“Brave?” he scoffed. “I’m a tiny lion hiding in your desk drawer during lunch.”

“But you’re still Leona,” you said with a small smile. “Still sharp, still stubborn, and still acting like a prince, even when you fit in my hoodie.”

There was a long pause before he replied.

“…You’re not so bad, herbivore.”

You swore you saw the tips of his ears go red.

The day the spell broke, you were sadder than you thought you’d be.

Leona stretched—tall and full-sized again—and looked down at you with a lazy smirk.

“You gonna miss carrying me around in your pocket?”

“…Maybe.”

To your surprise, he stepped closer, lifting a hand to rest lazily on the top of your head.

“Well. I might miss it too.”

You blinked up at him.

“What?”

His smile turned amused.

“Don’t get used to me sayin’ this… but thanks. For taking care of me.”

Before you could answer, he leaned down—so close you felt the warmth of his breath near your cheek.

“…Next time, maybe I’ll carry you.”

And then he walked away, smug as ever—leaving you a little flustered, a little dazzled, and already missing the weight of a tiny lion in your hoodie pocket.

[mysticalcrowntyrant]

How about a yandere god and a reader who was sacrificed to him to become his consort 👀

Yandere God x Reader

They dressed you in white, as if purity could shield you from the one waiting beneath the earth.

The temple's air was thick with incense and resignation. The villagers chanted prayers with trembling voices. Your wrists were bound in red cord. Tradition, they said, to lead you like a lamb to slaughter. Your mother wept behind her veil. No one met your eyes.

You knew the stories:
The god beneath the mountain.
The god with no name.
The god who demanded love in bloodied offerings and blind devotion.

You weren’t the first consort.
But you were the first in twenty years.
And you would be the last.

They left you at the altar deep inside the earth, beyond the reach of the sun. A smooth obsidian platform surrounded by candles.

He came in silence.

You didn’t see him at first, only felt him—a shift in the air, like the breath pressing against your skin.

Then his voice. Low. Velvet. Cold as cavewater and cruel as hunger.

“You’re prettier than the last one.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

Something moved in the dark. Not footsteps. No, he didn’t walk. He simply was, and then was closer. A flicker of pale skin, the glint of something sharp behind a smile.

His fingers brushed your chin, tilting your face toward his. Eyes like bottomless wells gazed down at you, silver-ringed and shimmering like wet stone. You thought of wolves. Of jagged rocks hidden beneath black waves. Of a mouth filled with teeth that didn't belong to men.

“They sent you to be devoured,” he murmured. “But I am not so wasteful.”

The cords around your wrists unraveled by unseen hands. He caught them before they could fall.

“You belong to me now.”

—-

The days, if they could be called that, passed in flickering torchlight. Time lost meaning in the temple beneath the world. He did not let you leave. He didn’t need to chain you. His presence alone was a cage.

He spoke to you like a lover. Called you darling, pet, bride. Brushed your hair with fingers tipped in claws. Pressed kisses to your brow like benedictions. Every night he laid beside you, not always touching, but always watching. You felt his eyes even when you turned your back to him.

Sometimes he was beautiful. Almost human. Silken hair, a sculpted mouth, long limbs curled around you like protection. He could make you forget, for a moment, what he was.

And then he’d smile.

And you’d remember the teeth.

—-

You tried to escape, once.

Just once.

The tunnels had changed. The path you knew led back to him, again and again, like the mountain itself was bending to his will.

When he found you…No, when he let you be found, his expression was unreadable.

He did not strike you. He did not scream.

He only cradled your face and whispered,

“Do not run from me. I have been patient. I have waited for you.”

You didn’t ask how long.

You were afraid of the answer.

That night, he pulled you into his arms like a lover. But his grip was a vise. One wrong breath, and you knew he would crush you like wet clay.

“You are mine,” he whispered against your throat. “My light. My little flame. Do not make me snuff you out just to keep you.”

—-

You stopped counting time after that.

You forgot the sun.

You forgot your name.

But not his. Never his. He whispered it into your mouth, into your bones. He carved it into your skin with every kiss and every too-long touch. You dreamed of him. Even awake, you were not free.

And in time, gods help you, you began to lean into him.

You laughed at his jokes. You let him stroke your hair, press your hand to the place in his chest where a heart should be. You began to speak, to ask questions, to touch him back.

He glowed with joy when you smiled at him. He kissed your fingers like relics. He wrapped you in silk and shadows and sang you songs in a language no mortal tongue had ever spoken.

“You are learning,” he whispered. “You are becoming mine.”

And maybe you were.

Because love is possible, even for monsters.
Especially when you stop looking at the teeth.

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[butyoudidthis4what]

No Man's Land Part 5

Jack Abbot x F!Reader

You can find Part 1 here, Part 2 here, Part 3 here, and Part 4 here!

42k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: No super specific wedding details are given; some anxiety; very fluffy; Robby and Jake make up; Jack is a consent king; use of eyedrops; unprotected PIV sex (bc implied with relationship); oral sex (both m and f receiving); fingering; SoftDom!Jack; manhandling; light condescension; bondage; use of your underwear as a gag; knife appears in the bedroom but is not used on anyone; doggy; alcohol; reader: loves champagne, sits on Jack’s lap, takes Jack’s last name, gets drunk, wears a dress; author: did not proofread, faded to black on a lot of sex, did not pick a wedding venue because I’m too picky; overwhelmingly NOT proofread; no use of y/n or related

Summary: You and Jack get married.

AN: And so we've reached the end. The wedding fought me every step of the way, so hopefully that is not reflected in the quality of it, lol. I'm sure part of it was some subconscious block because I don't want them to end. Honestly, it’s quite bittersweet and a little emotional posting this final part as silly as that makes me feel. I've just spent a lot of time in their heads. While Part 1 was not the first Jack fic I posted, it was the first one I worked on and the idea that got me writing again after a four years. Thank you all so so much for reading and supporting me along the way! ♥️ I would be nothing without you all, so truly, thank you for reading the copious amount of words this universe became. I hope it lives up and feels like the ending they deserve. ♥️

Jack’s forehead furrows as his eyebrows raise at your question. “Flew to Vegas tomorrow and elope?” He wants to make sure he heard you correctly. 

“Yeah.” You nod vigorously, eyes wide and eyebrows drawn together. You start chewing on your bottom lip and playing with your fingers in your lap. Jack knows you’re genuinely distressed right now and he hates it, hates that he caused it, even inadvertently. He sits up further, leans forward so that he’s closer to you where you sit on the edge of the bed. 

“Well, I… I think,” Jack pauses, just needs another second. “I think you’ll regret it, not having the wedding. And don’t-” Jack reaches out and grabs your wrist gently so that you can’t get off the bed like you were moving to, he can already hear your brain attacking you. He finds your gaze again before he keeps talking. “Don’t think that means I don’t want to get married to you. I do. And if we decide we want to elope to Vegas or anywhere else, then I’m okay with that. As long as you end up my wife, okay? I’m not saying no, Doll.” He lets go of your wrist and grabs your hand, laces it with his. “I’m saying that I think we should sleep on it. I think you want the wedding we’ve planned so far and that you’re beyond exhausted and that your anxiety is driving your brain right now, yeah?” 

You just look at him, seem a little like you’re lost to your thoughts, not in them, to them. “I… yeah,” you whisper. 

Jack knows he needs to get you back in bed with him, get you close and help you find your way back and then to sleep. “Come here?” He pats your side of the bed next to him and gives you a little smile. “Please.” You release his hand and crawl over him, snuggle up under the covers into his side and bury your head in his neck. His arms wrap tightly around you and he kisses your temple. “Good girl,” he murmurs, “thank you.” 

You can’t help the way ‘good girl’ makes you shiver. Maybe that’s what you need, you think to yourself, to have Jack fuck you in a hard reset after the week you had. Being in his arms is more than enough though, has you calming and coming back to a state of rationality pretty quick. 

“We’ll sleep on it, okay? I promise we can talk about it in the morning and that I’m not saying no.” Jack clicks his tongue. “Could you pick your dress up early and bring it with us to wear in Vegas?” That makes you snort a laugh into the side of his neck. Jack smiles to himself, pleased he was able to get a laugh out of you. He rocks you a little playfully. “What? I’m dying to see you in your wedding dress.”

“I probably could, yeah.” You slide your hand down Jack’s bare chest a little, trace shapes with your finger, write little messages of love. “But no. We don’t need to sleep on it. I don’t even know what that was. I want what we’ve planned so far.”

Jack rubs your back with one hand. “I’ll check in with you on it tomorrow, okay? Just to be sure. And I think maybe a little panic and a lot of exhaustion. But you also don’t need to know what it was, yeah? It’s okay to not know.” 

You nod. “I just like knowing. Makes me feel like I have some control, which I know is a total fucking illusion.” You sigh into him, nuzzle against his neck. You like the way his stubble feels, it’s oddly grounding for you. “I hate this. Being like this.” 

Jack bites back the urge to say you’re not being like anything because he knows what you mean. Knows you mean you hate feeling so emotionally labile and panicking and feeling out of control. “I know, Doll.” He doesn’t need to say more. It’s not the time. It’s not why you said it. You just need to feel heard and seen. Jack uses his hand on the back of your neck to pull you away from him a little so that he can see you. “Can I do anything?”

You look at him and then to the side as you think. Think back on the flash of a thought you had. Maybe you should ask him to, ask him to fuck you into a hard reset. He does it so well. Knows just how to fuck until you’re sobbing and releasing every pent up emotion in you, and keeps going, fucking you thoughtless and incoherent and unable to feel or think about anything other than him. Knows how to break your mind in just the right way to get all of your emotional turmoil out. Knows how to take his time putting you back together with his touch and his words and his love so that you feel like the normal version of yourself when you wake up the next day, not however you had been feeling. 

He always takes such good care of you after even if the memories of it are so heavily fogged they almost don’t truly exist. He holds you while you keep sobbing, lays on you often, his body weight helping with your shaking, cleans you up, makes sure you get to the bathroom and have some water and sometimes a snack before you fall asleep, whispers reassurances and little expressions of his love while he rocks you until you fall asleep, holds you the entire night as you sleep curled up on him. 

Yeah. You think that just might do the trick, especially with as exhausted as you are and how hard he’ll make you sleep. 

Your eyes find Jack’s again, his eyebrows slightly raised. He knows you thought of something with how long you were looking away. Your expression, the look in your eye and the specific way you look at him makes him think he knows what you need. “Jack,” you whisper. Your voice confirms it. 

Still though. He wants to be explicitly sure so that he doesn’t start something you weren’t asking for that will actually hurt you or make you worse. “Fuck you all the way gone?”

“Yeah.” You nod, eyes already blown wide. “Please.” 

Jack nods, rolls the both of you so that you’re on your back with him hovering over you. “You’re sleeping until you wake up tomorrow. I’m not setting an alarm and I’m not waking you up when I wake up. And if you wake up at a time I deem to be too early you’re going back to sleep, even if I have to put you back to sleep myself.” He drops his hips against you then and grinds against you as if you didn’t already know what he meant. “Deal?”

“Deal,” you breathe.

Six weeks. Only six weeks left until the wedding. It feels so short and so long at the same time. Pretty much everything is planned, everything you could possibly do up to this point is done. It’s just a waiting game for the next couple of weeks. 

You’d worked late tonight so you went to the hospital instead of home, planning on surprising Jack and suggesting you grab dinner somewhere if he was up to it after his shift. If not, maybe you could grab takeout on the way home. 

When you found Jack he was finishing some charting at the desk and talking to Robby. Somewhere along the lines the conversation between the three of you turned to your bachelor and bachelorette parties.  

“No strippers.” Jack glances up at Robby from the computer. 

“Okay.” Robby nods. 

Jack looks up at him again. “No strippers.” His eyes return to the computer.

“No strippers.” Robby nods again. He doesn’t even sound facetious. Something about the interaction so far is quite entertaining to you. 

“Hey,” Jack looks up at him again, “I’m serious. No strippers. She won’t even be the mad one. I will be. No strippers.” 

“Peter, he agreed the last two times.” Jack looks over at you and blinks as you nod. You know you should stop there but you can’t help yourself. You shrug, try and look nonchalant. “He’s seen my boobs, he knows you don’t need to be looking at any stripper’s tits.” 

Jack’s head whips back over to Robby, eyes glaring just a little at his best friend. 

“Woah, woah, woah! Okay, I never said that.” Robby holds up his hands. “She did. I didn’t even think about that. I was simply respecting the boundary you set when you said no strippers for your bachelor party.” Robby brings his hands back down and shrugs. “But again, they’re very nice b-”

“I,” Jack interrupts Robby loudly to get him to stop talking before returning to a normal voice, glaring daggers at him now, “will cancel the entire party and find someone else to officiate our wedding if you finish that fucking sentence Michael.”

You struggled to hide your laughter the second Robby started to say you have nice boobs again but Jack’s reaction pulls an audible laugh from you. Both Robby and Jack turn to look at you. “I just,” you shrug, “you guys are funny.” It didn’t escape your notice when Myrna moved in closer. You and her shared a conspiratorial look, something you seem to often do when you’re together.

“You know,” Myrna interjects. All three sets of eyes find her in her chair a little behind Jack and Robby. “I could show Fruitcake my tits. Then they’d be the last pair he saw.”

“Thank you, Myrna, that would be perfect.” Jack smiles at her genuinely before looking to Robby with an overly saccharine smile. 

“Absolutely not. Put,” Robby emphasizes the word and shuts his eyes “your shirt down Myrna.” She’d started to pull it up. He opens his eyes and looks at Jack. “The officiant threat? It works both ways.”

Robby turns and starts to walk away and Jack snorts making Robby stop and turn back around. “Oh please, you love us and her white chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies far too much to even dream of it, Michael.”

“Don’t worry Fruitcake, you can have some of this cookie.” Myrna tells Robby with a suggestive eyebrow raise and smirk before starting to wheel herself away.

Jack bites back his laughter and holds his hands up in truce at that one. He goes to say something but Robby stops him. 

“Just don’t.” Robby holds his hand up at Jack. “Just don’t say anything and we’re all going to leave and you’re going to buy me several drinks.” 

Jack looks over at you, eyebrows raised, smirking. “I suppose I did kind of start it, didn’t I?” You admit with a nod. “A few drinks seems fair.” 

The wedding is in five weeks, just over a month. It’s all you can think about as Jack drives you to Dana’s house. It’s 2 p.m. on a Saturday. You’ve been invited over for a little party for Dana to show off the kitchen remodel they just finished on the house. 

“Did she say if lots of people are coming?” you ask Jack. 

Jack shrugs. “She didn’t, no. Just said to show up with you.” You smile at that. Sounds like Dana. 

“Hey, are you doing the whole something old something new thing?” Jack asks.  “I heard a patient discussing it yesterday and it made me wonder.”

“Oh, I hadn’t really thought about it I guess.” You think on it for a few seconds and then shrug. “I mean I guess I’d like to but no, probably not. Where would I get that stuff from, you know? I don’t want to ask anything else of anyone, everyone has already done so much for us.”

Jack hums in acknowledgment. “People would if you asked. Without hesitation or feeling burdened.”

“I know, but still. It’s really not a huge deal.” You look over at Jack and squeeze his hand where it rests on your thigh. “It’s not like we’re doing all of the wedding traditions.”

“No we most certainly are not.” He takes his eyes off the road for a second to glance at you with a bit of a lopsided grin. Jack turns down the street and finds a place to park. “Time to go see how many people showed.” He gets out of the car and walks around to open your door for you, gives you a kiss as you get out. 

The two of you walk hand in hand up to Dana’s door and knock. “Hi!” Dana throws the door open. “So glad you could make it!” You’re both ushered in as you exchange hellos and hugs. Jack and Dana share a look as you set your purse down on the credenza with your back to them. 

“Well! Lead the way! I’m excited to see it, especially since you wouldn’t tell me which granite you settled on.” You throw her a look. 

She laughs, starts walking you through the hallway towards the kitchen. But the three of you stop once you hit the living room. 

The living room is decorated in bridal shower decor, a banner reading ‘bride to be’ hanging from the mantel and sitting and standing and mingling amongst it all are a few of your coworkers who you’re close to, your friend, and many of the Pitt crew, Victoria, Samira, Cassie, Mel, Heather, Kim, Parker and Princess. A chorus of soft ‘surprise!’ rings out as everyone looks at you and tips their cups to you. You smile and give a little wave, still shocked and struggling a bit to process. 

“Oh my god,” you mumble. “Dana?” You look over at her questioningly. “You didn’t… this is… wow.” A surprise bridal shower for you. A genuine, you had no fucking clue you weren’t coming here for a get together to show off the remodeled kitchen, surprise. 

“Surprise!” Dana laughs. 

“Yeah,” you laugh out incredulously. You turn to Jack. “Did you know?” You’re not sure why you’re asking. You can tell from the lack of surprise on his face that he did. 

“I did, but only for like a week,” Jack explains. You give him a lingering look of bewilderment mixed with incredulity before turning back to Dana. 

“Dana, this is so much.” You shake your head at her a little. “This must have been so much work, I… thank you, I just, I don’t know, I don’t know what to say.” You laugh a little. 

Jack slips away to give you and Dana a moment, goes back to the front door to wait for you to come say goodbye. He smiles to himself. He’s glad Dana ended up planning one for you. She’d asked him off-hand months ago if you were planning one and he’d told her no, you weren’t, but he thought your friend might try to. He didn’t hear anything else about it until last week when she revealed the kitchen party was really a bridal shower for you.

“You don’t have to say anything. All you have to do is come have a good time with us.” Dana smirks at you. “We have so much champagne to get through.” That makes you smile. You love champagne. “And it’s real champagne, not sparkling wine.” She winks at you. 

“Oh I’m sure it’s amazing, I just, I don’t know I feel bad because you guys already threw us such an amazing engagement party, and now this and you really didn’t have to. I love it and appreciate it so much, I just hope you didn’t feel like you had to since I wasn’t planning one.” Your brows and forehead are furrowed in concern. 

The engagement party wasn’t a surprise, you and Jack knew about it from the beginning. You just weren’t involved in the planning, were given a date and time and eventually a place to show up to. It had been beautiful, incredibly you and Jack, and so obvious how well those who planned it knew you as individuals and a couple. You couldn’t have planned a better one for yourselves. Nor would you have, but you were both told that everyone wanted to celebrate the two of you and if nothing else it was a reason for a party. It had been perfect. And you know this bridal shower will be too. You’re still just floored.

“I didn’t at all.” Dana smiles at you, gives you another hug. “And I wasn’t involved in the planning of the engagement party, that was all Robby and Heather and Mel, so it’s not like I’m pulling double duty. Plus I had a lot of help.” She glances over at your friend who tips her drink at you again with a smirk. Dana releases you but keeps her hands on your shoulders and squeezes. “Come on, go say goodbye to your man and then you can see the granite while you get some food and a drink.” 

“Thank you, Dana.” You manage to catch one of her hands when she takes them off your shoulders. “I mean it,” you squeeze her hand, “it really means so much to me and to Jack and I know I can be bad at expressing it. So thank you.” 

Dana smiles at you warmly in that way she does, eyes knowing and head bowing just a little to make it knowing. “You’re welcome.”

“Alright, let me say goodbye to Jack!” You turn from Dana and walk back into the hallway where Jack’s standing waiting for you, pleased smile on his face. “I can’t believe you knew.” You shake your head at him. 

“Keeping that secret was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done and I only knew for a week. I wanted to tell you so badly.” He laughs a little, wraps an arm around your waist to pull you close and you rest your hands on his chest. “But you deserve this. The surprise. The shower. I know you think you don’t and I know me saying you do isn’t going to convince you, but you do.” He leans in and gives you a quick kiss. “Enjoy yourself, yeah?”

You nod. “I always do with everyone here.” 

Jack laughs a little. “Good. I expect to hear all about it later.” 

“I’ll do my best to take notes for you.” You give him a little smirk for a second and then let your face even back out. “You picking me up?”

“Course,” he nods, “just call me when you’re ready Doll.”

“Okay.” The two of you share one last kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” You both walk over to the door and Jack steps out. “Don’t have too much fun without me.” 

A month. Only a month until the wedding. It’s swirling in Jack’s mind as he sits on the couch reading with the quiet buzz of the police scanner in the background when his phone goes off. He half expects it to be a message asking him to come get you from whatever bar or club it is you ended up at. 

Y - u come dwn

Y - ?

Y - pls

An amused smile makes its way onto Jack’s face. He’s seen you pretty tipsy before and it looks like he will be again. He thinks it’s cute the way you asked him to come down, how you knew he’d be up and waiting for you even though it’s 2:30 a.m. 

J - I’ll be waiting. 

Jack is only waiting outside for a few minutes before an SUV driven by Dana’s husband rolls up. He and Jack exchange knowing smiles and shake their heads. Jack walks over to the back door and can hear all the giggles before he even opens it. 

“Peter!” You beam at him, reaching for him with both hands as you sit on the seat of the car with your legs hanging out for a minute. “Hi! I missed you so much!” you giggle. Jack takes in your quite dilated pupils and the way you slur your words a bit and extremely giggly affect.

“Oh, you’re drunk drunk,” Jack laughs to himself as he takes your hands and helps you get out of the car, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist to help support and stabilize you as he gets you on the sidewalk.

The driver’s window rolls down. “They’re all more or less three sheets to the wind. The rest are sleeping in our guest room because I don’t trust them alone at home and don’t think they have partners. I’m glad one of them,” Dana’s husband points at you and smirks, “had the sense to call me and not an uber.”

Jack glances at you. “Yeah, I am too.”

“I was gonna call you but D has a bigger car an’ we could all fit,” you giggle, words slurring together as you lean further into Jack. Someone rolls the window down and Dana, your friend, Heather, and Samira’s heads become visible to varying extents.

Jack looks at them and then back at you and then back to Dana’s husband. “Good luck and godspeed.” Jack nods at him before turning his attention back to you. “Okay, Doll, let’s get you to bed.”

You take in a gasping breath and stand up a little straighter at his words, hands grabbing at the chest of Jack’s shirt. “Fan-fucking-tastic idea, Dr. Abbot. Do y’know how hot you are? Do I tell you enough? Look at him.” You look over at the window. “Wait no don’t he’s mine.” A second later you gasp. “Oh my god and he’s like your boss. Mostly. Kinda.” That makes you all burst into giggles again.

“Okay,” Jack drawls, he already knows his version of bed and yours are two very different things, “say goodnight.” 

“Goodnight! I love you all! Thank you! Debrief tomorrow!” You let go of Jack’s shirt with both hands to blow them all kisses and Jack’s quick to hold you even tighter as you sway now that you’re not holding onto him. You turn with Jack and start walking in, his arm never leaving your waist and hold on you never loosening. 

Getting you inside and to the bedroom is easier than Jack expected. You’re not super unsteady on your feet when he’s helping support you and guiding you. He’s never seen you this drunk, not that you’re blackout drunk by any means, he’s just never seen you like this. He finds it quite adorable, even if it’s a little difficult to keep your attention. 

Once you’re in your room Jack has you stand by the edge of the bed, planning on starting to take your clothes off so he can get you off to sleep. “You know you haven’t even kissed me?” You pout at him. 

Jack gives an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to get you inside safely.” He tilts your chin up and leans down and into you. “Come here,” he murmurs. His kisses are short but filled with so much reverence you could drown in it.

“Jack,” you sigh happily, get your lips on his neck and start to kiss and suck as your hands begin to wander. “Please.”

Jack laughs a little to try and cover the groan he can’t help but make when you manage to nibble at his neck. He pulls back up and looks at you. “Please what, Doll?”

“Please fuck me into next week.” 

“Mm,” Jack gives you a gentle smile and shakes his head, “you, my love, are far too drunk to consent to sex right now, as much as I would love to fuck you into next week.” 

“Jackie!” you whine, pout harder than he’s ever seen. It’s so adorable it’s a bit comical and he stifles a laugh. Maybe if he sees you naked, your drunk brain thinks, maybe then. 

You start taking off your clothes and the only reason he allows it is because he needs to get them off of you. Once you’re completely undressed you bite your lip when he starts to take his shirt off, thrilled your plan worked and ready to surge forward and suck hickies into his chest once he gets his pajama pants off. That’s why you’re so confused when Jack holds his shirt out for you. You only question it for a second though, drunk and horny brain thinking he just wants to fuck you while you’re wearing his shirt. 

You giggle at him. “So dirty, want me in your shirt. Want me to ride you too?” Your slurring is adorably intermittent. 

Jack shakes his head at you with an amused smirk. “I’d like you to come into the bathroom with me so I can take your makeup off.”

“Jack!” It’s a drawn out whine that almost makes his name two syllables this time. “We’re engaged.” You bring your left hand up towards his face and he has to grab your wrist gently to stop you from accidentally shoving your hand in his face. “See? That’s blanket consent.” You wink at him, or at least attempt to.

Jack laughs through his nose, smiling and shaking his head at you. “That’s not how that works, Doll.”

You sit on the edge of the bed and lean back on your elbows, open your legs for him a bit. “I think yes it is.” 

“I know no it’s not.” Jack raises his brows at you and gives you a little look with a small smile.

“Well I’m sayin’ yes,” you slur defiantly.  

“Doll, you are too drunk to say yes and have it mean yes. So I’m saying no, okay? First thing in the morning.” Jack gives you a little smiled grimace, trying to keep it light and tease you a little about the hangover he’s sure you’ll have. “If you’re feeling up to it.” 

But the humor doesn’t land and exactly what he was worried about happening happens. 

“You don’t want me?” It’s suddenly far more serious, your voice dripping with some real hurt, real insecurity. 

“I always want you.” Jack crouches down and holds your face in his hands, brushes his thumbs over your cheeks. “Hey,” he calls softly when you won’t meet his eyes. “Look at me.” You don’t. “Please? It’s important.” It takes a second but eventually you do as he asked and he gives you what he hopes is a reassuring smile and gentle squeeze of your face. “I always want you. And if you weren’t drunk, absolutely, I’d already be inside you. Remember, I said you’re too drunk to consent as much as I would love to fuck you into next week?” You blink at him, vaguely recalling him making such a statement but eyeing him suspiciously. “I promise you I am very hard right now. So please believe me that this has nothing to do with whether I want you and am attracted to you because yes and yes, I promise you Doll. I always want you. Your trust in me to protect you and take care of you and respect you is something I want too. My wants are at odds right now.” Jack goes to say more but stops, shakes his head a little, smiles at you. “And I know you’re not really taking any of this in so I’m going to stop. But know that I always want you. Always.”

You’re silent for a moment and Jack is concerned you don’t believe him and trying to think of a different approach. “Okay, but I always want you.” You smirk at him, pulled from your sadness and back to giggly and horny and happy drunk. You grab his hands from your face and try to get them to grab your boobs but Jack won’t let you, pulling his hands away. “So it’s the same. So yes, we can. Yes, it means yes.” 

“That was a poor choice of words.” Jack sighs to himself and brings his chin to his chest for a second. “It’s not quite the same or what I meant.” He shakes his head at you. “As soon as you’re ready to and want to once you’re sober, okay?” You whine and go to say something, probably argue more. “I got your favorite Ben and Jerry’s today. You want to-”

You gasp and stand up, Jack following you up and his arms quickly encircling you to keep you from falling over. “Did you really?” 

Jack nods as he guides you back down so you’re sitting on the bed again. “I really did. How about you have some of that and some pedialyte and ibuprofen while I get your makeup off? And then we’ll sleep, yeah?”

“Okay. But only because you got Ben and Jerry’s.” You point at him in the overdramatic way only a drunk person can. 

“Good.” Jack smiles, leans down to kiss your forehead before starting to go to the kitchen. “Stay sitting here, okay? Please.” 

You hum your agreement. “At least one of us will be getting BJs tonight,” you mutter as he walks away. But Jack hears it and starts laughing. 

He turns back to you at the door, nothing but love and adoration in his eyes as he looks at you. “I love you so much, you know that?” You nod at him and let yourself fall back onto the bed.

Two weeks later you’re standing at the desk in the Pitt chatting with Jack. It’s a common sight anymore. You’re waiting for Dana. She’s sneaking out early to go to your last dress fitting with you. The wedding is only two weeks away and while there’s of course last minute wedding stress, truly you’re more excited than anything, ready for it to be here and be Jack’s wife, take his last name. And Jack is just as excited, just as antsy for it to be here. 

“I can’t even see the shoes?” Jack gives you a little pout. It’s adorable and it honestly makes you consider showing him because he’s doing it here at work, in front of people. 

“You can’t even see the shoes,” you confirm, give his pushed out bottom lip a quick kiss. 

“You’re so mean to me having them right here in front of me in a bag and not letting me see!” He gestures at the bag, keeps giving you those puppy dog eyes that almost always work on you. Almost. 

You step a little closer to him and drop your voice so only he can hear. “I’ll make it up to you tonight, okay Dr. Abbot?” You smirk when his jaw clenches and rolls. 

He leans in even closer, hunches a bit to bring your faces closer together. “By giving me a fashion show of your wedding dress and shoes?” He raises his eyebrows and gives you an encouraging smile and nod. He knows you’re most likely taking the dress home tonight. 

“Peter!” You smack at his chest playfully. 

“I had to try!” Jack straightens back up to his full height.

“Mhm,” you hum at him. “It’s too bad, you would have really liked my little make it up to you treat.” Another clench and roll of his jaw.

“Oh? And what would-”

“Oh, hey! You’re here, great.” Robby interrupts Jack who turns to stare daggers at him for interrupting his chance to find out what you had planned. “I uh, I need to talk to you both. Can we talk? Um, over here?”

Robby starts walking towards the family room and you and Jack exchange confused and slightly concerned looks before following him. Robby seems nervous, jumpy almost. Jack knows he hasn’t been like this all day, only just now. Robby holds open the door for you both, shuts it and sits across from you. 

He clears his throat and looks at you. “Jack already told you about Jake and I.” It’s a statement that picks up just slightly at the end as he seeks confirmation. 

“Yes and I’m so happy for you Robby, for both of you. I’d love to meet him when you’re ready, we could have you guys over or something.” You smile at him, warm and enthusiastic and genuine.

Jack had told you about Robby and Jake. Once he’d left your house the morning after Leah’s sister came in Robby had called Jake and Jake answered. And Jake agreed to meet up with Robby at Robby’s place to watch a game and talk some maybe. Apparently it had all come out then. Jack had been right. Robby had been trying to give Jake space and let Jake come back to him, but Jake wasn’t sure how to find his way back to Robby, how to ask Robby to forgive him or how to reach out and ask to hang out, not after everything he’d said that day. And since then over the last month things had been getting back closer to how they were before Pitt Fest between Robby and Jake, different, yes, for multiple reasons, but similar in the amount of talking and seeing each other. 

“Yeah, that would be great, I think he’d enjoy that. He’s asked about you Jack.” Robby looks over at him. “But, um, on that note, kind of, I was won-”

“He should come to the wedding!” You blurt it out and cut Robby off without even realizing it because you just had to say the thought as soon as it came into your head. “Oh my god.” You cover your hand with your mouth and Jack has to laugh. You remove your hand after a second. “I’m so sorry, I just had the thought and, and it doesn’t matter. Please, go on.” 

Robby’s stuck blinking at you for a moment. Jack looks at Robby and then you and then back to Robby and snorts a laugh. 

“He was about to ask if Jake could come to the wedding.”

You look at Jack and back to Robby. “Really?”

Robby nods. “Yeah. But it’s okay if he can’t, like if you don’t have the table space or dinner or any of that I know it’s like two weeks away and you probably can’t change numbers.”

“Of course he can come, we want him to come.” Jack gives Robby a bit of a you had to ask? look. 

“We booked extra spaces and food just in case. And he’s basically your son, he’s not just invited, we want him there! I’m so sorry I didn’t think about it and ask earlier-” 

“Don’t apologize,” Robby cuts you off with a bit of a laugh. “It means a lot that you guys want him there. I appreciate it.” He stands up. “That’s all I had, I just didn’t want you to feel awkward if you had to say no in the middle of the ED because of space or whatever.”

The second you step out someone is calling for Robby. “I’m being paged.” Robby raises his eyebrows and walks backwards for a second before turning around to walk off to where he’s needed. 

“Hey! There you are!” Dana calls, starts walking over to you. It’s strange seeing her in anything other than scrubs. “You ready?”

“Yeah!” You turn back to Jack and lean up for a kiss and quick hug. “I’ll see you soon Peter, I love you.”

“I love you too.” Jack returns your hug and kiss, but catches your wrist as you start to walk away. You turn and look back at him with a smile and raised brows. Jack looks serious with just a touch of what seems almost like desperation. “What was it? The make it up treat for me when I get home?”

Your smile shifts into a smirk as you pull your hand from him and walk backwards slowly. “That’s for me to know and you to maybe find out, lover boy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Jack emerge from the metro just across from the Louvre. Grabbing Jack’s hand you lead the two of you over towards a side entrance and enter near the restaurant patio and walk out into the plaza with the inverted pyramid. After you’ve walked closer you release Jack’s hand so that you can take a couple of photos with your phone.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” You walk ahead of Jack a bit without realizing it.

“Stunning,” Jack murmurs to himself. But Jack isn’t looking around at the pyramid and the buildings. Jack is focused solely on you. He stays behind you but moves to the side a little bit and reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box he’d gotten just for this, takes your engagement ring out of it. He actually had forced himself to wear your ring on a chain around his neck this morning, just for this and had taken it off the chain while waiting for you to use the bathroom earlier in the day.

He keeps himself behind you by a few steps and pulls his pant leg up a bit as he slides down on one knee. Again. 

“What do you think? I know it probably doesn’t live up to expectations with how I went on about it, I just love it so much for some reason.” You smile to yourself and turn to where you think Jack is going to be standing, wanting to see his expression as he takes it in. But he’s not there and so your brows furrow as you start to turn to look for him. 

Jack smiles in anticipation. He knows that it’s a little ridiculous maybe, probably, seeing as how you’re already engaged, but still. As much as his other proposal felt right and was right, this still feels kind of right too. You turn completely and your eyes find him already down on one knee this time.

“Shut the fuck up.” You clamp a hand over your mouth. You know he’s already proposed but even so, that’s the first thing you say? You think to yourself. Really? 

Jack laughs, closing his eyes and leaning forward on his knee a little bit. “Oh my god,” he breathes through a small laugh, smiling as wide as he ever has and shaking his head as he straightens back up and looks up at you. “I love you so goddamn much. That was so perfectly you.”

You pull your hand from your mouth and open it like you’re going to say something and then close it, put your hand back over it. 

Jack has to laugh a little at that too. He decides to keep it short and sweet this time. “You are far and away the greatest thing to ever happen to me. I hope you know that.” He’s still smiling but becomes a little more serious, eyes sparkling with mirth and tears. “I want to do every day and every night with you. I love you. So what do you say, Doll? Will you marry me?”

You move your hand from your mouth as a few tears slip down your face. You’re beaming at Jack as you start to nod. “Yes” you giggle, “yes, yes, yes! I’ll marry you, Jack Abbot.” 

After you spend the day at the Louvre Jack explains why he had you bring a nice cocktail dress with you. He’d made a reservation at a quite upscale Parisian restaurant to celebrate the second proposal. As thrilled as you are to have gone back to the hotel and gotten all dressed up and to be here and as special and as spoiled as you feel, half of you is ready to throw back your champagne and drag Jack back to the hotel. He’s in a pair of slim fit black dress pants, a simple collared button up shirt in white and a black blazer that matches his pants. 

You order a very nice bottle of champagne to share during dinner. Once your glasses are poured, you hold yours up and tip it towards Jack a little. “To the Abbots.” 

Jack swallows hard but mirrors you, lifting his glass and tipping it towards you a little before you carefully clink your glasses together. “To the Abbots.” 

The drink he takes is fairly quick because he wants to watch you and the way your lips wrap around the rim of the flute and how the flicker of the candle on your table with the low lighting of the restaurant make your eyes look almost moltent. He’s particularly wired for you tonight, can’t really put his finger on why. 

Maybe it’s just the whole thing, being in Paris together, having just proposed again, you in that dress. Maybe the second proposal has just really shoved it right back in his face that you’re going to be his wife. His wife. 

Whatever the reason is all Jack knows is he’s been half hard since you left the hotel, and you are, unknowingly in fairness to you, winding him up more and more with every little thing you do. He doesn’t want to rush this, at all, and he doesn’t, but that tension and need for you just continues to build. 

He doesn’t realize it but it’s the same for you. Jack looks so fucking hot dressed like this. He always does but there’s something about this and how rare it is for you to see him like this and the fact that you’re seeing him like this in Paris that’s driving you up a wall. 

You get through the bottle of champagne while eating your appetizer and mains. You both decide on a dessert to share and a drink, Jack picking a fancy scotch you’re praying you’ll be able to taste on him later. 

As your waitress is walking away Jack messes with his tie, unknotting it and shoving it in his pocket before undoing the first two buttons of his shirt. In part because he has a plan and in part because he does in fact feel smothered and too hot, but not from the temperature of the room. “It’s hot in here, I was dying with that thing, sorry Doll.” 

Your eyes narrow and you cock your head at him but don’t say anything. You know he runs hotter than you but, at least to you, the restaurant isn’t particularly hot and you’re usually the one who’s more temperature sensitive. And something about what Jack just did feels familiar. But then maybe you’re just lightheaded and dizzy by how he somehow looks even hotter with his collar open like that. If he takes his blazer off and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows you’ll be on your knees between his legs with everyone watching.

“Hey?” Jack’s voice cuts through your thoughts and brings you back. “You good?” He’s almost a little too nonchalant with the question. 

You look at him for a moment before you smile and nod at him. “More than, Peter. Looking forward to dessert.”

Jack hums low, eyes greedy as they roam over your face, down your neck to your cleavage and then back up so he’s looking you in the eyes again. He fills out well past half hard, thankful he’s sitting and that the table provides cover. “Me too, Doll, me too.” 

Before you can say anything else your drinks are brought over and by the time the waitress walks away again Jack is asking you a question about Versailles tomorrow. It feels like he’s trying to distract you. You let him.

Dessert comes not long after your drinks and looks amazing. It’s as delicious as it looks and the soft moan you let out when you first taste it has Jack even more riled. He’s ready to slam his drink, finish the dessert in two bites and get you the fastest taxi back to the hotel so that he can finally be tasting you or inside of you or fingering you. He doesn’t particularly care which at the moment, he just needs you. 

It hits you mid sip and you take a hum in, have to temper your reaction so you can swallow and not bring the glass down to the table so hard it breaks in your hand. “Tie raincheck.” You nod a little. “Tie raincheck, that is exactly what this is.” 

Jack raises his eyebrows at you, tries to feign confusion. “No idea what you mean, Doll.” Jack takes a sip of scotch.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Yes you do.”

Jack sets his drink down and looks up at you. “Dessert.” He points to it with his spoon.

“Tell me I’m right.” You can feel your pulse quicken, fight the urge to rub your legs together to get the tiniest bit of friction. You can feel yourself getting wetter for him as you think about what’s to come, how he’s going to use the tie on you. 

There’s a subtle shift in the energy between the two of you, Jack becoming far more dominant as you decide whether to behave or be a brat. “Doll.”

“Peter.”

Jack cocks his head at you. “Eat.” There’s a bit of a warning to it. 

“You know exactly what I mean. On the roof of the hospital because we didn’t get to go to the wedding.” You set your spoon down and lean in a bit. “You told me you promised to give me a raincheck on the tie because I’d said something earlier about what you’d wear to the wedding and the tie would be in your pocket at the reception waiting to be used on me.”   

Jack’s eyes darken a bit more and he sets his spoon down, leans in close to you over the table and holds your gaze. “I know that as soon as we finish this,” he nods down at the dessert without breaking eye contact that’s started to smolder, voice lower and more gravelly, “we can go back to the hotel and I can use the tie shoved in my pocket on you and fuck you until you’re so cock drunk off me the only three things you can say are ‘Jack,’ ‘yours,’ and ‘wife.’” He leans back to sit normally and picks his spoon back up, gives you a little smile like he didn’t just promise to fuck you stupid. “Dessert first, yeah?” 

It takes you a few seconds but eventually you nod wordlessly and pick up your spoon. 

You start eating noticeably faster than normal and taking bigger sips of your drink. Jack pins your spoon with the rounded point of his the next time you go for a bite. You look up at him, eyes wide and brows furrowed. You’re eating dessert like he asked. 

“Don’t rush.” You let out the smallest whine but Jack catches it, raises his eyebrows and tilts his head at you for a moment before letting your spoon go. 

You do as he asks, slow yourself back down to your normal pace, or at least as close as you can get with how wired he’s gotten you. Jack knows and lets it happen. He knows he’s taking slightly bigger bites than he normally would because as much as he loves teasing you and dragging it out he’s also pretty desperate to get back to the hotel, to tease you and drag it out there. 

You finally finish dessert and your drinks and Jack pays. He flags down a taxi to get you guys back to the hotel and the way he waves and whistles to get the driver’s attention since their window is down has absolutely no business being as hot as it is. 

In the cab you can’t help yourself. Your hand wanders over to Jack’s thigh and moves up and in until you find his semi. You know it’s going to come back to bite you in the ass but you can’t help yourself and rub him, try to get your thumb around the ridge at the head of his cock how you know he likes. Jack stifles a quiet grunt as you get him harder. His jaw clenches, chest starts to heave a little, breathing a bit louder. His hand wraps around your wrist and moves your hand, pins it to the seat between you. You pout, both because he’s stopped your fun and because he deliberately hasn’t given you the satisfaction and looked at you since you got in.   

Just as he always does Jack walks around the car and opens the door for you when you get to the hotel, gives you his hand to take to help you out. He looks at you finally as you take it and let him help you out, gives you a little smirked smile and raise of an eyebrow. He’s quiet as you walk through the hotel and in the elevator. You were hoping he’d push you up against the wall of it and makeout with you, let you find out if you can taste his scotch on him. But no. He just lets the anticipation and tension build. A hand on the small of your back guides you to your hotel room where he opens the door for you. 

“Stop,” Jack instructs you as you step into the bedroom. You hesitate and he sees it, sees you deciding whether you’re going to push him tonight. You decide not to and so do as he asks, stopping in place. “Good.” Jack turns and goes back to get the door deadbolted and secured before coming back to you. 

Warm hands find the zipper of your dress and pull it down, help you shrug out of it. He crouches to get your shoes off and have you step out of the dress. Jack takes his time hanging the dress up, watching from the corner of his eyes how you shift on your feet in anticipation. 

He walks back to you, stands in front of you this time, eyes dragging down your body, lingering on the lingerie you’re wearing, that he had to force himself to ignore after he got your dress off you so he could tease you by hanging it up. “You get this for me?” Jack slips a finger under one of the bra straps and pulls it away before releasing it to snap back against your skin. It makes you shiver. 

“Yes,” you breathe. 

Jack hums at that, brings his eyes to yours and gives you a smile. “So good using your words without me having to ask.” His attention returns to your body and the lingerie. He starts palming at himself over his pants much like you did in the cab. He lets out a low breath as he hardens fully and fights the urge to say fuck it and just take you now because god knows he wants to. 

Instead, he pulls his hands away and moves them down towards the bottom of the set where they play with the waistband, making their way to the side and repeating his actions with your bra, slipping a finger under it and pulling the material towards him before letting it snap back against you. You’re breathing much heavier now, both of you can hear it.

“It’s very pretty, and you’re stunning in it, Doll,” he murmurs, flicks his eyes back to yours so he can look you in the eyes for a second, make sure you know how much he means it. Jack hums as one hand moves to his pocket. He pulls out his pocket knife and flicks it open without looking as his other hand toys with one side of the waistband that sits on the outside of your hip. “It’s a shame really.”

He pulls the fabric out far enough to slip the blade under it and pulls, cutting through the material with ease. 

“Fuck, Jack.” His eyes flash to yours when you say his name. There’s something darkly and deeply possessive about his look. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen it this intense before. It makes your heart beat faster. 

He does the same to the other side, holds onto the material so that he can slide your underwear from between your legs before it hits the floor. He glances down at the gusset and then back at you. “Messy girl.” Jack smirks, and closes the knife, slips it back in his pocket with your underwear. He brings his hand down to your center, runs a couple of fingers through you to see how wet you already are for him. “Fuck,” he groans, other hand rubbing his cock just for some friction and relief, “that for me too?”

You nod and he raises an eyebrow. “Yes, yes. For you. Always for you.” 

Jack throbs against his boxer briefs that are entirely too tight for his liking now. You’re testing his patience without even knowing it, just by standing here and doing what he asks. It’s not a bad thing, he’s just acutely aware of how much teasing you is teasing him. 

He pulls his hand away and licks his fingers clean and his other hand pops the clasp of your bra. The whole thing makes a shiver race up your spine, goosebumps breaking out over your skin. He tosses the bra aside and spends a moment just looking at your breasts, licks his lips without even realizing it. 

Jack pulls away a bit and his hand finds his other pocket, pulls out the tie. You whimper a little at the sight. “Now, what to do with this?” He cocks his head at you. “Could gag you with it. Tie your ankles together.” His hands find yours, bring them up in front of you and turn your wrists slightly so that your hands are in front of your chest, palm to palm like you’re praying. “I think,” Jack lilts, “this is what we’re going to do. You were just so handsy in the cab, afterall, I’m sure you had your fill of touching me then. Plus,” he takes your underwear from your pocket and lays it over one of your shoulders, “we have these for your mouth.” He binds your hands together with the tie expertly, running it across the back of your palms and fingers in addition to your wrists so you can’t even open your hands to try and touch him. He knots it off with a bowline knot. Strong, but very easily undone should the need arise. 

“No!” You shake your head at him, whining and pleading. “I didn’t, I didn’t!”

Jack hums at you. “Well that’s also a shame, then.” He grabs your underwear from your shoulder and brings them to your mouth. “Open.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Jack freezes immediately. Wait is not one of your safe words but it’s also not something you end up saying that much during sex, especially not how you just said it. “No! Not bad!” That stops him from pulling out the knot. “A kiss, please.” It’s almost begged and Jack lets out a little laugh, a small amused smirk forming. “I want to know if I can taste your scotch on you, please, I’ve been thinking about it since you ordered it. Please, please, Jack. I’ll be so good, please!”

The smirk slips from Jack’s face as his jaw grinds at your words, at how you’ve been thinking about tasting him for that long. “I suppose you’ve been listening quite well so far.” You both know this is as much for him as it is for you after your admission. 

Jack holds your face in his hands and leans in to kiss you. Your mouth opens in anticipation and he’s quick to give you what you want, sliding his tongue into your mouth, one hand sliding from your face down to grope at your ass as he gets lost in the kiss. It’s longer than he intended but he doesn’t care, he can’t get enough of the moans it’s pulling from you every time he licks into you and sucks on your bottom lip. 

He forces himself to pull away. “So?”

“Yeah,” you pant, “I could. Tasted so fucking good.” 

“Good.” Jack steps back and takes his hands off you but hovers them nearby for a second to make sure your balance is okay with your hands tied like they are after leaning into him for the kiss. “I hope you enjoyed it because the next time I kiss you I won’t taste like it.” He brings your underwear back to your mouth. “You remember everything?” He’s asking if you remember how to get him to stop when you have neither your hands nor your mouth like this. You nod and he can see in your eyes that you do. “Good,” he nods. “Open.” You do and he stuffs your underwear inside of your mouth, thumb brushing over your bottom lip when he’s finished.

You track his every movement as he walks over to the desk and takes his blazer off, sets it over the back of the desk chair. He turns and looks at you, walks back so that he’s only six or so feet in front of you and undoes the button at one of his wrists, starts rolling his sleeve up just below his elbow, and doing the same with the second.

If you trusted yourself to get onto your knees safely with your hands tied like this you would, spit out your underwear and crawl over to him. But you don’t so all you can do is stand there and whine a few moans at him, try to plead with your eyes, for what you’re not entirely sure. 

Jack hums at you. “Bet you wish you hadn’t been handsy in the cab now, don’t you?”

You whimper at that, hand your shoulders a little. Jack smirks. 

He walks to the bathroom and grabs a clean towel, lays it over the edge of the bed. “Go sit.” You do as he asks, quivering in anticipation the whole time. Jack walks to the head of the bed and grabs a bunch of pillows, props them all right behind you. He wants you to lean back and watch, wants to be able to make eye contact with you. 

Jack walks back to the edge of the bed and stands in between your legs when they automatically part for them. “You gonna be good and watch?” 

You nod rapidly, not even sure what it is you’re going to be watching but knowing it’s going to feel almost too good and be almost too erotic to stand with how keyed up you are.

“Good,” Jack nods. He sinks to his knees then and you let out a muffled cry at the realization. His hands find your ankles and he rests the flat of your feet on his shoulders, pulls you down by the hips so that your ass will just slightly be hanging off the bed and tilting your hips up when he gets you to lay back. He pulls the pillows closer to you again. “Lay back.”

Jack nods at you, looks down at your cunt, now perfectly on display for him, swollen and glistening. “That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, smirks when it has the desired effect and has you clenching around nothing and whining. Jack kisses the insides of your thighs, sucks at your skin hard enough to burst blood vessels, nibbles at you. He turns his attention back to your pussy. “You smell so good.” He kisses just above your clit and you roll your hips, using his shoulders as leverage. He tilts his head and rests it on your thigh for a second as he looks up at you. It’s a bit of an unexpected move, not one you can recall him doing to you, though you frequently do it to him when you’re taking him in your mouth. Jack breathes in deep through his nose and groans from his chest. “Always smell so good for me. And you taste just as good.”

You whimper and clench around nothing just as Jack surges forward and licks you cunt to clit. You flinch at the feeling, hips bucking up. The vibration of Jack’s laugh meets your clit as he sucks it into his mouth, his hands finding your hips and pinning them down. 

He teases your clit with the tip of his tongue as he sucks on it, gently rolls it between his teeth before pulling away. His tongue circles around it and then drops down, pushes inside your pussy, fucks you a few times before it figure eights back up to your clit, flicks over it rapidly before he sucks it into his mouth again. 

You’re wailing for him because you can be with your underwear muffling every cry and moan his tongue rips for you. You’re teary from the pleasure already, your whole body on fire. You never want him to stop it feels so good. Your hips struggle against Jack’s hands, trying to buck up to no avail, hands straining against the tie because you want your hands in his hair so badly, want to grip at the sheets, something, anything. 

The intense eye contact you share makes Jack’s tongue feel even better, the pleasure in the creases of his eyes and pull of his eyebrows helping get you off. There’s something about knowing how much he loves this, knowing how much he loves eating you specifically out that drives you insane, has your toes curling against his shoulders. He’d told you once, you can hear it in your head now in that low gravelly voice of his, that he was always very whatever about it, didn’t love or hate it, but would do it of course, until he met you, and now he loves it, craves it, wants to be doing it all the time, finds himself missing it at random moments during his days. 

Jack repeats his movements, groans and grunts into you as he alternates sucking and licking and tongue fucking you in different patterns right to the edge. It doesn’t take long. You’re close, already. And if he had more patience and wasn’t as painfully hard as he is he would back off, drag it out longer, edge you a bit. 

He sucks at your clit until it pops out of his mouth as he pulls his head away. “I want you to focus and feel, Doll. And keep your eyes on mine.”

You moan something that sounds like you’re trying to say ‘I am’ through your underwear. 

“No.” His voice is sharp, cuts through your pleasure haze, eyes blazing. “Focus and feel it.” You’re not sure what it means but you nod, you’ll do anything for him right now. 

Jack holds your gaze for another moment before glancing down at your cunt and sucking at your clit. He looks back up at you as he releases your clit and flicks his tongue over it with precise strokes that are just the right pressure to pull tears from your eyes because of the intensity of it all. He raises his eyebrows slightly, a reminder to focus and feel it. 

You do, ground yourself in Jack’s eyes as you look at him and focus and feel. It hits you. You take in a gasped shuddery breath, try to say ‘oh my god’ around your underwear but it just comes out as a moan and a sob. 

The strokes of his tongue against you aren’t just precise. They’re spelling out his name. He starts over when he knows you’ve got it. J a c k A b b o t M i n e M y W i f e. You’re almost hyperventilating it feels so good, is so possessive it augments the feeling of his tongue three-fold. Once he’s finished the final e of wife he starts over with a J and one hand leaves a hip. 

You’re so focused on Jack and his eyes that you don’t even see it about to happen, though you theoretically would be able to. Two fingers slide inside you, easily with how wet you are. Jack finds that spongy spot inside of you makes a rapid come hither motion and you’re gone. 

It shoves you over the edge, launches you over it really. The groans you’re pulling from Jack just from coming on his fingers as his tongue laps at you make your orgasm crash into you even harder. You knew you were close and it was going to hit you soon but it still catches you off guard. It’s blinding, you try so hard to keep your eyes open and give Jack the eye contact you know he wants, is demanding of you. But something has to give, you have to take one sense back from him. 

You sob out moans around your underwear, enjoy the freedom you have to not hold back for fear of being too loud in a hotel. You try saying his name around it, aren’t even fully conscious of it because of how fucked out of your mind you are, how little control you have over your body and mind right now. 

He starts to ease off and slows just when he needs to, right before the point of painful overstimulation. Because that’s not what he wants tonight. He just wants you to feel good. He laps at your pussy a few times to clean you up a bit and get a few last tastes of you. 

You whimper when he pulls away and stands up and looks down at you. You got so wet and so messy that almost the entire bottom half of his face is slick and shining with you. He smirks at you, licks his two fingers clean before bending down and grabbing your bra from the floor and uses the cups to wipe his face off. “You are,” it’s a little panted, “so delicious. I could do that forever. Live between your legs like that.” His words make you whimper again. 

Jack helps you sit up so he can clear the pillows away then lay you back on the bed. He walks around the side and pulls the comforter down and then moves you so that your feet and head face the side of the bed, not the headboard and end. “God, Doll.” You can hear him messing with his shirt, unbuttoning it and throwing it to the floor, undershirt joining it a second later. “I could’ve come from just that. Just fucked my fist once or twice and lost it just from the way you taste and how pretty you sound when you come even all muffled and how hard you gripped my fingers.”

You moan at that, wish that you could see him getting undressed and talking about you like that. The clinking of metal tells you he’s undoing his belt, the soft thump of fabric hitting the floor a second or so later. Both pants and boxer briefs if you had to guess. 

It’s quiet for a second until you strain and hear the softest hum of skin rubbing skin. Jack’s stroking himself slowly, eyes roaming your body intently. You whine. You want him back, want him inside you. Need him inside you. 

“Need something, Doll?” Jack asks as he climbs on the bed and up your body so that he hovers over you. You blink hard at him and try to say ‘you.’ Jack uses a hand to wipe away some of the fresh tears that slip from your eyes. “Me? Just like this? So you can see since you can’t touch or speak?” You nod quickly and repeatedly, drop your shoulders and widen your eyes to say please. “Well,” Jack starts as he pulls away from you and moves to the side of your legs, “that’s not the plan baby.”

He flips you over so that you’re on your stomach, grabs your hips and pulls them up so that you’re on your knees. Even with your hands tied together like they are you’re still able to push the front half of your body up on your elbows a little. “I just really love having you from behind sometimes, you know?” Jack moves to kneel between your legs, runs a hand through your cunt and uses it to slick his cock before sliding it between your lips and running it through you, head nudging at your clit. “Love looking at your ass.” His hands grip your cheeks, squeeze a bit roughly. 

You’ve come back down enough now that your mind is a little less hazy and you have the wherewithal to moan as you move your hips back and forth in time with his as he slides through you. Jack laughs, pinches one of your ass cheeks. “Impatient girl.” A hand presses into your lower back to still you and a second later you feel Jack’s other hand helping line himself up. “That’s okay, I’m a little impatient right now too.”

Jack slowly pushes into you, a flurry of curse words falling off his tongue as he does, a long moan from you until he bottoms out. 

“We’ve barely started planning the wedding and I’m already impatient for you to be my wife.” Jack pulls out of you, right to the tip, hand still pressing into your lower back. “Impatient for you to have my last name.”

It’s slow at first, teasing the both of you really, long, patient strokes out of you followed by easing himself back in. It’s slow until it isn’t, because Jack doesn’t slowly build up to a faster pace. He just pulls out of you slowly again but snaps his hips to get himself inside of you quickly, sets an unrelenting pace, hands finding your hips and pulling you back onto him so he can fuck you harder with every thrust. 

“You’re already mine,” Jack grunts. “So fucking mine, god!” You feel so good, are so wet and tight for him and he is so impossibly deep in you that it makes it harder for him to say what he wants, thought starts to go. “Everyone knows from the fucking rock on your finger.” He keeps fucking you at the same pace, doesn’t slow down for a second. It shakes the bed, hard, and it’s the reason he put you sideways, so the headboard didn’t keep slamming against the wall and earn you a noise complaint. “Everyone knows you belong to me. Knows you’re mine.”

You’re reduced to tears and moans by his words, struggle to keep yourself up as your whole body shakes.

“I love fucking you like this. Can get so deep, fuck you so hard.” His hands find just above your hips and he pushes down, hard, but not hard enough to hurt. It tilts your pelvis even further for him, lets him get even deeper. “Can fuck my pussy. So. Fucking. Deep.” Each word is punctuated by a sharp snap of his hips.

You sob at it at the same time Jack growls your name. He has never fucked you this deep before, has never been quite this feral. You have no idea what’s set him off like this but you’d like to know so you can keep it in your back pocket. It’s the last semi-coherent thought you have. 

His pace grows frenetic, strokes just as hard and fast but not in the same regular rhythm they had been as Jack gets further drunk off you. Jack pulls out right before he’s about to come and you sob at the loss. You don’t have much time to think about it or be sad though because he’s flipping you over and leaning over you and thrusting back inside of you in seconds. He’s still though. 

“You’ve been such a good girl,” he murmurs through a pant as he undoes the knot of the tie and unwraps your hands. “Taken it all so beautifully.” His praise makes you shiver as he removes your underwear from your mouth, makes the fire that’s taken over your body burn even hotter.

His hands take yours carefully and he kisses at some of the indented marks left by the tie before rubbing each hand and wrist out for a second. He wipes at your mouth after, helps remove the saliva that’s dripped out from having the gag in. You’re panting hard, punctuated by hiccupped breaths from your tears. “So good for me.” His thumb brushes over your lip and then he leans down and kisses you, presses his body into yours and slowly raises his hips to pull himself out of you. 

Your hands run up his neck and tangle in his hair. The relief that feeling the unfairly silky strands against your hands brings you is almost comical. It’s just his hair. Just running your hands through his hair. The kiss isn’t as long as either of you would like since you’re both panting pretty hard, already out of breath. “I mean it you know.” He nods, pushing back in slowly, just like he had earlier. “I can’t wait for you to be my wife.” 

“I know.” Your voice is raw. “I can’t wait to be your wife.” 

“Good,” Jack murmurs, presses another soft kiss to your lips. “I have a promise to keep.”

He’s straightening up and throwing your legs over his shoulders before you can process his words and try to think about what promise he’s talking about. And then Jack’s right back to fucking you. Hard. With a kind of nearly reckless abandon that’s driven by sheer need. 

“Jack!” You tug his hair hard and it just spurs him on, makes his hips move faster somehow. “Oh fuck, I’m, it’s too, you’re too…” You shake your head a little, don’t even know what you’re trying to say, “Please. Please.”

“Please what?” Jack pants out as he leans into you further, rolls your hips up more so he can get even deeper. “What Doll? Please what?”

“Any, anything!” You’re lost in the sensation of him. He’s all you have, all that exists to you right now. “I, I.” A little moaned sob leaves you as you give up trying, let your eyes flutter closed.��

Jack laughs darkly. “You’re so fucking-” Jack has to stop to groan when you somehow find it in you to rock your hips in time with him. He doesn’t remember what he was going to say. “Mine,” he growls at your ear. “You’re fucking mine.” Jack slips his hands below your shoulders, rests on his elbows and curls his fingers in your hair. He uses it as leverage to push you down onto him so he can fuck you even harder. He’s got you nearly pressed in half, your hips tilted so far up he’s snapping his hips and fucking nearly straight down into you. “Look at me.” 

“Jack, I, I, I can’t,” you stutter through a moan. “Can’t, I can’t.”

“Yes the fuck you can,” he growls. “I know you fucking can, Doll.” You force your eyes open, Jack coming into focus as your tears clear enough to really see him. You’re glad he made you open them because fuck does he look good. Jack is feral and possessive in a way you haven’t seen before and is fucking you harder than he ever has before and is somehow even deeper than in your last position. A few sweaty curls stick to his forehead, eyes absolutely wild, blown so wide you’d struggle to tell what color his irises are if you didn’t already know. His flushed face and neck are strained, veins more prominent than usual. 

And Jack is looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists to him in this moment. Like he’s so attracted to you that he can’t get enough of you. Like fucking you is a privilege. Like he needs you so bad it hurts. Like he’ll never have enough of you. Like he knows you’re his in every sense of the word. Like he knows how good he’s fucking you, cocky and proud.

“That’s my good girl,” he purrs at you, all gravel and rasp. Every thrust steals your breath as it sends another wave of pleasure through you. It’s dizzying, how he’s making you feel physically and emotionally. He always makes you feel so wanted but it’s even more heightened right now. He’s desperate for you. You’re the only thing on his mind. “Whose are you?”

Your mouth opens and closes as you try to find the word, panting out small sobs until it mercifully runs through your mind. “Y-yours Jack,” you cry, “yours!”

“That’s fucking right,” he growls again, leans his head into your neck and sucks hard. “And.” it’s harder for him to get words out too. Jack’s just as pussy drunk as you are cock drunk. “What are you gonna fu-fucking be?”

Your hands slide from his hair down to the side of his neck and back. Jack loves the sharp pain it brings, somewhere some part of him knows he’ll have scratch marks and bruises tomorrow. You’re a panting, sweaty mess beneath him. “I…” You’re so far gone you hardly know how to begin to even try to think to find the word. 

He sucks at your neck one last time and pulls back up. You haven’t answered him. “Eyes back on me,” he orders. You comply, eyes opening to find his again. “What’re you-” Jack groans as you squeeze him even tighter. “Fucking christ you’re so good, feel so fuckin’ good!” Jack’s derailed for a moment by his pleasure, the pleasure you’re giving him. But the promise comes back to him. “What’re you gonna be?” 

You’re all whimpers and whines as you open and close your mouth as you look for the word. Jack chuckles darkly. He starts to mouth the word at you and it hits. 

“Wife,” you moan, at the pleasure you’re feeling and the thought. “Your wife!”

“Fuck!” Jack snaps his hips even harder when you say it. He loves hearing you say it. “That’s right. My wife. My fucking wife. My fucking wife with her perfect fucking pussy that’s mine. You are fucking mine.” Jack starts to babble as he gets closer and closer. “Anything else to say Doll?” he chokes out through heavy pants. 

You shake your head, let out a sob. You need this. Need him, need to come, need to feel him come. “Jack!” Your nails dig into his back and neck. “Jack!” you moan again. It’s the only word your brain can come up with unprompted. 

“Good,” he grunts, panting hard as he shifts and slides a hand between you, circles at your clit. He doesn’t even mean to pull it from you that fast but you’re so close and so far fucking gone that it’s just a few swipes of his fingers and you’re coming, the pleasure searing every nerve. 

You’ll look back and know that it’s easily the hardest you’ve ever come, easily. You’re rendered totally breathless, completely lost to the pleasure flooding you. Jack’s right behind you, his orgasm catching him just as off guard as yours caught you. You get so tight around him, sound so beautiful in the seconds before you come and force yourself to keep your eyes open and look at him, teary and fucked out and like you know you belong to him, that he’s slamming into you, pulling his hand from your clit and grinding himself against you as he tries to prolong his release and yours. 

There are no words for either of you, both of you rendered completely speechless by the intensity of the orgasms ripping through you. Jack gets his voice back first, an absolutely strangled groan of your name from somewhere deep in his chest. It has to be one of the most erotic sounds you’ve ever heard him make. Your voice comes back shortly after, as do your tears because you are still so overwhelmed with pleasure and feelings and Jack. You moan his name over and over. 

Jack collapses on you carefully, so that his head is at your chest and your torso isn’t completely covered by his making it harder to breathe. He’s shaking just as badly as you are, both of your bodies have no idea what to do with all the pleasure. You’re both panting hard, still a bit lost in your minds to it. You trade off moaned and groaned fucks and oh gods and I love yous and each other’s names as you come back down, occasional aftershocks hitting you both and making you whine. He kisses at your chest wherever his lips happen to reach. 

Jack’s forcing himself to get back quicker. He has the instinctive drive to take care of you. You need him. That was a lot to take and you were properly sobbing. “Okay,” he finally pants out minutes later. “You are so fucking good, fuck me. You feel so good.” He pushes himself up so that he can lean down and give you some soft kisses to your lips and also your face, the bruise he sucked into your neck, your collarbones, the top of your breasts. “My good girl. So perfect and beautiful for me.” He gives you a few more kisses and then he forces himself to roll off you. 

“Jack?” you whimper. You miss him already, miss his body weight helping calm your shakes and his warmth and his smell. You’d stopped sobbing and Jack doesn’t want you to get teary again.

“Shh,” he soothes you, “it’s okay, I’m right here.” Jack sits up and pulls you into his arms before grabbing the comforter and sliding you both up the bed so he can hold you as he reclines on the headboard. You curl into his chest once he’s settled and strong arms pull the comforter over the both of you before slipping under it and wrapping around you tightly, putting pressure on you to help with the shakes. His are almost gone now. “You did so fucking well,” he murmurs through softening pants. “I love you.” He kisses the top of your head. “You were so good, I’m so proud of you.” 

“I love you too,” you murmur, absolutely fucking glowing in his arms at the praise, smiling to yourself as you nuzzle his chest. If his arms weren’t wrapped so tightly around your body you think you’d be floating away from how good you feel.

Jack shifts, grabs a bottle of water from the nightstand and opens it. “Water, yeah? Please.” 

You whine at his request, but this one is playful, you’re back with him. “Don’t wanna move.” 

Jack laughs softly. “You barely have to, just lift your head a little, okay?” You huff a little but do as he asks and he holds the water for you, tips it carefully so that it doesn’t flow too fast for you and pulls away when you start to pull back. “Thank you Doll.” 

“Thank you,” you hum at him in response, settle your head back on his chest. “You’re so fucking good too, you know. I hope you know. I’ve never been fucked the way you fuck me.”

“Always. And I do know. Believe me, you make sure I fucking know.” Jack takes a couple of sips of his own before recapping the bottle and setting it on the table again. He holds you tight again, kisses the top of your head every now and then. “You doing okay, Doll?” 

“So, so much more than okay.” You realize with how raw your voice is and how you’re still shaking a little it’s not very reassuring. “My body just,” you take in a deep breath, “doesn’t know what to do, but I feel good. I feel amazing. That was so fucking good Jack, you felt so fucking good, made me feel so fucking good. I feel like I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have just gotten fucked like that.” You sigh so dreamily it makes you giggle. 

“Good,” he murmurs, chuckles just a little from your last sentence and your giggles. He knows you’re okay and relaxes. “We’ll take a bath in a few minutes, yeah? You can go to the bathroom, have some more water for me. Maybe have a snack. And then I’ll massage you out a little, once we’re out of the bath, okay?”

“You don’t have to do that.” You kiss his chest because he’s the sweetest. 

“I do. I always need to take care of you after regardless of how hard or soft it is. But more than that I always want to, okay?” Jack kisses the top of your head. 

“I know. And I want to take care of you too.” You run a hand through his sweat damp curls, scratch at his scalp. Your shaking has stopped now. 

Jack’s head leans into your hand on instinct because of how good it feels. “You always do,” he murmurs, eyes fluttering shut. “I love you Doll.”

“I love you too Peter.” He can feel your smile against his chest. “Kinda sleepy.” 

Jack lets out a little laugh through his nose. “I’m sure you are. I am too. Let’s get you into the bathroom, yeah? You can pee while I start the bath and then once we’re in you can even doze on me a bit if you want okay?” 

“Yeah.” You nod a little and take in a deep breath before moving with Jack so that you’re both properly sitting up. 

He stands up and holds his hands out for you. You’re so blissed out you don’t even realize he’d left his prosthetic on. “Ready?” 

“Ready.” You grab his hands as you push off the bed and wow can you feel the soreness and stiffness already. And that’s on top of how your legs feel weak and shaky right now from how thoroughly you’ve just been fucked. You let out the softest groan of pain.

Jack catches it immediately, wraps his arm around you to help support you. “You okay?” You look up at Jack and nod, give him a smile. Because you are. You fucking love it. Love this feeling and how he takes care of you and lets you take care of him in the bath. Jack helps you into the bathroom and to the toilet while he starts the bath. 

As always, he pours in a copious amount of bubble bath gel. You’d told him once that bubble baths were your favorite and so he always tries to make sure there’s something for you. Bubbles or a bath bomb, you’d mentioned liking those once. This is the upscale expensive brand bubble bath that the hotel provides. You both enjoy the way it smells. 

“Peter?” you call to him from the small separate area where the toilet is. 

“What’s up? You okay?” Jack’s already moving towards you. 

“Can we have bubbles?” You support yourself on the wall and stand and flush as he comes into view. “I forgot to ask.” 

Jack gets an arm around you to help support you and smiles, kissing and nipping at the tip of your nose just so he can hear your fucked-out, sleepy laugh again. “You’ve got bubbles already waiting for you, Doll. You never need to ask. I’ve got you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s the day of your third anniversary. 

You and Jack didn’t abide by the whole not seeing each other or sleeping in the same bed the night before your wedding thing. You stir awake curled against Jack’s chest, nuzzling into him and intertwining your legs further as you settle back against his chest, not ready to fully wake up and open your eyes to the world. Jack’s hands start to rub up and down your back and you feel the vibrations of his low chuckle in his chest more than you hear it. 

“I think it’s time to get up, sleepy girl,” Jack hums at you. 

You shake your head against him lazily. “Don’t wanna leave this. You.”

Your voice is so sleepy and adorable Jack can hardly stand it. “You know what today is?”

“Mm,” you hum at him, make no effort to pull yourself further awake. “Saturday.” Jack scoffs a laugh and rolls his eyes affectionately even though you can’t see. You smile against his chest as he shakes his head. “Am I wrong?” 

“No,” Jack concedes, gives your ass a little pinch. That makes you jolt in his arms and yelp, not because it hurt because it surprised you. “But that’s not what I was looking for.”

“I can’t believe you just pinched my ass to wake me up on the morning of our third anniversary and wedding!” You don’t move an inch and Jack gets the answers he was looking for.

“I did not!” Jack huffs with a laugh. “You were already awake when I pinched you!” 

“The pedantism I’m facing at this hour of the morning is unreal,” you sigh dramatically. 

“Oh that was hardly pedantic, and you know it.” 

“I know no such thing. But,” you pause for effect and to kiss at Jack’s collarbone, nibble at it just a little. The reaction from him is immediate, hips canting just slightly against yours. You’ve felt how hard he’s been this entire time. “I do know that if we stop debating it you’ll have enough time to fuck me one last time as your fiancée. If that’s something you’d be interested in.”

Jack’s already rolling you onto your back before you even finish the word fiancée. “Say it again.” His voice is lower than normal, more grit to it than usual even for mornings. The thought is too much. He knew it of course, you kind of half did last night just in case you wouldn’t have time this morning but still. 

“Fuck me one last time as your fiancée Jack.” Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling at the salt and pepper curls that are just a centimeter or so longer than when you met as Jack starts kissing at your neck, just kisses, just uses his lips to tease you and grinds up against you. “Fuck me one last time with this last name.” Jack stills at that. Obviously he knew your last name was changing but until you said it he hadn’t thought about it in this context. It makes him a little more feral somehow. He lifts his head from your neck and gazes down at you, eyes blown wide and panting a little. You can tell from his gaze that he’s about to, that he’s already there and thinking of ways he can go hard without risking marking you or making you unable to walk or making you cry and risk swollen eyes. 

“Jack,” you moan his name softly as you roll your hips as he grinds against you. “Fuck me one last time before my last name is Abbot.”

And so he does. 

Jack stands in front of his dress blues where they hang waiting for him to put them on. It’s hard not to think about it, about the last time he saw himself wearing these. At your funeral. And yes, it was just a nightmare, but still. He can’t help the little pang that hits him. You could have died. He’s so aware of it. He could be standing in front of them trying to force himself to get in them so he could get to your funeral. You could have died.

But you didn’t. You’re alive and off in your own room getting your hair and makeup done, slipping into your wedding dress. The thought makes him smile. Jack is wearing his dress blues to marry you, to start a new chapter with you, not to say goodbye to you. 

“You good?” Robby walks in before Jack can fully pull himself out of it. 

“Yeah,” Jack nods. “I’m more than good. I’m marrying her today.” Robby doesn’t say anything, waits to see if Jack has more to say. “In that nightmare, of her funeral, I wore my dress blues. And Michael, she is so fucking good and imperfectly perfect and so herself and she loves me so fucking much, with this intensity that I’m not sure I deserve that it feels like it’s too good to be true somedays, like she’s too good. Like this life with her is the dream and that nightmare is reality and I’m going to wake up any second in your guest bedroom without her and be back in that nightmare.”

Robby nods slowly, takes in a breath as he thinks. “Well,” he draws the word out in contemplation. “I can promise you this isn’t a dream Jack. You’re not waking up from this to the nightmare that life without her would be for you.”

“I know. And I don’t want to seem sad, because I’m not, I’m so far away from sad.” Jack pauses, gets a little quieter. “She’s everything, Michael. She’s the only thing I’ll ever need. And I’m marrying her today and it’s so fucking cliché but it feels too good to be true because what could I have ever done in any lifetime, let alone this one, to deserve her?” 

“I don’t think you’re sad Jack. I think you’re in love and about to get married and with everything you guys have been through I can understand why it’d throw you for a second.” Robby walks in the room a little closer to Jack and leans his back against the wall the closet is on so he can see Jack’s face. “But I know for a fact that she’s getting ready right now thinking, for reasons I may never personally understand,” he lets out a small laugh which Jack preemptively rolls his eyes at, “the same about you. That you’re too good to be true. That life with you is a dream or too good to be true. And knowing her how I do now, I’d be willing to hazard a guess that she’s probably not sure what she did to deserve you either, not sure she deserves you.” 

Jack finally pulls his eyes from his dress blues to look over at Robby. He doesn’t say anything though, voice just a little too thick with emotion. 

“And to that I have two things to say. One,” he holds out a finger of his left hand horizontally in front of him and wraps his right hand around it, “I love you both dearly, I really do, but you are both fucking idiots for thinking you don’t deserve each other and your love. And two,” he moves his right hand off his one finger and holds out a second that his right hand then wraps back around, “you do deserve each other and each other’s love. Why is she worthy of your love, but you’re not worthy of hers?” It’s a rhetorical question. “Because Jack, you say she’s everything and I know she is, I believe you. I see the way you look at her and hear the way you talk about her. But you are everything to her in the same way, the same capacity. She looks at you the same way, talks about you the same way. The way that you love her and feel about her and the intensity of your love for her, is exactly the same as how she loves you and feels about you and the intensity of her love for you.” Robby shakes his head a little and takes in a big breath before letting it out. “And she deserves you and your love, right?” Jack nods. “Well Jack, you deserve her love. And I think that today, on the day of your wedding, would be a really good day to let yourself accept that. That you deserve her and her love and to be loved at the same intensity with which you love her.”

It’s quiet as the two look at each other. Robby’s words hit Jack hard. He’s right. Jack hates admitting it but he’s right. All he can do is nod at Robby who gives him a little smile in return. After a second Jack clears his throat. “God Michael, our therapist is really rubbing off on you. How often are you seeing him? You thinking about leaving me to go become a psychologist?”

“Ha!” Robby laughs. He knows by the use of his real name that Jack’s thanking him in the only way he can right now. “He’s got jokes.”

Jack laughs with him but grows a little more serious. “Are you going to give her the same spiel?

Robby nods. “I can go right now and do it, see her in her-”

“No! Do not!” Jack cuts him off, Robby smirking and laughing. “You can talk to her through the door. Or have a dance with her or something later.”

“Whatever you want, brother. Get dressed.” Robby squeezes Jack’s shoulder as he walks by to step out of the room.  

Jack lingers on his hanging dress blues for just another second before taking them down and getting into them. Robby walks back in once he has his shirt and pants on, jacket still hanging. “For you.” Robby hands him a decently sized small box. 

“Aw, Robby, you shouldn’t have,” Jack teases him. 

Robby snorts. “I didn’t.” 

Jack’s eyebrows raise at that and he opens the box. Inside is another box, a recognizable box and in that box is a watch. He finds a small note. So you can’t be late to our forever. ;) I love you more, Doll. Jack lets out a little laugh to himself, shakes his head. He sets the boxes on the dresser in front of him and takes the watch out, puts it on. It fits perfectly without needing any links removed or added and he’s sure it’s because you measured his wrist during the night or when he fell asleep on the couch at some point. 

“Ready?” Robby is holding Jack’s coat open for him. Jack nods and slips it on, stands in front of the mirror while he buttons it to check it all looks okay. He makes sure to slide two handkerchiefs into one of his pockets. “I have the rings.” Robby touches where his inside pocket is. There’s a knock on the door. “I think that’s my cue.” Robby walks over to Jack and they share a hug. “I’m so happy for you Jack. I’ll send her in, yeah?” Jack nods and Robby starts walking over to the door. 

Not far away you’re in your own room getting ready. Even though you and Jack had decided not to have a bridal party, your dress shopping party is there with you, getting hair and makeup done too as they prefer, just for the experience and fun. 

Once you’re done you sit around chatting as Heather, Dana, Mel and your friend get theirs done. You laugh at something Dana says as Mel walks up and sits next to you. “I have something for you.” She hands you a box that’s six or seven inches in length, not overly thick. 

You take the box from her and smile. “Thank you Mel, that’s so sweet of you.” 

She shakes her head. “No, it’s not from me.” You furrow your brows at her and give her a confused smile. “I think you should open it.” 

You give her one last confused look and then unwrap the box. It has a note on top. Something new. Love you more, Peter. You shake your head as you smile to yourself. You remember him asking on the way to your bridal shower. You hadn’t thought much of it since then, but had a moment or two where you kind of wished you could. At least now you’ll have one of the four. You set the note aside and open the box. “Oh my god, Jack,” you whisper to yourself as you take in the diamond tennis bracelet. The metal matches that of your engagement and wedding rings, diamonds the perfect shape. 

“Wow,” Mel laughs a little stunned as she takes in the bracelet with you. “It’s beautiful. Very sparkly.” 

“I love sparkly,” you murmur to yourself as you nod slowly, still a little stunned. You’re not surprised by it in the sense that it’s a very Jack thing to do, you’re just still in disbelief sometimes that you found Jack, think you probably don’t deserve someone as good as him. He did this for you. Got this for you. Just because he wanted to. 

“Want me to put it on?” Mel asks.

You glance up at Mel at her words. It takes a moment for them to process and then you nod. “Please.” She takes it carefully from the box and you hold your wrist up for her. She brings it over and gets it clasped and you shake your wrist a little to get it to settle. “Fuck,” you breathe out. It’s even more stunning on. 

“Yeah, I’ll say.” Heather smirks as she comes closer to take a look, Dana and your friend following. You all spend too long looking at it before you settle back in. 

Your friend is the next one to come sit by you. She hands you a box that’s a little bigger than a necklace box. “This one is not from your almost husband. It’s from me.” She raises her eyebrows at you and gives you a little smirk as you start to open it. Inside is the garter she’d helped you pick out one day, only in a light shade of blue. “Something blue.” 

“Thank you,” you tell her with a slightly trembling voice. You know she hand dyed it for you, took that time out of her busy schedule to do that for you. “It’s even more beautiful in blue,” you laugh. Your laugh draws attention and you quickly hold it up. “Pretty blue garter,” the three who work with Jack collectively make noises of fake disgust and gagging, “mhm, yep, that’s what I thought.” You all share a laugh. 

You smile at Heather when she comes to sit by you. “Old or borrowed?” You ask with a smirk and raised brows. 

She’s smiling as she offers you what is a necklace box. “I’m not sure if it really counts as old,” she says as you open it, “so I have a backup just in case.” You raise your brows at her as you take the lid off. Inside is a larger cameo locket with a humming bird on it. It’s beautiful in its simplicity. “Open it. Also I didn’t envision you wearing it, I thought maybe you could wrap the chain around your bouquet, have the locket in the front or back depending on what you think.” 

You carefully take it out of the box and open it. Inside is a locket sized photo of you and Jack. “Oh my god,” you whisper. “That’s the first photo Jack and I ever took together.” You look up at Heather glassy eyed. “How?”

“Remember when we went to that cocktail bar a month or so ago and I happened to bring up photos in conversation and steered it towards first photos of all the couples. You showed me your guys’ while Dana was showing you the one of her and her husband she’d taken a picture of on her phone. I was able to air drop it to myself before giving your phone back. I took a little advantage of you being a little tipsy.” She shrugs, but you both laugh. You’re back to looking at the photo of you and Jack, running your finger down the edge of the locket. “I found the locket itself at an antique store. Hummingbirds are a symbol of resilience because of how resilient they are. And with everything that you guys have already survived together, resilience felt right for the two of you.” 

“Heather,” you breathe shakily, as you look back to her, lips pressed in a line but pulled up in a smile that says you’re trying not to cry. “This is incredible. Thank you.”

“That’s so fuckin sweet,” Dana dabs at her eyes. It’s then you realize her, Mel and your friend have gotten close. You pass the locket around so they can all see the photo. “You’re making us all look bad Heather!”

Heather laughs and shrugs. “Idea just came to me.” You smile at her again and reach out and squeeze her hand, nodding at her in thanks again. 

“Well, I suppose cat’s outta the bag that I’m borrowed.” Dana walks over to her purse and grabs a small ring box from it and hands it to you. You open it to reveal a beautiful art deco style ring inlaid with diamonds. “I know it’s a very particular style, but that ring has been worn by every Evans woman who has gotten married for the last hundred and two years. Not a single divorce.” 

“Oh Dana, it’s beautiful.” You look up at her. “But I’m not an Evans and I wouldn’t want to risk messing up it’s ma-” 

“No.” Dana cuts you off with a ‘please’ look. “None of that bullshit. You are an Evans. So is Jack. Even if not in name.” You look back down at the ring and then up at her, round eyes and eyebrows slightly furrowed, a silent ‘really?’ “I brought ring sizers just in case it doesn’t fit on a finger on your right hand. We can make it work.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper when she gets closer, swallowing thickly. “It means more than you know.” Dana doesn’t say anything back, just smiles as she helps you try on the ring. It fits perfectly on your right ring finger, your engagement ring sitting above it for now until after the ceremony. Once you have the ring on and the locket around your bouquet, you set your garter on the bed to put on before your dress. “There we go. Something old something new something borrowed something blue. He made it happen. That man.” You laugh a little to yourself as do the others. 

“So,” Mel clears her throat, “the rhyme actually ends with ‘and a sixpence in her shoe.’ I wasn’t really sure if you’d want to do that or if someone else would get one, so I got one just in case. It goes in the left shoe” Mel holds it up. “I brought some quick set epoxy if you wanted to glue it to the bottom of your shoe if it’s heeled and has a spot that won’t hit the ground, or it has a small hole and can become like a charm or even get sewn onto the shoe. Or you can put it somewhere else. If you want.” She smiles at you. “But totally cool if you don’t.” 

“No no, we have to have the full rhyme!” You cock your head at her and smile. “It’s perfect Mel. Thank you so much.” You walk over and grab your shoes. “Help me get it on my left shoe somewhere?” Mel nods and the two of you step over to the desk to survey your options and decide how best to do it while everyone else finishes up. “Thank you Mel. I would have been so annoyed if I found out we didn’t do the entire thing after,” you laugh. 

“I thought you might be,” she laughs with you. “I’m glad it worked out.” By the time you and Mel turn back to the group everyone is finished with hair and makeup.

“All right, we’ll head out and let you get dressed.” Heather gives you a knowing smile and walks over to hug you tight, followed by Mel and your friend, each of them congratulating you and saying how happy they are for you and Jack before walking out.

The door closes and it’s just you and Dana now. She was the only one who went to any of your fittings with you, so she’s the only one to see you in the dress with it fitted properly. It doesn’t take long to get you in it, all things considered, and your accessories don’t take too long either. 

Dana steps back to survey you for a few seconds before you turn to look at yourself in the mirror. The dress still makes you feel like it did when you first bought it. It makes you feel good, makes you feel how Jack makes you feel when he looks at you. Special and beautiful. And this is it. You’re in your dress for real this time. All of your accessories on, hair and makeup done, shoes on. You’re going to go walk down the aisle to Jack in not more than ten minutes.   

“You look beautiful, kid.” Dana’s eyes are a little glassy as you look at each other through the mirror. “I’m really happy for you guys. You are so so good for him. I’ve never seen him so happy, and I’ve known him a long time.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, giving her a tight smile and tilting your head back a little trying to stop any tears from forming. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to cry yet.” 

Dana laughs. “It’s okay. If you’re all good I’m going to head to my seat.”

You nod. “Thank you. I mean it Dana. We’re lucky to have you.” She gives you one of her smiles and nods, goes to turn. “You should go see Jack. Before you sit down.” Dana’s eyebrows furrow as she turns back to look at you. “Promise me you’ll go.” Her eyes narrow in suspicion a little but she nods and walks out. 

She knocks when she reaches Jack’s room. “There you are.” Robby smiles at her as he opens the door. “You look very lovely.”

Dana gives him a suspicious look. “Thanks. You don’t clean up top bad yourself Cap. Is there a reason I’m here?”

Robby nods and she walks in the room. “He’ll explain. I’ll see you out there.” He gives her a last smile before exiting the room, the door closing behind him. 

“Jack?” Dana calls out as she moves further in the room. He smiles at her as he walks out from the bathroom, fully dressed and ready. “Wow,” Dana lets out a low whistle. “Aren’t you a sight?” She walks over to him and gives him a hug, a kiss on the cheek. 

“You look pretty damn good yourself,” Jack tells her.

She waves him off. “You look very handsome. She’s gonna cry. And you’re definitely gonna cry when you see her.” She rubs in that she’s seen you just a little, earns the smallest eye roll from Jack. “You need something? Your bride got all mysterious on me, ‘promise me you’ll go see Jack’ and then Robby answers the door grinning like an idiot and offering no explanations.”

Jack shrugs at her, smiling like he knows something she doesn’t and that’s going to make her react. “I need someone to walk me down the aisle.” 

Dana’s head lolls forward a little, eyebrows raising as she stares at Jack. “I thought you guys weren’t doing that.”

Jack shakes his head. “She decided not to have anyone walk her down the aisle. I never decided I wouldn’t have anyone.” Dana’s still looking at him in disbelief. “I want someone to. And who better to do so than the second most important woman in my life?” Dana’s eyes get watery and she cocks her head at Jack, silent because she’ll cry if she tries to speak. “You know I mean that and that it’s true,” Jack tells her softly. 

Dana nods at him. “Jack, I…” She fans at her face and grabs a tissue from the nearby box, dabs at her eyes. “You’re pretty important to me too, you know that?” She whispers as she wraps him in another hug. He laughs softly and nods. “I’m so happy for you Jack. For both of you. She’s everything you’ve ever deserved. I’m so glad you found your one.” Dana sniffles and finishes wiping at her eyes. “I’d be very proud to walk you down the aisle.” 

Jack offers Dana his arm and she takes it, the two of them leaving the room and heading to the ceremony space. Robby is waiting for them in the staging space that’s hidden off to the side of the top of the aisle. The three share a look and Robby cues who he needs to so that the music starts. 

Robby walks down first, takes his place at the top of the altar facing the audience, padfolio with his notes in hand. The music changes slightly and Dana and Jack start walking down the aisle. The change in the music is also your cue to wait ten seconds or so and then go to the staging area yourself and wait for your music to hit. 

There are murmurs of approval and appreciation and hums of aw as Dana and Jack walk down the aisle. The only people who have seen Jack in his dress blues before are those who were in his unit. For everyone else, your friends, all of the Pitt family, it’s the first time. He looks good in them, of that there is no question. 

When they hit the end of the aisle Dana rests her cheek against Jack’s and gives him a little cheek kiss as they hug again. “I’m so proud of you Jack. And so, so happy for you,” she whispers to him. “You deserve this, yeah. The both of you do.” 

“Thank you, Dana.” Jack rubs her back a little. “You have no idea how much we appreciate you and everything you’ve done for us. And for me over the years.” 

She nods at him as she pulls away and takes her seat right on the aisle of one side of the front row. Jack walks up the altar and shares a handshake and quick hug with Robby before he settles just in front of him, turning to face the top of the aisle. 

Jack looks around at everyone who came. The ceremony space is completely full. It’s small, but big enough, an intimate ceremony of just you and your closest friends and family. Neither of you wanted something huge. All of Jack’s unit minus one are there with their significant others if they have one, your friend and a few of your closest work friends and what feels like most of the Pitt and their significant others where applicable, plus Dana’s kids, Langdon’s kids, Harrison, Becca and Jake. 

In his mind he notes that it feels like entire damn department is here and he can’t help but wonder who the fuck is staffing it right now. Jack is actually able to smile to himself at the thought despite the small pang. He thought the same exact thing to himself in that nightmare. But this time while it still doesn’t really matter and he doesn’t really care because he’s here with you getting married, he will be going back to that hospital. He lets himself wonder about it more, wonder if Robby somehow pulled off getting nearly an entire moonlighter crew so everyone could be here. 

Jack can’t believe it’s finally time, that he finally gets to see you in your wedding dress and marry you. His heart races and he breathes a little faster and harder in anticipation. He’s sure that if he didn’t have one hand clasping the back of the other and hanging down in front of him they’d be shaking.  

Your photographers get into position so that photos can be captured of both you and Jack seeing each other for the first time. They stay as inconspicuous and as out of the way as possible. 

In the staging area at the top of the aisle your heart is racing just as fast as Jack’s if not a little faster because you still have to walk down the aisle, by yourself, with all eyes on you and not trip or fall or otherwise stumble. And you can’t help the thought of what if he hates my dress from running around your brain. Your bouquet shakes as you hold it with one hand, smooth out your dress with the other as you wait for the music. 

You force yourself to take a couple of deep breaths and pull it together. You know really the anxiety is more eagerness than anything. You just want to be married already, want to be kissing Jack and in his arms and crying about how much you love him. You can’t believe the day is finally here. You remember you get to see him in his dress blues for the first time now and it helps you focus and smile.

The music you’ve chosen to walk down the aisle to starts and you hear Robby ask everyone to stand. You hold your bouquet with both hands low in front of you and take in one last deep breath before you round the corner and hit the top of the aisle. 

Seeing each other for the first time is quickly etched into your memories. Neither of you will ever forget the moment, forget the way you struggled to breathe for a second or how everything and everyone else seemed to fade away. 

Jack’s breath catches in his throat when he sees you, a beaming smile pulling on his face and tears hitting him immediately. “Oh my god,” he breathes out quietly for only Robby to hear as he shakes his head at you a little in disbelief, his first tears of the ceremony starting to stream down his face. 

While everyone is looking at you Jack brings a hand up to his heart and lays it flat over it for a second before closing it into a fist and nodding at you a little. He grabs one of the handkerchiefs from his pocket to wipe at his tears as Robby squeezes his shoulder silently. 

Jack tried to imagine your dress, what it would look like, what you would look like in it and he never got anywhere close. You look perfect in it, more beautiful and stunning than Jack could have ever hoped to imagine. Your dress fits you perfectly, both in fit and in personality. It matches you, your personality and energy, complements your natural beauty without overtaking you. The dress, while gorgeous, isn’t the focus. The focus is you, just as it should be, he thinks. 

You’re a vision as you walk towards him, radiant and ethereal and breathtaking. And somehow you’re his. His girl, his woman. You’re about to be his wife and Jack doesn’t know how he got so fucking lucky. He sniffles as more tears fall that he was to wipe away. 

You have to remind yourself to breathe as you start walking, because Jack steals all the air from you as soon as you look at him. Your eyes glance at the path in front of you and then back to him because you just can’t look anywhere else. You suddenly don’t care if you trip or stumble or fall because you weren’t looking where you were walking, taking in Jack, looking at him and returning his gaze is worth the risk. You return his beaming smile, your eyes tearing up just as his do. 

He’s so handsome. He always is but him in his dress blues on your wedding day is a different type of handsome. He almost looks regal in a sense with how perfectly they fit him and how sharply pressed they are, highlighting his chiseled features. He’s breathtaking, truly. And somehow he’s yours. Your man, your Jack. He’s about to be your husband. The thought makes you laugh to yourself a little as your first tears of the ceremony spill over and onto your cheeks. 

Jack looks at you like you’re the last sight he ever needs to see to die a happy man as you walk towards him, like you’re the only thing that exists in the world right now and the most precious and beautiful thing that exists. Because you are. And you look at him the exact same way, like you’re walking towards your future and the only thing that matters. Because he is. 

The two of you beam at each other even harder as you walk closer and closer to him. Your eyes roam each other more the closer you get, just for a few seconds to take in more details before you look back into the other’s eyes. 

As you reach the end of the aisle you slip your bouquet to Dana and take the hand Jack offers you. “Please be seated.” Robby nods at the audience. 

“Worth the wait I hope?” you whisper to Jack as you stand across from him and face him, voice trembling and more tears sliding down your face.

“You’re,” Jack shakes his head, struggling to come up with any words that could even begin to describe how stunning you look right now. He has to settle for simple. “You’re beautiful, Doll.” You know what he means, know that beautiful means what it always does but that there’s an extra indescribable edge to it right now. You know because it’s how you feel about him. “Gorgeous. There aren’t words,” he whispers to you. 

“That’s how I feel, there aren’t words for you either.” The smile you give him is a little trembly as a fresh wave of overwhelming love hits you. “You’re so handsome, Jack. Unfairly so.” And just like beautiful, handsome also has that edge that Jack recognizes. 

He laughs a little and then Jack can’t help himself. He captures your chin with his thumb and index finger and leans in, steals a kiss from you. It’s your last kiss before you’re married.

“You skipped a couple of steps there, brother,” Robby teases Jack as the two of you settle back in your respective positions facing each other, eliciting a soft laugh from the audience. 

You hold one of Jack’s hands and use the other to wipe at the tears on your face, a mix of yours and Jack’s now. Jack drops your hand for a moment to switch his handkerchief to his other hand so he can reach into his pocket and pull out the second handkerchief. 

It makes you laugh when you take it from him, more tears slip down your face. “Always so prepared.”

“I try.” He smiles at you and wipes away more of his own tears as you do the same before you grab each other’s hands again, one pair of hands less held than the other as you both hang onto handkerchiefs. 

You both know there’s going to be a lot of tears during this ceremony for the two of you and that getting your vows out is going to be difficult. Everyone knows it. Because it’s not just that this is your wedding and you’re so in love and finally getting married. It’s because it almost didn’t happen. Because you’re both so acutely aware of how precious time and your love is. Because Jack was almost planning your funeral and not helping you plan your wedding.  

“Are we all ready now?” Robby smiles, asking not just you and Jack but also your guests. It pulls laughs, and excited calls of yes and it’s about time and finally. It’s perfect, it’s the atmosphere you and Jack wanted. You didn’t want stuffy or overly formal. You wanted it to reflect the two of you and Robby’s question has set the perfect tone. 

“More than,” you laugh softly, squeezing Jack’s hands. 

“More than,” Jack agrees, beaming at you and laughing a little as he returns your squeeze. 

“Great! Well, welcome everybody to what I know will be an emotional but incredibly joyous and fun wedding. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Robby, or Michael, when Jack is mad at me, and I’m their favorite third wheel.” Robby gives a self-satisfied smile as he says it, and you, Jack and the audience all laugh. It’s true. 

“Their love story has not been the easiest. Before they were even engaged they faced challenges most couples, married or otherwise, never have to. And hopefully they’ll never have to again. I also want to say quickly that I got their permission to talk about what happened. I'm not just up here bringing up one of the most traumatic and difficult times of both of their lives individually and their life as a couple.” There’s more laughter from everyone at that. 

As much as you and Jack truly are paying attention to what Robby says, your eyes aren’t coming off one another. For the most part it’s all eye contact, just how Jack loves, but sometimes you both let your eyes wander to take in the other more, you eyes dragging down Jack to appreciate him in his dress blues again and his roaming you to take in you in your dress and every detail of it. 

“God knows they’ve had too much practice but something that stands out about their love to me is their ability to weather their worst days together. It’s one thing to stand next to each other and survive on the best days, when things are great and easy and another to stand next to each other and survive on the worst days, when things truly probably couldn’t get any worse and qualify as one of the worst days of their lives. And I truly mean weathering their worst days together because they’re always there for each other.” Robby takes a moment to let the words linger and glances down at his notes. 

“People say that relationships and love aren’t always 50-50. That sometimes one person is at 10% and so, in the best relationships, the other is at 90%. And that’s them.” He nods as he says it and there’s a few murmurs of agreement from the audience.

“They have this constant give and take, this way of adapting for the other. And if one of them is at 10% and the other falls even lower, to 5%, they’re both able to set their struggle aside for the moment and immediately be at 95% for the other. They never let the other be alone in their struggles or in their joy.” Robby pauses for a second, has to clear his throat, the emotion clearly starting to get to him. “It’s quite incredible to watch.”

Robby shifts his attention to address you and Jack directly. “I am so incredibly happy for the both of you. I have never met two individuals who deserve this happiness and love and life together more. I love you both very much,” his voice trembles a little as he says it, “and I wish you nothing but a lifetime of adventure, laughter, peace, joy and love.” 

You both look up at Robby as he says it. His eyes are glassy, and wet with unshed tears that are threatening to spill over. Jack nods at him, the two sharing a knowing smile. When Robby’s attention shifts to you, you mouth ‘we love you too’ and a few of those unshed tears slip down his cheeks.  

“I’m going to share two moments, my favorite moment that I’ve had with each of you that’s really kind of about the other one of you and then I’ll move this along, I promise.” Robby sniffles, wipes quickly at his eyes and takes a deep breath. You and Jack look back at each other and raise your eyebrows as you both grin in anticipation. You both correctly know you’re about to hear a story you’ve never heard before.

“I’ll start with you Jack. Years ago now, there was a really bad day at work and you and I were walking out into the darkness. You said something about preferring working nights and I asked if you were sick of working them yet and you said that your therapist thought you found comfort in the darkness.” You laugh softly at that, as does the audience. It sounds like Jack. 

“So fast forward two years and we’re walking out of the Pitt together one day as you’re getting off, you know actually it must have been three years and four or five days ago because it was a couple of days before your first anniversary. I asked you if you could cover a shift, fully expecting a yes. I was asking but I was so positive you’d say yes because you’re Jack and you always said yes to working. But you said no.” Robby pulls his mouth together in a grimace and nods at the audience to pull a few laughs. 

“No because it was your first anniversary together. And then,” Robby laughs to himself a little and cocks his head for a second, “like you’re just saying the sky is blue and not about to rock my entire world you said, ‘also, I’m switching to days, it’s better for us.’ I was honestly impressed with myself that I processed that news fast enough to call out a question to you before you were too far away to hear. I yelled at you, ‘I thought you found comfort in the darkness?’ and you turned around and looked at your phone which was definitely a photo of you by that point and smiled as you yelled back ‘guess I find it somewhere else now.’” A soft chorus of ‘aww’ rings through the audience. 

You tilt your head at Jack, chin trembling as your lips press together in a tight smile as you try and keep it together, silently asking him ‘really’ as your eyebrows draw together. Jack’s smile softens, eyes looking at you fondly, almost nostalgically and he squeezes your hands. He gives you a few small nods and your tears return.

“And I knew as I walked back into the Pitt, yes to go straight to Dana to tell her,” everyone laughs loudly at that, including you, Jack and Robby, “that even if you hadn’t told me yet, you were already planning a proposal. Sure enough, a couple of days later you told me you were going to propose, not sure when or how or where yet, but she’s it. She’s the one. ‘She’s my forever,’ I believe are the exact words.”

“Oh Jack,” you whisper just loud enough for him and him alone to hear, more tears falling. You wish that you could hug and kiss him and thank him for making you feel so loved all the time. Because he does and in the moment, hearing that story it’s overwhelming. You’re not sure how you’ll survive his vows. Your hands squeeze his before you drop one and use the handkerchief he gave you to dab at your eyes again and blot up the tears that have already wet your face. Jack remembers that conversation well, remembers how that smile at the end that Robby mentioned lasted his entire walk home. And somehow, he realizes, he loves you even more in this moment than he did then. 

Robby glances at you with a little conspiratorial smile. “And you. Just under two years ago, you and I were sitting in your hospital room talking. It was truly just you and I because Jack was showering. You’d been out of your coma for just shy of two days so we’d really known each other and had the opportunity to talk for five-ish days or so I wanna say. So we’re talking and you ask me to go to the grocery store for you. I said ‘sure of course, just make me a list.’” Robby nods a little as he remembers while he speaks.

“I give you my little notepad and a pen and it took you maybe five minutes to write down this fairly long grocery list. I remember thinking it was great that you had all these things you wanted and had an appetite and us having a battle about me taking your card to pay for things but anyway I take the list and after my shift I go, don’t think much of it.” He shrugs, glances at you and then the audience. You already know what’s coming and you know that you never told Jack.  

“I get to the store and start shopping and realize two things. First, that the list isn’t quite as long as I initially thought because you’d written brand names and specific flavors for things. And second,” he pauses to laugh a little, “every single thing on that list was one of Jack’s favorite things. Every single thing, I swear to god.”

Robby’s nodding at Jack, not that Jack sees it. He’s far too focused on you, asking you a ‘really’ with his eyes the same way you did, tears threatening to wet his face and a wobbly smile. And just like him you give him a few nods, squeeze his hands. 

“So I call you and you answer and said ‘hey if you’re looking for Jack he’s down getting the dinner delivery he ordered so he might not be able to answer.’ And I’m like ‘no I’m looking for you. I’m at the store and this list is all for Jack. Is there anything you want?’ You tell me ‘No, I put what matters and what we need on it.’” Robby glances at you, smiles at the way you’re looking at Jack.   

“I press you, ‘okay but are you sure?’ You said ‘Robby, please. He’s not eating enough here and it’s not healthy for him. He can’t eat big meals right now, he just picks at everything and you and I both know him and know he’s a snacker, a grazer. But he doesn’t have any snacks here. So he’s not really eating. Please. The list is what we need. What I need.’” 

Jack’s hands squeeze yours again, harder this time as ‘what I need’ echoes in his mind and tears slide down his face. You were focused on him during that time, you were watching him and taking care of him without him knowing it. It’s so you and he could almost drown in it, your love for him. “Doll,” it’s whispered, barely audible to you with how his voice cracks over it, hand dropping yours to wipe away his tears. Your heart aches in the moment from how much you love him. Like Jack you remember this story fairly well despite your health status at the time because it was the first super personal conversation you had with Robby. You can remember the genuine anxiety you had at the time because Jack wasn’t eating enough and it scared you. And also like Jack, somehow, you realize, you love him even more in this moment than you did then. 

“We hung up and it really sank in as I walked around shopping. You were just shot, had multiple major surgeries, a skull fracture, you had been out of a coma for less than 48 hours and you’re worried about Jack.” Robby shakes his head and lets out a small incredulous laugh. “You’re noticing Jack not eating enough and that he’s not eating big meals and remembering that he’s a snacker. You’re still pretty heavily medicated and you’re pulling out brand names and flavors of Jack’s favorite things. That’s when I knew if he asked you’d say yes and, selfishly in a way, it’s when I was convinced that you were the one for him and when I knew I wanted him to ask you.” All three of you, and probably close to the whole damn audience, have to take a second to clean up your tears.

“And so here we are today. At your wedding. You were two strangers in a bookstore. There was nothing between you. But from that nothing you slowly forged what has to be the most beautiful and profound love I’ve ever had the privilege of witnessing.” Robby’s voice wobbles and he pauses for a second, lets out a breath. 

“These two have decided to write their own vows, so get your tissues ready, I’m sure.” After deciding on personal vows you and Jack had decided to end them with five promises to each other. “Jack, we’ll start with you.”

Jack takes in a deep breath and drops one of your hands so that he can grab his vows from his pocket. 

He starts with your name, squeezing your hand that he’s still holding. “I’m going to start with some honesty,” he gives you a little smile. “I struggled to write these. Not because I couldn’t think of what to say but because there’s too much to say, there’s too much I want to tell you and promise you, too much you deserve to hear. And I could stand here and talk for hours and say all the words and it would never be enough to tell you how much I love you, how deep my love for you runs or how embedded in my soul you, and my love for you and your love for me is.” You start to cry because you know how much he means it and because you get it, feel the exact same way. 

“Doll, you are easily the biggest overthinker I know,” he laughs a little as he says it, smiling at you while you and the audience also laugh. He glances down at his vows before looking into your eyes again. He did his best to memorize them so that he can look you in your eyes as he speaks his vows to you. “And I say that with all the love in the world, I truly do, because I know it means that you have thought of every single reason not to love me or marry me and yet here you are. Loving me. Marrying me. You jumped head first and with your eyes wide open into loving me and you’ll never know what it means to me to have that kind of pure acceptance,” Jack’s voice trembles, “and to know that you’ve seen every bad part of me, every flaw and imperfection and have overthought it all and that you,” he has to stop as his voice breaks and he sucks in a shuddery breath to stifle the smallest sob. He just barely clears his throat, like he knows that he’s going to have to choke out his next line and pause after it regardless of how much he tries to prepare now. “And that you accept it all and choose to love me despite all my flaws and imperfections.” It almost sounds whispered with how raw and hoarse his voice is as he says it, but everyone hears it. Jack sniffles, drops your hand and takes a few seconds to wipe the tears from his face and collect himself before taking your hand again and continuing.

“You truly have no idea just how much you save me every day, heal a little piece of me with every smile and kiss and ‘Peter.’ You’re my comfort,” he tilts his head and gives you a lopsided grin that meets his eyes hard as he echoes what he told Robby two years ago, this time straight to you with tears flowing down both of your cheeks, “my salvation and my strength. You’re my home and my world. I told you once that you’re my best everything and I mean it. You are my best everything. You are the greatest and best part of me. I love you more than I know what to do with or how to show you.” You dab at your eyes almost continuously with your free hand, Jack’s words searing themselves into your brain and heart, especially with how he’s looking straight into your soul through your eyes as he talks to you. 

“And of all the things I might accomplish in this life,” Jack sniffles and clears his throat so his voice is a little stronger again, “the only thing I care to be remembered for is being your husband and being lucky enough to love you and be loved by you.” You cover your mouth with your handkerchief at that and stifle your own small sob while you squeeze Jack’s hand, hoping he understands that you’re saying the same is true for you. He knows. He always knows. 

Jack glances down at his vows again and straight back up to you. “So I promise to be honest, to be loyal and faithful and always have your back as your biggest supporter and your greatest source of encouragement. I promise I will always be here for you, that I will always be your refuge. I promise to always fight for you and for us. I promise to never take you or your love for granted and to always remember just how lucky I am to be able to call you mine.” He pauses to smile at you, tilt his head and squeeze your hand to emphasize the last one before he says it. “And I promise to love you with all of me through anything and everything life might throw our way.” 

It’s hard to resist the urge you have to hug him and kiss him and hold him close for five minutes straight while you both just cry tears of love and happiness into each other. Because you want to. You’ve never felt more loved or moved in your life. It’s almost difficult to comprehend in a way, that those words were just spoken by the love of your life to you. That someone feels that way about you and loves you this much. You’re not sure you deserve it but you take it in as best you can while he puts his vows away and wipes at his face. And Jack feels it too, that urge to hug you and kiss you and try to show you how much he loves you because he knows his words, while clearly impactful, fell far short of expressing his love for you. Like he said, he could never truly tell you what you mean to him and how much he loves you because the words don’t exist.

It’s quiet once Jack finishes, only sniffles from everyone present filling the air for a moment. Robby reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, your vows that you’d given him to hold onto for you this morning. “And now you,” he says softly, giving you a supportive nod as the two of you share a look while you take your vows from him. 

“Oh man, this feels so unfair, I can barely see through the tears.” You sniffle a soft laugh the audience joins you in, handkerchief at your eyes trying to soak up all the tears. You take in a deep breath before opening your folded vows and looking back up into Jack’s eyes. “Jack,” you start, “I love you.” You let out a small laugh because it’s such a simple way to open, glance down at your vows. Like Jack you’d memorized them to the best of your ability so you can look him in the eyes.  

“I swear this next part is written down,” you wave your vows at him and then the audience. “Writing these was much harder than I thought it was going to be,” you tilt your head and give him a look, “not because I couldn’t think of anything to say to you but because what do you tell the person that’s everything to you? I couldn’t figure out how to distill how I feel about you and how much I love you into words, and I still haven’t because nothing I say will ever be enough to even scratch the surface of how much I love you and what you mean to me.” Your voice catches thick in your throat as you shake your head a little at him while you speak, eyes narrowing slightly to emphasize your words.

“The thing about you Peter, is that you see me, all of me, to an extent I didn’t think was possible. You always use that x-ray vision they pulled you aside to teach you in your last year of med school,” you laugh a little as you say it and Jack lets out a short but proper laugh at your words because they’re unexpected and of course you would remember that, “to see right through me and know how I’m feeling and what I’m thinking. There is nothing that makes me feel more loved than when you take a single look at me and know exactly what I need without me speaking a single word. And when we’re together that’s an hourly occurrence.” You blot at your eyes again quickly and glance at your vows before finding Jack’s eyes again and continuing.

“You take what you see and you use it. Use it to love me and take care of me and heal me, even if you don’t consciously realize it. I’ve come to realize that you know me better than myself because you see me more than I see myself. And you always, without fail, see the best in me even when I show you the worst of me.” You take in a deep, shuddery breath as you struggle to keep your voice steady. “I am quite sure that has to be love in one of its simplest and purest forms. And that’s how you love me. I couldn’t be luckier.” Your voice is so thick and heavy with your tears you worry that you’re getting to be unintelligible but Jack’s reaction, the fast run of big tears and his trembling lip, and the increase in sniffles you hear from the audience make it clear everyone heard. 

Your gaze intensifies, eyes boring into Jack’s. “You’re my whole world and my entire heart. My rock and my constant. My biggest supporter and my protector. You’re everything. You are my everything and everything to me, Jack.” Your voice breaks on his name but you don’t clear your throat. You let it be raw and higher pitched as you finish. “Please never forget that.” Jack shakes his head slightly and squeezes your hand to tell you that he won’t and lets out the quietest choked sob, handkerchief damp with his tears just like yours with yours. His heart aches now with your love for him.

You clear your throat, take another shuddery deep breath and collect yourself. “I promise to always be your best student in medicine and otherwise, to never stop learning about you or how best to love you. I promise to never stop trying, to never give up on you or on us. I promise you my faithfulness, my honesty and my loyalty and my unwavering support in everything and to always be your safe space where you never have to hide. I promise to love you all the time, especially in the moments you’re struggling to love yourself. And I promise to never stop falling more in love with you.” 

Again, Jack fights the urge to hug and kiss and be close to you that you both fought after he made his vows to you. He’s never felt more loved, never felt so good. He struggles to comprehend it too, that someone loves him as much as you do, needs him the way you do. But you do and he knows it and he beams at you as you both wipe your tears. He takes your vows from you and folds them, slips them in his pocket next to his. You squeeze each other’s hand again, and you do your best to let it take the place of the hug and kiss you’re desperate to give him. You know you have a whole life to hug and kiss him as you please and that you’re going to feel this same overwhelming love in both directions in a few minutes when Robby says you can finally kiss. In this moment you just hope Jack has a fraction of a clue of how much you love him and need him and looking at him and seeing how he looks at you, you’re pretty sure he does.

“Well,” Robby says quietly. “I think we all need a moment after those.” Sniffled laughter rings out from the audience as Robby does give everyone a moment to dry their eyes and collect themselves. Even you and Jack both manage to get your tears to stop, if only for a little. “I’ll now ask you both to affirm your vows and declare your intent.” 

Robby turns to Jack first. “Jack, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” Jack’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists as he says the words clear and strong, not a hint of hesitation to be found anywhere. 

“And do you,” Robby’s attention turns to you as he says your name, “take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” You beam at Jack as you say it and you’ve never exuded such confidence. You say it like it’s the easiest and simplest thing in the world.

“And now for the exchange of rings.” Robby’s voice is a little shaky. He grabs them both out of his breast pocket. “Very beautiful rings at that.” He says, sniffling and clearing his throat, a low hum of laughter sounding at his attempt to hide his emotions. He holds them in his palm in front of you and Jack, the padfolio with his notes in his other hand. 

Robby takes in a deep breath. “Your rings symbolize your love for one another. Love freely given and chosen every day with no beginning or end and with no true giver or receiver as you both give and receive equally, unbroken and infinite and yours alone. When you look at your rings be reminded of this moment, of the vows you’ve made to each other today, and of your unending and ever growing love for each other.” 

He offers his palm to Jack who picks up your ring. You raise your left hand and spread your fingers so Jack can hover your wedding ring at the start of your ring finger. Your hand shakes, no matter how hard try to keep it still the excitement and disbelief and joy and love win and it keeps shaking. Jack supports your hand with his free one, has it upturned, fingers resting against your palm and the length of your fingers, thumb wrapping gently over the side of your hand and resting on the back of it. Jack’s eyes return to yours and with it the intense eye contact you share, have been sharing most of your time up here. His eyes are glassy as he smiles at you. But you catch the slight tremble of his lips. 

“Jack, repeat after me. I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness and my undying devotion.”

“I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness and my undying devotion.” Jack’s eyes grow glassier as more tears form.  

“Let it remind you that no matter where I may be, I am always with you in your heart.”

“Let it remind you that no matter where I may be, I am always with you in your heart.” A few tears slide down Jack’s cheeks, his voice breaking around ‘always.’ You reach out with your right hand instinctively and use your handkerchief to blot some of his tears from his face making him laugh a little. From his face your hand goes to your own where tears have started to fall. 

“And with this ring, I marry you and pledge to honor the vows we have exchanged today, to choose you every day and to love you with all that I am and all that I will ever be.”

“And with this ring,” Jack has to pause for a second to collect himself and clear his throat, “I marry you and pledge to honor the vows we have exchanged today, to choose you every day and to love you with all that I am and all that I will ever be.” He’s smiling at you as he says it, tears still wetting his face as he breaks eye contact with you to watch as he slides your wedding ring all the way onto your finger. 

You watch as he does too, wear the biggest grin when you look back up at each other. You widen your eyes at him in a silent oh my god I have a wedding ring, we just did that. 

Robby holds his palm out for you and you take Jack’s wedding ring. Jack holds his left hand out and spreads his fingers just like you did. And his hand shakes just as badly as yours did as you hover his wedding ring at the start of his finger. Your free hand comes to support his left as he did for you. 

Robby glances at you. “Repeat after me. I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness and my undying devotion.”

“I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness and my undying devotion.” You press your lips together hard but they pull upward in a smile, tears still flowing from listening to Jack declare the same thing to you and trying to prevent the emotion from fully clouding your voice this early.

“Let it remind you that no matter where I may be, I am always with you in your heart.”

“Let it remind you that no matter where I may be, I am always with you in your heart.” You make it just a little further than Jack, the tears slipping into your voice and making it break at ‘in.’ 

Neither you nor Jack really stopped crying since you started again when Jack gave you your ring, nor have either of you stopped smiling through your tears. So, like you, Jack uses his handkerchief to wipe away some of your tears before doing the same for himself and his own. He’s careful too, dabbing like he’s observed you doing so that he doesn’t smear your makeup. You fight the urge his care and attention gives you to cry a little harder. 

“And with this ring, I marry you and pledge to honor the vows we have exchanged today, to choose you every day and to love you with all that I am and all that I will ever be.”

“And with this ring, I marry you,” you pause to sniffle, try and steady your voice in vain, “and pledge to honor the vows we have exchanged today, to choose you every day and to love you with all that I am and all that I will ever be.” You have to break eye contact again so you can both watch as you slide his wedding band all the way onto his finger. Once it’s on you both watch as Jack closes his hand into a fist and reopens it as he gets used to having a ring. 

You’re both wide eyed as you hold hands again and slowly look back up at each other, almost in disbelief because this is it. You both have rings, have made vows and declared your intent. Robby is about to say it. Grins pull up onto your face, breaking quickly into huge beaming smiles. You’re both so overwhelmed with love in the moment, tears flow a little harder and you both giggle softly.

“And now by the very limited authority vested in me,” Robby nods at you and Jack and grabs both of your handkerchiefs from you, not that either of you see him or do much more than release them when you feel him pull, still focused on each other, still beaming so hard your cheeks hurt, “I pronounce you husband and wife. May your first act of marriage be one of love. You may now kiss for the first time as husband and wife.” As soon as he’s done speaking, Robby moves off the altar to the side so that it’ll just be you and Jack in photos, your friends and family cheering and clapping loudly for you, a couple of people whistling. 

Without hesitation you and Jack move in synchrony, both of you taking a half step towards the other to close the small distance between you, your bodies pressing against one another. Jack brings his hands up to your face, his thumbs resting gently above your jawline as his other fingers hold your neck. Your hands find the sides of his upper arms and wrap around them as much as possible. You both somehow smile a little bigger as you keep looking each other in the eyes for a second, your hands. Your heads tilt in opposite directions automatically as you lean in and kiss for the first time as a married couple. 

The kiss is perfect. Short and chaste but so much more than enough to at least begin to convey all the emotions both of you are feeling, the excitement and disbelief and joy and overwhelming love. There’s so much love in the kiss it almost makes both of you dizzy. It lingers just long enough but not too long. When it ends you steal another couple quickly. “I love you,” you giggle against Jack’s lips. 

“I love you too,” Jack chuckles a little.

Your arms wrap around Jack’s neck, one hand staying to hold the side of his face as his hands are moving so that one arm wraps around you, hand splaying against your back as his other hand grips your waist. He pulls you tight against him and then tucks you under him as he spins you a little and smoothly dips you as he kisses you again, just like he did when you first visited and selected the venue. You finish one kiss and smile against each other’s lips for a second before you kiss again and Jack returns you upright just as smoothly as he dipped you.  

When you’re standing again you and Jack pull apart, and the audience quiets just enough as Robby steps back onto the altar so that he can introduce you. “Family and friends, I’m honored and thrilled to introduce to you for the first time the Abbots!”

You’re sure you must grin like a love-drunk idiot when Robby calls you the Abbots but you genuinely couldn’t stop it if you tried. You’re truly just that happy. And Jack’s smiling just as hard at you as he laces your hand with his and you both turn towards the audience. You grab your bouquet from Dana in your other hand and exchange smiles with her before turning back to Jack to share a glance and make your way back up the aisle, smiling and thanking your friends and family who are clapping for you once again as you do. 

You and Jack walk hand in hand to the small room you’ve set aside to have thirty minutes with each other before you take photos while your guests enjoy cocktail hour. Your makeup artist has already graciously left you some redness clearing eyedrops and the caterer dropped off some appetizers for the two of you to enjoy. You figured it was a good way to give your eyes a chance to recover from crying even though your photographer can edit them out and to get some food because you’ve been told it gets hectic and the bride and groom often don’t get to eat much. But more than anything it’s just thirty minutes alone together as husband and wife. 

Once you’re both in the room with the door locked you can finally give into the urges to be close and hold each other that you were both fighting the entire ceremony. 

Your arms slide around Jack’s neck as his slide around your back, pulling you as close to him as he can get while still being able to kiss you. Because kiss you Jack does. He starts fairly chaste, more a series of kisses than anything but they grow more fervent, his tongue flicking across your bottom lip to coax your mouth open for him. When you do he’s quick to lick into your mouth, groaning at the taste of you. He lets you into his mouth when your tongue seeks it out, sucks slightly to pull another pretty moan from you, a small groan escaping him when you nip at his bottom lip and suck at it before letting him dive back into you.

You finally break apart when you’re no longer able to get enough oxygen in through your nose alone. You rest your foreheads together for a second before you move you to have your face nuzzling against his neck so that your chests can be pressed against each other more as you hold each other. 

“I wanted to do this so bad during the ceremony,” you murmur. “Just hug and hold you and be hugged and held by you. I just wanted to be close after everything that we said.” 

Jack squeezes you tighter, rocks you both a little. “I did too Doll, believe me.”

The two of you stand there holding each other and relishing in your closeness for what has to be five minutes. You’re both silent save the occasional soft hum at the right touch. You’re silent but you’re still talking to each other with your hands, where they wander and rub and squeeze. Both of you are reflecting on what you said to each other at the ceremony, what was said to you by the other, observations Robby made. It’s hard to believe it’s real. You made it here together and are now standing holding each other as husband and wife. 

Jack takes great care not to mess up your hair as he lets one of his hands find the back of your neck and pulls your face from him gently. “Let me really look at you and your dress now, yeah?” he murmurs as his eyes find yours before you can whine about being pulled away from him. 

“Only if I can also really look at you.” You smile and are already releasing him and stepping back for him as you say it. You know he’ll let you. He won’t understand why you want to, but he’ll let you. 

“Course,” he whispers distractedly as he takes his own step back and starts really taking in your dress, taking in every detail and walking around you to see the entire thing. The same feelings and thoughts as when he saw you for the first time rush through him. “Doll,” he breathes out once he’s in front of you again, “you are truly stunning. You always are but this, you in your wedding dress, fuck, it’s something else.” He looks you in the eyes as he says it but once he finishes they quickly drop again, sweeping over your dress and back up to your eyes. “There really aren’t words.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, awkward at accepting compliments, even from him. But you don’t need to say more, Jack knows. He knows what his words mean to you and how they make you feel. “Let me see you, please.” Jack nods and your eyes rake over his body. He turns for you slowly, lets you take him in. “You are so unfairly handsome, Jack, I don’t know how I got so lucky.” Like with him, your feelings and thoughts when you saw him the first time hit you all over again. “Always are, but this,” you let out a soft laugh and shake your head slightly, “like you said, it’s something else. No words.”

A light flush hits Jack’s neck and cheeks. He struggles accepting compliments at times just like you. “Thank you.” He doesn’t need to say more either, and you share another kiss and wrap each other in a tight hug again, communicating so much with every touch. You stay wrapped in each other like that for at least a minute if not a little longer. 

“Wanna sit? Have some food?” Jack finally murmurs. He would stand here holding you forever if you asked. Happily.

You nod, take his hand as he releases you and guides you over to the couch, food on the table in front of it, along with the eyedrops. “Here.” You grab the eyedrops and a tissue, put a couple drops in each eye. “To help with the redness.”

“You really thought of everything didn’t you?” Jack grabs them from you and then the tissue, puts a few in each eye and uses the tissue to catch anything that falls over. 

“Makeup artist,” you admit. “She was on it.” 

“She was,” Jack murmurs. “Even though you don’t need it in the slightest, your makeup does look exceptional.” He leans in for a quick kiss before turning to pull the table the food is on closer to the couch.

“Wait! Before we eat, move my engagement ring back!” You hold out both hands. 

He chuckles a little at your excitement. You could easily move it back yourself but you want him to and it’s adorable. “Alright, Doll.” Jack smiles at you as he slides your engagement ring off your right hand and brings it over a little and slides it right back down your left ring finger until it sits atop your wedding band perfectly. He brings your hand up and kisses your rings before he lets go of your hand. “Perfect.”

You giggle a little as you look down at your left hand and wiggle your finger a little to watch all the diamonds catch the light. Jack smiles as he watches you, drinks you in and tries to memorize the moment and how happy and gorgeous you look. “Hey, guess what?” You look back up at him.

“What?”

You shift a little closer to him and place your hands on his chest. “You’re my husband now,” you slide your hands up his neck to hold his face, “and I’m your wife.”

Jack’s eyes darken, jaw tensing and breathing picking up just slightly. His hands wrap over yours where they rest against his face and neck. “My wife,” he breathes out. 

His lips are on yours, all consuming from the get go, no soft lead-up like he usually does. His kisses are insistent, tongue tasting you again and pulling a little moan from the back of your throat. The sound spurs him on, Jack’s hands moving, arms wrapping around you as he leans you back onto the couch, one hand supporting your neck and helping you keep it up enough so that your hair is protected as your head almost lays against the armrest of the couch. It’s an awkward position with your legs still over the edge of the couch but neither of you care or even particularly notice, getting lost in each other, heavy exhales through your noises and sloppy kissing sounds filling the room.  

“Jack.” You try to say his name as a warning but it comes out far too breathy to be remotely effective. He doesn’t like that you’ve pulled away, his lips chasing yours as he makes a noise of discontent. “You really want our first time as husband and wife to be a quickie in a random room?”

“I mean…it’s a nice couch,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Jack.” Your hands push at his chest a little so that he’ll look at you. 

“No, no, I know you’re right, I just.” He groans and rests his forehead against your chest for a second before looking back up at you and helping you sit back upright.  “I just want you. Really bad. My wife.”

“I know.” You give him a soft smile and kiss on the cheek. “And please don’t think I don’t want you. I do. Just as badly as you want me.”

“No, I know, I don’t think that,” he assures you. “You’re right. I want to be able to go slow and take my wife apart piece by piece for our first time as husband and wife.” 

His words make you shiver. “Yeah,” you breathe out and nod, eyes flicking all over his face and down his body before coming back up. “I want to be able to do that to my husband too.” 

Jack groans, leans his forehead against yours. “The anticipation makes it better, right?”

You let out a small laugh. “Sure does, Peter.” You give him another quick kiss. “Let’s have some food.” Jack nods and pulls his forehead away. 

You and Jack both start to eat, still side by side and leaning into each other a little. “Oh, what’s the ring on your right hand?” Jack asks in between bites. 

“Mm,” you hum as you finish chewing and swallowing. “My something borrowed, which reminds me. Thank you. For doing that for me, arranging it.” You look down at the ring. “I didn’t realize how much it meant to do it until I had everything.” You return your eyes to Jack’s and smile at him. 

“It felt like you were a little more bummed about not doing it than you were admitting to yourself. And none of them felt burdened by it, if anything they were all excited to have that extra bit of involvement.” He raises his eyebrows a little and cocks his head just a little, the slightest I told you so smile pulling onto his face. 

“I’m ignoring that look on purpose,” you tell him before taking a bite and grinning at him. Jack just laughs and shakes his head, takes a bite of his own. “But the ring is from Dana, obviously. She said it’s been worn by every Evans woman who has gotten married for a hundred and two years and there’s not been a single divorce,” you explain after you finish your bite. 

Jack’s eyebrows raise at that and he tilts his head to silently say impressive as he chews. “Then something new you obviously know about which we’re circling back to in a second.” You grab your bouquet from the table. “Heather’s something old was this locket.” You hand the bouquet to Jack so he can see. 

“It’s very pretty.” He runs his thumb over the front. 

“It is. She got it at an antique store and said hummingbirds are a symbol of resilience and she thought that was fitting for us.” You rest your hand on Jack’s upper arm and squeeze a little. “Open it.” 

It should be more difficult than it is for Jack with how big his hands and how thick his fingers are but practicing medicine has given him phenomenal dexterity. You’re intimately familiar with how good his dexterity is. “Oh, wow,” Jack murmurs. He doesn’t know what he was expecting but not that. “Our first picture together.”

You beam at Jack even though he can’t see because he’s still looking at the picture. “She got it off my phone one night when we were out. Very sneaky,” you laugh. “And then apparently the rhyme ends with ‘a sixpence in your shoe.’ Mel wasn’t sure if anyone was getting one so she got one and we attached it to my shoe.” You hold it out for Jack to see. “But about this something new, Jack Abbot.”

“You skipped something blue.” Jack raises his brows at you slightly as he takes another bite. 

You shake your head, smirking just a little. “No, something blue is for you to see later.”

His eyes narrow in suspicion just a touch but you watch as they dilate a little because he knows it has to be something below your dress based on your smirk. “What if I want to see it now?” he rasps. 

“Then you’ll have to be patient.” You shrug at him. “Something new. Jack, it’s beautiful.” You hold up your wrist to admire the bracelet. “It’s so much and it complements my rings perfectly.” You can feel your eyes start to burn a little and you have to look away from the bracelet and Jack so that you don’t start crying again and render the eyedrops useless. 

“You deserve it,” Jack murmurs, making you shake your head and tilt it back so you don’t cry. “It’s about the least you deserve, Doll.” You reach blindly for his thigh and squeeze it as a thank you and way to say all the words you can’t at the moment. “And let’s talk about my something new.” That gets you to laugh a little and after a big breath you’re able to look at him. “It’s incredible.” Jack holds his wrist out this time, pulling his sleeves up a bit. “I don’t think I’ve ever had something this nice or been given such an amazing gift.” He runs a finger along the circular face of the watch. 

You’re smiling at him when he looks up at you. It’s soft and reflects so much love with the extra little squint of your eyes. “You deserve it. It’s about the least you deserve, Peter,” you repeat Jack’s words back to him, mean them just as much.

He smiles at you, just a hint of some shakiness in his lips before leaning in to kiss you. Like your thigh squeeze his kiss is a thank you and everything else he can’t say. “I love you,” he whispers as he pulls away, smiling softly at you.  

“I love you too.” You give him another little thigh squeeze. 

You and Jack continue to chat as you finish eating your appetizers. You still have some time left once your done and Jack pulls you into his lap and leans back into the couch as he holds you. You both revel in the closeness and soft touches. 

There’s a knock on the door and you know your time is up. “Guess I have to go share you with everyone again.” You pout at Jack playfully. 

He chuckles and kisses your out turned lip. “I know how you feel Doll.” He gives you a real kiss once you get rid of your pout and then is up and opening the door.

Waiting outside it for you are your photographer, your makeup artist, Robby, Dana, and your friend. “Marriage license time,” Robby sings a little as he walks in holding up the paper. 

All of you sign it, Dana and your friend acting as your two witnesses. You say goodbye and they head back to cocktail hour while you get your makeup touched up and you and Jack meet with your photographer for photos, take what feels like a thousand all over the place. You both know it’s going to be hard to choose which ones to get printed and hang. 

Just before you finish taking photos your wedding coordinator gets everyone to the reception space and seated for dinner. When you do finish she lets Robby know and hands him the mic. You’d also roped him in to quasi-emceeing for you. 

He introduces you as you and Jack walk into the reception space. “Alright everybody, for the second ever time, let’s give a warm welcome to the Abbots!” Your guests all cheer and clap for you as you and Jack make your way over to your sweetheart table and sit down, Jack pulling your chair out and offering you his hand to help you sit like he always does. 

“Okay, so,” Robby starts as dinner begins to be served. “Obviously dinner is being served. The bride and groom decided to let whoever wants to give a speech give one during dinner. But you have to give it before they give their own right before the first dance.” 

“I’m not going to give a full one since I really already got to at the altar. But, I just want to say again that you both mean so much to me and I am so happy for you guys. I wish you all the happiness in the world, you both deserve it so so much and deserve each other and your love. So here’s to the Abbot’s,” Robby raises his glass and everyone follows, “I love you both dearly.” He tilts his glass at you and the sound of glasses clinking together fills the room for a few seconds before it stops when sips are taken. 

Quite a few people give speeches over the course of dinner, Dana, Heather, your friend, Jack’s unit gets up and gives one together, some of the Pitt crew copying and getting up in small groups to say a few words. You and Jack laugh and chat together in between them, stay close to each other and pick off each other’s plates. You’d deliberately gotten different options so you could share, something you frequently do when you eat out. 

Once you’re done eating and signal to Robby he gets up and calls out to see if there are any last speeches and hands you and Jack the microphone when everyone stays seated. You and Jack take turns speaking to all of your friends and family, keep it short because you know everyone’s attention spans for speeches are worn by this point. 

After you finish Robby takes the microphone back, gives you and Jack a second to get out on the dance floor. He keeps the introduction simple. “And now we get to watch them have their first dance as husband and wife.”

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” you whisper to Jack as you start to dance when your song begins playing. 

“I know,” he murmurs back as he beams at you. “After all the planning and waiting for this day to come here we are.” You and Jack are really swaying to the music more than anything. You didn’t learn a dance or really practice. It just wasn’t your style as a couple. 

“You know I’ve been thinking about this moment since you danced with me up on the roof.” Your eyes start to grow a little shiny. 

Jack smirks a little and flicks his eyebrows up. “We weren’t even engaged then.”

You shake your head. “No, we weren’t. But I hoped and dreamed we would be one day and while we were dancing and ever since then I had moments where I really thought about it and what it would be like. Our first dance at our wedding.” 

“You wanna know a secret?” Jack’s grinning at you. 

“Always.”

“I came about three seconds away from proposing up there on the roof that night,” he admits with a little laugh. 

Your jaw falls open a little. “Really?” Jack nods at you with an amused smile. “Why didn’t you?” You’re smiling back at him now that you’ve gotten over the initial shock of his unexpected revelation. 

Jack hums for a second. “I didn’t think the roof of the hospital I work at and you were currently a patient at really screamed romantic or place to propose. And you were in the hospital. You’d been shot and almost died and I didn’t want it to feel like that’s why I was proposing. Because of what happened or because I felt like I had to or anything along those lines.”

“I wouldn’t have thought that,” you murmur. Jack nods. He knows. He knew then too, but it still worried him and at the end of the day he didn’t want to propose on the roof of the hospital. “Did you have the ring with you?”

“No,” he laughs, “nope, I was just going to get down on one knee and do it and promise you there was a ring waiting at home and send Robby to go get it.” He pauses for a second. “I was also worried you would get so excited you’d somehow manage to accidentally pull your central line out and it would go from cute date night scene to bloody crime scene with my hand clamped over your neck real quick.” 

“That would not have been ideal.” Jack spins you at the right point in the music and it and his words make you giggle a bit. “Would have been a hell of a story though.” 

“Oh, it would have been something,” he laughs. You both smile at each other fondly, glad you’ve gotten to a point where you can talk about what happened with some humor and not feel a total ache inside. 

“I love you,” you whisper to him, “more than anything.” You stick your lips out and Jack leans down as you continue to dance and gives you the kiss you ask for. 

“I love you too,” he whispers against your lips, “more than anything.” He steals another couple of kisses from you before straightening back up as the song starts to end. “I’m going to dip you,” he murmurs quickly.

And as the music ends Jack dips you and kisses you again, just like he did at the altar. You smile into it before the kiss breaks and you keep your foreheads together as Jack brings you back upright. “Always so smooth,” you laugh. 

“Only for you, Doll,” he murmurs, pulling his forehead from yours and giving you a quick forehead kiss while your guests clap and the DJ puts on a fast song, everyone heading to the dance floor.

The party really starts then, the DJ doing a great job of playing all the right songs to get people dancing and having a good time with you and Jack out on the dance floor. He mixes in a few slow songs and you and Jack enjoy watching who pairs up with who and getting to take a few minutes to focus back on each other and check in. 

“I’ll be right back,” Jack tells you with a quick kiss after a slower song finishes and a fast one starts. 

“You better be,” you say with mock sternness in your tone and on your face, Jack rolling his eyes playfully at you. He walks off the dance floor and shrugs his jacket off and lays it over his chair at the sweetheart table and undoes a button of his shirt. 

Jack keeps his promise, making his way back to you from behind and pulling you close as he starts dancing with you again. “Fast enough?” He yells over the music. 

“I suppose.” You turn your head up to look back at him, huge smile on your face. Your eyebrows raise and you spin in his arms when you notice the lack of jacket and open button. “Hot?”

“Not anymore.” Jack smirks at you and pulls you back close to him to dance. 

You and Jack get separated a bit as you dance. And when another slow song starts Robby cuts in just before Jack can get to you. “May I have this dance?” He offers you his hand. “Don’t even start Jack, the officiant is allowed a dance with the bride, it’s just the rules.” Robby smirks, giving Jack a look.  

You laugh softly at Robby’s playful over-formalness. “You may,” you nod at him, take his hand. “Next one, Peter.” You wink at Jack.

“It’s true Jack, Robby’s right,” Dana playfully chides him. “Plus I think you owe me a dance.” 

“I suppose you did walk me down the aisle.” Jack smiles and steps away from you and Robby before offering his hand to Dana. 

You and Robby start dancing, really just swaying around the dance floor more than anything. “I had an interesting conversation with your husband while he was getting ready earlier.” 

You’re smiling at Robby the entire time, but your eyes light up and you beam at him when he calls Jack your husband. “My husband,” you just have to say the words, make a little face of excitement. “And what did you and my husband talk about?”  

Robby’s quiet for a moment as he thinks of what exactly he wants to say. “I started by telling him that the two of you were idiots for thinking you don’t deserve each other and your love, because I know you have the same thoughts as him at times.” Your mouth drops open a little and you scoff playfully. It’s definitely not what you expected him to say. “And then I said some rendition of this. You said he’s your everything and I know he is. Everyone here knows he is, we all believe you. I see the way you look at him and hear the way you talk about him. But, you have to know that you are everything to Jack in that same way, that same capacity. He looks at you and talks about you in the same way you do about him. The way that you love him and feel about him and the intensity of your love for him, it’s all exactly the same as how Jack loves you and feels about you and how intense his love for you is. You think he deserves your love, right?” 

“He does,” you affirm quietly as you nod. 

“Yeah,” Robby nods, “he does. And you deserve his love just the same. I told Jack that I think today, on the day of your wedding, would be a really good day to let yourself accept it. That you deserve Jack and his love and to be loved at the same intensity with which you love Jack.” Robby’s giving you a small, knowing smile, eyebrows slightly raised as he nods just a little at you. 

You have to look away for a moment. “Robby, I,”  you start, but never finish. His words hit you just as hard as they hit Jack. As hard as it is for you to believe and admit you know Robby is right. 

“It’s okay,” you can hear the smile in Robby’s voice and you look back at him. “You don’t have to say anything. I just told Jack I’d give you the same spiel.” 

You laugh softly. “What was his reaction? It had to involve your therapist.”

Robby laughs properly at that. “Yeah, you know him well. He said our therapist was rubbing off on me and asked if I was thinking of leaving him to become a psychologist.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Sounds like him.” You and Robby share a quiet laugh together, your eyes drifting across the dance floor until you spot Jack. You watch him and Dana dance for a moment, both of them smiling and laughing. It makes your heart warm. 

“You’re really good for him, you know?” Robby watches you watch Jack. You pull your eyes back to him and flash an apologetic smile for ignoring him a little for a second there. “I’ve never really had the chance to tell you that. But you’re really really good for him. You’re what he needed.” 

You give Robby a small smile. “Yeah, he was what I needed too. What I need.”

“I know it sounds like something people say just to say, but please try to believe me when I tell you that I have never seen that man happier than I have since you’ve been in his life.” Robby smiles and tilts his head. “And thank you. For loving and helping the people around him too.” 

“You’re family. All of you. And thank you, Michael,” your voice shakes just slightly. “For everything.” 

Robby huffs a laugh and looks away from you for a second. “That was a very targeted use of Michael meant to make me cry again.”  

You both laugh as the song ends and move towards the edge of the dance floor. “It wasn’t deliberate,” you whisper as you hug him and give him a kiss on the cheek. “It just felt like the right moment.” 

“Am I allowed to have my wife back now?” 

“Of course,” Robby tells him as you both turn to greet Jack and it’s almost like you’re magnetized the way you both seamlessly move towards each other, your hand sliding to rest on Jack’s back as his arm wraps around your waist. He gives you a reassuring little squeeze and kiss to your temple and you rest your other hand on his chest. 

“He gave me the spiel.” You look up at Jack with a gentle smile. 

“Ah,” Jack nods, “good. You should listen to him.” 

“You both should listen to me!” Robby scoffs playfully. “Once again, you’re both idiots sometimes.” 

“Thank you for not putting that in your ceremony opening or your speech.” Jack flicks his eyebrows up and nods at Robby with a fake grimace and ire. 

Robby rolls his eyes. “Just try, yeah? That’s all. Just try to accept you deserve each other and your love, okay?”

You and Jack share a look and exchange soft smiles before turning to Robby. “We are,” Jack assures him. 

“Promise,” you add. 

Robby looks between the two of you before nodding. “Alright. Good.” He looks back at the dance floor. The music is fast again, the majority of your guests out dancing. It makes you and Jack happy, seeing all of your friends and family blending together like they’ve known each other forever. “You guys should get back to dancing with your guests.”

“You,” you point at Robby, smile growing, “should come with us!”

He laughs, shakes his head. “Maybe in a bit, I’m going to take advantage of your open bar and go get a drink, sit for a minute.”

You boo him teasingly. “No, no, Doll,” Jack starts as Robby turns and starts walking away, “if the old man needs a rest, we have to let him. Don’t want him straining himself, do we?” You bite your lip and turn your head into Jack’s chest a little as you fight back a laugh.

Robby stops walking and gives a singular hummed laugh before turning to look back at you and Jack. “You just really had to go there, huh?”

Jack presses his lips together and pulls them up a bit in a not quite smirk, as he shrugs and starts pulling you towards the center of the dance floor. “I didn’t go anywhere but the truth.” 

You giggle as you and Jack turn and let yourselves get pulled back into the middle of things, starting to dance with your friends again. Jack doesn’t let you get separated this time, he wants you close, keeps a hand wrapped around your waist and you pulled back close to him. You share a laugh when you see Robby there with you, getting pulled in by Heather and Santos. 

A few songs later and the DJ announces that the cake will be cut in ten minutes. You spin so that you and Jack are chest to chest. “Guess we should go sit and cool down and I should touch my makeup up before that.”

Jack nods at you and laces your hand with his. The two of you walk back over to your sweetheart table and Jack pulls your chair back for you, helps you sit before he takes his own seat. “Thank you.” You lean over and give him a quick kiss on the cheek before grabbing the makeup bag staged under the table. 

“For?” 

“For getting my chair and helping me into my seat.” You throw him a smile as you start to pull things out of the bag. “And don’t say I don’t need to thank you for it because that’s what a gentleman does or whatever variation thereof you were about to say. I do need to thank you for it because I appreciate it and you and want you to always know that and that I don’t take you for granted. And most men don’t do things like that anymore, Jack. So it is special to me.” 

Jack laughs to himself. “You’re welcome. I enjoy doing those kinds of little things for you.” 

“I know, because you’re the best.” You pull a couple of oil blotting papers out from the pack in your makeup bag. “Sh.” You hold your index finger up to Jack’s lips. “Just accept that you are.” You pull your finger away and replace it quickly with your lips. 

Jack deepens the kiss more than he generally would in public and you let him. You’re effectively alone right now, everyone having so much fun dancing or sitting around the other tables and laughing that nobody is looking at you. Even then it’s not like you’re fully making out. Jack’s tongue just presses against your lips a little and you open your mouth just a little for him, just enough for his tongue to slip into your mouth and taste you for the briefest of seconds.

“You taste like expensive champagne,” he groans against your lips before pulling away. “I love it.” 

You hum at him and Jack says nothing, doesn’t flinch or blink as you start to blot at his face with the papers, just lets you do your thing, both of you equally sweaty. It’s a better look on him though. You only blot a few more places and then pull away, deciding it’s okay if he looks a little sweaty. Just makes him more attractive to you if you’re honest. “I enjoy expensive champagne,” you smirk at him as you shrug, “actually I’d like more expensive champagne. We should go get some.”

“I’ll go get us some, okay? While you touch yourself up or whatever it is you believe you need to do, because I personally think you look gorgeous just as you are right now.” He leans in and steals a kiss before you can argue with him. 

“I look sweaty and shiny.” Your eyes track him as he stands up.  

Jack stoops and kisses the top of your hair carefully. “Gorgeous,” he whispers as he walks away, walking backwards for a few paces to wink at you before turning. 

You shake your head at him affectionately and go back to blotting your face and touching up your makeup so that your lipstick is fresh and your face perfectly between matte and dewy. You know your photographer can edit things but you also know other people will be taking photos. It really hits you once you close your compact and aren’t focused on your face anymore. You and Jack are married. You’re about to cut the cake at your wedding. 

Jack’s thinking the same thing as he walks to the bar and in the moment he waits for the bartender to pour the two glasses of champagne and one of water. He thumbs at his wedding ring, opens and closes his fist. He’s not used to it, wearing a ring, and so it’s a constant reminder. You’re married. He’s bringing his wife back champagne for you to enjoy together before you cut the cake at your wedding. 

“Okay, more expensive champagne as requested.” Jack hands you your flute before he sits and sets down his flute and the glass of water. “And some water. We should both have some.” He gives you a little no arguing look. 

“I wasn’t going to argue, I was going to say thank you and that I meant to ask you to get some before you walked away but forgot.” You grab the glass and take a couple sips. “So thank you. I needed it.” You hold the glass out to him. 

“Course, Doll.” He takes it from you, has a couple of sips himself before setting it down. You both pick up your champagne flutes and take a sip. 

You hum as you let the bubbles rest in your mouth for a few seconds before swallowing. “You have to admit it’s really fucking good champagne.”

Jack laughs. “I never said it wasn’t! I think it’s very good.” He stops speaking but his lips twitch like he wants to say more, eyes glint a little mischievously. 

You narrow your eyes at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs, “I was just thinking about how I was never a big champagne fan before you.” You raise your eyebrows at him asking that so? as you take another sip. “Tasting it on you though… changed my opinion. Now I love it.”  

You cough a little as you finish your sip, not expecting him to say that. “Probably less tasting it on me and more me making us always get expensive real champagne.” 

“No, I’m quite certain it was tasting it on you.” You give him a look. “It was. The first time we shared a bottle of one of your favorite expensive real champagnes we were at your apartment because your week had been long and you wanted to celebrate it being over and the fact that I had a full weekend off so we could spend the entire weekend together. I had a glass and thought it was better than champagne I’d had before, yes, but I didn’t love it really. And then we started making out on your couch and I tasted it on you and my eyes were opened. Ever since then I really have come to enjoy it. But it was tasting it on you that made me start to enjoy it.”

You nod at him, the slight grin you’re wearing telling Jack that while you struggle to believe it, you do believe him. “I’m equal parts wooed and turned on by that little confession, Peter.”

Jack laughs at that, properly, because it was such a you thing to say. “You are…” he shakes his head and looks around while he tries to find the right word. “You.” His eyes crinkle and his lips pull up, “you’re so you sometimes, Doll, and I love it so much. I’m sure that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense but-” 

“It does,” you cut in to reassure him. “I know what you mean. You have moments where you say or do something and I think to myself that was such a Jack thing of him to say or do. I get it, and I love it too.” You give Jack the same loving smile he’s giving you. “A toast.” You raise your champagne flute, Jack following your lead. “To a long lifetime of expensive champagne together.”

Jack shakes his head at you, still smiling at you like he’s drowning in love. “Here, here,” he murmurs before you clink your glasses and take a sip. “You done touching up?”

“I am,” you nod. “We still have some time.”

“I know, come here.” Jack beckons you with his fingers, his other hand patting his lap. You giggle as you comply with his request, sliding your flute of champagne over next to his before sitting on his lap, one arm wrapping behind his neck so you can scratch at the nape of his neck how he loves. “That’s better.” One arm comes around you to hold you close while his other hand rests in your lap and starts to play with your hand that rests there too.

You let yourself lean into him. Let yourself lean into your husband as you take a moment together and watch the room, sip on champagne and water. “I can’t believe it’s almost over.”

“I know,” Jack agrees. His hand squeezes your hip and you look down at him. “Thank you.”

You smile at him curiously. “For what?” 

“Everything.” He shrugs, looking into your eyes. “Marrying me. Being my best friend. Making me laugh. Taking care of me. Loving me.” There’s a little pause between each one so they all sink in. Jack glances away from you and you can tell from that and his expression that there’s one he’s fighting with himself about saying. When he looks back up at you he’s clearly more emotional. “Waking up,” he whispers so quietly you would’ve missed it if you weren’t looking right at him. 

“Jack-”

“No,” he shakes his head, clearing his throat. “No, I don’t want us to go there or dwell on it or any of that, I just wanted to say it, felt like we should acknowledge it quickly somehow.” 

You give him a soft smile, bring your hands to cup his face. “I’ll always wake up for you,” you murmur as you look him in the eyes and lean in to give him a series of painfully soft and sweet kisses. 

“Good.” He smirks at you. “If you don’t I’ll just pinch your ass awake.” 

“Ha!” you laugh triumphantly. “So you admit it! You did pinch my ass awake on the day of our third anniversary and wedding.” Jack starts laughing because the way you said it was so you again and he loves you so much and you’re his fucking wife now. You shake your head at him in mock upset.

Jack keeps laughing, his laugh so contagious it makes you start to laugh with him. He’s overwhelmed. “I love you so fucking much I want to squeeze you and bite you and kiss you and also just fuck you right here on this table, god.” He leans in and steals a kiss from you, longer this time. 

“I love when I bring out the cuteness aggression in you,” you giggle as he pulls away. Jack shakes his head at you and laughs softly. “But hey,” you grow a little serious again. “Thank you too. For everything. Marrying me, being my best friend, making me laugh. Loving me.” Your voice gets a little like Jack’s did and you tilt your head at him a little. “Taking care of me. Never leaving my side. Never letting me feel alone.” 

“Always, Doll.” Jack’s eyes crinkle just a little more than normal with his soft smile that you return. You just look at each other for a moment, let it all fade away and rest your foreheads together. 

“Here.” You pull your forehead from Jack’s and grab a napkin, dip a little piece in the glass of water. “Let me make sure you don’t have any lipstick on you.” 

“Not my color?” He smirks. 

“Not there it isn’t.” You look him in the eyes and smirk harder, the quickest and slightest raise of your brows.

Jack lets out a single choked laugh as you bring the napkin to his lips and rub gently. “Are you trying to have me hard in the cake cutting photos?”

You roll your eyes at him affectionately as you finish wiping off his lips. “I’m sitting on your lap Peter, I can assure you that if I wanted you hard in the cake cutting photos I wouldn’t be using my words to achieve that.” You boop his nose on the last word and die a little inside at how cute he looks when he scrunches his nose at it. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he playfully grumbles as you grab your lipstick and compact to check if you need to touch up from the kisses. “Do you want me to put my jacket back on while we cut the cake for the photos?” 

“Up to you,” you shrug at him. “I want you to be happy and look how you want to look in our wedding photos. It’s not all about what I want.” 

“No, I know, I just didn’t know if you had a preference because I don’t really care strongly one way or the other,” Jack explains. “I just want you to be happy.”

You tilt your head at him and give him a small smile. “As long as you’re up there cutting the cake with me Jack, I’m going to be happy. Jacket or not. All I need is you.” Jack makes a little noise of protest and you laugh softly. “Why don’t you leave it off? We have lots of photos of you with it on and I don’t know, you have the jacket off for a reason. Because you got hot while dancing and having fun at our wedding before we even made it to cutting the cake. I like the idea of the photos reflecting that. But truly, it’s up to you.” 

“Alright, I’ll leave it off.” A beat passes and Jack doesn’t quite stifle his smirk fast enough so you catch a glimpse of it. “Do you want me to undo one more button for the photos?” 

Your heart races a bit just at the thought of him with two buttons undone. “That would be very slutty of you Peter,” you hum. 

“Slutty?” Jack barks out a laugh. “Are you saying I’ve looked slutty every time I’ve worn a dress shirt like that?”

“Why do you think I never want you wearing two undone in public? I’d have to fight everyone off.” You shrug.

“So you’re saying I’m a slut?” He raises his eyebrows, amused smile ghosting his lips as he tries to keep it from pulling up. But you can see it, especially in his eyes.

“No.” You shake your head slowly and finish off your champagne, set the empty flute on the table. You lean in close enough for your breath to ghost across his lips, drop your voice to just above a whisper. “I’m saying you’re my slut,” you pull back and give him a dazzling smile, “Dr. Abbot.”

“Jesus,” Jack mutters under his breath, shaking his head and looking away from you. “You’re ending up using your words to achieve it without trying.” You giggle at his reference to your earlier discussion. “Doctor was so on purpose.” 

You tug just sharply enough on the curls at the nape of his neck to pull a little sharp breath from him. “You started it my love, making me think about you with two buttons open. I merely finished it.” You steal a quick kiss from him. “You know you can call me it now.” 

Jack is focusing so intensely on not getting any harder than the semi he currently has that he’s a little too distracted to truly think about your words. His eyebrows raise a little. “Call you what?”

Your eyes flick away from him for a second before returning. You hum softly, the faintest smirk and lean back in close. “Abbot.”

Jack groans low, right from the center of his chest and the sound makes you shiver as you stand up. “No no no, where do do you think you’re going? You don’t get to drop that and run.”

“Yes yes yes. We’re being summoned to cut the cake.” You nod over at where the wedding coordinator is waving you over. 

“Okay, well I’m going to need a minute here,” Jack huffs under his breath. 

“Oh?” You feign innocence. “Something the matter, dear?” Jack looks at you stone faced and shaking his head slightly. “Come on,” you hold your hands out for him. “Just stay behind me until you’re good.” 

“Alright, but don’t ‘accidentally’ lean back into me and rub your ass all over me.” Jack takes your hands and stands, walks a step behind you just to the side when you begin walking. 

“I would never, I can’t believe you’d accuse me of doing such a thing.” You click your tongue at him.

“Ha!” Jack scoffs a laugh. “You would, multiple times. And I’m serious, if you do I’ll have no choice but to drag you to the nearest bathroom.”

You tilt your head and he can feel your smirk even if he can’t see it. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” 

“Oh that’s not a threat Doll,” Jack murmurs, all gravel and lust. He rests a hand on your hip once you arrive in front of the cake and squeezes. “It’s a promise.” 

You glance back up at him and the hunger he’s staring down at you with almost makes you say you need a minute and grab his hand and run to the nearest bathroom. Instead you just stare back at him for a moment before he nods to the cake and you turn back around. 

The cutting itself is fairly quick and easy. Jack’s steady emergency room physician hands are able to hold yours still as you cut into the cake and pull a slice out. He holds the plate as you each feed each other a little bite and kiss once you’re done. There’s no smashing of any kind, you know Jack would never and neither would you. It’s sweet and the love is palpable as your friends and family watch, photographer snapping away. 

The dance floor clears for the most part as everyone grabs cake and takes a breather. You and Jack take your piece and return back to your sweetheart table, but just about as soon as you’re finished you’re dragged back onto the dance floor together by Dana and Parker. 

You and Jack get a little separated but are still pretty close and it’s easy for you to dance your way back over to him. “Hey!” You give him a quick kiss to the cheek. “I’m going to the bathroom. It’ll take a second with the dress. Try not to have too much fun without me.” You wink at Jack before turning around and grabbing your friend’s hand for help with your dress. 

He watches you walk away and link arms with your friend, lean into each other as you walk and giggle together. Jack intends on slinking off the dance floor since he really only wants to be here with you. 

“Nope!” He’s caught by Santos and McKay. “She’ll be back soon enough, you can stay out here with us.” Santos raises her eyebrows at him almost as a little challenge and Jack rolls his eyes but lets them pull him back in. 

He’s always aware of you though, always wants to know where you are in case he needs to get to you immediately. So he sees when you walk out of the bathroom, you and your friend still giggling. He shakes his head and smiles at the two of you, focusing back where he is. 

But when your friend appears without you he looks around. He stops dancing without fully realizing it once he spots you. You’re sitting at a table with a bunch of the men from his unit and their significant others. You feel his gaze on you, you always do, and look over at him, give him a quick wave and a smile but don’t go to move at all, just return to your conversation. 

You had met them before the wedding since they all flew in a day early, had a nice dinner all together, so it’s not like they were literal strangers at your wedding. But still. You don’t have to be over there sitting with them and talking to them and getting to know them. Yet you are. Because like everyone else important in his life you want to do more than just know them cursorily. You want to be friends. You want them to know they’re just as important to you as they are to Jack. You want them to know that they can call you and you’ll help just like Jack would and that your and Jack’s place is open to them whenever they might need. 

“You good?” Dana yells over the music at Jack, grabs a hand to get him dancing again. He smiles and nods at her, his mind still on you and how amazing and perfect you are and how fucking lucky he is. 

A couple of songs pass and Jack watches you and a few of those who you’d been talking with make your way back to the dance floor. Jack manages to slip off the dance floor finally. He walks up to the DJ. “Can you play this song?” He shows the DJ his phone.

“Yeah,” he nods. “I’ll play it next.”

“Perfect, thanks.” Jack smiles to himself as he moves around the dance floor to be close enough to you but far enough away that you don’t really see him as you dance.   

The current song ends and everyone is thrown for a second by the instrumental piano opening. It takes you five or six seconds to fully clock it, laughing to yourself and starting to look for Jack when you realize. 

He slips up right behind you, one hand on your waist as his front presses into your back. “Hi, Doll,” he murmurs, the cheeky grin he’s wearing clear in his voice. He presses a teasing kiss to your neck. 

You spin so that you’re chest to chest now, hands going just where they need to so that you can start slightly faster slow dancing. “Hi Peter.” You lean up for a quick kiss. “As Time Goes By. How coincidental.” You arch a brow at him in playful accusation.

“It felt right,” Jack admits to requesting it, shrugging, “since I wouldn’t sing it for you in Paris.” While other couples are dancing the two of you can feel lots of eyes on you. It’s clearly a song that’s playing specifically for you and Jack. He gives you a slightly sly smile and your brows raise in anticipation. “Of all the bookstores in all the towns in all the world, you walked into mine.” 

You press your lips together and smile as you hold back a laugh. “I can’t decide if that was really bad or really good.” You and Jack share a laugh. “It was very romantic. This whole thing, requesting the song and sneaking up behind me, because I know that was deliberate too,” you nod your head a little at him as you say it, “and the line.” Your eyes grow a little glassy at the sentiment. “I like to think we were fated too.” 

“I know we were,” Jack nods, “I know the world brought you to me on purpose.” His eyes are a little glassy now too. 

You push your lips out a little and Jack leans down to kiss you. “I love you,” you murmur against his lips. 

Jack hums a little laugh, lips pulling up into a smile against yours. “I love you too.”

The final hour or so of the wedding goes fast and yet slow. You and Jack both don’t want it to end but at the same time you’re a little desperate to finally be alone together for the night. It’s been a beautiful and perfect long day. Your and Jack’s perfect day. 

You say goodbye to everyone as they all walk over towards the car you and Jack will be leaving in. There’s hugs and a few tears and promises to see each other soon and text and call and send photos from the honeymoon. 

And then you and Jack are finally in the town car and being driven away. 

“That was really the perfect day,” you sigh as you lean into Jack. You’re happy that Robby was able to check you into the hotel earlier before the wedding and drop your stuff so that you and Jack can just run through the lobby to the elevators and get to your room as quick as possible.

“Yes it was.” Jack moves his arm around you and pulls you even closer. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” You tilt your head up as Jack leans down and kisses you. 

It devolves so very quickly. You and Jack makeout effectively the entire rest of the way to the hotel. Jack gropes at your breasts over your dress, sucks bruises into your neck and collarbones and chest now that he finally can again. The last two weeks of being unable to mark you anywhere that could be visible in your dress were torturous even if he understood why and completely respected it. 

You undo another button of his shirt and kiss at his chest, lick your lips to wet your lipstick before you do so that you leave lip prints behind on his chest and his neck. You wrap your hand around Jack as best you can over his pants and rub at him. Both of you happily swallow down the quiet moans you pull from each other, knowing that the screen dividing you from the driver is not soundproof. 

“Do you want to stop?” you pant softly against Jack’s lips, moaning softly as he squeezes one of your breasts and nibbles at your jaw. 

“Why would I ever want to do that?” His lips are back on your neck the second he’s done speaking, kissing and sucking lightly, smiling to himself when you squirm a little from how good it feels. 

“So that you’re not hard walking to the elevator.” You barely get ‘elevator’ out before Jack’s back to kissing you. 

“If you think,” he pauses so that he can kiss you again, “that I’m going to be anything,” another kiss and a nip to your bottom lip, “other than painfully fucking hard for you,” another kiss, “until I’ve finally come inside of you,” Jack groans as your thumb flicks over his head in just the right spot, “come inside my fucking wife,” those words steal your breath even harder and Jack moves to suck on that spot on your neck he knows is extra sensitive, “you’re fucking insane Doll.” 

“Fuck, okay,” you gasp, as he sucks that spot again, “just wanted to check.” 

He hums a thank you against your lips and you continue like you are until the car starts to slow as you arrive at the hotel. Jack’s quick to slide out of the car and then help you out before you both make a walking sprint to the elevator, the late hour meaning the lobby is pretty much empty. You giggle to yourself as Jack presses you up against the wall of the elevator, your very own movie moment. He groans into your mouth in relief a little now that he can finally grind his hips against yours. 

Jack forces himself to pull away from you as the elevator slows to a stop. Robby already gave him instructions to the room so he doesn’t have to stop and read the signs. He laces your fingers together and leads you to the room, fishing the key from his pocket and opening the door. 

Even with as absolutely fucking wired as you both are for each other, the day catches up with you once you step in the room and see the bed in the honeymoon suite of the fancy downtown hotel you’re staying at for the night. You leave for your honeymoon tomorrow. You’re so fucking ready to know where you’re going. 

You’re both tired and there’s a bit of a lull in the making out and groping as you walk in and both look over the room, though Jack stands right behind you, hands squeezing your hips over your dress and keeping your ass flush against him. He sets both of your phones on the dresser next to you before you take a few more steps in so that you’re almost right at the edge of the bed.

“Can I?” Jack leans into you and murmurs against your neck, fingers running over the part of your dress that will let him start to take you out of it. 

“Please,” you breathe, voice shaking just slightly in anticipation. You had decided on no wedding lingerie that required changing, only what would fit under your dress. Jack wanted the opportunity to slowly strip you out of your wedding dress, said it’s something he’ll only get the chance to do once. And what you have on under your dress is pretty, very bridal, while still practical enough to get you through the wedding. But you have lots of lingerie for the honeymoon all in the carry-on suitcase you packed, including a pair of lacy underwear with his name embroidered in the gusset. 

Jack’s hands tremble a little as he starts to get your dress off you. He takes his time, every movement purposeful and designed to tease both of you a little bit, his fingertips ghosting over the skin of your back, lips trailing along your spine and shoulders. He’s careful not to rip anything as he helps the dress fall down your figure and pulls it out from under you once you step out, helps you out of your shoes. He doesn’t let himself look up because he knows if he does he won’t lay your dress out nicely on the couch. You turn as he lays it on the couch so when he turns back to you Jack he’s met with your eyes on him. 

His eyes don’t stay on yours for long though, dropping down and running over your body, stopping for a second at the blue garter on your thigh. 

“I know it’s not proper wedding lingerie, except for the something blue. I suppose it is,” you laugh breathlessly. 

Jack shakes his head slowly. You’re unreal, far and away the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. His cock strains against his boxer briefs painfully. “Fuck me,” he groans as he palms himself over his pants, desperate for any friction he can get. “You’re stunning.” Jack walks over to you, pulls his hand off himself only so that he can get his hands on you, let them glide over your bare skin.

“Your turn.” Your trembling hands come to the buttons at Jack’s chest and start unbuttoning them, a few a little more difficult when your hands shake worse as Jack squeezes at your ass and one of your breasts. He pops the clasp of your bra as you finish the last button of his shirt, both of you shrugging out of the items and tossing them aside. Your eyes rake over his chest and arms, pussy throbbing as you do. He’s so handsome you can hardly stand it. “You’re so perfect, Jack.”

You lick your lips to wet your lipstick again and kiss at his collarbones and chest as your nails drag lightly down his stomach. “Fuck,” Jack grunts at the sensation. He rolls one of your nipples in between his thumb and forefinger and kneads at your other breast as your fingers get his belt and pants undone. 

You hook your thumbs in the waistbands of his pants and boxer briefs, rewet your lips and slowly kiss down his stomach and leave lip prints in your wake. “Doll,” Jack husks as you sink to your knees. 

Once you settle on them your thumbs finally drag Jack’s pants and boxer briefs down, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach as he shivers. “Peter,” you sigh back at him as you take him in your hand and slowly pump him. Your mouth kisses around the base of him, his balls and inner thighs and lines of his hips, lip prints decorating his skin as Jack groans loudly, eyes unable to leave you. “See?” Your breath fans across his skin as you look up at him through your lashes. “It is your color here.” 

Jack chokes on the laugh your words pull for him when you take his head in your mouth, humming happily as you swirl your tongue around him before taking more of him. “Fucking christ!” Jack grunts, lets his head tip back and eyes flutter closed to focus on the feeling of you bobbing up and down him. 

You hum around him at times, usually when you pull another deep groan from him. You love having Jack in your mouth. Few things make you feel as powerful and sexy. 

Jack’s close. He’s been wound tight for you all day, especially since after the ceremony. He lowers his head back down and opens his eyes. Two fingers hook under your chin. “Up.” 

You pull off him and pout. “Jack,” you whine a little. “Wanna make you come like this.” 

“Next time.” He offers you his hands which you take and stand up. Jack kisses you hard. “The first place I’m coming for my wife is inside her,” he murmurs against your lips. 

“Fuck,” you whimper as Jack starts kissing you again. 

“On the bed,” Jack instructs as he pulls his lips off yours. “If you have anything in your hair, take it out so it won’t hurt you.” You do as he asks, situating your hair and then crawling to the middle of the bed and leaning back on your hands so you can watch him. Jack gets his shoes off and then gets on the bed on his knees. He grabs your feet and holds them up, lips finding one of your ankles and starting to kiss up the inside of your legs, head moving back and forth between both legs until he grows closer to the garter. 

His lips stay on the thigh it’s on, kissing around it. “It’s very pretty,” he murmurs, lips teasing your skin. 

“I thought you’d like it,” you pant.

“Love it Doll.” Jack nibbles at the skin of your inner thigh just below your garter and then takes the material between his teeth and pulls it down off your leg. 

“Fuck Jack!” you moan. It’s such a simple move but the way he keeps his eyes on yours the entire time makes it one of the most erotic things he’s ever done for you. 

He’s quick to make his way back up you, grabs the waistband of your underwear and quickly gets them off. You think he’s going to settle with his face in between your thighs but he doesn’t. He nods at you and you lay back on the bed while he kisses up your tummy and chest, stopping to lavish your breasts with attention from his mouth and hands. “Fucking love your tits,” Jack groans against one of your nipples. You thread your hands through his hair and tug a little as your back arches at the feeling of his tongue swirling around it.  

“Jack, please,” you beg, for what you’re not sure. He just feels too good, his hot skin that’s pressing against yours and his mouth on your breasts. 

“I’ve got you,” he soothes, “I’ve always got you Doll.” Jack kisses his way up your chest to your neck and jaw and then finally your lips. Your legs spread further apart for him and as he makes his way up his right hand slides down and slips between your lips. Jack feels how wet you are the second his middle finger hits your clit. “You’re fucking soaked,” he rasps against your lips, fingers still moving down to feel just how wet you really are. 

“I have been all night,” you admit through a little moan, the palm of his hand rubbing against your clit as his fingers tease your cunt, circling around your entrance but never slipping inside. “For my husband. Have needed you all night.”

“Yeah?” Jack pulls back from you a little. “I’ve needed you too.” His hand pulls away from you and you whine at loss. Jack offers you his index and middle finger, the two most coated in you. You maintain eye contact as you open your mouth and let him slide them inside before you suck them clean, running your tongue up and down each finger, moaning softly. Jack’s hips grind into you without conscious thought, his cock hard and heavy against you. “Such a good girl for me,” he coos as he pulls his fingers from your mouth. “Let me taste you.”

Jack kisses you, licking into your mouth and groaning as he tastes you on your tongue. He shifts a little as he devours you, kissing you with just the right pressure to tease. He doesn’t stop kissing you as the fingers of his left hand trail down you and make you shiver. He’s careful how he does it, keeps all but his fingertips off you until his middle and ring finger tease you again, pressing into you shallowly and withdrawing a few times. “Please Jack!” you keen for him. “Please, need it, need you.”

“Okay, Doll.” Jack’s lips are back on yours as he arches his wrist a little further and slides his two fingers all the way inside of you, curling them perfectly over that spongy spot inside of you.

And you feel it. The cool press of metal against the outside of your pussy. “Jack!” you gasp his name, fingers tugging even harder at the salt and pepper curls you love so much. 

“Yes Doll?” He smirks at you, fingers dragging back out of you before plunging right back in. 

“Your- oh!” Jack steals your breath and your train of thought as he changes his pace and hooks his fingers just a little bit more, fucks you with them a little harder. “Your ring, your wedding ring. I can feel it.” 

“Can you?” Jack hums at you, “Well how about that?” You whimper at his words, know he knew exactly what the fuck he was doing. He kisses you again but it doesn’t last particularly long because the feeling of his ring against you and his fingers fucking you perfectly completely steals your ability to kiss him back in any meaningful way, your mouth hanging open a bit as you let out breathy higher pitched moans with each pass of Jack’s fingers. 

“Jack I need you inside me,” you rush out in a single exhale, still moaning intermittently. “Need it. Your cock. Not your fingers. Please.” One of your hands grabs at the wrist of his left hand to still him. And Jack does stop, smirking a little at your desperation. You take a few breaths before looking Jack in the eyes. “First place I’m coming for my husband is on his cock.”

Jack stills and growls at your words as he pulls his fingers from you, rolling a bit so that he’s back properly on top of you and not rolled to the side slightly. He should have seen that one coming, he set himself right up for it with what he said to you. Jack doesn’t offer you his fingers this time, bringing them to his own mouth and sucking them clean. “God!” he groans as he finishes. “You taste so fucking good. My wife tastes so fucking good.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You nod at him, hands slipping between your bodies and grabbing at his cock, trying in vain to guide him inside of you. “Fuck me Jack, please. Fuck your wife!” Your words make Jack shudder. He pulls back so he can watch as he runs his cock through you, letting out a shuddering breath as he does. “Jack, I need you,” you whine at him. 

“I know, Doll, I know. I need you too.” Jack takes himself in his hand and watches as he lines himself up. His chest heaves slightly as he drags his eyes back up to yours and then pushes into you almost agonizingly slow. “Fuck,” Jack draws the word out as slow as he pushes inside of you, both of you fighting through the pleasure to keep your eyes open. 

“Oh, Jack” you moan softly, “more, please more.” 

Jack groans as he leans down and kisses you, sucking on your bottom lip and pulling it taut as you flutter around him. “Shit, you’re so fucking perfect,” he pants against your lips. “My perfect wife.” His arms slip under your shoulders so his hands can cradle your face as he pulls his hips back just as slow as he pushed into you. 

“My husband.” Your lips graze his as you breathe the words out. You roll your hips in tandem with Jack so that he’s fucking you a little harder, cunt wrapping around him so tight Jack swears it takes a little more force to pull himself out of you. “Fuck Jack!” you mewl, one hand clawing at his shoulder and the other at his ass cheek for a moment before your fingers squeeze at his muscle.

Jack hisses at the feeling, kissing you passionately, tongue exploring your mouth as though he doesn’t already have you memorized. He keeps his pace languid for now, wants to drag this out for the both of you. You love it, wouldn't have it any other way right now as you drown in Jack and his love and this moment.

The room is filled with the lewd wet sound of your pussy and heavy pants against skin as Jack ceases his greediness and lets your tongue into his mouth. He instinctively chuckles a little with how eagerly you take advantage of the opportunity, head lifting off the bed a little for a few seconds as you kiss him.   

As much as he doesn’t want to Jack pulls apart so you both can breathe. “What are you?” He asks through heaving breaths, eyes reflecting how on fire he is for you, practically pinning you to the bed. “Tell me what you are.” 

“Your- fuck Jack!” He changes his rhythm on you just slightly and it has you stuttering. “Your, your wife.” Tears of pleasure start to burn behind your eyes.

“Good girl,” he praises you, words pulling a loud moan from you just like he knew they would. Jack fucks you with his whole body, hunched over and using his hips and back and thighs to drive himself into you, muscles rippling under your fingertips. He can’t get deep enough, can’t feel enough of you, can’t be close enough to you. “That’s fucking right you are. My wife. All fucking mine.” 

“Say it for me,” you plead with Jack, tears of pleasure finally dripping down the sides of your face. “Tell me what you are.” 

Jack laughs softly against your lips as he pulls your legs up around his waist to change the angle. “Your husband,” he rasps at your ear. “I’m your husband.”  

You whine as he says it, trail off into a breathy moan of his name. “Jack!” Your nails claw into his skin, leaving trails of red marks in their wake as one hand slides down his back and the other up his ass cheek to his hip, pulling a choked groan from the back of Jack’s throat. “I’m so close. So close baby, please!” It’s not often you call him baby, and something about the word always makes him short circuit a bit. 

He picks his pace up, snaps his hips a bit harder, sucking and nibbling at your neck as he buries his face there for a moment as he gets lost in the feeling of you, breath hot against your skin. Fucking you and making love to you is always mindblowing, but this is different, this has an edge, for both of you. Because you’re married. Because it feels like your first time all over again in a way. 

“Just like that, yes! Don’t stop!” you moan, voice high-pitched and breathy.

Jack’s just as desperate for your orgasm as you are, breath heavy and hot against your lips. “Come for me Doll, come for me.” Jack’s voice is strained with his desperation, hips driving him into you over and over while his fingers circle your clit. “Come on my cock, come on your husband’s cock. Make me come.” 

“I will, I will,” you cry for him, eyes fluttering closed and sending more tears down your face as the pleasure overwhelms you and builds to a breaking point.

“Look at me,” Jack pants, voice cracking on the last word. “Look at me while you come for your husband.” You force your eyes open and Jack’s staring down at you intensely. “Be my good little wife and come for me.”

His command and the way he’s looking at you like he needs you so desperately he’d do anything for you, like you’re the only thing that matters, like the most beautiful and precious thing to him that he has to protect, and like he needs this, you to come, are more than enough to make you shatter beneath him.

“Jack!” You get a single cry of his name out before all words fall out of your mind, completely overwhelmed by Jack, by your husband, as your orgasm sears through what feels like every nerve in your body. Your nails drag along Jack’s back so hard you might have broken skin in a few places but he doesn’t care, it just shoves him closer to the edge. “Oh fuck Jack, please!” you moan once words return, again unsure of what you’re begging him for.

“Shit! So fucking tight”! Jack struggles to hold himself off, does only for thirty or so seconds so that he can drink in your face as you come for him while he fucks you through it. “My wife’s so fucking tight, so fucking wet for me.” He pulls his hand away from your clit before you hit painful overstimulation. “Fuck, Doll, I’m gonna come, pussy’s squeezing me so tight, gonna come for you, fill you up, and you’ll be so good for me and take it all.” He starts to babble and his hips start to falter, a clear sign he’s right at the edge. 

“Come for me Jack,” you purr at him, hands threading back into his hair and tugging at the root just to give him a little shock of pain opposite the pleasure how you know he loves. You’re looking at Jack much the same as he looked at you, like you love him so much it hurts sometimes, like you’d walk straight through a wall of flames for him. Your love overwhelms him, you overwhelm him. And then you say it as a soft moan and he’s gone. “Come for your wife.”

Jack comes with the most erotic, carnal groan of your name that you’ve ever heard from him. His orgasm rips through him, tears through him so intensely it steals his breath for a moment before a slurry of curse words and my wife and so perfect fall off his tongue like a hymn he’s composed just for you. His hips still but you roll yours up against him and clench around him deliberately. “Fucking shit, Doll! Fuck!” Jack groans, voice and neck and face strained as you prolong his orgasm, somehow pull a bit more cum from him. 

“Feels so good when you come in me,” you hum all pleasure-drunk and breathy at Jack. Your face matches your voice. You look so fucked out and beautiful below him, his girl. His woman. His wife. 

“Oh fuck!” Jack grunts, a shiver running up his spine hard as an aftershock hits him. “Fuck, Doll, you’re so fucking good.” He collapses on top of you carefully. 

You tremble under him a little, arms and legs wrapping around him and holding him to you tight. “You’re not so bad yourself, Dr. Abbot.” It’s almost a little slurred as you come back down from your orgasm.

Another shiver races up Jack’s spine at doctor. “Never had a title kink before you.” His lips brush against your chest as he speaks before nuzzling against you. It’s not the first time he’s told you that, but you still love to hear it.

You can only hum in acknowledgment, let your hands find his hair and run through his curls, scratch at his scalp intermittently. The two of you lay there in a comfortable silence, murmuring soft words to each other. Jack nuzzles into you and kisses at your chest wherever he can reach, enjoys listening to your heartbeat and how it slowly returns to something closer to normal. 

After a while Jack nuzzles into your chest one last time before pulling his head up. You open your eyes knowing he’ll be looking down at you. He’s smiling when he comes into focus. “How’s my wife?”

“I’m pretty fucking great,” you murmur, blissed out smile on your face. “Feeling very, very well and thoroughly fucked by my husband. A little sleepy.” You bring your hand up and run your fingers through Jack’s curls, push back a few that sweat has stuck to his forehead. “How’s my husband?”

Jack chuckles at you. You’re so adorable when you’re all fucked out like this. “Oh, I’m pretty fucking great too, Doll.” He leans down and kisses you. “Feeling very, very lucky to call you my wife. And I’m with you on the sleepy.” 

You already know what he’s going to say based on the look on his face. “No!” you whine, wrap your arms and legs around him tight. “Let’s just stay right here. It’ll be fine this one time, we can just curl up like this and fall asleep.”

Jack laughs and shakes his head at you. “I’m not sure now’s the time to risk it, baby. You don’t want to start our honeymoon with a UTI.” He takes another kiss. “And we both know you’ll be upset with yourself in the morning if you don’t take all your makeup off. Plus I should really wipe the lipstick off.” 

You groan but loosen your grip on him when he pulls away, both of you hissing a little as he slips out of you. Jack holds his hands out for you and helps you up and off the bed. His hands find a hip and your waist quickly once you’re standing, ready to grab you and keep you from falling if your legs are too weak. You lean into him for just a second while you get your legs steady back under you and then nod at Jack. 

He keeps an arm around your waist anyway, just to keep you close. You realize step into the bathroom and Jack flicks the light on, leads you over to the toilet. He walks to the sink as you go to the bathroom, wetting a washcloth and wiping the lipstick from his skin. 

You join him when you’re done, washing your hands as he washes his face. You make a face of consideration as he pats his face dry. “I could just leave it for one night, I’m tired.”

Jack shakes his head at you and you know he’s right, you’re just not in the mood. It’s been a long day and you just want to curl up in bed with your husband. Jack puts a towel on the sink counter, and pats it. “Up.” 

You debate fighting him because you know what’s about to happen. But you also know that Jack loves this part and it’s not something that happens frequently because you normally take your makeup off as soon as you get home. You slide yourself onto the towel as Jack pulls out your makeup remover wipes from the toiletry bag you packed. “Probably going to have to scrub pretty good,” you tell him, “she used the good setting spray.” 

Jack nods as he starts to wipe your face. “Very good setting spray,” he notes absentmindedly as he works. He does have to use more pressure than normal. “Tell me if I start hurting you.” 

“I will, but you won’t.” You give him a sleepy smile and Jack’s heart aches with how cute you are. 

Once he’s gotten everything off your face he’s weary as he eyes your lashes. “Are these the lashes designed to stay on or? How do I get them off?”

“You’re so cute,” you giggle at him, beaming at him because they’re such Jack questions. He’s always curious, especially when it comes to you and things he can do to take care of you. 

“What?” he drags the word out. “I don’t want to accidentally rip off all your eyelashes!”

“I know, you’re just the cutest, wanting to know. Caring enough to want to know.” You push your lips out and he gives you the quick kiss you’re seeking. “These ones aren’t designed to stay on, no. There’s some cotton balls and makeup remover in the bag. Just put some on two of them and hold them on for a minute and they should peel right off.”

“Can do, Doll.” Jack nods. He does and goes to take them off but hesitates. “Okay, maybe you should at least do one. So I can see.” 

Even with your eyes closed you smirk. “See one, do one, teach one?” Jack huffs at you and you know he’s rolling his eyes. “You have to admit that was pretty good.” You slowly peel one off. 

“It was,” Jack agrees with fake begrudging. He loves it. Loves how you listen and really take in what he says whether it’s when he’s directly speaking to you or if you happen to be watching him from just within earshot at work. “Okay. Please tell me if you feel me pulling your actual lashes.” 

“Were you this scared when you first did sutures on someone?” 

“Doll.”

“Yes, yes I’ll tell you,” you reassure him.

“Okay.” Jack grabs the other lash and pulls it off without issue, like you knew he would. 

“See? Nothing to it.” You squint at him to avoid getting the makeup remover in your eyes. “We’ll make you a makeup artist yet, Peter.” Your squinting kills any power the smirk you try to give him might have had.

He ignores your comment with a little shake of his head and smile. “To answer your question, no, I wasn’t because you spend time practicing on fake skin before you go to a real human.”

You hum at him and slip off the counter. It’s going to be easier and quicker for you to wash your face and brush your teeth. “Thank you. For taking my makeup off and learning about eyelashes for me. I love you.” You wrap your arms around the middle of him and rest your head on his chest. 

“Always, Doll.” Jack bows his head and leans a little to press his lips to the top of your head. “And I love you too.” 

The two of you stand like that for a moment before you pull away and quickly wash your face before you and Jack brush your teeth at the same time. You say fuck it to your skin care for one night and just put some face lotion on, offer some to Jack. Once you’re done Jack turns around and after a second you do too. 

Your stomach drops a little. “Oh my god Jack!” His back is covered in scratches from your nails that are really more raised welts at this point. It looks incredibly painful and your head starts to spin because you feel so bad for doing that to him.

“What?” He spins quickly, brows furrowed and lips pulled down, concern all over his face. 

“Your back! That’s what!” You gesture with your finger and he spins for you again. “Jack, it has to hurt. Why didn’t you say anything?”

He turns back to look at you. He doesn’t like your expression, the sadness in your eyes and your frown and the way your brows are furrowed so close together. You’re upset and Jack can tell your mind is starting to swirl. “Hey, hey hey. I promise you I didn’t even notice. I promise. I wouldn’t have even known if you hadn’t said anything.”

“But Jack, it’s bad. I did a good number to you. They’re welts, not just scratches.” Your frown deepens. 

He steps closer to you and cups your face with his hands. “Doll, I promise you it felt so fucking good when you were making them in the moment but they haven’t bothered me at all since.” 

“You promise?” you whisper. You know he would never lie to you and you can see the earnestness in his eyes. It slows your mind, as do his hands holding your face.

“I promise.” He nods. His eyes drop to your neck and chest, hands letting go of your face. “Have you really looked in the mirror yet Doll?”

“Kind of?” Your brows are still drawn together but Jack’s relieved it’s in confusion this time and that your upset has faded. 

“You should. Because I did a good number on your neck and chest too,” Jack grimaces a little. “And it feels much worse than some scratches now that I’m really looking at them.”

You turn and look in the mirror. “Oh,” you breathe. Jack’s head starts to spin now. But then a smile grows on your face. “I love this.” You run your fingertips over some of them. 

“What?” Jack gives a small incredulous laugh. 

You turn around to look at him and see the way he’s still spinning out a little like you were. “Jack, I love this shit. I love wearing your marks. And you gave me them as my husband and I get to have them on our honeymoon.”

“They’ll darken and be worse tomorrow.” He still eyes you a little wearily. 

You meet his eyes in the mirror, can see he’s still spinning out a little like you were. “Good. I hope they get darker the day after that.”

“Yeah?” It’s the same as you asking if he promised. He knows you wouldn’t lie and can tell you’re not but he just needs to hear it again. 

“Yeah.” You nod with a small smile. “Very fucking yeah.”

That makes him crack a smile, yours widening in turn, his mind slowing. You turn back to face him. “Are they going to be all on display for the honeymoon?” You press yourself up against him. 

Jack laughs. You’re trying to get a hint as to where you’re going on your honeymoon, hoping he’ll answer and it’ll give you insight as to whether you’ll be spending a lot of time with your chest not covered by a shirt in a swimsuit. 

He gives you a self-satisfied grin and you start pouting before he even says anything. “That’s for me to know and you to find out babygirl.”

You roll your eyes at him affectionately but it turns into a big yawn that has you covering your mouth. Jack laughs softly. “Come on sleepy girl, lets get into bed.” He fights back his own yawn while following you as you walk back to bed, flicking the light off. 

You climb in under the covers while Jack sits on the edge of the bed and takes his prosthetic off. Once it’s off he flips the lamp off and slides in beside you, hands on your waist and pulling you close as you move toward him. You snuggle together on your sides, limbs tangling as you get as close as possible while still able to see each other. “Hi handsome.” You smile up at Jack and kiss up his chest and neck to his lips. 

“Hi beautiful,” Jack murmurs against your lips. “My beautiful wife. Today was pretty perfect.” Jack takes another couple of kisses from you before pulling away and looking back at you. He swallows thickly. “A little surreal. We’re married.” He’s not dwelling, he’s really not.

But Jack lived in a world where he never even got to ask you to marry him, where he wore his dress blues not to wait for you at the end of an aisle on an altar but to watch them lower you six feet into the ground, even if it was only in his mind. He just has to acknowledge it one last time. It makes him appreciate this, appreciate you all the more. 

“Sure was. My handsome husband.” You giggle against Jack’s lips. “But it’s real. We’re married.” You look at Jack and smile as he smiles back at you. 

Your smiles and crinkles in the corners of your eyes say everything to each other. Thank you, you’re perfect, you’re my best friend and soulmate and the love of my life, you’re my everything, my whole world and my home, I meant every word I said today and will be faithful to the vows we took. I love you. 

Your eyelids get heavy fast as Jack’s warmth seeps into you, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. You can only fight it for so long as it gets harder and harder to open your eyes with every slow blink. There’s so much you want to say to him even now at the end of your wedding day when it feels like you’ve already said it all to each other. But there’s no way you’ll get anything coherent out. So you kiss Jack one more time and settle for the words you hope convey it all.

“I love you, Peter.” 

Jack hums a little laugh to himself because you’re adorable and precious and beautiful and his. His wife.

“I love you more, Doll.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you made it this far, again, thank you so so much! I hope you enjoyed this part and the series. As much as this is the end of the kind of main story, I don’t think this is truly the end for them. Certainly I have a whole list of other ideas that I’d like to work through first, but I have a couple of ideas for shorter one-shot style fics for these two. If you have anything in particular you'd like to see from them feel free to drop me a note wherever!! And I would love to hear your comments and thoughts on Part 5 and their ending!♥️

Quiet Part 2 is up next. I should have more free time this week and don't plan on making those parts as long so hopefully something will be out towards the end of the week!

Also, a huge huge shoutout to @loveyhoneydovey for beta-ing at times, talking me off a thousand ledges per part, and listening to me go on and on about these two and different ideas. This story is better because of your help. ♥️

Want more Jack? Find my masterlist here!

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[sereia4skz]

I love the way you write for the boys.

Could you possibly write for maybe Han (or whoever you think fits this better) where the reader overhead him talking to another member about paying up for a bet involving her and she gets upset and they argue. But happy ending because the bet actually giving han a timeline to ask the reader out because he was too nervous and if he did it in the time limit the other member would pay for the first date.

If you don't want to write for this that's fine just ignore it lol -Nova 🩷

oneshot | bad bets? good intentions

pairing: han x reader

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: bets, chan pushing han to be brave, reader seems lowkey into han groveling

word count: 914

masterlist: A-Side (texts) | B-Side (written)

You weren’t supposed to hear. You were just packing up your things from Jeongin’s room. He’d passed out mid-movie, and you figured you’d grab your overnight bag and let yourself out quietly. The dorm was quiet, Chan and Jeongin’s shared place always got like this past midnight. You thought Chan was at the studio, but then you heard your name.

"Alright, I’ll pay up," came Chan's voice, half-laughing through the barely cracked door to the kitchen.

You breathed quietly, not to eavesdrop, just not wanting to bother the two.

"You asked her out, didn’t you?"

Silence. Then Jisung's voice, sheepish and soft, "Yeah, barely. You gave me a week, and I did it with like… what? Three hours left?"

Chan laughed, easy, pleased, "Barely counts. She said yes though, right?"

"Of course she did. I’ve been working up to this for months."

You blinked, your fingers froze on the zipper of your bag.

The ringing in your ears was overwhelming, blood pulsed hard against your temples.

Pay up? Week? A deadline?

You backed up before you could hear more. The apartment door was closer than the voices. You slipped your shoes on quietly and left without a sound.

Jisung didn’t hear from you for two days. Not after the goodnight texts. Not after the check-ins or the memes. Not even when he sent a voice note singing your favorite song in a dumb voice to make you laugh.

And the silence was driving him insane.

On the third night, he stood outside your apartment for a full five minutes before working up the nerve to knock. You opened the door halfway, eyes tired, expression unreadable.

His hoodie was rumpled, hair a mess from anxious tossing, and his phone was already in his hand, just in case he needed to show you something to prove he hadn’t completely screwed everything up.

“Hey,” he said, voice small. “Can you… can we talk? Please?”

You didn’t speak, but after a moment, you stepped aside. He exhaled as he stepped in, taking in the warm clutter of your apartment. It looked the same as always. His heart stuttered, noticing his absence had seemingly no impact on your routine. You stayed near the kitchen, arms folded tightly.

“I heard you,” you said. “At the dorm. You and Chan.”

His face went pale. “That’s… not what it sounded like.”

You cocked a brow. “It sounded like I was a deadline? A bet. A joke between you and your hyung.”

Jisung groaned, running his hands down his face. He sat down on your couch like the weight of it knocked the air from his lungs. “Please, let me explain.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t have to. The silence stretched long enough that he took it as permission.

“I’ve liked you for so long. Like… since Jeongin first introduced us. And every time I tried to tell you, I choked. I’d plan what to say, but the second I saw you smile or say my name, my brain just evaporated.”

He laughed, bitter and breathless. “Chan got tired of watching me suffer, said it was pathetic that for all my lyrics I couldn't muster to ask you out. So he made a bet. He said I had one week to ask you out, and if I did, he’d pay for our first date. If I didn’t, I had to wear a dress and heels and do Britney Spears karaoke.”

Your mouth twitched. You didn’t want it to, but it did.

Jisung caught it, a flicker of hope lit behind his eyes. “It wasn’t about winning anything. It was about giving me a push. He knew I wouldn’t do it otherwise. And I didn’t want to waste more time pretending I wasn’t completely gone for you.”

He stood slowly, moving closer, voice softening. “It was real. Asking you out. Everything we’ve done since? before? It’s the most real thing I’ve ever had. I just… I didn’t think you’d say yes if I told you how scared I was.”

“You should’ve told me,” you said quietly.

“I know. I’m sorry. If I could go back, I’d do it differently. I’d say all the things I wanted to say from the start.” He stopped in front of you, hands twitching like he wanted to reach for you, but didn’t dare.

“But if this is where it ends… I’ll understand. I’ll hate it, but I’ll get it.”

You stared up at him. At the soft curve of his mouth, the nervous flick of his fingers, the ache written across his whole body.

“Do you still want that date?” you asked finally.

He blinked, nodded rapidly. “More than anything.”

“Good. Because if Chan’s paying, I’m ordering the most expensive thing on the menu.”

Jisung’s mouth fell open. “Wait! Does that mean?”

“I’m still mad,” you said, stepping into his space. “But I never said no.”

He breathed out a relieved laugh. “Fair. Yell at me all you want. Just… let me take you out."

You nodded, your expression finally softening. “One condition.”

“Name it.”

“No more dumb secrets.”

He raised his hand like a scout. “Swear. You can even make me wear the heels if I mess it up again.”

“Tempting,” you muttered.

Then, finally, finally, you let him hug you. 

Jisung buried his face in your shoulder and whispered, "I missed you like hell."

You rolled your eyes, but your hand slid into his hoodie pocket all the same.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“You won’t.”

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[cherrygirlfriend]

IMPROVISED BREAKFAST

♡ ༘*.ﾟ pairing: emily x fiancée!reader

♡ ༘*.ﾟ summary: you burn your breakfast so your fiancée decides to improvise.

♡ ༘*.ﾟ warnings / tags: fluff, smut, MDNI!

♡ ༘*.ﾟ author's note: my girl @cinnamoncunt requested some emily for pride month and ofc i had to make it true !! it’s pretty short but i’ve been working on some non fic stuff so i’ve been busy! it’s been too long since i wrote a wlw fic i’m a bad lesbian

EMILY PRENTISS MASTERLIST

emily was woken up by the sound of the old coffee maker grinding and spitting out coffee, the woman nearly pulling out the gun in her nightstand from how it'd startled her, but when the dark-haired woman remembered that she was in fact at home, and that she no longer lived alone, she took in a deep breath, sliding on her slippers and making her way towards the kitchen.

the kitchenette was half-filled with smoke as you looked between your phone screen and the pan, your phone playing some pop song she couldn't recognize, "this should be good enough..." you mumbled, flipping the heart-shaped pancake over with a fork to find that the bottom of the pancake was nearly black, a frown taking over your lips when you noticed the flakes stuck to the pan. you couldn't see your wife standing at the doorway, emily's arms crossed in front of her chest, but the soft chuckle she let out made you aware of her presence, feeling your cheeks become warm with embarrassment as you looked to her, pursing your lips.

"oops?" you shrugged your shoulders, "you know, this is why we rely on takeout. you're a few seconds away from triggering the fire alarm." "stop acting like you're not any better!" you scoffed, pushing your bottom lip out. "i just wanted to do something nice when i noticed you came home in the middle of the night."

"you know, you could've done something nice to me by staying in bed." emily raised her brows as she walked over to you, turning the stove off and moving the smoking pan along with the burnt creation onto another burner. emily's warm hands went to your nightgown-covered hips, turning you around to face her, "you should've woken me up when you got home..." you frowned, making the woman let out a soft laugh as she brushed a loose strand of hair away from your hair, "you looked too cute to wake up."

"we're engaged now, em." you rolled your eyes and cocked your head to the side, "i wanna say hi to my fiancée when she comes home." "you could say hi now?" emily's bottom lip was stuck between her teeth as she looked between your eyes and your lips, the warmth you felt on your face caused by something other than embarrassment, her hands squeezing your hips as she pulled you close.

"i might..." you whispered, bringing your lips closer to hers, "only if you promise to wake me up next time." and as soon as your fiancée muttered the word "deal", you allowed emily to push you onto the kitchen counter, her lips crashing onto yours, having a new idea for what she could have for breakfast.

and only moments later, when her arms were wrapped around your thighs and moans were filling your shared kitchen, your panties pulled down to your ankles and a dark head of hair was between your thighs, you thought that maybe you should burn your food more often.

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[lampridius]

Hey so how do you think Dan Heng, Aventurine, Anaxagoras and Paiphon would deal with their crush who typically doesn’t let anything hold them back, can come out of dangerous situations cool headed, but then they go and ask out these boys and they’re a blushing, stuttering mess? Messed up asking them out kind of. Fiddling with their clothes and giving them big eyes? Sputters out, “Oh! I forgot, it’s ok if it’s a no to my question”? (They seem to find the act of asking someone out more terrifying than facing a scary enemy. When they say yes, crush lets out the biggest sigh of relief. Like they been holding their breathe).

⋆.ೃ࿔🌸*:･ 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘬𝘢𝘪: ꒱ 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭 ✴ ───────── ❝ 𝙘𝙤𝙤𝙡-𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 ❞ －𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘶𝘴 ．．• ♡︎

─ .✦ 𝗯𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿𝘀: dan heng, aventurine, anaxa, phainon ─ .✦ 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: @mauserre, @tremendoustragedybard ──── .✦ 𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘴 | 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 | 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 ──── .✦ 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨:

they’ve seen you step out of explosions without blinking. handle high-stakes negotiations, enemy ambushes, and life-or-death decisions like they were nothing more than minor inconveniences. you're the type who dusts yourself off after chaos, shrugs, and says “i’ve had worse.”

but now? standing in front of them, your hands can’t seem to stay still, your words come out tangled and half-formed, and you look like you’d rather fight a hundred beasts than finish your sentence.

dan heng notices your fidgeting immediately. at first, he assumes something’s wrong - until your cheeks flush, and you start talking at lightning speed, only to trip over your words entirely.

“so, um, i was thinking, maybe if you're not busy- like, later, maybe we could, i don’t know, go somewhere together- just the two of us- unless that’s weird, oh! actually, it’s fine if not, i forgot to say-”

he blinks. stunned. and then it clicks.

he softens. a slow, almost bashful smile breaks across his face. “you’re asking me out?”

you nod, practically vibrating from nerves.

he pauses a beat. “then yes.”

you exhale like you’d been holding the universe inside your lungs.

he steps closer, brushing a stray thread off your sleeve. “you face down monsters without blinking. but this flusters you?”

“shut up,” you mutter, but your grin says everything.

aventurine had been watching you pace for five minutes. arms crossed, one brow lifted. he thought you were hyping yourself up for a mission - until you spun around and hit him with the most catastrophically uncoordinated attempt at confession he’d ever seen.

“you. me. uh… out. together. romantically, not like... business- though i guess if that’s how you want to interpret it, that’s fine, actually maybe not fine, unless- wait, never mind, forget it-”

he bursts into laughter. not mocking, but completely charmed.

“you? you can stare down a hostile contract and bluff your way out of a corporate ambush, but you can’t ask me to dinner without tripping over your own name?”

you flush hard. “you can say no, y’know.”

he gives you a wide, golden grin. “i’m not going to. lucky for both of us, i say yes to high-reward investments.”

and just like that, he loops an arm around your shoulder with an air of ease that makes your heart race harder than battle ever could.

anaxa is so used to your usual cool-headed bravery that seeing you twist the hem of your shirt, avoiding his eyes, makes him immediately worried. “what’s wrong?”

you mumble something, way too quiet.

“huh?”

“iwannagoonadatewithyou- uhbutifyoudon’twantto,that’sfine!”

he stares. blinks. stares again.

you look terrified, and he realizes this might be the first time you’ve truly been that.

he gently reaches out, steadying your flailing hand with his own. “you really thought i’d say no?”

you nod once, sheepishly.

he shakes his head, eyes soft, ears turning pink. “next time you wanna ask me something, try not to look like the world’s ending.”

then, quietly: “yes. of course yes.”

your shoulders slump like you just dropped a thousand-pound weight.

phainon watches you stumble over your words like a system glitch. you try to meet his eyes, fail, then stammer something like “just thought maybe- like- i mean, you’re cool, and i like you- not just like-like, but… ugh, whatever, forget it.”

he blinks, tilting his head, silent. then: “that was your attempt at asking me out?”

you nod, miserable.

he smiles - genuine, rare, warm. “yes.”

“…wait- yes? as in, you got what i was trying to say?”

“yes as in, i’d like that very much.”

you deflate. hands on your knees, one breathy “thank stars above,” and he laughs so quietly it’s barely there.

he walks beside you after that, a little closer than usual. “you act like you’d rather face orbital cannon fire than talk feelings.”

“because i would.”

he lets that hang in the air. “well,” he murmurs, “you’re lucky i can translate nerves into affection.”

[ollyissleepy]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐦

pairings: platonic yandere!batfam x uninterested!male!reader summary: After being caught red handed stealing, (name) finds himself in the Wayne Manor, surrounded by his new family. (Name)'s disinterested in bonding is met with equally not caring siblings and father. As he spends his days alone, (name) realises his new family might care much more than he originally thought the did. cw: stealing, swearing, underage smoking, reader commits a crime, stabbing (in a way?) a/n: you see this part? how (name) is doing in it? yeah keep it in mind reading the rest of the parts. Also can you tell I binged-watched final destination? based on this idea I had

m.list • part: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight

(Name) walks into Gotham's bus station right before the last ticket kiosk was about to close. The woman behind the glass looked annoyed at one more customer; however, upon seeing the bills in the teenager's hands, she had forced herself to smile for one more customer.

The boy finds out that the first bus out of Gotham travels to Metropolis in the early hours of the morning. (Name) knows he doesn't have any other options, and so he buys a one-way ticket to the city. He gave the woman selling it to him a large tip 'for the trouble'.

Sitting in the waiting area of the bus station, (name) quickly learnt that buying the ticket was the easy part. Waiting for the right bus proved to be much harder for the boy. He kept looking around, worried that his 'family' had found out he was not in the manor and came looking for him.

In order to calm his mind, (name) goes to the bathroom in hopes that some cold water could help with that.

The boy splashes his face multiple times, trying to regain his composure. He looks up to the mirror, staring at his face. He looked… tired. (Name) couldn't believe those dull eyes once belonged to a rather happy child. He wondered if that little boy was still somewhere buried deep inside of him, rotting away. If only he wasn't caught that night. Maybe if he wouldn't meet Bruce and Dick and Jason and…

And Tim.

(Name) reached inside his back pocket, pulling out his phone. Out of habit, he had taken it with him. He stares at the black screen, his mind wandering off to the joke Tim made about putting a tracker on him.

The teenager wrestles with the device, trying to open the cartridge where he saw Duke put a SIM card in. It takes him a moment to figure it out, but once he has the card in his palm, he flushes it down the toilet. The phone was carefully placed next to a sink, hoping that someone would take it, throwing the Waynes off. 

He spends the remaining time even more nervous than he was before. (Name) kept looking towards the clock to watch the minutes pass. The bouncing of his right leg made the person sitting next to him scoff and move to sit further away.

Getting on the bus, (name) chooses a seat far from anyone else, closer towards the end of the vehicle. He rests his head against the window, keeping his eyes half-closed to check who else would be riding with him without anyone noticing him staring.

The ride to Metropolis wasn't as bad as the teenager was worried it would be. The other passengers kept it for themselves for the most part. (Name)'s nerves seemed to calm down a little with each passing kilometre.

The teenager felt himself relax the moment his eyes were met with the 'Welcome to Metropolis' sign. He knew that this city wasn't his last stop, but the distance he put between himself and the family was enough for the time being.

(Name) felt like a new person as he was getting off the bus. He took a look around, pride filling his heart. It was the first step to his freedom.

Walking the streets, the teenager realised one thing: Metropolis was nothing like Gotham. In practice it meant two things for (name). The first one was the fact that finding a place to stay might be much harder than he anticipated. On his walk he only saw one abandoned-looking building, and with how put-together the city appeared to be, there was no way he could get a hotel room.

On the first night in Metropolis, (name) spent napping on the bench hidden deep in a park. In the morning, he woke up cold and more tired than before he went to sleep.

The second night, the teenager had more luck. He found a poorly locked store. That night, the boy slept well, surrounded by warmth.

After that, he purposely looked for stores without high security, breaking into them and sleeping. After each night, he made sure that the store was left untouched to minimise the police catching a whiff of him.

Unbeknownst to him, (name) did catch the attention of a certain someone. 

During a late-night patrol, Conner had spotted him breaking into a store. The Superboy was ready to swoop in and stop the robbery, only to find out that there was no robbery. It was just a teenager his age who was setting up what appeared to be a place to sleep.

"Stop right there!" Superboy yelled out, his fists up in the air, ready to fight.

"Listen, I promise I'm not trying to steal anything," (name) mumbled, his hands in the air. "I'm just looking for somewhere to sleep."

Conner didn't believe him. Not at first. It takes several nights of watching the teenager from afar for Conner to understand that he wasn't lying. He watched the boy's night-time routine: finding a store, breaking inside and setting up a place to sleep. If said store sold food, Conner noticed that he would leave money for any eaten items.

Unsure of what to do with that knowledge, Conner confided in his parents. He told them how he had met a boy around his age who keeps breaking into random shops. Not to steal anything, but just as a form of shelter. Clark promised to check on the teenager.

That night, the two heroes watched (name) breaking into a butcher's store, setting up a space to sleep behind the counter.

(Name) rummages through the shelves in the back, trying to see if any workers had left their uneaten lunches behind for him to eat. The boy is so focused on the task that he doesn't notice that he's no longer alone in the store.

He hears someone clearing his throat right behind him. Startled, (name) quickly turns around, ready to face whoever had caught him. He didn't consider how slippery the floor was from the cleaning supplies.

His mind doesn't fully register the fall before (name) feels the excruciating pain in his lower abdomen. He clutches his stomach around the object currently sticking out of it, looking up to see the shocked and terrified expressions of Superman and Superboy.

The last thing the boy sees is the two men rushing to his side, trying to aid him. After that, all he remembers is the darkness around him. 

He doesn't know how much time has passed when he opens his eyes again. (Name) groans, his eyes blurry as he attempts to move.

"Easy there," a woman's voice said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Wouldn't want you to ruin your stitches."

The teenager stops struggling; instead, he takes a look around the room he was in. The room was small and, judging by the decoration in it, seemed like a guest room. On the bed sat a woman with short, dark hair and purple eyes. On her lap were lying a few medical supplies, as if she came to tend to his wound.

(Name) looked down onto his body, a groan escaping his lips after noticing bandages on his abdomen.

"You were lucky, you know?" The woman said, placing the medical supplies onto the bedside table. "If the metal stabbed you a few millimetres over, you'd be dead."

"I came to change your bandages," she stated, ignoring the lack of response from the boy. "Now, since you're awake, it should be much easier. Can I?"

The teenager nodded, knowing that due to how dry his mouth felt, talking wasn't really an option for him now.

(Name) follows each instruction that the woman gave him, not really in the position to do anything else. He learnt that her name was Lois and that she was the mother of the hero that had saved him.

After successfully changing out his bandages and applying ointment to his wound, Lois left the room with a promise to bring him some water.

The teenager isn't left alone in the room for long. He doesn't even get to think of what his next should be when Lois comes back, accompanied by a man. The woman returns to the boys' side, handing him a glass of water.

"Good to see that you're awake," the man said, not moving from the doorway. "We figured bringing you here would be a better bet than taking you to the hospital."

"Thank you". (Name) took another sip of water. He looked down at the glass, thinking.

"I'm sorry for being so much trouble," the boy mumbled. "I'll leave the moment I get better. I promise."

"Nonsense…" Lois started speaking.

"We wanted to help you, so we did," the man had finished. "You can stay here for as long as you want."

"I won't stay here," (name) argued.

"Nobody will force you to do that," Lois tried to soothe the teenager. "We're just offering."

The boy loses himself in his own thoughts for a moment. Could he really stay here? No. Not like that. Not for free. Nothing's free.

"You could help around the farm if you want," the man offered, as if he was reading the boy's mind. "We could use an extra hand."

(Name) looks up at the man. Helping around while he was staying with them didn't sound that bad after all. The boy nodded. He could stay with them for a while before continuing with his journey.

"Great," the man smiled. "Make sure to get plenty of rest then. We'll get you back on your feet in no time."

Just as the man promised, who later he had learnt was called Clark, (name) had healed in no time. With the doting of Lois and company on both of their kids, he slowly regained all of his energy. Going from not being able to move, to sitting along them at the table. 

Once the boy could walk again, their youngest, Jon, took him outside to show him around the farm. That's when he found out about the workers' quarters in the upstairs of the barn. That night he had pushed the couple to let (name) move there.

From that day on, the boy had fallen into a routine. Each day he would wake up at the crack of dawn, learning how to care for animals from each of the family members.

Right after breakfast he rushes along with Jon to feed the chickens and listen to the boy explain what each bird is called. Then, he does general maintenance along Conner and Clark. If there's nothing he could help with, he spends his time in the kitchen with Lois, helping her prepare meals for the family.

(Name) had also found himself enjoying eating with the Kents. Watching them banter with each other and listen to Jon and Conner talk about their days in school felt nice and refreshing. Even if allowing Lois to fill his plate with seconds with a soft 'eat up, you need to grow strong, sweetie' made him feel a little guilty at times, he apologised to his mother for betraying her like that.

After dinner he would often stay out, watching the night sky along Conner. It was nothing like he knew back in Gotham. In Smallville, looking up at night meant seeing multiple stars shining bright, while in Gotham the only lights in the sky were from the helicopters flying above.

Watching the stars along Conner felt more meaningful after he had figured out why the teen seemed so familiar to him. Hanging out in Conner's room, he saw a photograph the teenager had with Tim, who, Superboy confirmed, was one of his closest friends.

It was getting close to midnight, the two of them wrapped in blankets provided by Lois, watching the night sky. (Name) points out a shooting star, Conner reminding him to make a wish.

"Sometimes I feel like I already know you from somewhere, you know?" Connor broke the silence, his eyes still focused on the sky. "I just can't figure out from where." (Name) tensed up, glancing towards the teen.

"Yeah, that's crazy," (name) laughed, internally trying to calm his heart. Deep breaths. 

(Name) spent the rest of that night unable to focus on anything else than Connor's words. Even hours later, as he lay in bed, they were the only thing he could think about. That night became the first night at the farm that he didn't get any sleep.

"Rough night?" Lois asked the next day, placing additional pancakes onto the boy's plate. "Here, a little more, since today will be rough for you."

Accepting Lois' love came quite easy, the woman reminding the boy of his mother in more ways than he would admit.

Allowing Clark closer felt impossible at times. Growing up, (name) didn't have a father figure, and Bruce, his biological father, he…

The boy shook his head; the man was far away. There was no way he could find the teenager here. Even though Conner is friends with his 'brother'.

Even so, he couldn't help but glance at Clark working on the farm tractor. The man had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, his hands covered in oil. Watching him, it felt good, domestic in a way. Almost as if (name) was always destined to be here with him, with them. Is it really it? Is it the place he could finally stop running?

Clark must've sensed the teenager watching him, turning to look at him. He closed the hood of the tractor with a heavy sigh.

"I'm starving," the man said, walking up to (name). "Let's go home, son."

And he does.

m.list • part: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight

taglist: @amber-content @bellethesleepypotato @leeiasure @sleepdeprivedcrappywriter @tenthmilo @eyeless-kun @holyfishbailiffpeanut @cuntiesweet @jsprien213 @marsmabe @cssammyyarts @ilovecoffe0 @phoenixgurl030 @esposadomd @alittlelostmoonchild @stargirl404 @xnutz0 @s4raahi @reeyy0-2@ironsaladwitch @chemicalwindexbottle@ityourguy @im-so-goddamn-tired@dirtydiavolo@etern1tyxxx@whognuthis @verypersonadazzel @staarflowerr @hai-there-how-are-you @depressed--therapist @flightless-magpie

[trevuorzegras]

LUST CANT LISTEN 　QUINN HUGHES

　　　quinn hughes x fem!reader

　　　trevor zegras x fem!reader

SUMMARY 　y/n and trevor’s no-strings-attached arrangement unravels when feelings and jealousy collide at a summer lake house, forcing painful truths to surface.

contains 　sexual content (mentions of sex), profanity, alcohol use, verbal conflict, love triangle (not really, trevor is delusional), themes of rejection, use of y/n.

note 　like i said this isn’t really a “love triangle” more of a one sided thing on trevor’s behalf. for @wintfleur, thank you for helping! <3

　　HE HAD SWORN to y/n it was a no strings attached situation. No feelings. No commitment.

And she believed him. She had to because believing him kept things clean, uncomplicated. She could handle casual, she told herself. She liked the arrangement. Liked the control. But even in those quiet, unguarded moments when the room was dim and the only sound was the rise and fall of their breath — she caught him looking at her like she meant something. Like she was more.

Trevor thought he was subtle. He wasn’t. The way he lingered when she got dressed, how he asked her to stay after, fingers brushing hers like it might be the last time. His eyes would say everything his mouth refused to.

He was falling. Fast. Hard. And he had no fucking clue how it happened.

This wasn’t supposed to be complicated. He didn’t do relationships. Everyone knew that. The girls he hooked up with knew it. His friends joked about it. And y/n? She was supposed to be easy — detached, cold even. But now she was slipping through his fingers, and all he could think about was how badly he wanted to be enough for her.

When she started pulling away, he panicked. Maybe she found someone new. Maybe she finally realized she deserved someone who gave a shit. Someone who didn’t need sex to show affection.

He needed to fix it. So he did the stupidest thing he could think of: he invited her to the Hughes’ lake house.

It was a sacred space. No flings. No drama. That was the one rule Quinn had laid down years ago — right after the infamous summer of ‘19, when some random girl Trevor brought tried to throw a chair off the deck. But Trevor couldn’t help himself.

What shocked him most was that she said yes.

And that meant he had to sell the lie. He told Quinn she was different. That she wasn’t just some random hookup. That they were “testing the waters.” And somehow, Quinn bought it. Or at least pretended to.

But less than a day into the trip, the cracks began to show.

People asked questions. Too many. When did you meet? How did it start? Is it serious?

That last one came from Quinn.

It was the first red flag.

Quinn never cared about Trevor’s flings. He barely looked twice at them. But with y/n? He was watching her like he already knew the answer. And truthfully, he did.

Quinn had sensed something the moment they arrived. Trevor didn’t love. Not really. And if he did, it was always temporary. Self-serving. But when Quinn saw y/n, saw the way her eyes scanned the water like it was the first peaceful thing she’d seen in months, something changed.

She was beautiful, yes. But there was more to it. She was real. And Trevor didn’t deserve her.

And y/n? She noticed Quinn too.

She hadn’t meant to. But he made it easy.

It started with soft glances. Lingering touches. Shared silence. She found herself drifting closer to him at the fire, brushing his hand accidentally on the dock, listening just a little harder when he spoke. He saw her. Really saw her — not just the surface.

Trevor noticed.

Of course he did. He watched her slip out of his orbit and into someone else’s. And the worst part? She looked happier. She looked whole.

She never sat on Trevor’s lap.

But now, she was curled up on Quinn’s like she belonged there.

Trevor stared at the fire, jaw tight, trying to pretend he didn’t care. He talked to Jack and Cole, his beer untouched, lukewarm. He tried not to look. But he always did.

Then Jack spoke — clueless, well-meaning, but sharp like a knife.

“You know, Trevor. If you wanted to bring someone, you didn’t have to lie about her being your girlfriend. Your friends are always welcome here. You know that.”

Lie.

There it was. Spoken aloud. And like a match dropped in gasoline, something snapped.

Trevor scoffed. Loud, bitter, almost theatrical. Eyes finally locking on y/n, then Quinn.

“You okay?” y/n asked, raising an eyebrow.

He smiled. Not kindly.

“Oh, so now the slut cares how I am?” Silence.

It was like time stopped. Everyone froze.

Y/n blinked, like she couldn’t believe she heard him right. But she had. Quinn confirmed it with a sharp, venom-laced tone.

“The fuck’s your problem?”

Trevor stood up, beer bottle falling to the sand with a dull thud. His voice was hoarse, choked with anger and something else — heartbreak.

“My problem?” he barked, eyes flaring. “My problem is Y/n sitting on my bestfriend like I never meant a damn thing to her.”

“You didn’t,” y/n said coldly. Her voice didn’t tremble. She made sure of it. “You wanted sex. I gave it to you. You never once asked for anything more.”

“You knew how I felt!” Trevor snapped, stepping toward her. “Don’t act like you didn’t see it. I wanted more — I wanted you.”

“You only wanted me when someone else did,” she spat. “You had ten months, Trevor. Ten. Months. And you only started caring the second I found someone who actually listens when I speak.”

Trevor’s fists clenched, teeth grinding. Quinn stood, guiding y/n gently behind him like a storm was coming. Because it was.

Trevor stepped forward again. “You think he’s better than me? Huh? Think he’s gonna treat you better? You don’t know him like I do.”

“I know enough,” she said quietly. “He respects me.”

“You’re delusional,” Trevor sneered, voice shaking.

“Back the fuck off,” Quinn said, his tone low but lethal.

Trevor shoved him.

Quinn didn’t budge.

Jack and Luke were on their feet before Trevor even raised a fist again.

“That’s enough!” Jack barked, stepping between them, one hand on Trevor’s chest. “You wanna fight someone? Fight me. But you’re not laying a finger on him. Or her.”

“Grow the hell up, man,” Luke added, voice shaking with fury. “She doesn’t want you. Move on.”

Trevor stood there, chest heaving, eyes bloodshot, body trembling with rage and shame and everything he couldn’t say.

“I loved her,” he whispered.

“No,” y/n said. “You just hated the idea of someone else loving me right.”

Trevor didn’t say another word. He turned, stumbled into the dark, disappearing into the house. A door slammed.

Silence fell again.

The fire crackled, unbothered. The lake lapped against the dock like nothing had happened.

Quinn turned to y/n, brushing a thumb over her hand. She nodded, quietly. Still holding it together.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Don’t be,” she said. “I’m not.”

Later that night, Trevor sat alone on the dock, feet dangling over the water, face buried in his hands.

He’d lost her.

Maybe he never really had her. Maybe she was never his to begin with — not really. But that didn’t stop it from hurting like hell. The ache was bone-deep, the kind that lingers in the spaces between heartbeats. It was a dull, constant reminder that something once full was now empty.

The lake stretched out in front of him like an endless black mirror, reflecting nothing but the stars — distant, untouchable, and cold. Just like the way she had looked at him before she walked away.

From inside the house, he heard it again — laughter. Her laughter. Soft, uninhibited. Real.

And then his. Quinn.

Trevor’s stomach turned. It was the kind of laugh she never gave to him. He had made her scream, sure. Moan. Gasp. But not laugh like that. Not from the gut. Not the kind that made your eyes close and your shoulders shake.

It wasn’t even about jealousy anymore. It was about knowing he had the chance. The window. The space to try and he didn’t.

He thoughts back on when she had sat next to him months ago, knees pulled to her chest, eyes heavy from something she wouldn’t name. She had said, “Sometimes I feel like I’m easy to want, but impossible to love.”

And he had said nothing.

Just drank his beer, offering her a sip.

That was the moment. The one he let slip.

He looked up at the stars, eyes burning.

Maybe that’s what love was for him. Something you could see, but never touch. Something beautiful, but always just out of reach.

And in the quiet of that Michigan night, Trevor finally understood:

He hadn’t lost her to Quinn.

He had lost her to himself.

Because when she needed someone to see her — he closed his eyes.

Inside the house, y/n stood in the kitchen, barefoot, cradling a mug of peppermint tea between her hands. Her hair was damp from a late-night swim with Quinn, her skin still tingling from the cool water and the way his hand had slipped into hers under the surface.

Quinn walked in behind her, hoodie low over his brow, a soft smile playing at his lips. He wasn’t in a rush. He never was. That was what y/n liked about him. He moved through life like nothing could shake him. But when he looked at her. Like that — she knew better.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, stepping up behind her.

She shook her head, resting the mug on the counter. “Too much noise in my head.”

Quinn leaned against the counter next to her, close enough that she could feel his warmth, but not touch her unless she asked him to. He always waited.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low.

She nodded. Then she paused.

“I should feel worse,” she admitted. “About Trevor. About everything.”

“You don’t?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “He never cared how i was. He never asked how I felt. But the second someone else saw me… suddenly he cared. And maybe I’m cruel, but I don’t think that’s love.”

Quinn reached over and gently brushed her hair behind her ear, his fingers barely grazing her skin.

“That’s not cruel,” he said. “That’s clarity.”

She looked up at him. His eyes weren’t demanding. They didn’t beg her to be something she wasn’t. They just… saw her.

“What is this?” she asked. “You and me?”

“I don’t know yet,” he said, smiling softly. “But I want to find out. No rules. No pretending.”

She didn’t respond. Not with words. Just stepped into him, her forehead resting against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He wrapped his arms around her like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Outside, the dock creaked under Trevor’s shifting weight as he stood.

He looked back at the house one last time.

And then he walked away from the lake, the fire, the laughter — from the ghost of what almost was.

NAVIGATION　　 ✶ 　　NHL MASTERLIST

© V A M P — plesse do not copy, repost, translate, or use my work without consent.

[xylatox]

Caught in Your Spell || kth

Ive been so excited to read this and im very excited for every minute of it! I feel so giddy whenever I read fics of my bias. Anywho unto my thoughts :) 

Already obsessed because ever since I watched The Apothecary Diaries Ive been obsessed with seeing it in fics

She wishes you were more aware of this advantage; maybe then you would be able to do something about this weird tension between you and the prestigious member of the royal court, Mage Kang. 

I already love the idea that they have a somewhat established relationship! It definitely sets the tone for the entire fic.

”I certainly am,” Taehyun says, cocking his head as it becomes his turn to stare you down, “don’t tell me you’re already sick of seeing me here?”

And even from the first moments its evident that the weird tension is intact present, i absolutely love it

“She has a point— about the deliveries.” his voice is muffled by the flowers, and you lean in closer to hear better. “I’d hate to be replaced, I quite like talking to you. Two.”

I giggled, nice save Taehyun. Also I absolutely love Yunah soso much, everything about her personality is not only endearing but you can tell shes the most loving friend

Yeonjun😭oh my god ALSO IM SO SLOW, I DIDNT NOT REALIZE THEIR FAMILIARS WERE PPULBATU OH MY GOD. AND THE MOMENT WITH YEONJUN HELLO???? Taehyun my love look away </3 Ik hes using magic but still

I also feel so bad for mc when we get her feelings, it must be super hard to be human among some many different people who arent like her

Though Taehyun’s ears flush a deep scarlet, and the skin of his neck that peeks out from his uniform blushes a gentle pink, he doesn’t bother objecting to Yunah's claims— it’d be futile, and they both know it. He remains deep in thought instead, fishing through his bag for the payment, wishing nothing more than to see you and comfort you. 

Screaming. I love that he doesnt even try to deny it

“Do you…” Taehyun stops himself, watching your eyes dart away, ashamed. Reaching out for your hand, he smiles sweetly at you, nodding back to the platforms behind him. “Would you like to accompany me?”

Screaming x2 hes so fucking cute i cannot take it

The entire moment where they cross the Opal Bridge and Taehyun kind of teases her and tells her she should just say hisz nameee :(((( i love them

After your rendezvous at Opal Bridge, you could no longer ignore the charged air between you two— there was something forming, something neither of you were keen to acknowledge just yet; a fragile, sweet bud that urged to bloom into a proud flower, begged to be tended to. 

Oh my god this line.

I was hoping the guy that mysteriously came was Beomgyu and I was so happy that it was him and not like a bad guy LOL. Also not that I dont love Beomgyu but I have the same question :((( where is Taehyun

“You’re not denying it,” Beomgyu’s lips curl into a childish little smirk, like he’s holding back the urge to giggle, “don’t worry, you can just flirt with me in the meantime— don’t let your routine get disrupted.”

This is such a beomgyu coded line oh my god

Through the lighthearted insults and giggles, the reality of Beomgyu’s words start to crash onto you, like an overwhelming, sobering wave. The representatives from Flora. Humans. Them. 

Oh :(( Also hearing Gyu’s thoughts on falling in love with a human makes me so sad because now im thinking if Taehyun thinks the same and yknow despite liking mc he wouldnt push because of her race(??)

“But, that doesn’t mean it’s impossible,” His words have an unprecedented softness to them, genuine in his answer as he continues, “I think, if it were love, I’d look past it all— I’d let them drag me down, I’d pick up after their messes happily. I’d take care of them no matter how fragile they were.”

This is such a sweet ending to his words tho :(( 

“Love, I only ask of you to help me with the most basic of potions,” she soothes, now standing before you at the counter, “something so simple, even a… powerless, human would be able to achieve it.”

I immediately dont like her and jesus this seems dangerous. Lowkey scared of Irene why does she feel like shes related something more

You want to forget Taehyun’s disparaging words, to erase the degrading look in his eyes. You want to pretend as though all your fears weren’t only confirmed in the end, left with an insolent reminder that you’ll never be anything more than a mere human. 

I feel so sad. I know he means well but ugh. Also that entire scene was so insane I was at a literal lost for words and I genuinely feel so bad for the mc, my poor baby. I love that Taehyun also tried his best to look after mc but she’s so in her head it actually breaks my heart at the distance she created which is very valid imo.

And the way Irene is a necromancer oh my god you dangerous woman. I feel soso bad for mc because despite the very obvious fact that Yunah is looking out for her shes so in her head that she doesnt see that and just thinks everyone sees her as a mere human and it hurts

“Did you and Yunah have fun? Stringing me along like this?” you say, standing up and glaring at Taehyun; he frowns, opening his mouth to say something, but is left speechless. “Making me believe that I’d ever belong in a place like this, when in reality, you were no better than everyone else here that saw me as a little pet!” 

No baby no :((( 

“You think I’m happy with all of this? Do you really think it was my idea to send you off like this, away from me?”

OH MY GOD THIS LINE?!? Not Taehyun saying the sweetest words so easily what the fuck.

“I just can’t afford to lose you,” he says weakly; he’s just a step away from you now, his face so close you can analyze the look in his eyes, count every eyelash that brushes against his skin with every blink, “and if it meant letting you go to keep you safe… I’d do that, too.”

Hes so in love with her im going to pass out

THE KISS AHHHH YESSSSS 

“Tell me to stop,” the look in his eyes is slowly darkening, losing that innocent shine to make way for something more— something desperate. His hand on your back has begun to wander dangerously low, hovering at the small of your back and threatening to go lower— his eyes flicker down to your shining, swollen lips, ready to dive back in, but he holds himself back. “Tell me to end it here, and I’ll listen.”

I literally went im going to pass out. Oh my god

Also being bound by magic hello???

“You imagined this?”

“So many times,” he immediately breathes out, tilting his head to kiss you deeper before pulling away briefly, letting go of your face to tug at his remaining clothes, “thought of having you under me like this so many times, making you feel good like this.”

What a good ass day to be a Tyun bias

“I meant everything I said. And more,” he suddenly speaks up, burying his head into you, fond of the comfort it brings, “Stay with me. I don’t care what Yunah thinks is best for you— I want you to stay.”

I really might pass out

He smiles, expectant of the question. “At home. He’s been missing you all day.”

“Then what are we waiting for?!” you push him away, running behind the counter to grab your bag, “let’s go home!” 

This is so cute. I always like it when characters refer to home so sweetly. And god, the ending just makes me so darn happy. 

Sol! Hello!! This is my first fic of yours and goodness im so glad I read I was not disappointed one bit. This was so good. I absolutely love your writing, its soso good you have such a way with words. Also when i checked your pinned post I saw your now playing was a PTV song and that makes me so giddy so see a fellow lover of their music also into kpop! Anyways lol, Im so excited to read all your other works. This was such a lovely introduction.

Caught in Your Spell

♬ : Cherish (My Love), ILLIT, Romeo, Pinkpantheress, For: You, Kali Uchis

"Being a simple human in a magic-dominated city was not for the weak. You can deal with the endless teasing, the inaccessible architecture, and the belittling from others around you, always taking pride in your tough skin— but when it comes to your hopeless pining after Mage Kang Taehyun, maybe your heart isn’t as strong against the insecurities that nag at your brain as you thought."

mage!taehyun x human!fem!reader 

genre: fantasy, fluff, angst, smut

word count: 22.2K

warnings: barely proof read… we die like men i’m sorry. bit of a miscommunication trope ?  mc is having an identity crisis pls bear with her, brief violence/blood (nothing graphic) taehyun is a little mean for a moment… but he means well ! 

smut warnings: soft dom!taehyun, sub!mc, dry humping kinda, oral(f. rec.) fingering, multiple orgasms, praise, pet names (good girl, baby, angel, love) use of restraints (bondage?), overstimulation, begging?, creampies, scratching, cockwarming, lmk if i missed anything!

notes: guys… i’ve never been so locked in for a fic before. this was sooo fun, pls let me know your thoughts ! ive also scattered a few references here hehe, some more obvious than others. let me know if you spot any! 

You knew what you were getting into the moment Yunah proposed the idea; starting an apothecary in the capital was not an easy feat, but her determination and alluring promises made you see only success for your futures— sometimes, you like to tease that she used an enchantment spell on you, which she always dismisses with a laugh.

”You know how unethical I find that,” she reminds you each time, fluttering her eyes at you playfully, “and that’s actually my natural charm you’re referring to, by the way.”

Being one of the few humans that resides in such a magic dominated city had plenty of downsides; you were made well aware how other wizards saw you, always belittled and babied despite your wit and knowledge— the caution that came with your presence, afraid that even the slightest breath in your direction would cause you to shatter. Not to mention the surprisingly inaccessible architecture that littered the city: not everyone has the ability to levitate!

It was a stressful, fast paced life you lived, one you wouldn’t change if it meant leaving Yunah’s side— she was your rock, despite your differences, who never put meaning into what you could or couldn’t do; in her eyes, you were her sun: a bright, healing, energizing light. You brought life wherever you went, possessing a magnetic energy that she deemed magical in itself. She wishes you were more aware of this advantage; maybe then you would be able to do something about this weird tension between you and the prestigious member of the royal court, Mage Kang. 

“Just this for now.” Taehyun huffs, placing down an impressive armful of tiger lilies before you, “Though, I think I may have to return again tonight.” 

“So many flowers,” you whistle, picking up the handfuls of lilies to tie them together and package them nicely, “who could possibly be worthy of such grand bouquets?”

“Oh no, these aren’t to be gifted,” Taehyun is quick to correct; when you peer up at him through your lashes in curiosity, he looks away, staring out the window and clearing his throat before he can continue. “They’re for the queen. They make for a beautiful delicacy, and it’s all she’s been craving recently.”

“The baby will be roaring at birth at this point. You can’t possibly be serious when you say you’ll return, right?” 

”I certainly am,” Taehyun says, cocking his head as it becomes his turn to stare you down, “don’t tell me you’re already sick of seeing me here?”

Your eyes widen at his sudden surge of confidence, shrinking back shyly as you attempt to sputter out a comeback— Yunah decides she’d much rather do it for you as she chirps off in her little corner. 

“Of course not; you’re the highlight of her day,” she grins, sending Taehyun a wink, “and my entertainment.”

Taehyun’s canines sparkle from the wide smile he sports, looking back at you with joy glowing in his eyes. “Is that so? I’m flattered.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re falling for Yunah’s lies so easily,” you scoff, though the sourness in your face is quick to sweeten as familiar company jumps onto the counter, drawn to the crinkling paper you use to wrap the bright flowers— your voice is pure sugar as you stare at the creature fondly. “the only highlight here is getting to see Dago. Isn’t that right? I’ve missed you!” 

Taehyun can only stand back in shock as you turn your full attention (and undying adoration) to his familiar. Dagonyang is quite eager for the onslaught of attention, round eyes sparkling and dilating at your loving coos, fluffy tail swishing curiously as you gently run your fingers through his fur and scratch beneath his chin— it draws a low purr from the cat, which in turn makes you squeal and plant a soft kiss to his forehead; Taehyun’s brows all but fly off his head. 

“Oh you’re so cute, I wish you could stay with me instead— how bout it?” The flowers are an abandoned afterthought, your body bumbling with cuteness aggression as Dagonyang rubs himself against you, knocking his head against your hands in search of more pets— his eyes are closed in bliss. “You’d be better off here— I can’t imagine how boring the royal life must be, you should just stay here and sunbathe in front of the window instead. You’d attract many new clientele too, I’m sure.”

Before you can process it, Dagonyang becomes nothing but cat-hair glued to your sweater; Taehyun has scooped him up in his arms, thick biceps bulging to hold back his familiar that tries to jump back onto the counter— a stern look at the starry-eyed cat is enough to calm him down, and Taehyun loosens his grip to let him jump to the floor instead. Peering over the counter, you watch him loop around between Taehyun’s legs; he clears his throat, a last resort to get you to look back up at him. 

“I doubt he’d be a good fit for this place. His kitty claws are much stronger than you think.” There’s something unusual about his voice, despite the lighthearted jokes he’s making— something that shaves off that soft, mellow rumble and leaves a rocky undertone that puts you on edge. Afraid that you might catch on, he gives you a playful look that shrugs off your suspicion. “And he has quite the appetite. Half your store’s product would be gone the next morning.”

“I guess you have a point,” you sigh dejectedly. Leaning down, you rest your chin in your palm and observe the familiar that has begun to take in the store around him; he’s eyeing a display of novelty sweets you helped Yunah make (laced with playful, short-term spells, a bestseller amongst the students that run past after school), his eyes sparkling with interest— Taehyun is swift to place his foot in front of Dagonyang’s path, allowing himself to be dragged back to his owner’s side with a huff. You laugh at the sight, endlessly endeared. “Sometimes I forget he’s not just a cute kitty.”

Taehyun huffs. “He’s got abs, for christ’s sake. How could you possibly forget?”

You shrug. “He pulls them off well.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt you two,” Yunah starts, charging forward with a subtlety of a bulldozer that contradicts her statement, “but those flowers should probably get delivered soon. I’d hate for you to get in trouble for a late delivery again, Taehyun. They might get fed up and start sending someone else instead.”

“Who knows? Maybe they’ll take an interest to you too, ___,” Yunah teases; while you flush with embarrassment and tell her off, Taehyun stiffens at the image, rummaging through his bag for your payment and scooping up the bouquets into his arms— you’re brought back to the subject at hand as coins clatter on the counter, Taehyun’s eyes barely peeking over the flurry of tiger lilies that surrounds him.

“She has a point— about the deliveries.” his voice is muffled by the flowers, and you lean in closer to hear better. “I’d hate to be replaced, I quite like talking to you. Two.”

Yunah snorts.

“I’ll see you later— but if I don’t, complain that I was better. Maybe they’ll listen.”

“If it meant getting to see Dagonyang again, I’d start a riot, Mage Kang.”

It’s not exactly what he wants to hear, and you can tell. He shrugs.

”Good enough.”

Bidding Yunah goodbye, he spins on his heel and rushes out of your shop— he doesn’t need to look back to tell Dagonyang to actually follow.

The lingering echoes of the doorbell is the last reminder of their presence, the apothecary now silent save for the bubbling of Yunah’s cauldron; Sunday’s were always the most tranquil, and now that your only customer was gone, you were left to sigh and melt against the counter in boredom. Turning around, you decide to watch Yunah perfect her newest concoction. 

“How’s the order going?” you ask, watching her dig through the shelves of jars above her— when she spots her key ingredient at the top shelf, she sighs; with a swirl of her finger, the jar glows a lavender color and is slowly brought down into her awaiting hands. 

“Hasn’t exploded yet,” considering her recent streak of going on autopilot while potion making and adding the wrong ingredients, this was an impressive feat. “But your whole thing with Taehyun was distracting me. I almost added dragon’s breath into this.”

She looks up at you, brows raising as she gives you an intense look, “This whole place would’ve burned down if I did.”

“Wh— and how is that my fault?” you cross your arms, pouting at her accusations, “and what thing? It’s called banter.”

“More like flirting. You two have got it bad for each other,” she laughs to herself at the memory. “I’ve never seen a man get jealous over a cat.”

“C’mon, now you’re just making stuff up.”

Yunah sighs, long and hard. “Oh you poor, poor thing. Does it get tiring, deluding yourself like this?”

You roll your eyes— your denial only exasperates Yunah.

“I’ve never seen anyone be so into you. Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

“Like every other mage that comes here to mess with me, I’m sure,” Yunah immediately frowns, already knowing where you’re taking this. “They just think it’s fun to mess with humans to see our reactions and how far they can push us. There’s nothing more to it.”

“You know that’s not true.”

The ringing of your store’s bell is unexpected to both of you, whirling around to find a new customer. Yeonjun’s smile is bright and full of mischief as he nods to you two, his rowdy familiar bouncing behind him; they make their way towards you, though one seems much more preoccupied with making a mess out of the store— Hwangchoon’s clumsiness has your blood turning cold, watching with horror as he knocks off everything in sight. Stumbling forward, you try to dive for the falling jars he just swept off with his tail, lips parting in a silent scream— only for Yeonjun to beat you to it, his familiar, golden glow emitting from the jars as they all halt their fall and peacefully rise back onto the shelf— he even makes sure to adjust them so all the labels are showing.

“You’ll have to excuse him,” Yeonjun smiles, placing a hand on the small of your back to straighten you up, “he gets excited easily. More so when he visits his favorite places.”

Behind him, you watch Hwangchoon jump up to reach a bowl of crystals, tiny hands nudging it off the table instead of catching it— Yeonjun is swift to save its descent without having to look behind him. His smile widens at the pure disbelief on your face.

“Hwangchoon,” he calls out, guiding the two of you back to the counter— the said fox perks up, running back to his owner’s side in an instant. Yeonjun glances down at him, petting his head fondly. “Stay here. You’re gonna give this poor human a heart attack.”

Yeonjun doesn’t seem to care how his comment bristles you, looking past your frustrated face and scanning the wide display of herbs behind you instead. He lets out a thoughtful hum, and you let him decide for a moment in silence. Looking behind you, you manage to make eye contact with Yunah, who shakes her head and rolls her eyes at the man— it’s enough to crack a smile out of you.

“Quite the selection you’ve got this month,” Yeonjun muses, “Your garden must be coming along nicely. You’ve ought to show me one of these days.”

His eyes flicker down to yours, narrowing slyly, “I’d love to see what human tricks you’ve got up your sleeve.”

“And put myself out of business? You wish,” you scoff, choosing to ignore that last comment. 

“Smart girl,” he grins, and you think you hear Yunah scoff in disbelief behind you. “I’ll take my usual, please.”

Nodding, you turn around to collect the necessary jars— echinacea, turmeric, garlic, ginseng, and lavender. It’s a tedious process, filling your arms to the point that you’re slowly walking back to the counter, afraid that one might slip from your grip and shatter. Yeonjun stands back, amused as he watches you set everything down with a sigh of relief. He waits for you to begin to total everything to speak up again. 

“Oh, now that I think about it, I actually need three more things— I’ve been getting an influx of patients, you see. Supply is running out fast,” he laughs, even if you don’t seem to be as amused as him, and lists out the ingredients: rat tail, bone dust, and salamander eggs— all things on the highest shelf of the establishment, akin with the high ceiling and left out of easy access due to its value. You try to hold back a groan at his request. 

“Yunah, could you—” turning around, you find that Yunah has disappeared from her spot at the cauldon; your eyes dart around in search of her, only to realize that she’s headed to the back in search of something. With her gone, dread begins to buzz in your bones— your only ladder was splintered to dust in the crossfire of Yunah’s messed up potions, and the girl has promised through apologies that she’d get you a new one asap. But looking around now, you come to two horrible conclusions: no ladder, no help. 

“Something wrong?” Yeonjun asks behind you, startling you out of your daze and making the weight on your shoulder crash down harder. Looking over your shoulder, you send him an innocent smile. 

“No, nothing,” you say, trying to prove it as you approach the shelf and crane your neck back, the gears turning in your head as you try and think of a solution. 

Minutes pass and you’ve yet to do anything— Yunah has yet to come back too, much to your dismay. The silence is deafening, and you can hear your blood rushing in your ears with shame as Yeonjun undoubtedly pieces everything together behind you. The snicker he lets out is enough to prove your suspicions.

“Need any help?” Without warning, two hands take a firm hold of your waist, fingers digging into the fabric of your apron— your scream lodges itself in your throat as you’re hauled up and flying into the air, your legs kicking beneath you in protest; you go to slap off the hands that hold you, only to find nothing there. A reluctant look down shows that Yeonjun has levitated you with his magic. 

“What are you doing?!” is all you can bring yourself to yell, horrified as your dress begins to flow around you from your flailing legs— you’re quick to cross your legs and pull the skirt tightly against you, afraid of revealing anything to the man that’s now twenty-five feet beneath you. “Put me down!”

“We’ll be here all day if we stand around waiting for Yunah to come back,” Yeonjun sighs, “and you clearly can’t reach it yourself, so why not take the help?”

“I didn’t need your help!” That's a lie and you both know it, but your pride is taking too much of a hit for you to not defend yourself.

“Sure,” is all he says, watching as you continue to panic in this new position you’ve found yourself in— after another protest from you, he decides enough is enough. 

“Just hold onto these for me, will you?” the jars in front of you have begun to glow golden, and you blanch— rat tail. Bone dust. Salamander eggs. They all fly off the shelves and towards you, the magic ebbing off the moment they’re within arms reach; you dive at them in a panic, weaving through the air and hugging them close to your chest, whirling around to send Yeonjun a deadly glare once they’re all safe in your hold. You only get a joyful laugh in response. 

“Wow, you’re a natural— so graceful,” he grins, slowly bringing you back onto the ground, “One could almost mistake you for a royal aeronaut.”

You just about slam the jars against the counter, fed up with his teasing as you begin to package them and calculate the new price. “You’re not funny, Yeonjun.”

He laughs, reaching forward to boop your nose. “And you’re a wizard, ___.”

You hold back the urge to curse at him as you tell him the new total, counting the coins he places in your hand and getting confused when he hands you more than necessary; you go to give him the extra, but he shakes his head and nods down to his feet— leaning over the counter, you find Hwangchoon has gotten ahold of your novelty sweets, scarfing down the candy like he’s been starved all day. Yeonjun doesn’t seem to be as horrified as you are at the sight. 

“He’ll be okay,” Yeonjun winks, gathering the carefully wrapped parcel in his arms and bidding you goodbye— Hwangchoon begins to levitate beside him, coming into view with flailing limbs and panicked squeaks; Yeonjun pays him no mind, turning around and making his way out the shop. Your worries are put at ease as a golden aura engulfs Hwangchoon, the fox dragged behind the man like a balloon. You merely watch incredulously. 

It’s only after the two are out of sight that Yunah returns with an armful of supplies, even more trailing behind in the air; she’s meticulous as she sets the ingredients on her workbench, ordering them by sequence and spell— satisfied with her work, she smiles up at you proudly, only for it to fall as she notices the exhaustion on your face. 

“Tough customer,” is all you say, putting your head in your hands at the memory, “I just got levitated.”

You don’t expect for Yunah to act so quickly, storming over to the entrance muttering curses under her breath— you’re chasing after her hastily, pulling at her sleeve with a panic as she unsheaths the wand hidden in her boot. 

“It’s okay, really! Please don’t kill him!” you plead, though it doesn’t seem to reach her ears, “he’s long gone anyway— he was just trying to help!” 

“I don’t care what his intentions were! That fool needs to learn boundaries!” Yunah sneers, though she seizes her attempts to chase after him after you try to get on your knees to plead with her— she picks you up before you can, huffing in annoyance. “He thinks he can just treat you however he wants! We need to blacklist him.”

Her eyes light up like a lightbulb, and she’s returning back to her cauldron, flipping through her spell books with a sly smile. “Now that I think about it, we could probably place a border at the entrance to keep him out. He’d have to travel to a different kingdom to find another apothecary— though, none are as good as ours. The quality of his supplies would downgrade— wouldn’t be such a revered doctor anymore, huh?”

“Yunah, please,” you say exasperatedly, reaching over to shut her books— she lets out a whine, acting like a child scolded as you shake your head sternly. “It’s really not a big deal. I’m used to it. Don’t get put on probation over something so silly.”

Yunah is visibly biting back her tongue— she wants to refute, tell you that it’s not something silly, that no matter how much you pretend otherwise, you know how much such belittling actions bother you. But it’s a talk you’ve had more times than you can bother to keep track of, knowing that even if she sees you as a gift to the capital, no one else thinks the same; her rose tinted view of you can only span so far. 

Mulling over her words carefully, all that’s left for Yunah is to sulk at her desk, looking up at you with heartbroken puppy eyes. 

“I’m sorry. I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

You smile, patting her head fondly. “I know.”

Yunah watches you retreat to the back, mumbling on how you should go take care of your garden and finishing packaging your herbs— she recognizes that strong front you’ve put up, still humiliated by today’s events; she considers creating a creature to go torment Yeonjun, but she knows you’d be against it. Yunah is left wishing you weren’t so forgiving. 

When Taehyun returns just before closing shop, it’s clear he’s eager to see you, Dagonyang just as much. The two are dejected carbon copies of each other, with Dagonyang sniffing for your scent and Taehyun stalling by looking around the shop despite only coming for one thing— both quietly hope that if they linger long enough, you’ll return. 

“I don’t think she’s coming back up front. We close in less than an hour,” Yunah calls from her workbench, wiping down her freshly cleaned cauldron, “she’s a bit upset right now. Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Upset? Why?” Taehyun suddenly seems to have remembered what he’s here for, because he’s grabbing handfuls of tiger lilies and making his way to the counter in the blink of an eye. Dagonyang is quick to jump onto it, as though curious to hear why as well. 

“Well…” Yunah hesitates, unsure if she should be sharing this with them— but with the way they’re both leaning in eagerly, eyes wide and worried, she’d feel bad if she didn’t. “You see… there’s a lot of customers here that love to tease ___ for being human. She’s always said she doesn’t mind but… I don’t think that was ever the case. I guess today was just her breaking point.”

“How immature,” Taehyun’s face turns stern with anger, brows knitting together and his jaw clenching. “Who was it?”

“Doctor Choi Yeonjun; the one in the center of the capital, across from the library,” Yunah has no issues ratting out the man, just as annoyed as Taehyun about the whole situation. “I was going to send a trickster after him, maybe hand it a spell bomb to give him a nasty cold. But ___ is just too passive, she was ready to kneel and beg for me to leave him alone.”

“This is ridiculous. She shouldn’t have to deal with such treatments,” Taehyun grumbles, “and this happens often?”

“Everyday, basically. Some are more lighthearted than others,” Yunah sighs, beginning to wrap the bouquet, “She even thinks you’re in on it.”

“Me?” Taehyun sputters, offended by the thought, “Why would she think that?”

“I guess she can’t fathom someone possibly liking a human like her,”  Yunah quotes, watching Taehyun’s frown deepen, “especially someone in the royal court.”

Though Taehyun’s ears flush a deep scarlet, and the skin of his neck that peeks out from his uniform blushes a gentle pink, he doesn’t bother objecting to Yunah's claims— it’d be futile, and they both know it. He remains deep in thought instead, fishing through his bag for the payment, wishing nothing more than to see you and comfort you. 

“Don’t worry yourself sick now, I’m sure she’ll be okay,” Yunah reassures, handing the man the bouquets, “and whatever you do, don’t bring this up to her. She’d be mortified.”

Taehyun reluctantly agrees— when he bids Yunah a goodnight, he has to nudge Dagonyang off the counter in order for him to move; even then, the cat trudges reluctantly behind his owner, glancing back hopefully one last time before they leave— Yunah resists the urge to coo at the way the cat deflates with defeat, disappearing into the night behind his owner. 

 ○○○  

“Are you sure about this?” The question has slipped your mouth for the millionth time, bleeding from the morning to the early evening, lingering like a puppy at Yunah’s bedside as you hopelessly watch her pack. “Like totally, wholeheartedly, super sure? You don’t think this is a bad idea? ‘Cause I think this is a bad idea.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Yunah affirms, smoothing down her shirts before she folds them up into a tight, tiny square, “I’ve sent a notice to all our customers. Plus, I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t trust you.”

“You have too much faith in me,” you breathe out, anxiety prickling at you as you watch Yunah place her final clothing item into her suitcase, flicking her hand to make it shut and zip up— she places her hands on her hips, giving you a look as though to say seriously? It does nothing to deter your oncoming nervous breakdown. “Why can’t I just go with you? Or close up shop?”

“We’ve been through this, ___. It’s invite only, and we can’t afford to close up shop for two weeks. People move on fast here.”

“But,” you bite your lip, brows knitting together as you try to grasp at straws. When you come up empty, all you can do is sigh out the truth. “I can’t do this without you.”

“What are you talking about? Of course you can,” Yunah puts a firm hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze in reassurance. “You practically run it all on your own already. All I do is sit in the corner all day and make potions.”

”But that’s the driving force of this place,” you whine, and you continue before Yunah can tell you that’s absolutely not true, “people seek us out because of your skill.”

“Then I’m sure they’ll understand why I’m leaving,,” Yunah’s eyes dart to the grandfather clock in the corner of her room, hauling her suitcase off her bed and grabbing her coat— when she finds the luggage too heavy for her, she resorts to carrying it with her magic instead. “If this new spell gets approved, it’ll be a game changer for our business.”

Yunah explained this new spell of hers and the impact it would have on the community, but you’re not sure you understood— fireside talks of her ranting excitedly about the ingredients, how mentally taxing it was, and her brainstorming process were easy enough to follow; it was the purpose of the potion itself that you’d never be able to wrap your head around. 

“The fatigue that comes with using magic in such intense intervals can be extremely damaging to one’s health,” she practiced her speech on you, pacing around and using her businesswoman voice, powerful and fearless. “But with this spell, it could all change— endurance can be increased, as well as the mental capacity that allows the magic-user to intensify their spells and potions; this could revolutionize our powers, put endless possibilities on our achievements.”

Throughout your time knowing Yunah, you’ve been told on what it’s like to use magic, to have such abilities— the exhilaration, the strain on your psyche, the pride— you’ve been told how it feels, how addicting it is, left awake at night with dreams on what it’d be like to be like her; to be anything more than a simple, powerless human. 

But you’d never be like her. And as you bid her farewell at the train stop, holding her close and whispering for her to be safe, to write to you, the reality of it all crashes onto you harder than it ever has before— after all, how ridiculous is it for a human to single-handedly run a magical apothecary? 

“I’ll miss you,” you whisper, squeezing her tightly against you— Yunah does the same, patting the back of your head before she pulls away; her smile is fond as she stares at you, her train arriving and beginning to pile up with people.

“I’ll miss you more.”

You stay to watch her get on the train; stay to see her pull back the curtains in her cart, scanning the crowd and lighting up when she spots you, waving eagerly. You stay until the last boarding call has been announced, until the doors close and the train whistles and stirs awake. When it takes off, you do your best to follow her and wave, the joyful laugh she lets out not reciprocated by you as you’re forced to stay behind on the platform and watch her disappear into the horizon, off to carve a new path for herself, one you’ll never be able to follow.

Your journey home has never been more difficult; all the tricky places Yunah would usually help you with— floating platforms that required much more balance than you trusted yourself having, steep slopes that are meant to be sled down gracefully or climbed up with minimal effort— are now obstacles you find yourself pushing through, ignoring the amused stares and light laughter that follows you with every clumsy attempt, as though you were a spectacle on display. By your third encounter with floating platforms that lead to your way home, you’re just about ready to give up, standing before the obstacle course with disbelief; the sun has set long ago, and the streets have become desolate, yet you’re still here. 

“___, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Taehyun’s voice is unprecedented and makes you jump, a hot flush swirling to your cheeks as you turn to face him— the thought of him catching you at such a vulnerable moment is truly petrifying, but you try to play it off with a smile that he returns swiftly. “Are you coming back from dropping Yunah off?”

“Yeah— I am, actually. She told you?” 

He nods, approaching the platforms thoughtlessly— you follow him, just as thoughtless, in an attempt to continue the conversation. “I was notified that certain spells and potions would be unavailable for the next two weeks— and that you would run the place on your own while she was gone.”

“Oh, right,” you mutter sheepishly, already forgetting about the announcement she sent. The two of you stand before the platforms, and while Taehyun is ready to jump onto them without a second thought, you begin to shift nervously. 

“Do you…” Taehyun stops himself, watching your eyes dart away, ashamed. Reaching out for your hand, he smiles sweetly at you, nodding back to the platforms behind him. “Would you like to accompany me?”

Beneath the lanterns that hover in the sky and the lit path before you, you’re able to get a good look at Taehyun’s face for the first time— no shy, fleeted gazes or stolen glances, but a long, good look. His eyes, always so round and sparkling, are creased into crescents from his smile, plump lips pulled taut and causing your eyes to flicker over to a new discovery— his dimple that indents his cheek has you resisting the urge to reach out and poke it, always unaware of its existence until now. You’re entranced, placing your trust in him as you take a hold of his gloved hand; his fingers fall into place between yours, tightening and pulling you into him without a second thought.

He maneuvers you around without effort; your right hand in his, back to his chest as the two of you stand before the first platform, just a few feet away— his other hand falls onto your waist, a feather-like touch that has you straightening up nervously. You feel him hover just beside your head, letting out an airy chuckle that makes shivers run down your spine.

”Hold onto me,” he murmurs, feeling your hold on his hand tighten as the two of you walk forward— his hand on your hip begins to feel warm, a tingling sensation bleeding through your garments and straight to your skin, a soft aura beginning to emit from where he holds you; you try and catch the color that begins to bleed through the light, but it’s all wiped from your head the moment you step forward and begin to float. 

“Ah!” you squeak, slapping your left hand on top of Taehyun’s in a panic; his fingers spread open to let yours in, biting back a smile as you hold onto him desperately, trying your best to follow his movements across the platform, though struggling a bit due to your lingering fear. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you,” Taehyun’s words are soothing, the feeling of his breath against your skin enough to ground you, “just follow your instincts.”

Nodding, you try your best to follow his advice; your jumps defy gravity, lasting long enough that you’re walking on air and skipping platforms— it’s nothing like Yunah’s magic, simple and to the point, or Yeonjun’s, mischievous and exhilarating, but something different all together; it’s graceful, electrifying, making your body buzz with an unknown energy that excites you, letting out a soft laugh as your feet tap briefly on the stones, only to be sent back up again. The wind feels gentle against your skin, playing with your hair and the thick skirts of your dress, unfurling like a bird spreading its wings. When Taehyun peeks over your shoulder to gauge your reaction, he’s overjoyed to find a wide smile lighting up your face.

“Fun, isn’t it?” you’re halfway across at this point, and as you’re sent up into the air, Taehyun takes the chance to halt your descent, your brief hovering giving the man the leverage to use your right hand to spin you around to face him— the squeal you let out is nothing short of endearing to him, letting go of you to watch you fall back for just a second, only to catch you with an arm wrapped around your waist, his left hand now holding your right. “It’s always much better when you’re traveling with someone.”

Spinning you around once more, his arms are crossed around your waist as the two of you float onto the next stone, taking a few steps before Taehyun is lifting you up again, twirling you yet again to make you face him— a laugh bubbles out of you uncontrollably, a dizzying giddiness allowing you to become putty in his hold, letting him guide you to walk backwards, not an ounce of fear in your system as you place your complete trust in him. 

“I’ve never crossed Opal Bridge like this,” you joke, stomach flipping as you’re falling back to the next platform, Taehyun’s smile widening at your reaction, “it’s like we’re dancing!” 

“Maybe we are,” Taehyun’s hand leaves your waist to grab your hand instead, and the two of you switch places on the stone so that it becomes your turn to lead him backwards— with a running start, Taehyun is the first to jump back into the air, pulling you up to follow and tugging you into him so that you’re closer; you almost collide with his chest at his unexpected strength, letting out a nervous giggle that he absolutely soaks up. 

“Quite the interesting dance then,” your confidence boost is quick to dissolve as Taehyun’s magic ebbs away at the highest point of your levitation, the two of you free falling down to the next stone— a scream lodges itself in your throat, watching with horror as Taehyun remains unfazed even as the wind whips against his hair and uniform; without thinking, you embrace him, as though your sheer willpower could save the two of you from crashing down— through squinted eyes, you watch the scenery around you slow once more, a familiar warmth pulsing against the small of your back and between your shoulder blades. 

You pull back from Taehyun the moment your feet touch the ground, surprised to find an undeniable mischief sparkling in his eyes and pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

“That wasn’t funny!” you smack his shoulder, though the excess adrenaline that pulses through you leaves you vulnerable to his contagious smile, unable to help the laugh that slips past you. “You’re cruel, Mage Kang.”

His smile stiffens, and he’s lifting you up once more, only two stones left to go. “You don’t have to call me that, you know. Just Taehyun is fine.”

“Ah, sorry…” you hesitate, and everything pauses— you’re lingering in the air for a moment too long, and it isn’t until you’re meeting Taehyun’s sparkling eyes that you realize he’s expecting something. “Taehyun.”

The sound of his name coming from your mouth is enough to make him want to pull you close, hug you tight against him and soar into to the sky; you’re so sweet, shy as your eyes dart away from his, a shaky smile gracing your face as Taehyun unabashedly grins— you’re barely able to catch on to the playful glint in his eye before the two of you are falling back again, the uncontrollable scream you let out and the flipping of your stomach the closest thing Taehyun can do to make you understand how he’s feeling. 

“How dare you!” you shriek into the air, though it’s followed by a loud laugh as Taehyun saves the two of you yet again, floating the two of you back up delicately in a pseudo-apology; when you catch that stupid, triumphant smirk on his lips, you punch his chest petulantly. “You’re enjoying this too much!” 

“I am,” Taehyun immediately nods, shamelessly pulling you against him, sturdy hands pressing against your back to melt your bodies together— he buries his head into your neck and allows the two of you to remain where you are for a second; just you two, with no one to interrupt or entertain themselves at the spectacle. No facades to maintain, no words to be spoken, only the warmth of Taehyun’s magic against your fragile body, engulfing you entirely until you’re completely his. If you press yourself against him hard enough, you might catch the way his heart is just about to pound out of his chest.

In this tranquil sanctuary you’ve found yourselves in, you find yourself dreading the moment your feet will touch the ground again and force you two to part. A single thought graces your minds, a gentle plea to the stars that watch over you.

If only there were a spell to make this last forever.

 ○○○

The first few days of Yunah’s absence pass by without a hitch— at least, that’s what your positive mind is trying to convince you. It’s an arduous journey on her part, taking advantage of her four days on the train to write to you constantly; it feels like a new letter manifests on her workbench every few hours, filled with complaints on the stiff seats and haphazard sketches of the scenery— she tells you what she ate for breakfast, about the interesting people she’s befriended on the cart across from her, and screams about the man that snores obnoxiously at night. Remind me to create a spell that can mute your ears when I get back, please, she writes to you, and you shake your head in amusement before folding up the letter, determined to respond later as your shop bell twinkles gently.

Making your way back to the front of the shop, you can’t help the way your heart beats in anticipation— Taehyun always visited at this time, always choosing to finish his daily walk with a visit to your shop; sometimes to pick up something, other times to just check how you were doing. 

After your rendezvous at Opal Bridge, you could no longer ignore the charged air between you two— there was something forming, something neither of you were keen to acknowledge just yet; a fragile, sweet bud that urged to bloom into a proud flower, begged to be tended to. You knew it was only a matter of time before the situation became unignorable, but for now, you were satisfied with indulging in these visits he paid you, pretending as though he’d be just as eager to risk your friendship as you were.

Peering nervously over the doorway, you’re stopped in your tracks as you find someone else wandering around your shop; a slightly taller, lean figure, with a broad back and slim waist that’s adorned with a sword and dagger. His shaggy black hair that sweeps over his face elegantly hides his identity from you; his hands are covered with black leather gloves, and you watch him reach out to grab your freshly restocked tiger lilies, quietly observing the flower.

“Isn’t this the part where I’m welcomed to the store, miss?” the sudden address has you jumping, stuttering out a nervous laugh as you step out and make your way towards the counter— the man has yet to face you, but as you begin to take in his uniform better, your face begins to twist into a confused frown.

“Wait,” you start, eyes sweeping from his heavy duty boots to the dark navy of his uniform, recognizing the familiar crest on his shoulder— the man finally looks over his shoulder to meet your scrutinizing gaze, sending you a sly grin that has you scoffing in disbelief. “Beomgyu?”

“Geez, I was scared you’d already forgotten me,” Beomgyu sighs in faux relief, placing back the lily before making his way to where you stand, “your customer service skills are getting rusty.”

When Beomgyu first became part of the royal guard, he was a frequent visitor to your apothecary— a hardworking soldier in search of healing balms and potions to close up wounds instantly, always stopping late at night and making conversation with you and Yunah, detailing about his difficult trainings and listening to the two of you rant about your days; sometimes, he’d bring gifts from his trips to other kingdoms as a token of appreciation, jewelry and trinkets that you still have laying around your home in decoration. His dedication and skill was enough to have him climb up the ladder in no time, making it rare to see the head of the royal guard in your shop these days.

“When did you dye your hair? I could’ve sworn you were just blonde,” you ignore his jab, squinting at his hair that seems to absorb all the light around him, “it’s so dark.”

“Looks nice, doesn’t it?” he runs a hand through his hair, and you’re amazed at how it falls perfectly into place. “my soldiers were saying the blonde made me an easy target.”

“They’re not wrong,” you hum, amused at how immediately pouts at you, “what brings you here, anyway? It’s been a minute since you last came around.”

“If you must know, I’m here to pick up the parcel of potions Yunah left,” Beomgyu says, nodding towards the workbench in the corner where sure enough, a thick parcel awaits.

”Oh, those were for you?”

“For the queen, yes,” Beomgyu is quick to correct you, earning a roll of your eyes in return, “her due date is approaching, and she’s been having constant dizzy spells. Hopefully this can calm her down in the meantime.”

You pause for a second, your grip tightening on the heavy package in your hands; you’ve heard this story before, during one of Taehyun’s visits— about the potions the queen requested from Yunah, forced to wait for the concoction to ferment before being able to take them— and you frown, sure that he would be the one to come for the delivery. The question bites at your curiosity far too much, and you can’t hold yourself back from saying what’s on your mind as you go back to place the package on the counter.

“Did Taehyun get replaced?”

Beomgyu sends you a confused look. “Replaced from what?”

Embarrassment starts to lick at your face, avoiding his gaze as you pray for the heat to go away, trying your best to seem indifferent as you shrug. “He’s usually the one that picks up parcels for the queen.”

Beomgyu pauses for a second, observing your face to see if you’re serious. 

“No… Taehyun’s in a meeting with the advisory court today. He’s not a delivery boy— you are aware of that, right?”

“I obviously am!” you say indignantly, your sudden outburst bringing a knowing smile to Beomgyu’s face, “it’s easy to get used to routine, you can’t blame me for being curious.”

“Curious,” Beomgyu ponders, “or disappointed?”

 “Oh, hush.”

“You’re not denying it,” Beomgyu’s lips curl into a childish little smirk, like he’s holding back the urge to giggle, “don’t worry, you can just flirt with me in the meantime— don’t let your routine get disrupted.”

“God, you’re annoying,” you groan, pushing the parcel forward and closer to him, silently signaling him to go away— when he begins to dig into the bag attached to his belt for your coins, you look around the shop, just now realizing that he’s come in alone. “Where’s your other half?”

Beomgyu smiles fondly at your question. “Right at your feet.”

You’re bending down to inspect beneath the counter immediately, and sure enough, Bamgeut is curled up by your feet, fast asleep. The little bear-pup (it’s what you’ve resorted to calling them after questions about Bamgeut’s species were left unanswered) has never looked more comfortable on your hardwood floors, letting out soft snores that make you bite back the urge to pet them and stir them from their slumber. You remained crouched by Bamgeut’s side instead, watching with adoring eyes as the pup shifts onto its back, long lashes lazily fluttering open until their eyes lock with yours. 

“Hi Bam. Sleep well?” you coo, tucking your lips in to suppress a squeal as Bamgeut slowly rises to make their way to you, soft paws reaching out in a silent request to be carried— you oblige immediately, rising back into Beomgyu’s view cradling his familiar happily; his eyes widen at the sight.

“Wow,” Beomgyu huffs, watching Bamgeut rub the sleep from their eyes, tucking their head into your chest for warmth— your eyes squeeze shut at the cuteness. “I think Bam just found a new owner.”

“I‘ll happily accept,” you grin, running your fingers through Bamgeut’s fluffy hair, “a cute little thing like this has no business being the royal guard’s familiar; this baby was made to laze around, isn’t that right Bammie?”

Bamgeut has already fallen back asleep in your arms; you’re swooning at the sight, giving Beomgyu a pleading look that screams please let me keep them. 

“Absolutely not,” Beomgyu laughs, watching you deflate sadly, “I think you forget that these guys aren’t just here for decoration.”

“I know, I know,” You groan, giving up the cute creature in your hands as Beomgyu holds his arms out; He’s cradling Bamgeut like a baby, the bear-pup instantly recognizing his owner’s hold as they nuzzle into his neck with a content sigh.

”They’re not what they seem, they’re too much to handle, blah blah blah. Just say you hate me and go away,” you accept his payment dejectedly, pouting as he laughs at your misery.

”If it makes you feel better, you’re Bamgeut’s favorite human. That says a lot.”

“I don’t think that says anything at all actually,” you raise a brow, unimpressed. “Not a lot of options to pick from here.”

“Well I couldn’t say you’re their favorite person, because that would be me,” Beomgyu shrugs; looking down at the parcel, he lifts his palm up, a pink aura encasing the package and lifting it in the air— he gives you a wink as he takes his leave. “I had to make do with what I had.”

“Whatever,” crossing your arms, the wave goodbye Beomgyu gives you is left unreciprocated, only cracking a smile as Bamgeut peeks over his owner’s shoulder, mimicking his wave with its tiny paw. The sight has you melting immediately. “Bye-bye Bamgeut! I’ll miss you!”

Beomgyu’s sulky pout that he sends you through the window is swiftly ignored as you spin around and head back to respond to Yunah’s letter. 

 ○○○  

The next time you see Taehyun, he’s trying to hide his terrible mood from you.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” you’ve never been one to worm your way into other’s business, but Taehyun just brings it out of you, “I feel like there’s something bothering you.”

When he entered the shop with brisk steps and a cold look on his face, the warmth in your cheeks disappeared— you’ve never seen him act so cold, trying to mask the bubbling lava of anger that rushes through his veins; his voice was stern and careful as he spoke to you only from necessity, bypassing your usual attempts to joke and banter. As you ask him the question that nagged at your mind, you can’t help but worry that you’ve done something to anger him.

“Just problems at the palace,” he grits out, the mere mention enough to anger him all over again; he refuses to meet your concerned gaze. “Nothing you should worry about.”

”Ah, alright,” he’s far too intimidating like this, and as your exchange is cut short after a pixie appears to request his immediate presence at the palace, you can’t help but wonder if this is the side everyone else sees when he’s working.

“The East Kingdom of Flora is requesting your services,” the tiny voice alerts, its buzzing wings leaving a trail of dust as it circles around Taehyun— at the mention of the kingdom, you perk up; one of the few standing kingdoms ruled by humans. The world you should be in. But while your eyes widen with interest, Taehyun’s jaw clenches, sneering a low curse beneath his breath. 

“The East Kingdom of Flora is requesting your services,” it chirps again, a broken record that zips carelessly around Taehyun— he seems like he might just explode in annoyance. 

“I have to go.” Taehyun turns to you, entirely exasperated. Grabbing the fresh bouquet of tiger lilies and exchanging it for your payment, he rushes out and doesn’t bother acknowledging your meek goodbye; maybe because the pixie continued to chirp away in his ear all the way out. 

Though it seemed like an urgent request, you can’t help but pout at your brief exchange— more so at his coldness. It was an entire switch from the man that’s been lingering cutely at your store night after night, so you can’t help but worry about him, wondering what it could possibly be that’s got him on edge like this. 

Hours later, Beomgyu pays you another unexpected visit, Bamgeut hopping along happily; you smile at the little royal uniform they don, a clear attempt to match the owner that smiles at you brightly. 

“Bamgeut was begging for us to stop by today,” he says, the little bear-pup hopping up to wave at you; you laugh, leaning down against the counter to say return the greeting. Bamguet runs up to you with outstretched arms, and you cave in instantly as you pick them up and set them on the counter, petting its head while their legs dangle from the counter happily.

“Are you sure it was Bamgeut that wanted to stop by? You don’t need to lie, you know. You can admit that you missed me.”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes, unamused at your teasing. “Ha ha, very funny. Don’t make me start showing up without Bamgeut. I’ll actually do it.” 

Having known Beomgyu for long enough, you’re able to confirm that he absolutely would go through with that threat. You gulp. “Sorry.”

He smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

Today, he’s stopped by for a healing balm— he’s run out of his bulk supply, and due to Yunah’s absence, you haven’t been able to restock at much; you’re only able to sell him three, and he tells you about the recent wound he received while training his soldiers. 

“They learn fast. Too fast,” he says, tugging off his glove and folding up his tunic to show you the bandages along his forearm, gasping at the streak of red that bleeds through, “it’s how I got this.”

“Beomgyu, you really need to be more careful!” you scold, covering your mouth with disbelief the longer you look at it, “isn’t there a safer way to train? Something that won’t end with you hacking your arm off?!”

“I’m training them for battle, ___. In the most extreme cases, war,” his face darkens at the thought. “War isn’t safe.” 

“Don’t make me think about stuff, I might pass out.”

The concern in your trembling voice and your worried face is endearing to Beomgyu. In an attempt to distract you he asks, “well, then what do you wanna think about? I’m an open book.”

“Hmm…” you trail off, wondering how you could take advantage of this opportunity. “Oh! Why is the Kingdom of Flora here?”

Beomgyu’s brows furrow, and he seems to be genuinely taken aback by your question. “How do you know about that?”

“Oh. Uhm,” you become sheepish, wondering if you’re asking about a sensitive topic. “Taehyun stopped by earlier, and a pixie appeared alerting him that the kingdom was requesting his presence. I figured you might know something about it.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Well, why didn’t you ask Taehyun about it?”

You grow quiet. “He uh… he seemed pissed.”

At your meek confession, Beomgyu bursts into laughter, as though imagining it for himself— you can’t help but frown at the entertainment he finds from it, wondering what he might know.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“God, I bet he’s fuming,” Beomgyu giggles, wiping at the tears in his eyes, “he hates dealing with stuff like this.”

“Stuff like this?” you echo, “What are you talking about?”

Lost in his own amusement, Beomgyu doesn’t seem to pay any thought to the things he says. “Them, the representatives from Flora. He has no patience with them. Anything that drags him down is enough to make him lose his shit— he’s been assigned to escort them, so imagine the immense pain he’s in right now.”

Through the lighthearted insults and giggles, the reality of Beomgyu’s words start to crash onto you, like an overwhelming, sobering wave. The representatives from Flora. Humans. Them. 

“But as for their business here, no one’s exactly sure. No one except for the King and Queen, that is,” Beomgyu continues, though you’re not following along anymore, “It’s probably some personal affairs, maybe even discussions of a possible alliance; though, I’m not sure what we’d get from that.”

It feels like your head has been plunged underwater, the image of Taehyun flooding your vision; him, forced to escort the humans from Flora— him, forced to help the humans through tricky architecture just as he helped you; dragged down, impatient. In immense pain. 

“Beomgyu,” you interrupt his endless ramblings, staring down at the counter as you continue to pet Bamgeut absentmindedly; the creature has already curled up on the surface and fallen asleep. He hums in response, and you have to find the courage to continue; you avoid looking at his face in fear of seeing his reaction. “Would you ever fall in love with a human?”

Silence falls, just as you feared. You continue to pet Bamgeut as a distraction, the bear-pup leaning closer to the warmth of your touch.

”…Probably not.”

You press your lips together, trying to hide the hurt from your voice. “How come?”

“Well first of all, it’d be difficult to find one here in the capital. I have no idea how I found you,” he jokes, and you crack a small smile at that. “But… I don’t know. Humans… are so fragile; our differences may not be much on the outside, but our genetic make-up is entirely different—health, strength, capabilities— things get complicated like that.

“But, that doesn’t mean it’s impossible,” His words have an unprecedented softness to them, genuine in his answer as he continues, “I think, if it were love, I’d look past it all— I’d let them drag me down, I’d pick up after their messes happily. I’d take care of them no matter how fragile they were.”

His answer is sweet, though you find that an uncertainty still nags at you; you’re startled out of your spiral as you feel him pat your head, winking at you when you look up to meet his gaze. 

“Don’t be sad though, I still think you’re cute.” 

Shaking your head to get his hand off, you let out a low curse at his stupidity. 

“God, you’re insufferable. This isn’t about you!”

His smile widens, satisfied. “I know.”

Your goodbyes are much more gentle this time, placing a kiss on Bamgeut’s forehead to stir them from their slumber— Beomgyu chuckles at the action, joking that “you’re trying to bribe them to like you more than me.”

The small familiar that’s curled up in Beomgyu’s arms remains unaware of your rivalry. “Is it working?”

“In your dreams.”

You laugh at his resolve, knowing that Beomgyu would rather die than lose his precious familiar, even in a battle of affection— he was sentimental like that. And as you watch him leave, carding his fingers through his familiar’s fur, you find yourself wondering if Taehyun is sentimental like that, too. 

 ○○○

Six days into Yunah’s absence, something peculiar occurs. 

It stormed all day— heavy showers that threatened to flood the streets, harsh lightening that cracked in the sky and startled you throughout your garden tending; at some point, you almost snipped off the head of a perfectly healthy bloom, cursing under your breath and opting to put down your shears in fear of creating an accident. 

Your clientele is always few and far between when the weather gets like this. No one finds themselves that desperate to visit the apothecary, unless it’s for an urgent need; Yeonjun stopped early in the morning, when the sprinkling rain had yet to turn into a harsh downpour, only two others stopping by for the rest of your day. The sky was now pitch-black outside, and there was only forty minutes left before you closed up shop. A nagging thought in the back of your head told you it’d be better to just close down early, but you dismissed it. Maybe you should’ve listened.

The woman that enters your establishment is not one you recognize. She’s small in stature, a lithe figure that’s concealed by a cloak that’s been drenched through the storm and drips onto your floors. Your voice is soft and unsure as you greet her, observing the way she ignores your words and silently takes in the displays around her, the weighted hood covering the top half of her face; her ruby lips and pale skin are the only things that peek through, curling to a delicate smile as she faces you. 

“Hello darling,” her voice is that of a siren’s, lowering your defenses with its elegance. “Where’s your counterpart?”

“Counterpart?” you echo pausing for a moment to decipher what she might mean, “Yunah?”

She nods.

”She’s off to a conference to register a spell,” you watch her nod in understanding, “so I’m afraid that our usual spell and potion services are currently unavailable.”

Silence. The air around you seems colder than it did moments prior, though you think it’s your mind playing tricks on you, unnerved by the way you can feel her observing you carefully.

“But you’re here.”

“Oh, I’m— I can’t,” you say sheepishly; she tilts her head in confusion, silently asking you why. You flush, your voice barely above a whisper as you explain that, “I’m a human.”

The silence that lingers in the air is deafening, not even the sound of the rain crashing against the stone outside enough to soothe your nerves. You watch her ruby lips stretch widely, pearly teeth showcasing a blinding smile. Slender hands reach up to tug the hood off her head, and you watch carefully as the fabric pools at her shoulders and her identity is revealed. 

Despite the damaged her cloak took from the storm, she remains untouched; her hair is a brilliant midnight that shines blue beneath the light and cascades smoothly down her back, slim, angular face revealing striking features that render you speechless— her doe eyes are full of a sparkling purity, long, dark lashes brushing delicately against her silky skin with every curious blink. Her gaze is inviting as it locks with yours, and despite you thinking it impossible, her smile widens.

“I don’t see the problem with that.”

Her claim stuns you— so much so that you’re sputtering in confusion, unsure of what those words entail; you try to cement the fact that you’re just a human, with no magical inclinations, no abilities to cast spells, and no idea on how to brew potions. 

“Love, I only ask of you to help me with the most basic of potions,” she soothes, now standing before you at the counter, “something so simple, even a… powerless, human would be able to achieve it.”

“Well, then— you must pardon me, but,” you hesitate, finding her gaze much too intense, filled with such innocent hope you worry to disappoint her, “why seek out my help then?” 

Her eyes narrow, but her smile remains still; amused at your keen observations, she reaches out to take your hands in hers— they’re warm and soft, so gentle as she pulls your encased toward her chest, clasping them as she gives you a pleading look. 

“I’ve heard stories about this apothecary— the ingredients here are a magic of its own, leagues better than any other establishment’s,” she lets out a weak chuckle, “certainly better than what’s left in my cottage back home. I’ve travelled a long way to find this place, I beg you to help me. I cannot leave empty handed; there is life at stake.” 

Your lips press together in a fine line, brows knitting together as you become unsure of what to do; her eyes are glossy as they stare into your own, drawing you in and daring you to look away— you find that you can’t bring yourself to do so. There’s a desperation that swims in her dark irises, a silent plea that sings to you, your hands buzzing with warmth the longer they remain encased. Your lips loosen, and your voice acts on its own accord. 

“Okay,” you find yourself saying, “I’ll help you.”

Her eyes widen like saucers before she blinks and lets go of your hands, letting out a soft thank you and bowing her head in gratitude— you merely stand there awkwardly, unsure of why you decided to agree to this; a voice in the back of your mind nags that you should’ve told her to wait for Yunah’s return.

“I’ll treasure this for eternity,” she breathes out, peering up at you through her thick lashes with a small smile, “I owe you my life.”

“Oh no, it’s nothing, really,” you frantically say; worried that she may expect too much of you, you’re frantic to add: “I’m not too experienced with potion making, so I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

Undeterred, she shakes her head. “I’ll guide you.”

“Oh,” you softly say, “okay.”

Reaching into her cloak, the woman pulls out a worn out scroll, unrolling it on the counter; the two of you gather as she reads out the ingredients to you, along with the instructions— you’re surprised to find it composed of entirely mundane ingredients and no magic involved, just as she’d promised. When you ask her what the potion is for, she sends you a small smile, as though you were privy to a top secret. 

“For rejuvenation,” she simply says, not elaborating despite you hopelessly wishing she did.

The potion is made in Yunah’s cauldron in just a few minutes, nothing compared to the hours the witch spends slaving over her own creations. The woman is patient, watching and directing you on what to do and how to do it; when the concoction glows a soft pink, you gasp, and the woman smiles triumphantly. 

“Let’s see,” she hums softly, reaching out and stirring the potion with her index finger, ignoring your surprised gasp and meek warning that it wasn’t the best idea— she ignores you, stirring until a the liquid becomes a whirlwind, only retreating when the potion can continue to swirl on its own for a few seconds more. The liquid that drips from the tip of her finger is popped into her mouth, and you gape— she doesn’t seem to mind your reaction, brows knitting together in thought, taking a moment before addressing you. “Try it.”

“What?” you gawk, “I don’t… why? Is it safe?”

”Of course it is,” she says, “I need to know what you taste. Try it, there’s no harm.”

You hesitate, looking at the pink liquid that has now stilled, then up at the woman who smiles patiently at you. Nothing happened to her— she barely seemed to react at all. Your eyes lock with hers, and a silent reassurance is exchanged. Against your better judgement, you reach a shaky finger into the concoction and try it for yourself. 

The liquid is warm and smooth on your tongue— you try to search for a flavor, taking a moment to think it through, but come up short. 

“It tastes like nothing.”

“Then it must be left to ferment overnight,” crossing her arms, she sighs, staring at the concoction with a frown. “it won’t be ready until some flavor pulls through.”

“I’ll stay at a nearby inn and return tomorrow. You’ll receive your payment then,” she’s not giving you much room to agree or deny, her hands already pulling her hood back on, ready to disappear into the night once more— she gives you one last smile before she goes, unmistakable joy laced in her words as she tells you, “thank you.”

Her cloak whirls in the air as she turns to leave, her swift steps bringing you to a panic as you reach for your nearest piece of parchment and pen.

“Wait!” you call out, just as she’s opened the door, ready to slip through, “I never got your name. I’d like to write it down, so I remember who it’s reserved for.”

A pause. You wonder if this was a stupid thing to ask of her.

“Irene.” 

She doesn’t repeat it, much less spell it out to make sure you’ve written it correctly. The revelation is brief, and she disappears before you can say anything more— hastily, you scrawl it down before you can forget it, your messy handwriting an eyesore next to the delicate pink potion that ferments in Yunah’s cauldron. 

The urge to send Yunah a letter confessing your sins of making a potion without her here weighs down your heart, but you know she wouldn’t even receive it— her two day conference has begun, and her lack of contact has never felt more painful. You’re left to ascend to your home on the second story of your apothecary alone, tossing restlessly in your bed as you think back to the strange event. The image of the beautiful woman lingers on your mind, sure to reappear in your dreams as her name is left like a gentle whisper in your ear.

Irene. 

 ○○○  

There is a creaking sound coming from the apothecary. 

You dismiss it, at first, rolling over in your bed and pulling the covers closer to your body, trying your best to fall back asleep— but you hear it again, and the more you pay attention to it, the less you’re able to rule it off as the building settling. 

Another creak; the sound seems to travel around the area. In a daze, you sit up from your bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you strain your ears for the sound— when a soft tapping resounds, you kick your legs off your bed and stand, wondering if a stray has broken in to your store for shelter again; they always find a way. 

The more you approach the stairway that leads down the apothecary, the more you’re able to make out the sound of footsteps; they’re a light pitter patter, urging you to walk quietly in fear of startling it— when you arrive at the bottom of the stairs, you hear a soft meow. Your shoulders slump with relief. 

“Kitty,” you call out, spotting the feline standing in the middle of the store— at the sound of your voice, it walks away, attempting to hide beneath your counter. You approach it slowly, glancing out the window to find that it’s still storming. “Poor thing, you must be so cold.” 

The black cat is curled up in the corner beneath your counter, its head tucked away from your sight; carefully, you reach out to pet it, running your fingers down its back— the cat perks up at the sensation, turning its head to look at you, and you freeze. Staring back at you are two, brilliant pink orbs.

You’re startled by the sight, unable to react as an alarm begins to blare behind you— looking over your shoulder, you frown as a red light blinks back at you, situated just by Yunah’s cauldron. It takes a moment before you recognize what it’s there for.

The alarm for unauthorized potions. 

The soft fur beneath your skin begins to shift— the kitten before you begins to amalgamate, growing with violent cracks and snaps that have you falling back in shock, crawling backwards as your mouth falls open in horror. Its midnight fur has become a shapeless void, stubby paws shifting to pin-like legs— two, four, six; one after the other, they appear, hovering over you like a spider— its cute snout has disappeared, replaced instead with a maw that opens hungrily. It salivates, sharp rows of teeth grinning down at you; Your eyes dart up to meet its gaze, and it snarls at you. 

Instinct takes over as you roll to the side to avoid its jaw that shoots down to snap at you— scrambling to your feet, your legs tremble as its head cracks sharply to find you, determined to hunt you down; adrenaline prickles through your skin like needles, and it’s enough to make you turn on your heel and run for the exit. 

It’s too fast— as you weave through shelves and display tables, you hear a crawling sound, much too close to comfort; your hopes that the furniture scattered across the floor will serve as obstacles to hinder it are shattered as you look up, to where the sound is coming from: it’s crawling on the ceiling, and its eyes are fixed on you. 

You’re skidding to a halt as it leaps in front of you, blocking the entrance as it growls at you once more— when its jaws widen to try and take a bite from you, you reach out for any nearest object you can, using all your strength to throw jars and other heavy items you can find— one shatters on where you assume the head to be, and it flinches, only to shake off the glass shards, a spindly limb coming down to crush the table beside you; with a yelp, you turn around to find another way to escape. 

All the windows are locked, and the glass is protected with a spell that won’t allow it to shatter; there’s no exit on the second story, leaving the back exit that leads to your garden— with a heaving chest and tears in your eyes, you sprint to the back, the monster hot on your heels as it crushes the furniture you move in its way and the jars of ingredients you try to hit it with. 

Slipping through the employee entrance, you unlock the exit with clammy hands, trembling uncontrollably as you swing the door open— behind you, the creature rams through the wall, splinters flying at you as you run out and into the storm, through your carefully cultivated garden that it treads through with an intent to destroy. 

You’re barefoot, and it’s proving to be tricky to run out in such a muddy field—you can only hope that you’ll be able to reach the fence of the enclosure and try to find help; your heels dig into the mud and slow you down, but you don’t dare look back, gritting your teeth as you near the end of your garden.

Something wraps around your ankle— the thing has caught up to you, and you scream as it wraps its limb around your leg, pulling you back with a force that’s dragging you through the mud and back towards it; you try to flail around, digging your fingers into the soft soil, but it’s all useless. The creature has you trapped, flipping you onto your back as it hovers over you with a hunger swirling within its pink, beady eyes. Through the void of its body, the jaw widens, impossibly wide, encasing your upper body and salivating onto you through the sharp, stalagmite-like fangs. You’re left helpless, squeezing your eyes shut as you wait for it to sink its teeth into your flesh— but it never comes. 

Instead, you hear a soft humming sound; through tearful eyes, you peek— within the endless void of its mouth, something begins to glow. You think you may be seeing things, at first, squinting your eyes in confusion, only to be blinded by a light that encases you entirely; the creature remains there, hovering over you, trapping you within this light, and you wonder what kind of twisted fate has been left to you— then, you feel it.

A tugging sensation. Gentle, at first, so subtle you might think your mind is just playing tricks on you. Then it’s felt again, again and again until it’s undeniable and you feel yourself being pulled, gravitated to the light that showers you— but your physical body remains still. 

It’s trying to steal your soul, you realize, the tension in your muscles fading away, your heartbeat slowing until you feel your eyelids begin to weigh you down, your vision becoming a muddled haze, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. 

It’s a discomfort that goes on for far too long— you think part of you is trying to resist, but your consciousness is left at such a small sliver that you’re not entirely sure. Your body has gone limp, eyes stuck wide open as you stare into this blinding light, a burning sensation bringing more tears to your already crying eyes. 

The feeling comes to an abrupt halt— it all fades to black. 

Is this it? you find yourself thinking, is it over?

They say that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes— but that’s not what seems to be happening at all. You think you can still feel your body— though, it might be wishful thinking playing tricks on you. You can still hear things, though it’s faint; the splashing of rain that falls on the ground beside your ears, the thunder that crackles in the sky— a faint screeching, sounds of destruction, a panicked voice calling your name— and suddenly, you feel as though your body has been plunged into ice. 

A loud gasp rips through you, body jolting up as your lungs burn for oxygen— you begin to cough, and without realizing, your hands have begun to claw at your chest, nails digging into your skin and leaving scratches that pave way for blood to trickle out, running down your skin with the droplets of rain. 

It’s cold. So, so cold, your brain screams at you, head hung disorientedly as you begin to rock back and forth, skin tightening and prickling from the rain that has seeped through your clothes, leaving you a trembling, weeping mess. Are you still alive?

“___!” you think you recognize the prestigious uniform that falls into your weary line of sight, the hands that grab at your wrists to pry away your hands from your chest familiar. Yet even so, you can’t help the way you scream and thrash, wondering if this is the creature’s newest sick attempt to lower your guard, “___, please! It’s gone now, you’re okay!”

A strong hand gathers your wrists together and pins them to your lap, the other reaching out to cup your face, forcing your head back up. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to shake this hold off; they won’t budge. 

“___,” they plead, their voice breaking, “It’s Taehyun; please, look at me— please.”

His other hand reaches up, cradling your face in his hands as he quietly begs you to open your eyes; his thumbs caress along your cheekbones, and despite your racing mind telling you otherwise, you peek cautiously through your lashes. 

Everything is a big blur, and the night time doesn’t help at all. Your heaving chest begins to slow, leaving shaky breaths that continue to tremble your body— slowly, everything comes into view, and your eyes lock with a familiar pair of eyes. Dark, brown irises; normal, familiar, terrified. 

“You’re okay,” he breathes out, and his body physically reacts when you finally meet his gaze— without thinking, he’s pulling you close, against his firm frame that hides you away from the rest of the world. “You’re okay, you’re safe.” 

It seems as though the reassurances are for him just as much as they are for you; he holds you as though he never wants to let you go again, and his heartbeat pounds harshly against your ear; though you desperately want to, you can’t bring yourself to cry.

A moment passes where you’re both still, neither of you sure of what to say— then, you’re being pulled away, held by your shoulders as Taehyun stares you down with a stern gaze. 

“What happened?” he asks, scanning your face as though he could find the answer there, “why did the alarm to Yunah’s cauldron go off?”

“I— I don’t know,” your voice is hoarse, and you wonder why he didn’t ask you about the creature first, choosing to ask about the alarm instead. “The potion was just fine earlier, I don’t know what—”

“What potion?” Taehyun interrupts, his fingers beginning to dig into your skin— you wince, shaking your head as you try to remember, “Yunah didn’t leave anything in her cauldron.”

”She— she didn’t make it. I did,” his eyes widen with disbelief at your confession, jaw beginning to tick. “The woman, she begged me— I just wanted to help her.”

“Help?!” Taehyun repeats, as though saying it himself will help him understand, “you almost died!

“Whatever that thing was, it didn’t work!” you shake your head and try to explain yourself, but your fervent denial only angers Taehyun.

”You don’t understand,” you weakly let out, “it was working; she said I was capable of making it myself—”

“And you believed her?” Taehyun lets out a bewildered laugh, though it’s clear he finds no humor in the situation, “why in the world would it occur to you to do that? You’re a human!” 

You flinch at his hammered words, the aching of your body now a mere afterthought as you listen to his frustrations. 

“There’s not a single drop of magic in your blood. You need to accept that.” as much as you want to look away from Taehyun’s intense gaze, to push him away and go back inside, you can’t; you’re too weak to move even a single muscle. All you can do is sit there and get scolded like a child.

“This fantasy of yours almost cost you your soul— don’t you see how dangerous it is to try and force yourself somewhere you don’t belong?” he stresses, brows knitting together as he observes you carefully, wondering if anything he’s saying is getting through to you. You merely stare at him with shining eyes, willing yourself not to cry in front of him. 

“Don’t ever try to involve yourself in magic like this again.” He says firmly, “you’re lucky we were able to stop that thing when we did.”

At the word ‘we’, you finally find the strength to look away and just over his shoulder— sure enough, Dagonyang sits patiently behind Taehyun, staring up at you with wide eyes that are glaze with concern— your eyes widen as you take notice of his ear, split at the top and matting his fur with blood. You feel a lump in your throat, trying to hold back sobbed apologies— it’s probably the last thing Taehyun wants to hear right now.

“Don’t worry about him,” Taehyun swiftly says, having taken notice of your wandering gaze, “he’ll heal in no time.

“Can you stand?” you shift at his question, trying to get up— but you hiss the moment any pressure is put on your feet, and the two of you look down to find your ankle is swollen, an inky, ringed bruise forming right above the bone. 

”God, you’re all injured,” Taehyun grimaces, only now getting a good look at your appearance; worry tugs his features together as he takes in your soiled garments. “And dirty.”

“Come. You need to be tended to,” you can’t let out much of a protest when he’s sweeping you off your feet and picking you up, briskly walking back to your home. “and you can’t stay here. It’s a mess.”

Sure enough, you’re able to see just what he means as he passes through your once beloved home; it’s a wreck, with glass and herbs all over the floor, shattered furniture and the destroyed wall enough to make your stomach drop. All your hard work, your dreams, your passions— gone. 

You want to cry; you want to scream, to curl away in shame and hide yourself from the world forever, to kneel and beg for forgiveness until your throat is sore. You want the universe to swallow you whole, to go on without you, as though none of this ever happened, as though your existence never occurred.

You want to forget Taehyun’s disparaging words, to erase the degrading look in his eyes. You want to pretend as though all your fears weren’t only confirmed in the end, left with an insolent reminder that you’ll never be anything more than a mere human. 

 ○○○ 

“Raise your leg a bit more.” Taehyun’s hands are quick and nimble as they wrap gauze around your ankle, kneeling at your bedside as the two of you remain quiet— it’s the first thing he’s said to you all day. 

There’s an inappropriate sense of intimacy to this scene that you can’t help but be angered by. He has left his duties at the castle to take care of you, despite your persistent reluctance and refusal— but with your apothecary destroyed and your ankle still healing, you were given no other choice but to stay at Taehyun’s home until Yunah returned. It’s a small, quiet home, on the outskirts of the capital and away from the constant buzz and energy; it’s a change you’ve yet to get used to, but secretly welcome. You lean back on your hands as you avoid watching him, fingers digging into his comforter as you choose to stare out the window instead, at the chirping birds and wildlife that scampers around. 

The idea of staying in Taehyun’s home like this, donning his clothes and sleeping in his bed, was something that you only dreamed of during those secret, self-indulgent fantasies of yours— the kind where you lived a tranquil, domestic life, where nothing else mattered but the fact that you were together. The you of the past would positively keel over at seeing herself in such a position— yet, as Taehyun smooths down the bandages that compress your healing injury, a tension in the air so thick it forms a wall between you, you can’t help but wish you were anywhere but here. 

“Is it too tight?” His voice is barely above a murmur, and he doesn’t look up as he asks you the question, as though he were merely going through the motions and not asking about your comfort. You go to shake your head no before realizing he won’t see it. 

“No. It’s fine.” his thumbs run along your ankle, a gentle pressure that tries to linger— you pull your foot away and tuck yourself back into bed without another word, unwilling to do anything more than nestle yourself into the covers and hide away. Taehyun remains at your bedside for a minute, silence overtaking the room once again as he finally decides to take his leave.

“I’ve made lunch,” he offers, lingering at the doorway and watching you carefully; you don’t seem to acknowledge him, but he refuses to leave until he gets a response from you. 

“Thank you,” you finally say, “but I’m not hungry.”

You hear him leave with a frustrated sigh. 

Your time together continues on like this; you’re counting down the days until the apothecary is finished getting reconstructed and Yunah returns— her letters to you are endless now that she’s on the train back to the capital, having been notified by Taehyun of everything that happened the morning after; you were witness to her every emotion as she wrote to you— the fear, the guilt, and the relief that came with receiving her first response from you. When she asked to hear more details about that night, hoping to find an answer on why it all unfolded, you wrote as much as you could on the back of her letter, watching it recall back to its owner, curious on what the response from her would be; you told her of Irene and her reassurances that you could help, the ingredients, the mundane potion that brewed from it— but you’ve yet to get a response back. 

Instead of letting yourself get lost in her letters, Yunah’s abandoned you to this mess— days have passed, and you’ve yet to find the courage to talk to Taehyun again. Besides the quick, necessary communications shared, you try your best to avoid him all together. A strange anxiety fills your heart whenever you’re near him for too long, and you’ve resorted to hoping that you can run away from all this once Yunah returns. Maybe you can force her to handle his deliveries from now on. 

If only you could blame this strange dissonance of feelings on your tattered soul, still trying its best to heal from the trauma of that night. You’d like to think that, if you wait long enough, everything will smooth over, and you can go back to being that shy, hopeless romantic that became a puddle underneath Taehyun’s gaze.

It’s much better than this distance you’ve created now, anyway; you’ve grown fond of sitting out in the field behind Taehyun’s home as a way to avoid the tension that closes those four walls in on you, quietly taking in the grand landscape that stretches beyond— oftentimes, Dagonyang finds himself curled up in your lap, purring at your gentle hands that run through his fur. It’s become a ritual for you two, and if you look hard enough, you can even see the glowing lanterns of the capital. 

You can hear Taehyun call your name, already imagining the way he leans across the doorway, his arms crossed impatiently. You try your best to ignore him, his voice already making your heart rate spike— but he’s not having it, and when he calls your name once more, it’s stern; commanding. You jump at the sound, unable to help the way your mind is instantly flooded with memories of that night, where his nails bit at your skin and his eyes were filled with nothing but the deepest disappointment. You’ve stopped petting Dagonyang, and the cat has already jumped off your lap and started pattering off inside, leaving you alone on the field. A moment passes, and you slowly get up to avoid hearing Taehyun harshly call your name yet again.  

“It’s cold out, you should come in,” his voice has softened considerately, yet you still can’t find it in you to look at him— the sun has set and the night air nips at your skin, but you had no plans of going in anytime soon. He moves aside so you can step in. “I’ve made dinner.”

“Thank you.” you don’t catch it, but Taehyun frowns at your apathetic tone. He follows you inside, watching the way you trudge to the dinner table. 

His eyes are boring holes into your skin. You’re stuck looking at your plate, trying to keep up the act that you don’t feel his intense gaze burning into you, watching your every move. It’s quiet, as it has been for the past three days, and how it will be for the next three. 

A part of you can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking right now— what he thinks of you. You wonder if his viewpoint on you has changed entirely since that night, having put him through such a terrible battle, which was only followed by sleepless nights of investigations on what happened; he’s yet to update you on what he’s found, leading you to believe that every direction he’s taken has been met with dead ends. Even now, Beomgyu’s words float around your mind like a persistent parasite; you’ve caused him enough trouble to stress him out for a lifetime— he’s stuck cleaning up your messes, stuck with you while he oversees your recovery. A simple human interrupting his busy life, dragging him down. You fear that if you look at him, you’ll find nothing but resentment in his eyes— you don’t think you could handle that discovery. 

It’s quiet as you both separate, going off to his bedroom while he goes off to his study where he’s been staying, much to your reluctance. While you nestle into the covers, attempting to fall asleep, you can hear the familiar sound of Taehyun humming in the room beside yours, undoubtedly spending yet another sleepless night on your case. It’s become something you secretly listen for, soothing your brain into a restless sleep, free of the nightmares that invaded your mind the first night you stayed in his room. With a heavy sigh, you allow yourself to rest, Taehyun’s song a lullaby that protects your fragile mind.

 ○○○   

Tomorrow marks the final day of your stay with Taehyun; you’ve finally recieved a letter from Yunah.

I’m sorry I took so long to respond, she writes to you, her writing messy and rushed; the parchment is a bit wrinkled in your hands, and your heart sinks as you continue to read. But I took everything you told me about and sent it to Taehyun— I had a hunch of what might’ve transpired from that night, and I had to make sure it was true before I sent you this. ___, please know that I’d only ask this of you if I were completely serious. 

Your heart stops as you read the next line, eyes glued to the parchment as though to make sure it weren’t misreading it— no matter how much you stare at it, the request stays the same. I think you need to move to the kingdom of Flora.

It’s much safer for you there— I know how much you must hate reading this, but please, think about it. That woman, Irene— a necromancer— shouldn’t have been able to get her hands on you like that; she took advantage of you, and I can’t forgive myself for putting you in such a vulnerable state— Taehyun is still trying to figure out how she was able to breach the kingdom after being banished for so long. 

I can’t risk her finding you again— you’d be able to live a quiet life there, tend to your garden, and I’d visit every day. You’re much better off there, you’d belong there perfectly; you wouldn’t have to deal with stupid architecture anymore, either. I’ve told Taehyun about the plan, and he’s found a place for you to stay in. Just say the word and he’ll take you. 

The paper is beginning to crumble in your hands, your grip tightening as you continue to read. You can’t believe this. 

I’m so sorry ___. You must hate me right now. But I can’t risk this happening to you again— I don’t think I’d be able to live with myself. Please, accept this offer; I’ll visit you the moment I’m off this stupid train. 

I love you,

Yunah

You know she expects to hear back from you soon; her handwriting is so small, and she’s left the entirety of the back for you to write on. Instead, you simply stare at the letter, reading and reading and reading it again until you have the whole thing memorized, until you’ve confirmed that you didn’t misunderstand a single sentence. The paper flutters in your hands from the wind— what you thought would be a peaceful reading outside has quickly turned into a torment, Dagonyang’s peacefully sleeping figure beside you nothing more than a mockery. 

Certain sentences stick out in your brain, your eyes instinctively flickering to them, etching them into your aching heart; one in particular seems to blare at you: you’d belong there perfectly.  

Belong there, you scoff, a bewildered laugh escaping you as you read it again— you feel your fingertips buzz from where you hold the letter, a sharp electricity shooting through your nervous system as you read it yet again, irked by her words. It builds and buzzes inside you until you’re a trembling mess, unsure of what to do with this anger that bubbles up like lava; your eyes are inevitably drawn to a different sentence, your new breaking point: I’ve told Taehyun about the plan. Just say the word and he’ll take you.

God, you’re trembling with anger— he’s just going to send you away? Just like that? Do you really have a say in this, when everyone wants you gone so desperately? Your nails dig into the parchment, pushing and pushing until they break through— the hot, bubbling anger that simmered under your skin erupts, and before you can give it a second thought, you’re ripping the parchment to shreds, tearing it until it’s nothing more than fragments that are carried off by the wind. You watch them flutter off, curling up in defeat as you will yourself not to cry.

All these years spent with Yunah, proving yourself and succeeding together, were they just a lie? Was any of it real when Yunah, the woman who swore up and down that she’d never put much importance on your differences, was convinced you belonged somewhere other than the place you built your entire life in?

The sun has set, and Dagonyang has left your side after the chill of night emerged— but you remain the same, attempting to wrap your head around the news you’ve read, of the things that are expected of you.

Taehyun has come out in search of you again. The sound of his voice is nothing but salt in your wound, a reminder that tomorrow, you’re expected to leave the city and never turn back. He calls out your name multiple times, but you’ve yet to budge— by the fourth time, he sighs and makes his way over to you. 

“___ please, won’t you stop sulking and come inside—?” Taehyun’s voice is caught in his throat as you finally look up, and at him. Pupils locking firmly with his, your eyes wide and glassy, an intense stare that dares him to look away.

“Did you and Yunah have fun? Stringing me along like this?” you say, standing up and glaring at Taehyun; he frowns, opening his mouth to say something, but is left speechless. “Making me believe that I’d ever belong in a place like this, when in reality, you were no better than everyone else here that saw me as a little pet!” 

“What?” he breathes out, “What are you talking about?”

“Yunah told me everything!” you shout, feeling emotions catching in your throat, stinging your eyes, “Irene, the plan— you expect me to pack up my life and hide myself away just so you can feel better?”

Taehyun seems to have caught on to what you mean. “___, you need to understand where we’re coming from—”

“Why? I’m a person too!”  it’s all become too much for you, and you’ve begun to choke up on your words— it’s too much, confronting Taehyun like this, even more so when it feels like he’s not listening. “I can’t just give everything up because you guys don’t want to deal with me!”

He flinches at your words, and you find confusion starting to overtake his face, his voice nothing more than a murmur. “What? 

You scoff at his confusion. “Please, don’t try to act innocent— I get it, I really do— I put you in this crazy mess; I’ve dragged you down enough, and I know you want nothing more than for me to go away, but honest to god, I’m not asking you to look after me like this!” 

Tears have begun to well up in your eyes— you feel humiliated, leaving yourself vulnerable like this, but you can’t seem to stop talking; every little thought that’s nagged you in the back of your mind is now coming out like word vomit, and you can’t seem to stop it. 

“If this weak, foolish human wants to stay in this big, scary, magical kingdom, then just let me!” you cry out, ignoring the way he shakes his head at your words, “let me get messed with, let me make mistakes, let me get tricked— and if it doesn’t end well, then so be it!

“But I will not sit around and let you make decisions for me— I am not going to Flora because it’s where you think I belong,” you’re practically shaking with anger at the thought, gritting your teeth at Taehyun, “I refuse to.”

“It’s not that easy,” Taehyun starts, shaking his head at your naivety, “we can’t risk Irene coming back just because you want to stay here—”

“Were you even listening to me?!” you’re exasperated, feeling a tear slip down your cheek. “you want to get rid of me that bad? What, are you gonna tell me this was all your idea next—?”

“You think I want to abandon you?!” It’s the first time he’s raised his voice at you like this since that night, and you can’t help the way you flinch at the sound— he hesitates to continue at the sight. “You think I’m happy with all of this? Do you really think it was my idea to send you off like this, away from me?”

Your face falls at his words.

”Yunah was mortified when I told her what happened. She couldn’t stop blaming herself for it,” Taehyun runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “She was set on the fact that you needed to be relocated— that Irene would come back for you if you stayed.”

His eyes flicker away from yours, but even so, you still catch the way they shine under the moonlight; his voice wavers as he speaks. 

“That night… it haunts me.” he looks back at you, brows knitting together at the thought, “I almost lost you. To this day, I still haven’t the slightest clue on how I was able to destroy that— that thing.”

“I’d rather die than get rid of you,” his voice has dropped significantly, and there’s an edge that makes it tremble slightly— an emotion that fights to break free, nearing you as he speaks, “you’re not a burden. I don’t care that you’re human— I’d look after you no matter what you were. I’d pick up all of your messes, I’d get involved in every disaster you caused. I’d happily let you drag me down, if it meant being with you.”

“I just can’t afford to lose you,” he says weakly; he’s just a step away from you now, his face so close you can analyze the look in his eyes, count every eyelash that brushes against his skin with every blink, “and if it meant letting you go to keep you safe… I’d do that, too.”

It’s quiet. The breeze continues to whistle between the branches of the trees around you, The wildlife that’s hidden within the forest now sound asleep. The stars are out tonight, as is the moon— it casts a soft glow onto the man before you, his sparkling eyes looking at you with something so intense, it makes your knees week. He’s so close, you think that if you leaned in a little, you could…

”Taehyun,” you breathe out; his eyes flash with desperation at the sound of his name falling from your lips. “I don’t want to leave.”

He gulps.

”Then don’t.” 

Time seems to still the moment the words come out his mouth, the two of you stuck where you are— hesitant, afraid to go on with what you both desperately want. His eyes flicker down to your lips; his hands twitch at his sides. He watches as you slowly reach out, cupping a gentle hand around his face, fingertips caressing the strong jawline, the soft curve of his cheekbones, the dimple that indents his cheek as he presses his lips together and swallows. He lets you bring him closer to you, leaning until your other hand is able to land on his nape, tangling with his dark hair— he lets you come closer, feeling your breath mix with his, seeing your eyes flutter shut, your lips slightly trembling as they part; his heart is on the verge of combusting as he feels your lips press gently against his. 

It’s a quick, soft peck— you’re pulling away immediately, wide eyes looking at Taehyun as though you’ve done something wrong; he’s quick to show you you’ve done anything but, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you back in, showing you just how much he reciprocates this. 

Taehyun kisses you with a primal hunger that makes your legs weak, sighing softly against his lips, sharp canines playfully biting at your flesh to hear the way you gasp, pulling lightly at his hair in response. His hand smooths up your back, going back down and pulling you even closer, until your bodies are flush together and you’re grabbing onto him for support— his other hand has found itself on the back of your head, keeping you close, unable to run from his starved kiss. 

You try desperately to ignore the burning of your lungs, but you’re getting lightheaded— gently, you go to move away from Taehyun, the man immediately pulling away to gauge your reaction; when he finds nothing but dazed, lovestruck eyes looking back at him, your hand that rests on his shoulder gripping onto him a little tighter, he lets out an airy laugh. 

“Tell me to stop,” the look in his eyes is slowly darkening, losing that innocent shine to make way for something more— something desperate. His hand on your back has begun to wander dangerously low, hovering at the small of your back and threatening to go lower— his eyes flicker down to your shining, swollen lips, ready to dive back in, but he holds himself back. “Tell me to end it here, and I’ll listen.”

You can hear the restraint in his voice, a warning of what may come— but even then, you shake your head; his eyes darken at the sight. Your voice is a breathy whisper that makes him shiver. “I don’t want you to stop. Don’t hold back.”

He curses under his breath before he’s diving back in, returning with a fervor that makes your mind spin. He’s rougher, needier, eating you up and indulging in every little thing you give him— your gasps, your whines, your fingers that dig into his skin and pull at his hair— it all fuels him even more, finally able to release the frustration that’s been pent up for a long time. 

“I need you,” he murmurs against your mouth, reaching down to grab your ass, pressing you firmly against him— you gasp, feeling him already hardening, and he takes that opportunity to explore every inch of you; he groans softly, rolling his hips forward. “I need you so bad.”

“You have me,” you say, breathless— he lets out a small moan at your words, pressing himself harshly against you, whining at a particularly firm thrust that allows you to take in the outline of his cock, “take me.”

“Fuck,” he curses lowly, and before you can understand what’s happening, he’s picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist, strong arms holding you up as he leans back in to kiss you— he brings the two of you inside, letting out a soft groan at the way you tangle your hands in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

It doesn’t take long before he’s kicking his bedroom door shut and laying you down on the bed— it’s only then that he’s able to part from you, holding himself up as he takes you in properly, watching as you whine and try to tug him back down; he chuckles, caving in instantly before he’s guiding you up on the bed, letting your head fall back on his pillows and making sure you’re comfortable. 

”God, you’re so beautiful,” he finds himself sighing out, sitting back on his knees as he takes a good look at you— you squirm under the intensity of his gaze, his hands running up and down your sides absentmindedly, feeling your warm skin heat up against his. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this for so long,” Taehyun seems to be talking more to himself at this point, lost in your trance as you begin to guide him to take your undress you, his eyes never straying from your body as he looks at you in pure awe— you shiver at the groan he lets out when your bra is finally thrown to the side, his lips immediately coming down to press a kiss right on your chest, giving you another before he’s wandering down and latching his lips around your nipple; your back arches at the warmth of his mouth, a quiet mewl escaping you.

His hands have begun to venture down to your hips, playing with the waistband of your pants and tugging it so he can slip a hand inside. Your fingers card through his hair absentmindedly, pulling at it desperately the moment his fingers begin to press at your cunt over your soaked panties, fingertips running up and down your slit to feel the way you begin to moan breathlessly, hips bucking against his hand in search of more— but he’s a tease, going up to gently circle your clit, a ghost touch that shoots sparks straight to your core and empties your mind. 

“Please— don’t tease,” you breathe out, head falling back as he presses two fingers against your clenching hole through your panties, chuckling at the way you try to suck him in, desperate to feel yourself stretched out— the feeling is disappearing just as quick as it came, and his hand is leaving your cunt to grab your hips, holding you in place as he slots himself between your legs.

”Can’t help myself,” he murmurs against your lips forcing your hips to angle up so he can grind down against you; he’s savoring the feeling, smiling against your mouth as he presses his cock firmly against your entrance, your hands anchoring on his shoulders as you whimper weakly, “you just make the prettiest noises.”

“Wanna hear you like this all night,” he’s picked up a rhythm as he grinds against you, rough hands holding you from bucking your hips back— all you can do is lie there and take it, pleasure tumbling from your mouth as his lips begin to wander to your jawline, trailing gentle kisses that travel to your neck; nipping at it playfully, he holds back a laugh at the way you jolt against him. “Think you can take it?”

“I can. I can take it,” you rush to say, arching back making your chest press against his, hands tugging at the hem of his shirt as you silently beg him to take it off, “I don’t want you to hold back.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, finally breaking away to give in to your demands— you lie back in awe as he finally pulls his shirt over his head, eyes glued to the muscles he’s been hiding away from you, desperate to commit it all to your memory; reaching out, you run your hands down his body, down his shoulders to his firm chest, down the abs on his stomach that flinch at your nails that scratch at his skin, until you’ve reached the waistband of his pants, tugging at it in hopes that he’ll give in to your desperation and just give you what you need— instead, he takes your hands in his, tutting softly at you before he’s putting them above your head. 

“Taehyun, c’mon,” you whine, trying to tug your hands out of his grip; it tightens in response, your voice wavering as he looks up at you, raising a brow in warning; even then, you refuse to give up on your complaints.

”You’re taking too long,” you tease, bucking your hips up desperately, “are you gonna do anything?”

Without warning, you begin to feel a warm sensation on your wrists, a slight tingling that makes you look up at your bound hands— you find a silver glow where Taehyun’s hands hold onto yours, eyes widening as you watch him let go of your hands now bound by his magic. Your head snaps down to send Taehyun a petulant glare. 

“Oh, you’re mean.” 

“You started it,” he chirps, using his newfound mobility to run his hands down your sides, until he’s gripping your hips and stripping you down to nothing more than your soaked panties; your face heats up at the vulnerability of the situation, trying to hide your face in your arms as you watch him settle down on his stomach between your legs— you try to squeeze your thighs together shyly, and Taehyun tsks; a pathetic yelp leaves you as he spanks your thigh.

“Taehyun,” you whine, starting to feel that familiar warmth circling around your thighs, an invisible force that makes you part your legs, left completely vulnerable to the man who’s now situating your legs over his shoulders, held still by his magic, “this is so unfair!” 

“You got yourself into this mess, baby,” he scolds you, kissing your inner knee, going up until he’s at the apex of your thigh, smiling at the way they shake, “y’gotta learn how to be patient.”

His words are enough to make you nervous, squirming in his grip as he slowly slides down your panties, indulging in the wet slick that sticks to the fabric, eagerly shifting closer to your center. 

He places a kiss on your mound first; you want to squeeze your eyes shut and complain, aware of this game he wants to play. But you bite your tongue, looking down curiously to catch the way he looks up at you through his lashes, smiling when you make eye contact before moving down just a bit more and placing a gentle kiss on your clit— you feel the breathiness of his laugh when you jolt at the sensation, plush lips warm against your swollen, needy clit. He takes his sweet time before doing anything more— warm hands running up and down your thighs lovingly, watching you get more desperate as the seconds go by, chest heaving and slick dripping from your entrance pathetically.

He presses another kiss to your clit; then another, and another, until he finally parts his lips to suck the pearl into his mouth, running his tongue along it and closing his eyes in bliss, listening keenly for the broken moans of his name you let out. His tongue lolls out to firmly lick at your clit, circling around it before trailing down, running along your folds and licking up the arousal that had been dribbling down to the bedsheets eagerly, feeling the way you try to squirm and break free from the binds that keep you spread open for him.

“Tyunnie, please— stop being mean,” you cry at some point, feeling as though you’re going insane with the way his tongue is buried deep inside you, face pressed against your cunt and eyes closed in pure bliss, nose brushing against your clit as he continues to eat you out; you try to struggle against the binds on your wrists, but they won’t budge. “please, I wanna touch you.”

When he finally pulls away, it’s only to send you a mean grin. “You gotta be patient,” he reminds you, leaning down to lick a firm strip from your entrance to your clit, feeling the way you shudder against him, “let me have my fun first, okay?”

You go to curse at him under your breath, but it all falls short the moment you feel his fingertips begin to circle your entrance, collecting the arousal that leaks through your hole before slowly pushing in his ring and middle finger in. Your eyes flutter shut, the knot in your stomach only tightening at the stretch, lithe fingers slowly pushing in until it hits the knuckle, dedicated mouth not stopping its ministrations on your clit all the while. When he can no longer push in, he curls his fingers curiously, picking up gentle pace and pressing against your warm walls until he hears your breath stutter, your thighs jolting when he hits a particular spot; you feel a breathy laugh against your clit, and he proceeds to hit that sensitive spot until you’re a shaking, pleading mess.

”Taehyun,” you whine, nails digging into the palm of your hands as the pleasure begins to dizzy you, “T— Taehyun, tyun, I can’t— feels so good, please don’t stop, please.”

Your muscles are beginning to tense, chest heaving as you feel the fire in your stomach growing hotter, mouth falling open as he continues to suck on your clit, thrusting his fingers into you a little faster. until you’re squeezing your eyes shut and bucking your hips against his mouth, crying out his name with broken pleas to cum.

It comes crashes down so suddenly— a shiver wracks through you and you can only choke out a soft call of Taehyun’s name as your orgasm rips through you, cunt fluttering around his fingers that continue to curl and thrust into you, his tongue wandering from your throbbing clit to your entrance as he licks up all the arousal that spills around his fingers, groaning softly at the tight squeeze and the taste of your cum on his mouth; he’s addicted, helping you ride it out until your body becomes sensitive, bleary eyes peeking down to see that he has yet to stop, and doesn’t plan to any time soon. 

“Tyun,” you breathe out; the man merely glances up at you before returning back to your cunt, feeling your cunt clench as he curls his fingers against you once more, smiling at the yelp that follows, “Tyun, it’s too much, I’m sensitive—!” 

“Want you to give me another one,” he murmurs against you, his fingers stiling inside you as he says it; he finally looks up at you, and you find a primal need in his eyes, his hand that’s holding your thigh gripping you a little harder, as though afraid you would run away, “can you do that for me?”

You take a second to catch your breath, his eyes following the rise and fall of your chest as though in a trance; he leans down to place kisses along your skin yet again, against your navel and around your pelvic bone as he lets you take a moment to answer; he nips softly at your hip bone, and you feel your resolve crumble in an instant. 

“Yes,” the word is barely slipping from your tongue before Taehyun is diving back in, moving with such desperation that all you can do is lay back and watch in awe. He’s taken note of what drives you crazy, eager to use it against you; your teeth are sinking into your bottom lip to prevent yourself from screaming as he hits your sweet spot continuously, sucking your clit and running his tongue along it until he’s building you up even faster than he did before, an undeniably triumphant smile tugging at his lips the moment you start sobbing that you’re going to cum again. 

You’re desperate to thrash around under him, to clamp your legs around his head and run your fingers through his hair, but all you can do is lay there and buck your hips against his mouth, teary eyes unable to look away from the sight before you, pleasure crashing down on you and leaving your body a trembling, buzzing mess. 

“There you go pretty girl, y’listen so well,” he coos against you, helping you ride out the waves of your orgasm with a gentle pace of his fingers, kissing your clit lovingly between his praises. “Sound so good, just. For. Me.” 

The rings that bound your wrists and thighs are buzzing for a moment before it all fades away; you only let your muscles relax for a second before you’re immediately reaching down to run your fingers through Taehyun’s hair, lacing through the dark locks before tugging and guiding him back up— he lets you, an amused chuckle leaving his lips as he crawls over you, situating himself between your legs that still twitch with aftershocks, his arms by your head that hold him up caging you in. He takes a moment to observe you, eyes warm with an undeniable fondness as he takes in your shiny eyes and swollen lips, glancing down at your chest that heaves as you try to catch your breath. Reaching to cup your face, he runs his thumb along your cheekbone before leaning down to capture your lips in a soft, slow kiss.

“This is better than anything I imagined,” he confesses quietly, and you don’t bother holding back the smile that breaks out against his mouth.

“You imagined this?”

“So many times,” he immediately breathes out, tilting his head to kiss you deeper before pulling away briefly, letting go of your face to tug at his remaining clothes, “thought of having you under me like this so many times, making you feel good like this.”

You hum softly at his words, running your fingers through his hair and pulling gently at the roots, tangling comfortably around his nape.

”Thought about making you mine,” he whispers softly, and for the first time, you spot a bit of hesitance in his voice— a vulnerability that doesn’t slip past you, picking it up between his kisses that begin to linger along your face, from your cupid's bow to your jawline; his breath stutters, and you gasp— his cockhead is thick and sticky with precum as it presses against your entrance, his hand that wraps around the length taking its time to rub up and down your slit, lingering and pressing down at your clit teasingly. The mixture of your arousals is loud, and if the feeling of his cock sliding up and down your awaiting cunt wasn’t driving you crazy, you would’ve hid your face in your hands from embarrassment. 

“I’ve imagined so many times how you’d feel… how you’d sound so pretty,” he moans softly, the reminder making his hips buck unexpectedly against you, the two of you gasping as his tip prods at your hole for just a second, “Thought of keeping you here with me. Of being all yours.”

He hears the way you whimper quietly at that last part, feels your thighs press against his hips, antsy hands pulling at his hair as a quiet plea for more— he’s driving you crazy, and his sweet words against your skin are definitely not helping.

“I want that— I want to stay with you,” you’re guiding Taehyun to look up at you again, watching his dazed eyes lock onto yours, drowning with a primal need that burns hotter the longer he looks at you. Your hand wanders from his hair and down the expanse of his broad back, until you’re pressing at the small of his back and urging his hips forward; you don’t dare look away from him for a second, determined to make him see your resolve. “Taehyun, please.”

Your voice is a siren’s song to him; his cock twitches at the blatant need on your face, and without further warning, his guiding his cock inside you. The stretch makes your mouth fall open and your head loll back onto the pillows; he’s so thick, and you can feel it pulse the more it makes its way inside your cunt, holding your breath at the burn that ebbs away into pleasure— by the time his hips are flush against yours, you’re leaking onto the sheets beneath you, feeling as though he’s so deep you can’t breathe.

“You feel so good,” Taehyun weakly groans, glancing down to where your bodies meet before moaning again, “so fucking good, fuck. You’re perfect.”

You can only bring yourself to whimper weakly against his lips that peck at yours; you don’t think you could begin to put the way he feels into words, so full of him that it’s making you dizzy. He remains still for a second, the two of you basking in the feeling of each other, his cock twitching inside your fluttering walls, a mess of slick dripping from your entrance the longer you’re left to wait in anticipation. 

“Ready, baby?” he asks softly, having noticed your dazed expression. You’re eager to nod, clumsy hips rolling forward and making him press harder against you— you shiver at the feeling, barely able to register Taehyun’s amused chuckle as he slowly begins to pull out. 

It’s a slow, quiet moment, your nails digging into his skin as the two of you savor the feeling of each other, stuttered breaths and soft whimpers the only thing filling the air. He pulls out until only his tip is left inside you, pushing back in and filling you up with one swift motion. You let out a loud moan at the feeling, mind spinning at the way his cock curves and presses against your walls, teasing your sweet spot. Taehyun does this again, his head that was once hanging to allow him to watch the way he disappeared inside you now hovering above yours, watching carefully as your eyes widen and brows knit together with pleasure at every thrust; a sly smile sneaks onto his face as you quietly moan out his name.

“Feels good?” he asks, punctuating his question with a sudden, rough thrust that has you jolting; your nails dig into his skin just a little more, and he’s shifting, sitting up to take a good look at you. 

“You’re so cute,” he laughs, “barely even started and you’re already a mess. You sure you can take it?”

“I can,” you whine petulantly, feeling him slow down his pace, barely moving inside you, “Tyun, I need more…”

“Hmm? I don’t know, baby,”  he’s slowly rutting his hips into you, enjoying the way you pout at him, “can you ask nicely?”

Your face heats up at his words; it’s such a bold request, one that has you trying to shy away from his gaze, intense and hungry as it watches you every move. Clearing your throat, you try to ignore how pathetic you sound. 

“Please… Taehyun,” he’s shifting, moving so that he’s hovering over you, a strong hand rubbing up and down your thigh as he props himself up with his elbow, a coy smile stuck to his face. “I want you to fuck me, please— I need it, want you to give it to me.”

“Such a sweet angel,” he coos, pecking your lips before he’s beginning to thrust back into you, burying himself as deep as he can before he’s picking up the pace, more and more until his cock is abusing your leaking cunt and your body is jolting with every thrust, your eyes squeezing with bliss, “You’re so perfect, how could I ever say no to you?”

His hand on your thigh is grabbing on tight, hiking up your leg to wrap around his waist, hips angling so that he can reach deeper into you. He’s practically fucking you into the mattress, thick cock stretching you out and rubbing against your walls so perfectly, his soft moans and sighs of your name making you clench around him each time. 

He feels so good against you, strong, firm muscle against your body, honey skin smooth beneath your hands that scratch at his back, leaving a particularly harsh trail after he thrusts against your sweet spot, the grunt of pain he lets out in your ear only making you clench around him harder— he’s filling your senses, cooing out soft praises and placing gentle kisses along your jawline, groaning out your name when he feels the way you begin to tighten around him, hips growing restless against his. 

“I’m close,” you whimper, legs mindlessly wrapping around his waist, wanting him to be flush against you, “fuck— please don’t stop, you feel so good.”

“I’m close too, angel,” he murmurs, hand letting go of your thigh to reach up for your own, lacing his fingers with yours and pinning your hand against the mattress, “want you to cum for me. Wanna feel it, wanna listen to those pretty little sounds of yours.”

“Cum inside me,” the request slips from your mouth before you can think too much of it; judging by the way Taehyun’s hips stutter and he lets out a weak moan against your skin, you’re sure your words have affected him. When he asks if you mean it, you nod. “Please— wanna be filled up, please cum inside.”

Taehyun moves from his place in your neck to watch you closely, feeling his own orgasm building up intensely; his eyes scan your face, memorizing every detail of your expression, listening to the way your moans pick up in desperation. 

“Baby,” he says, and when you don’t look at him, he calls out your name; it’s soft, broken, a moan that has your eyes fluttering open to meet his. “You gonna cum baby?” 

You nod, eyes rolling back when he reaches down to rub your clit, dizzy at the pleasure. 

”Look at me,” he says, feeling his pace become sloppy as his own orgasm approaches, desperate to watch you fall apart, “wanna watch you when you cum.”

He grinds his hips against you firmly, his tip rutting against your sweet spot making you unravel in an instant, your hand that squeezes against his instantly being squeezed back in silent reassurance. The pleasure crashes on you so intensely, your mind going blank save for Taehyun’s name that you repeat like a prayer. Your eyes never leave his, watching as he follows you seconds after, his brows furrowing and his jaw clenching before he lets out a weak moan of your name, cock continuing to thrust slowly into you as he cums. 

It’s so warm, a constant pulsing of is cock that fills you up until it no longer can, sticky cum leaking from your entrance and smearing against your skin as he keeps fucking the two of you through it, until your body slumps against the bed and he melts down onto you, burying his head in your neck.

You don’t know how long you stay like this, drifting in and out of  consciousness; his cock nestled into you, his hand that holds yours tight, the pressure of his body against yours, pinning you to the bed, keeping you safe. He’s warm, and you can feel your chests rising and falling slowly, feel his heartbeat that attempts to return back to normal, his breath a gentle sensation against your skin. 

“I meant everything I said. And more,” he suddenly speaks up, burying his head into you, fond of the comfort it brings, “Stay with me. I don’t care what Yunah thinks is best for you— I want you to stay.”

A moment passes, and you allow yourself to think. You feel his hold on you tighten the longer this silence continues, as though afraid this might be the last time he’ll have you like this.

“Taehyun,” you say softly, feeling him tense against you, “I want to stay too.”

It’s instant, the way he melts against you in relief. He sighs, placing a kiss on the crook of your neck. 

“Thank god,” he murmurs, beginning to litter kisses all along your skin, not stopping until you’re a giggly mess beneath him, “thank god. I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You’ll never get rid of me,” you grin, cupping his face and guiding him to kiss you, gentle, sweet, “not if I can help it.”

“Good,” bringing up your hands that are still interlaced, he kisses the back of your hand before giving you a sweet smile. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

○○○

It’s late at night when you hear the bell ring— you don’t pay it any mind, continuing to organize the shelf behind the counter as Yunah greets the new guest, leaving to the back to search for ingredients for her potion.

It’s quiet, and you hear the way they wander along the floor, moving from shelf to shelf, picking up jars before setting them back down with a soft clink; you can’t help but hope that they’ll leave soon, left with only five minutes before you’re able to shut the apothecary— you itch to leave, to go back home and see Taehyun. 

You’re too concentrated on labelling the jars to realize that the customer has been waiting at the counter impatiently, watching as you continue to show your back to them.

“Beomgyu’s right,” you feel a warm sensation along your waist, and before you can process what’s happening, you’re being dragged away from the shelf with a gasp— you’re hovering just above the floor, unable to do anything more than get dragged around the counter and into a certain someone’s awaiting arms; Taehyun is quick to hug you close the moment his magic brings you to him, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek before laughing at your expression. “you do need to work on your customer service.”

You frown. “What? What has he been telling you?”

“Oh nothing. That you’re never greeting him properly, always off in your own little world,” he spins you around with ease, wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you in close. “daydreaming about me.”

“Oh god,” you roll your eyes, already imagining the stupidities Beomgyu has been feeding Taehyun, “how childish. I don’t want you talking to him anymore.”

”It was your idea to introduce us properly, love,” he reminds you, a smug smile on his face, “you’ve gotta deal with the consequences now.”

You can only bring yourself to grumble a soft whatever, scanning the apothecary curiously before sending Taehyun a pout. “Where’s Dago?”

He smiles, expectant of the question. “At home. He’s been missing you all day.”

“Then what are we waiting for?!” you push him away, running behind the counter to grab your bag, “let’s go home!” 

It’s instinct to lace your fingers with Taehyun’s waiting hand, turning around to catch Yunah reappearing from the back, a trail of jars behind you. 

“Heading out for the night?” she asks, smiling at the way you nod happily, “See you tomorrow then. Get home safe you two.” 

“We will. Love ya!” you chirp, watching Taehyun bid her goodbye before following you out the store. 

“Long day, Tyunnie?” you ask, the two of you beginning your trip home, “you’re dragging your feet.”

“You have no idea,” he sighs, and when you ask if he wants to talk about it, he shakes his head. “Maybe later. Don’t feel like boring you with the meeting we had today.”

”All I could think about was how much I missed you,” he trails off a bit, eyes darkening as he begins to observe you carefully, amused at the way you still fluster at his gaze, “could barely pay attention to what was being said.”

You scoff, refusing to give into his antics so easily. “Surprised they haven’t fired you.”

“C’mon baby, don’t be mean,” he teases you, tugging your hand to pull you into his side, giving you a soft kiss on your cheek, “is it so hard to believe that I’m so in love with you?”

“Hmm, I don’t know about that,” you bite back a teasing smile, “you’ll have to prove it.”

He chuckles, a dark, mischievous sound that already has you shivering with anticipation. 

“Guess we’ll have to hurry home then.”

You can’t bring yourself to resist as he sweeps you off your feet, a warm silver glow encasing you as he takes you home the fastest way he can— if anything, you merely tease him about his eagerness, which he swiftly makes you take back after a long, long night of proving himself. 

taglist: @xylatox, @fancypeacepersona, @taebatu, @prettypeachprincesz, @archoive, @bingsoob, @fatbixchwithanopinion, @notanotherbigfangirl, @soobundle1009, @barbielibra

[rosie-posie1313]

Robert 'Bob' Reynolds Fic Recs

06/09/2025

⭒ The ghost I left behind by @brookghaib-blog

Y/N and Bob had a life before he disappear, full of love, hope, and a lot of chaos, but they managed each other, she was the only one who truly could make him avoid the void inside his mind. How could he turn his only light into a shadow in his mind ?

⭒ The ghost I left behind - II by @/brookghaib-blog

⭒ Accident by @upl0aded

you and bob had always been perfect, you kept him happy and he kept you satisfied. but what happens when a buried memory accidentally gets revived?

⭒ going out by @mallory524

shing to defend him when he gets overwhelmed and people aren’t kind to him.

⭒ 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐃. By @bloodybreakupscene

although he isn't aware it's even a thing, you're bob's comfort person, his safe space.

⭒ maybe one day  by @fireinmoonshot

Every time you wake up from a nightmare, Bob is there to help you get back to sleep. This time, however, is a little different.

⭒ Something for you by @layla4567

Y/n doesn't know that Bob likes her, but she wonders why he acts weird when she's being nice, maybe she has a sneaky suspicion

⭒ Back To You by @callsign-swan

Valentina finds a way to control Bob and The Sentry: His wife

⭒ Sneaking Around by @/callsign-swan

Bob doesn't mean to be sneaking around. But he can't help it. He's got a secret, and he wants to keep it that way. Too bad he's best friends with Yelena Belova.

⭒ Catalyst I by @shadowbriar

For once, he actually let himself grow comfortable in the gentleness of another.

⭒ ❝ 𝐨𝐡, 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬. ❞ by @swordgrace

plagued by nightmares, bob takes comfort in the one person who’s pulled him from the shadows time and time again — you.

⭒ archives room by @owastie

you’re tasked with searching through the archives room to find some information on a new threat

⭒ Here Now  by @countlessimagines

The past seems to always haunt you.

⭒ Threads of Memory by @pink-petal-horns

⭒ Only you by @woantohae

Bob's dark, evil entity, The Void, appears when you least expect it. The rest of the team must be prepared to confront him and his prevailing malice. However, there is only one person on the team with whom he has a soft spot. And it's her

⭒ Nothing’s gonna stop us now by @/woantohae

Y/N is pulled into the Void by the dark entity that takes over Bob. The team prepares to go after her, while Y/N and Void seem to get a little closer. But at the same time, the past and traumas can be revived.

⭒ Thunderbolts by @/woantohae

What happens when a group of "bad people" needs to assemble to fight something bigger than them?

⭒ In my arms by @/woantohae

The Thunderbolts are constantly on missions, busy trying to do good and save whoever they can. One of them was Bob Reynolds, the defenseless yet powerful man who is part of this team and family. However, he doesn't participate in these missions so he can continue practicing controlling his powers.

⭒ dating headcnaons by @gay-dorito-dust

⭒ relationship headcanons by @/gay-dorito-dust

⭒ soft moments Void has with sunshine reader by @/gay-dorito-dust

⭒ Void by @trainer-from-unova

they were getting used to bob and void. most of the time they dealt with bob, who was shy and respectful — and on the other side was void, who thought he was superior to everyone (or almost everyone) and could get on their nerves a lot of the time, but they had learned that, for some reason, most of the time he only showed up when the former was alone with _______, so they tried not to let those situations happen.

⭒ a second by @/trainer-from-unova

void started feeling something about you, and when he discovered that bob was your boyfriend he felt frustrated.  wanting to live what he lived every day he convinced you that kissing him or having sex with him wasn't being unfaithful since they both share the same body.

⭒ muscle memory by @/trainer-from-unova

on the few occasions that void was present he couldn't help but turn his neck in the direction ______ was facing, fix his eyes on her, prick up his ears when he heard her voice, and even felt the urge to take her hand. those were things, or rather according to him, distractions that got on his nerves.

⭒ told you I’ll be waiting, hiding from the rainfall by @fallenprophets

he left you in Malaysia, volunteering for a study he promised would make him “better”. You’ve almost come to terms with the fact that he’s gone, when you see him again.

⭒ Peace and Quiet by @scarletmika

Sometimes the tower is too loud, and Bob can feel himself getting overwhelmed. He’s always found comfort with you, in your room, where he can find peace and quiet whenever he needs it. And you’ll never turn him away, finding the same comfort in him.

⭒ Stay With Me by @/scarletmika

Bob wants to feel useful, to truly be part of the team, but the others don’t think he’s ready. You take it upon yourself to teach him control, to guide him through. But mistakes will be made, and it might not be possible to keep the darkness from creeping back in once more.

⭒ Always by @/scarletmika

Bob stayed with you, just as you asked, and life couldn’t be better. But the past always has a way of catching up with you, no matter how hard you try and push it away and leave it behind. Now, it’s Bob’s turn to save you.

⭒ xerox Part one by @ichorai

you had one last job before you were free. no more splitting, no more deaths. unfortunately, that job seemed to rope in four other assassins and a… a man in hospital-wear?

⭒ 𝐇𝐂: 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 by @wynnerwynner

⭒ “𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠”  by @ang3ltine

Bob was asleep for God knows how long, now that he has the chance at a better life. Who better to show him than you?

⭒ So High School by @pagesfromthevoid

⭒ how robert reynolds quietly shows you that he’s in love with you by @attalew

⭒ Dating Bob Headcanons by @sacredsorceress

⭒ Reconnection by @jaesvelvet

You’ve been longing for Robert Reynolds for seven years now. No matter how hard you try to let him go, your heart refuse to do so but after a weird moment of being trapped in your own nightmare, you finally found Robert. On a local news along side with the new Avengers.

⭒ A little bit of jam by @violetrainbow412-blog

[ssapphosviolets]

No One Tried

To Read My Eyes

(No One But You)

Sevika x gf!reader

If there's one thing about Sevika, it's that she notices everything.

or; How Sevika shows support for her partner. Softie Sevika bc she's a lovergirl you can't convince me otherwise

(lowk hella bipolar reader coded (cuz im literally the author) but also like probably common mental health struggles tbh so have fun here's some comfort )

Something that didn't take long for Sevika to pick up on, was your inconsistency. Not you as a partner, you were nothing but stability to Sevika, and your love was secure. But your habits, those were inconsistent.

She remembered using the bathroom at your home for the first time, and taking note of how organized and neat your bathroom counter was. Cluttered, sure, but at least neat, with plenty of plants to liven up the space. So next time she came over, it didn't slip past her how different it was this time.

The counter was messy, with unorderly bottles and hair ties scattered everywhere. Your plants looked wilted, but not quite dead yet. She figured maybe this was just you becoming more comfortable with her, feeling that she's more than a house guest you need to clean for.

As your relationship progressed though, eventually furthering to moving in together, she noticed a lot of other odd inconsistency's. How some weeks you would sneak out of bed when you thought she was asleep, and start off your morning with only a mere couple hours of sleep. And yet, you seemed energized as ever.

Then the next week, you would sleep like a dead person, going to bed at 8pm and managing 10 or even 12 hours of sleep, only to wake up looking like you didn't sleep at all. It was during these weeks that Sevika would hold you closer during the night, hoping maybe her warm embrace would help you feel rested. It was a lost cause, she knew that, but what else could she do?

"Don't go yet. I'm still awake." Sevika's gravely, but soft voice rings out from behind you. Her arm tightens around your waist, her forehead pressing into your back. She tiredly scoots up further onto the pillows to tuck your head under her chin, hoping that engulfing you will be enough to convince you to stay in bed. And you'd be lying if you said it didn't work.

"Sorry babe, I thought you were asleep." She hums softly, and you feel her chest moving against your back. "Why would that matter either way. Why you gotta get up this late?" She seems to be slowly becoming more conscious and coherent, her voice traveling from confused to more clear and intentioned.

You shrugged your shoulders, feeling the weight of Sevika's chest on them as you do. "I dunno, I just can't settle down. Besides, there's tons of other things I could do. And it feels like there's a bunch of tiny ants in my skin right now so I kinda wanna take a shower."

She sighs and lays a kiss just behind your ear. "Okay, let's go then." She sits up from behind you. You stay where you are though, looking up at her in confusion as she blinks her eyes awake. "What do you mean?" You ask her.

"Let's go take a shower." She grabs your hand and pulls you up, her grip around your arm being a gentle firmness you've only ever experienced with her. "You don't have to, Sev-" She cuts you off with a shake of her head, strands of her messy dark hair falling as she does, and she leans in to press her lips to yours. "I want to." She mumbles as she pulls away.

It's when you're in the shower together, your head resting on her chest as you both share the stream of hot water pummeling down onto both of you, that she finally brings up what has been on her mind.

"You know, I notice everything, right?" She asks you. If you didn't know her so well, your stomach might have dropped with uncertainty and dread. But you did know her, and you know that right now, naked and intertwined, she views you with nothing but care and concern right now. And not just now in this setting, but always and anywhere, as long as it's you.

You don't say anything in response, not knowing what to even say. She fills the silence that you left open. "You always get really itchy when you don't sleep." You close your eyes and take a deep breath, taking in her words. She still holds you close to her, her comforting embrace mixed with her compassionate tone is enough to make you feel safe.

Even as your deepest vulnerabilities are laid out right in front of you, by the woman you love and respect the most in your life, you can't help but feel safe.

"What else do you notice?" You ask her quietly. She thinks for a moment before replying. "Those weeks that you don't really sleep, you're always lighting incense. You say the house smells weird and metallic, but I never notice a difference. You're always responding to the cats when you hear them scratch at the doors to be let in, but they weren't even at the door. They're asleep across the house. You get paranoid about bugs, thinking there's one flying around the house or on your skin."

Your breath hitches as she lists everything too closely, too accurately. If she notices, she doesn't say anything. "Then after your sleepless week or two is up, you go another sleeping non-stop. It's cute, don't get me wrong, but can be worrying sometimes." She strokes back your damp hair and lays her head on top of yours.

Your fingers nervously fidget against her back, brushing the scars and lightly scratching your nails against her bare skin. "You don't seem to feel as much when you're in your tired weeks. But you seem to feel everything the other weeks. It's nice, seeing you so happy. You're always so optimistic and sunshiney. I know you always are, but especially so during certain weeks. But you also get stressed out easier, you can be more irritable, and overwhelmed. A lot more sensitive."

Her voice is steady and thoughtful. You're sure she's had these thoughts pent up for ages, but the way her words are spoken doesn't make it sound like it. Her words are carefully chosen and considered.

"And I don't think I need to really say much about your impulsiveness." Your face burns at the mention, her tone light and teasing. "You know that's why I love you though. What else would entertain me, if not you coming home with 3 new piercings on a random Wednesday?" You crack a smile at her words.

"And obviously there's your in betweens, where you're just the same old gorgeous girl that I love, but there's definitely a pattern. For as inconsistent as you are hun, you definitely have a pattern." Her hand circles your back as she finally peels her body away from yours. Her hand moves to rest on your shoulder, just shy of your neck. She gazes into your eyes, water droplets falling down her forehead and onto her nose.

"Just know that I notice it, but I don't mind. I love you, and that means all of you. I notice that you've never let me in on the times that it's been much worse than this. And you don't have to, but just know I'm here. Whether it's sleeping all day, everyday, or breakdowns with tears and emotions that you've never let me experience with you, or your highest weeks where everything feels euphoric- whenever you want me, just let me know."

[ikwon1c]

Noona (4)

characters: kwon jiyong x y/n

summary: ignoring jiyong isn’t as easy as it should be not when his absence feels louder than his presence ever did.

tags: fluff, angst, emotional tension, miscommunication, heartbreak, toxic softness, almost-lovers, one-sided love (or is it?)

—

You thought ignoring him would work.

That if you kept things strictly casual, if you didn’t answer every text right away, if you stopped letting him stay the night—really stay the night—then it would just fizzle out. Quietly. Painlessly. Like the end of a summer fling you both agreed never happened in the first place.

But Jiyong was not built for casual. And worse?

He was a menace in the body of a too-pretty rockstar with zero shame and a thousand strategies to make you soft.

Like showing up at your apartment with Iye in his arms and no explanation. You opened the door at 9:12 p.m. in your pajamas, hair wet from the shower, and blinked down at him.

He didn’t look the least bit sorry. “She missed you.”

You stared at him. Then at the cat. Then back at him. “You used your cat as an excuse to see me?”

“I didn’t hear a no,” he said, shouldering past you and slipping his shoes off. “She gets weird when we’re apart too long. Crying by the door, looking at my phone like she knows how to unlock it. You traumatized her.”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m in love,” he said, deadpan.

You flinched.

He grinned.

Asshole.

You didn’t ask him to leave.

He plopped down on your couch like he lived there and patted the spot beside him while Iye hopped up and curled into a small, smug loaf in his lap.

“She really did miss you,” he said, scratching behind her ears. “Wouldn’t even eat this morning.”

You leaned against the wall, crossing your arms. “You ever stop being dramatic?”

“You ever stop pretending you’re not happy to see me?”

Your mouth opened. Closed. “I’m not—”

“Iye, your mom’s lying again,” he said to the cat, stroking her like he was in a k-drama. “Should we forgive her?”

“I swear to god—”

He turned to you, all teeth and mischief. “Come sit. Let’s watch that stupid cooking show you like. I brought snacks.”

You squinted. “You didn’t even bring a bag.”

“Check the counter.”

You did. And there they were—your favorite chips, soda, and the frozen gyoza you always make after a long week. Along with your preferred brand of hair mask.

You blinked. “You remembered the conditioner?”

He shrugged, eyes twinkling. “You said you ran out.”

You hated how warm your chest felt. Hated it even more when you sat down next to him anyway.

The show barely made it ten minutes in before he started leaning closer. It was subtle at first—an arm over the back of the couch, a knee brushing yours, a breath against your shoulder. Like he didn’t know he was doing it.

He definitely knew.

You didn’t look at him.

Not even when he shifted closer, his voice soft. “You smell good.”

“You’re such a problem,” you muttered, staring straight ahead.

“I’m your problem.”

You glanced at him. He was smiling like he already won. So you did the only logical thing.

You kissed him.

Because if you kissed him first, maybe it wouldn’t feel like surrender.

He groaned softly against your mouth and cupped your face like he’d been waiting for you to cave all week. His thumb traced your jaw, the kiss growing slower, deeper, messier.

The cat meowed once and jumped off the couch in a huff.

“Iye hates PDA,” he murmured against your lips.

“She can leave.”

“She already did.”

And you laughed into his mouth.

That night, you fell asleep on top of him, your cheek pressed against his chest while he played with strands of your hair like it was his favorite song. He never said please let me stay. He didn’t have to.

Your apartment smelled like him for two days.

⸻

You told yourself it would be the last time.

It wasn’t.

Next was brunch at a tiny spot in Itaewon—technically by accident, technically not a date.

You’d gone out with your coworkers and he’d “just happened” to show up after checking your close friends story. “Wasn’t stalking,” he insisted. “Just missed your face.”

Then came late-night ramen runs, grocery trips that turned into him pushing your cart like a husband, and an afternoon at a pet store where he made you test out cat trees “in case Iye ever moves in with you.”

You told him to shut up.

But you still bought the treats he said she liked.

Then one weekend, he asked you to house-sit his penthouse while he flew to Tokyo.

“Just to feed Iye,” he said. “And make sure she doesn’t knock over my records.”

You almost said no.

Then he added, “You can sleep in my bed.”

You said nothing.

And three hours after he left the country, you were in it.

⸻

His bed was stupidly big. The pillows smelled like him. The apartment smelled like him. Even his cat stared at you like she knew a secret.

You tried to be normal. Just feed Iye. Water the plants. Maybe steal some of his skincare. (He had the good serums.)

But then you saw the photo on his nightstand.

It was the two of you. From years ago. Backstage at some show. You weren’t even posing—just laughing, head thrown back, him looking at you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

You didn’t even remember the picture being taken.

You stared at it for too long.

And that’s when he FaceTimed.

From Tokyo. Hair freshly styled, sunglasses still on, lying in a hotel bed with nothing but tattoos and silk sheets.

“Hey,” he said, voice low. “You in my bed?”

“No.”

“You’re in my bed.”

“Shut up.”

He laughed. “Miss me yet?”

You rolled onto your stomach, hiding your face in the pillow.

“You miss me,” he teased.

“Jiyong.”

“Don’t ‘Jiyong’ me,” he said. “You’re the one nesting in my sheets like a housewife.”

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“I’m full of you.”

You groaned and threw the pillow at the phone.

He caught a glimpse of your bare legs and hissed. “You’re not wearing my shirt, are you?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

You hung up on him.

He texted “marry me” thirty seconds later.

You let it go on like that for weeks.

Secret dates weren’t really planned. Public avoidance. Private touches that turned into staying the night. Inside jokes that sounded too much like love.

They were accidents. Coincidences. Late-night drives and gas station snacks, or walking Iye in a harness at the edge of some secluded park like you were a deranged couple from a soft indie drama no one greenlit.

It was dangerous.

One Friday, he dragged you to an old bookstore in Hongdae. He wore a hoodie pulled low and sunglasses too big for his face. You wore a ballcap and anxiety.

“You’re being obvious,” you hissed.

“I’m being cute,” he corrected, pulling you toward the poetry section.

You flipped through a used copy of Pillow Thoughts while he picked up On Love and started reading lines in a fake dramatic voice.

“If I knew I’d never see you again,” he intoned, “I’d have hugged you tighter—”

“You’re an idiot.”

“—kissed you longer—”

“Stop it.”

“—and probably dry-humped you in the—“

You smacked him with your book.

He grinned and kissed your cheek before darting off down the next aisle like a criminal.

You didn’t even yell at him for that one.

Not really. It was addicting.

And every time you tried to pull back, he showed up with a new excuse.

A new reason to stay.

Like the time he asked you to help him redecorate his studio. “Just for aesthetic input,” he claimed.

He showed up at your door with coffee and an actual Pinterest board.

By the end of the day, you were on the floor with your legs across his lap, picking fabric samples and eating takeout like it was your damn anniversary.

“You know what this is starting to feel like?” he said.

“Don’t.”

“A relationship.”

You kicked him in the shin.

He grinned like he liked it.

⸻

There are two things you should never do at YG: flirt with an idol in your office, and flirt with an idol in your office when he’s your younger brother’s bandmate.

Naturally, I was doing both. And I was doing them very well—if I do say so myself.

Jiyong [9:47 PM]

Still at work, noona? Or just missing me?

Me [9:48 PM]

Yes.

And definitely not the second one.

Jiyong [9:48 PM]

That’s funny.

Because you sounded like you missed me last night when you moaned into my neck.

I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly gave myself a migraine.

Me [9:49 PM]

You’re disgusting.

Jiyong [9:49 PM]

You liked it.

Okay, so maybe I did. But I still had three reports due to the label by midnight and a cold cup of coffee sweating beside my laptop. I wasn’t going to let him distract me again.

Until the office door opened.

Fuck.

“You’re not funny,” I muttered, not even looking up.

“Didn’t say anything,” Jiyong’s voice purred from the doorway.

I heard the lock on my office door click behind me. I sighed as loudly as I can.

“Jesus Christ, Jiyong—”

“You texted back,” he said, strutting in like he owned the damn place. “So I figured that was an invitation.”

“Obviously, you figured wrong,” I snapped, pretending to type something meaningful. “Don’t you have a studio to be in?”

He walked behind my desk and leaned down, mouth grazing my ear. “Nah, I’m with my favorite noona right now.”

My thighs tensed as he whispered those words at my ear. His hands landed on the arms of my chair, caging me in, the other slipping along the edge of my skirt. I didn’t dare look at him. I knew that face too well—the one he made when he knew I was losing. And I was. God, I was.

“Really?” I muttered, eyes still on my monitor, pretending like my entire body wasn’t already humming at the sound of his boots hitting tile.

Jiyong leaned down, mouth grazing the shell of my ear. “Noona, you know… I’m starting to get pissed of your push and pull,” he lazily drawls, his voice smug and sugar-slick.

In one smooth motion, he bent down, slid an arm behind my back, and scooped me up with maddening ease from the chair, like I didn’t weigh a thing, and set me down on the desk without so much as a grunt. Papers scattered, a pen rolled off the edge, and I was too stunned to speak.

I yelped. “Jiyong!”

“Shh,” he said, laughing under his breath as he carried me around the desk. “Someone might hear.”

“Then put me down, idiot.”

He didn’t. He kicked my chair aside and set me gently on top of the desk like I was something fragile. Breakable. Holy.

“You can’t just show up like this,” I hissed, even as I instinctively spread my knees when he moved to stand between them. “Someone’s going to see—”

His hands slid up my thighs, warm and possessive, like he didn’t care. “Let them.”

“Your career has a death wish.”

“So does your mouth.” He tugged my chair back and bent low, one hand gripping the backrest, the other pressing my thigh open. “You gonna keep mouthing off or finally beg?”

I opened my mouth to insult him, but the only sound I made was a gasp. He chuckled. “Thought so.”

“You’re out of your mind,” I muttered, breathless.

His hands slid up my thighs, pushing my skirt higher with infuriating slowness. “You say that like it’s new.”

“We’re at YG.”

“I locked the door.”

“There are cameras.”

“Not in here.”

I glared at him. “How do you know that?”

He only smiled. That fucker knew.

I rolled my eyes, biting back the urge to tilt my head and let him say more. “Get out of my office, Kwon.”

“No,” he said, grinning. “You’re wearing that skirt I like. The one that rides up when I—”

“Jiyong,” I hissed. “I’m serious—”

He leaned in again, nose brushing the curve of my cheek. “You’ve been tense all day. Can’t a dongsaeng take care of his noona?” He kissed my cheek faintly and softly. My cheeks warmed up from his sudden gesture.

“I wonder why,” I deadpanned.

“Noona…” He breathily whispers, sending shivers to my body. His lips brushed my ear. “Let me help then.”

“You’re such a menace,” I said quietly. Slowly weakening and craning my neck to the side.

He smiled against my skin. “You like it.”

“Do I?”

He kissed me slow and unhurried, like we had all the time in the world. This was different from what I expected… But God help me, I melted. His hands lifted to my cheeks, thumbs brushing just under my eyes, as if I were fragile. As if I mattered.

He kissed me again. This time with a little more weight, but still slow. Still careful. Like there was nowhere else he needed to be.

“What are you doing,” I whispered. My hands grabbed his hoodie, yanking him closer, fingers curling into the soft cotton like I was trying to stop myself from falling.

Too late for that.

“I’m gentle,” he said, brushing his nose against mine. “You’re the dangerous one.”

I wanted to laugh, or scoff, or say something snarky.

But all I could do was close my eyes and lean into him as his lips travelled down to my neck, nipping that soft spot that made me moan quietly.

We stayed like that for a moment. My hands resting on his hoodie. His forehead against mine. Our breaths tangled and quiet in the late-afternoon hum of the office.

And I thought, Goddamn it, I might actually be falling.

My legs were still around his waist, skirt hiked indecently high, and Jiyong’s lips were soft and warm on mine. But something twisted in my chest. It wasn’t the thrill this time. It wasn’t heat, or the usual rush of reckless adrenaline that came with letting him touch me where he shouldn’t.

It was quieter. A sting.

My hand slid up to the side of his face, and when he leaned into it—without thinking, without hesitating—something in me broke.

I exhaled sharply. “Jiyong.”

“Mm?” he murmured, nuzzling the inside of my wrist.

“What are we doing?”

Silence.

He stilled. I felt the shift. His body tensed—not in the sexy way. Not in the teasing way. He slowly stepped back, his hands slipping off my thighs.

“You’re asking me that now?” His voice was low. Still calm. But I knew him too well. I’d struck something.

“I just—” I jumped off the desk, pulling my skirt down like it made a difference now. Like modesty would patch over the fact that I’d had his mouth on mine not thirty seconds ago. “This… We can’t keep—”

“You always do this,” he cut in, voice quiet. “You let me get close, and the second it feels real, you push me away.”

“I’m not pushing—”

“Yes, you are.” He shook his head, laughing bitterly under his breath. “What about those weeks? Huh? When it was just us?”

My stomach twisted. I knew exactly what he meant.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

“You cooked for me. I left clothes at your place. You let Iye sleep on your pillow,” he said, like he couldn’t believe he had to remind me. “You kissed me in the morning before coffee. What the hell was that?”

He wasn’t wrong.

Those weeks had been… something. Too much, too fast, too good. We were reckless in a quiet way—grocery runs at midnight, his hand on the small of my back, the way I caught myself smiling for no reason when he talked to Iye like she was a person. I let it happen. I didn’t stop any of it. I didn’t want to.

But that made it real. And real meant consequences. Real meant feelings I couldn’t afford. Real meant this—standing in front of him, wanting to reach for him and instead pretending like I didn’t care.

“I don’t know—”

“Bullshit.” His voice cracked, just barely. “You do know. You just don’t want to say it.”

I swallowed hard. My pulse was thudding so loud I couldn’t hear anything else. I felt like I was balancing on the edge of something I couldn’t name. Like if I took one step forward, there’d be no going back.

Because the truth was… I was scared.

Not of him.

Of me.

Of how easy it was to fall into him. How badly I wanted to.

And what scared me the most?

I already had.

I looked at him, and he looked so tired. So done. Not angry. Not even hurt. Just… disappointed.

“I’m trying to be rational, Jiyong. This isn’t just some little secret we can keep forever. You’re my brother’s bandmate. You’re you. I can’t—” I swallowed hard. “I can’t afford to get used to this.”

“And you think I can?”

I blinked. “What?”

“You think this is just easy for me?” His voice rose—not loud, but sharp. Controlled fury. “You think I haven’t spent years trying to get over you?”

My stomach dropped.

“What—”

“Don’t act like you don’t remember,” he snapped.

⸻

[Flashback – Six Years Ago]

I still remember the first time I met them.

YG’s halls looked different then—less glossy, more grit. The kind of place that smelled like old coffee and ambition. I was visiting Seunghyun on one of his late practice nights. Back then, he was still nervous before I came around his bandmates, still twitchy about anyone getting the wrong idea. You’re older. Don’t embarrass me.

So naturally, I showed up in my best heels and even better sarcasm.

I walked in with two bags of fried chicken, a six-pack of beer, and no expectations.

“Hyung, who’s that?” Daesung had asked, eyes wide as I set the food down.

“My sister,” Seunghyun muttered, already cringing.

“Your noona?” Youngbae blinked at me. “For real?”

“Why does she look cooler than you?” Jiyong added, completely straight-faced.

I burst out laughing. Seunghyun didn’t.

That was the beginning.

I didn’t plan to hang around much. I thought it would be a one-time thing. But they were… impossible to resist. Loud, chaotic, sweet in the way boys get when they’re exhausted and half-feral from chasing dreams. They’d pull me into their jokes, share their ramen, collapse on the practice room floor and talk about the kind of lives they wanted.

I saw every side of them.

Daesung’s goofy charm. Youngbae’s quiet faith. And Jiyong—well, Jiyong was harder to pin down.

At first, I thought he didn’t like me. He rarely spoke to me directly. He’d sit in the corner, sketching lyrics in his notebook, glancing up once in a while like he couldn’t decide what to make of me.

But then one night, he handed me a bottle of Pocari Sweat without looking.

“You haven’t eaten,” he muttered.

I blinked. “Is that your way of saying thank you for the chicken?”

He smirked. “Maybe.”

After that, it shifted.

He’d wait a beat longer when I said goodbye. Sit closer when we all piled onto the couch. Text me late with random memes or music demos.

Sometimes he’d just look at me for too long. Not in a creepy way—just curious. Like he was trying to figure something out.

One night, I brought them late-night dinner again. They were all half-asleep from dance practice, limbs tangled, eyelids heavy. I told them to eat before they passed out.

Jiyong didn’t eat. He just watched me the whole time.

And then he followed me out.

I was halfway down the stairwell when I heard the door creak open behind me.

“Wait.”

I paused, one hand on the rail, heart already kicking harder than it should’ve. I turned.

“Noona.” Jiyong stood in the doorway, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, that messy dark hair falling into his eyes. His face was unreadable—calm on the surface, but I could tell. I could always tell. Something was brewing under that calm. Something shaking loose.

“I forgot my water bottle,” I said, too quickly. Too stupidly.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he stepped down one stair. Then another. Until we were eye-level.

“I like you.” It came out soft. Shaky.

I blinked. “What?” It knocked the breath out of me.

His eyes didn’t move from mine. “I said… I like you.”

The silence that followed was so sharp it felt like glass under my skin. I swallowed hard. “Jiyong…”

He didn’t blink. “I’m not confused. I’m not playing around. I’ve felt this for a while.”

“Don’t,” I said quietly. “Don’t say that.”

“I know,” he cut in. “I know it’s messed up. I know I’m younger, I know you’re Seunghyun-hyung’s sister. Believe me, I know how bad this looks.” His voice trembled, just slightly, but it was enough to shred me.

“I’ve tried to stop. I tried ignoring it. But I can’t.” He looked down, breathing hard. “I think about you all the time.”

My stomach dropped.

“Jiyong…” I said again, weaker this time.

His eyes snapped back up to mine. “Just tell me I’m crazy. Tell me I’m wrong. I’ll back off. I swear. But don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend this thing between us isn’t real.”

I froze.

He looked so raw. So young and desperate and painfully sure of something I had spent months trying to bury.

“I’m not pretending,” I said, quietly.

A flicker of hope crossed his face. “Then—”

“That’s why I can’t do this.”

He flinched. “What?”

I shook my head. “You think this is something beautiful and poetic and brave, but it’s not. It’s a mistake waiting to happen.”

His whole face fell. The light in his eyes dimmed instantly. I kept going. I had to. “You’re tired. You’re emotional. You’re riding high off a debut and sleepless nights and too much adrenaline. You don’t know what this is. You don’t even know what you want—”

“I know what I want.”

“No, you don’t,” I snapped.

The words came out harsher than I meant them to, and his mouth clamped shut. I could see it—like a door closing behind his eyes.

I tried to soften. “Jiyong, this will pass. You’ll meet someone. You’ll forget this ever happened.”

He looked at me then, like I was the worst kind of coward. And maybe I was.

“You really think this is just… what? Hormones?” His voice cracked. “You think I’m just a dumb kid with a crush?”

I didn’t answer.

Because I didn’t think that. Not really. Not deep down. But if I let him believe that—if I forced that story hard enough—we could both walk away unscathed.

His jaw tensed. His hands clenched.

“You know what hurts the most?” he said. “It’s not that you said no. It’s that you made me feel stupid for saying it.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I had no defense.

“You’re just young,” I added quickly. “This is infatuation. It’s nothing serious. It’ll pass.”

“It hasn’t,” he snapped. “It hasn’t passed, noona. I’ve felt this since the day I met you.”

My breath caught. He was staring straight through me. No hesitation, no filter.

“Tell me you don’t feel anything,” he said. “Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll drop it. I’ll never bring it up again. Just don’t lie.”

And I broke because I couldn’t lie but I couldn’t tell the truth either. So I did the only thing I knew how to do—I built a wall.

“You’re not in love with me, Jiyong,” I said, and this time, I didn’t try to soften it. “You’re in love with the idea of me.”

His face changed—subtle, like something caving in behind his eyes.

“You don’t know what you want. You’re chasing a fantasy because it makes you feel special, but this? Us?” I shook my head. “It would never work. You’d ruin your career. You’d ruin your friendship with my brother. And for what?”

I could see it—his hands curling into fists, his shoulders pulling in. “Don’t do that,” he said, voice cracking. “Don’t make me feel like an idiot for caring.”

“I’m trying to protect you,” I said, too fast, too defensive.

“By tearing me apart?” he snapped.

I shut my mouth.

“You don’t even believe the shit you’re saying,” he added, laughing bitterly. “You’re just scared.”

“Maybe I am,” I whispered. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

His face hardened. “Right. Got it.”

And then he stepped back. One stair. Two. Like I was something to step away from. Like I’d burned him.

“Next time you see me, don’t worry. I’ll keep it professional.”

“Jiyong—”

“No,” he said, without even looking at me. “You were right. I am young. I’ll get over it.”

But he didn’t. Not really. And I didn’t either. Because the truth was—he wasn’t wrong. I had felt something. Still did. But I thought if I said the cruel things first, it would protect us both.

⸻

The stairwell was long gone.But that night stayed with me like a bruise that never faded.

Even now, sitting in my office—empty coffee cups, papers scattered, lipstick smudged from his mouth—my chest felt heavy with it.

“You crushed me,” he said now, voice calmer, but hollow. “You made me feel like I was some dumb kid who didn’t know what he wanted.”

“You were eighteen,” I said, guilt slicing through me like glass. “I thought I was doing the right thing.” I knew I did.

“And now?”

I hesitated.

He stepped closer, tone suddenly gentler. “Now that I’m not that kid anymore. Now that I’ve proven I know exactly what I want. Do you still think this isn’t real?”

My heart twisted.

I looked down. “I don’t know.”

He nodded slowly, like he’d expected that. “You’re scared.”

I scoffed, defensive. “Of what?”

“Of the fact that I make you feel something.”

That hit harder than I wanted to admit.

I crossed my arms. “I’m not scared.”

“Then why are you still running from me?” he said, suddenly raw. “Why do you keep pretending this is just sex when we both know it’s not?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

Because I was scared.

Of what Seunghyun would think. Of what the label would say. Of how much of myself I’d already handed over to this boy—this man—who kept showing up even when I told him not to.

I sighed and turned away, resting my hands on the back of my chair. My voice cracked. “This would destroy everything.”

“Or it could be the best thing that ever happened to you,” he whispered behind me.

When I turned back around, he looked tired. Not just physically—emotionally. Like he was worn out from chasing me. From always being the one who gave more.

“Y/N, I can’t keep doing this,” he said quietly.

“Jiyong—”

“I love you.”

I froze.

He said it like he meant it. Like it had been living inside him for years. Like it wasn’t something he could take back now.

And it wrecked me.

“I—” My voice caught. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know if I can say it back.”

He nodded once. “Okay.”

And then he turned and walked toward the door.

My chest squeezed painfully. I opened my mouth. Closed it.

“Jiyong.”

He paused, hand on the doorknob.

“…Don’t leave.”

There was silence after I told him not to leave. A long, heavy silence. The kind that fills your lungs and makes it impossible to breathe.

He turned. Walked back to me slowly. His face unreadable now. His shoulders dropped.

But this time, he didn’t touch me. He stood in front of me, watching. Waiting. And when I looked up at him—really looked—I saw it again. That same boy from the stairwell. Still wanting. Still hoping.

But he didn’t move closer.

I tried to speak, to close the space between us with words. Something. Anything.

“Jiyong…” My voice cracked.

He raised a hand. Stopped me.

“Don’t,” he said softly. “Not unless you mean it.”

I swallowed hard, suddenly cold.

“I told you I loved you,” he said, looking at me like it hurt.

“I’m not asking you to say it back,” he said, quieter now. “But I’m done pretending I’m okay with being a secret. Or a mistake you keep trying to undo.”

His words hit harder than they should have. Because they were true. I’d been pretending since the start—pretending I had control, that I didn’t need him the way he needed me. That this was just sex. Just fun.

But it wasn’t.

Not anymore. Maybe not ever.

His fingers curled around the door handle.

“Jiyong…”

“Don’t,” he said again. Firmer this time. “If I stay, I’ll just keep loving you. And you’ll keep breaking me.”

It felt like something inside me collapsed.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I whispered. “I don’t know how to be with you.”

He finally looked at me—really looked at me. His eyes were glassy and then he opened the door. Cool hallway light spilled into the room. I wanted to call his name again. To stop him. But what would I even say? Come back so I can hurt you more?

So instead, I stood there.

And I watched the only person who ever made me feel alive walk out of my office without looking back.

The door clicked shut behind him.

And just like that, I was alone again. The silence hit louder than anything else. I stared at the door Jiyong had just slipped out of like it still held the echo of his presence.

He hadn’t said goodbye. No wink. No snarky last word. No “see you later, noona” in that singsong voice that used to make me want to throw something at his head.

Just… silence.

Because I’d done it again.

Pushed. Dismissed. Lied to both of us like that was easier than feeling too much.

I stood, pacing. Every step echoed louder than the last in the tight space.

What the hell were we doing? Playing? Pretending?

Or worse—was I just dragging him along for the ride, like I hadn’t already broken his heart once?

The memory of his face from years ago punched through me again—those sharp features twisted up in betrayal, disbelief. Hurt.

He’d looked at me like I was everything. And I’d told him he was nothing.

God, I was such a coward.

I sat back in my chair, the leather cold under my thighs, and stared at the empty space he’d stood in earlier—right between my knees, whispering against my skin, calling me dangerous with that infuriating, reverent grin. He didn’t look like a boy anymore and he didn’t kiss like one, either.

The office felt too quiet now. Too cold.

This time, he hadn’t followed me and I had no idea if he ever would again.

My phone buzzed.

Jiyong [10:36 pm]

I’m done waiting for you to decide if you want me or not.

I stared at the screen like it was burning a hole in my chest.

My heart broke quietly, the kind of crack that doesn’t show but feels like it’s splitting me in two.

I wanted to text back. Wanted to fix it.

But all I could do was freeze, trapped in the silence of the room.

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ you are in love

chapter summary: Gabby takes after you and Logan in more ways than one.

word count: 13.5k+ (25.1k+ in total)

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: this spans from after gabby's first birthday to right before her fourth birthday!

also, i know the pictures are a little weird, but i promise it'll make a ton of sense when you read!

there are two parts to this chapter!

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, fluff, slight smut, oral (m!receiving), separation anxiety from gabby, the avengers, mention of hydra, excessive use of the word 'froggies'

series masterlist - chapter 16 → chapter 17.5

14 Months

Logan placed the cup on Gabby’s tray table. “C’mon, princess. It’s milk. You like it.”

Gabby stared at Logan, then shifted her gaze to the cup. She tilted her head, her little hand smacking the tray table as if trying to emphasize her point without actually saying anything. Logan sighed, crouching slightly so they were eye level.

“C’mon, kid. It’s just milk. Ain’t nothin’ scary about it,” he said, his tone somewhere between coaxing and resigned.

Gabby puffed her cheeks out, seemingly unimpressed.

You walked into the kitchen, a bag of flour in your hands, your glasses slipping slightly down your nose. Gabby immediately turned her attention to you, her arms shooting up in your direction as she babbled something urgent.

“She’s been givin’ me the silent treatment,” Logan muttered, leaning against the counter as Gabby continued her one-sided negotiation for your attention. “Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

“Did you try asking nicely?” you teased, setting the flour down on the counter and adjusting your glasses.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “I’m not beggin’ a toddler to drink milk, sweetheart.”

“Maybe you should,” you said, smiling as you crouched next to Gabby’s highchair. “Hi, sweetie. Are you giving your daddy a hard time?”

Gabby’s response was to babble and reach for you again, her tiny fists opening and closing like she was trying to pull you in with sheer determination.

You glanced at Logan. “What did you say to her?”

“Didn’t say nothin’. Just gave her the cup and told her it’s milk.”

“Maybe she’s just not in the mood,” you said, unbuckling Gabby from her highchair and lifting her into your arms.

Gabby immediately leaned into you, one arm around your neck, the other resting on your chest along with her head. “Oh, I see.”

Logan watched as Gabby snuggled into your chest, her tiny hands fisting the fabric of your shirt. “What?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly. “What’s that face for?”

You looked at him over the top of your glasses, one hand supporting Gabby while the other rested on her back. “She knows what she wants, Logan. That’s all I’m saying.”

“She’s got milk in the cup right there,” he said, gesturing toward the untouched sippy cup on the tray. “Ain’t like I didn’t try.”

“I know, but…” You sighed softly, brushing your fingers over Gabby’s hair as she pressed closer. “She’s still used to breastfeeding. It’s a comfort thing for her.”

Logan crossed his arms, leaning against the counter with a small huff. “Comfort, huh? Thought we were weanin’ her off that.”

“We are,” you said, your voice patient but firm. “It’s just… gradual. She’s not ready to completely let go of it yet.”

Gabby let out a small whimper, nuzzling closer to you, and Logan’s expression softened slightly despite himself. “You’re tellin’ me she won’t drink from a cup ‘cause she wants you instead?”

“It’s not about not liking the milk, Logan,” you explained, adjusting Gabby’s position as she babbled quietly against you. “It’s about how she feels safe. Babies don’t just change overnight.”

Logan rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze flicking between Gabby and the cup on the highchair tray. “So what do we do? Let her decide when she’s ready?”

You nodded, rocking Gabby gently in your arms. “Pretty much. She’s not going to nurse forever. But for now, when she’s feeling clingy or fussy, it’s okay to give her what she needs.”

He sighed again, but it lacked any real frustration. “You’re the expert on this, sweetheart. I’m just tryin’ to help.”

“And you are,” you assured him, offering a small smile. “She’s just a little stubborn. Wonder where she gets that from.”

Logan snorted, his smirk returning. “You sure you wanna go there?”

“Absolutely,” you said, your tone teasing as Gabby let out another small babble, her grip on you loosening slightly. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you’re the one who told me we’d have an easy kid.”

“Yeah, and look how that turned out,” he said, shaking his head. “Guess I should’ve known better.”

Gabby shifted in your arms, turning her head just enough to peek up at Logan. Her little hand reached out, fingers wiggling toward him.

“What’s this?” he said, stepping closer and letting her grab his finger. “You makin’ peace now?”

“She wants to be included,” you said, smiling as Logan gently squeezed her hand. “It’s her way of saying, ‘nice try, dad, but maybe next time.’”

Logan chuckled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Gabby’s head. “Alright, kid. You win this round.”

Gabby gurgled in response, her small fingers still clutching his. You glanced between the two of them, your heart swelling at the quiet, tender moment. Logan caught your gaze, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you said, your smile widening. “I just… love watching you with her.”

“Yeah?” he said, his smirk softening as he brushed a hand over Gabby’s hair. “Well, I love watchin’ you with her, too.”

Gabby let out a loud, happy squeal, as if she understood the sentiment, and both of you laughed. She squeezed Logan’s finger again before turning around in your hold. Letting go of Logan’s hand, she reached her arms out to him, her tiny face lighting up as she exclaimed, “dada!”

Your breath caught, and your head snapped toward Logan. “Did she just—?”

“Yeah,” Logan said, his voice rough and low like he was trying to keep himself steady. His eyes softened as he reached out, taking Gabby from your arms and holding her close. “Say it again, princess.”

Gabby blinked up at him, her chubby hands reaching for his face. She repeated it, her tone a little wobblier this time, but just as deliberate. “Dada!”

Logan’s lips twitched, the smallest smile breaking through his usually steady demeanor. “That’s right, kid. I’m your dada.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, brushing a hand over Gabby’s hair. “She’s been saving that one, hasn’t she?”

“She’s been holdin’ out,” Logan muttered, his thumb brushing gently over Gabby’s cheek. “You’re somethin’ else, kiddo.”

Gabby giggled, clearly delighted by his reaction, and leaned forward to plant a drooly kiss on his jawline. Logan froze for a moment, then let out a gruff laugh. “Guess that means I’m forgiven for the milk fiasco.”

You smiled, adjusting your glasses as you leaned against the counter. “She’s got a good sense of timing. First birthday hugs, and now her first ‘dada.’”

Logan shook his head, still holding Gabby like she was the most precious thing in the world. “Didn’t think it’d hit this hard,” he admitted quietly, almost to himself.

“It’s a big deal,” you said softly, your voice warm as you placed a hand on his arm. “And she wanted you to know.”

Gabby babbled something unintelligible, her little hand patting Logan’s shoulder before she turned her wide eyes toward you. She reached out, her fingers wiggling in your direction. “Dada!” she said again, like she wanted to make sure you heard it too.

“She’s on a roll now,” you said, laughing as you took her tiny hand in yours. “What about ‘mama,’ Gabby? Can you say that?”

Gabby blinked at you, tilting her head. She let out a happy squeak but didn’t offer the word you were hoping for. Logan smirked, his free hand resting on your lower back. “She’ll get there. She’s just startin’.”

“I know,” you said, giving Gabby’s hand a light squeeze before letting go. “Still, I wouldn’t mind hearing it soon.”

Gabby, oblivious to your hopes, had already turned her attention back to Logan’s face. She reached for his nose, poking it with a clumsy but determined finger. “Dada!”

“Yeah, I get it, kid,” Logan said, his smirk widening. “You’re proud of yourself.”

“She should be,” you said, smiling as you reached up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “It’s a big milestone.”

Logan nodded, his expression softening as he looked down at her. “Yeah. It is.”

Gabby yawned suddenly, her tiny body leaning heavily against Logan’s chest. You stepped closer, brushing a hand over her back. “I think all the excitement’s catching up to her.”

“She’s had a big day,” Logan agreed, shifting her in his arms. “I’ll get her down for a nap.”

You followed as Logan carried her toward the nursery, your heart feeling impossibly full as you watched the two of them together. The moment was simple, but it was everything.

---

He was getting old. It was the first time Logan had ever had a thought like that. Sure, it wasn’t much, just two barely noticeable grey streaks on the side of his head.

If you noticed it, then you never said a word to him.

It was the first week of summer break, and after feeding Gabby and handing her over to Jubilee and Rogue for a girl’s day out, you got to relax for an hour before your summer class. Though Logan didn’t love the idea, it was only for 8 weeks, and you liked having structure in your life and something to do.

But your meticulously planned schedule flew out the window the second you saw Logan come out of the shower, no shirt, grey sweatpants, and wet hair. The fact that those two small grey streaks matched perfectly with his sweats didn’t help much either—but you weren’t going to tell him that part.

Logan moved about the room, utterly unaware of the havoc he was wreaking on your already fragile concentration. You sat on the edge of the bed, textbook in hand, though you hadn’t flipped a page in several minutes. Your gaze traced the curve of his shoulders, the broad expanse of his chest, the rivulets of water still clinging to his skin. Each motion was unhurried, almost lazy, as if he had all the time in the world. His damp hair clung to his forehead, a few errant strands trailing down the sides of his face.

Your pulse quickened, a warmth blooming in your chest and spreading lower. The air in the room felt heavier, thicker, and it had nothing to do with the summer heat.

"You’re awful quiet over there, darlin'," Logan said, his gruff voice cutting through your thoughts. He tossed the towel he’d been using onto the back of the chair by the desk. "That’s usually a bad sign."

You blinked, startled out of your daze, and scrambled to focus on the book in your lap. "I’m… just trying to get ahead," you mumbled, though the words felt hollow even to you.

Logan’s lips twitched in a half-smile as he crossed the room toward the dresser. "Right. Sure you are."

Your grip on the book tightened as you tried—and failed—not to let your gaze follow him. Each movement was a quiet kind of power, effortless and magnetic. By the time he turned back around, you’d already abandoned any pretense of studying.

Closing the book and setting it aside, you rose from the bed. Your bare feet barely made a sound on the hardwood floor as you approached him. Logan raised an eyebrow, the smirk on his face deepening. "What’s this all about?"

You didn’t answer right away. Hesitation warred with resolve as you stopped just in front of him, your hands hovering uncertainly over his chest. His skin was warm, damp from the shower, and the faint scent of his soap mixed with something that was uniquely Logan—earthy, rugged, comforting.

Finally, you let your hands settle on his chest, your palms resting lightly against the firm muscle. Logan’s smirk faded, replaced by something softer, more curious. His hands came to rest on your hips, steadying you. "Darlin…?"

You leaned up, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth before nudging him backward toward the chair. He didn’t resist, though the look he gave you was laced with intrigue. When the backs of his legs hit the chair, he lowered himself into it, his hands never leaving your waist.

Logan tilted his head, his dark eyes watching you closely. "What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?"

You stepped between his knees, your eyes flicking nervously to his face. He raised an eyebrow, clearly expecting you to straddle him, but you had something else in mind. Slowly, you sank to your knees in front of him, your hands trailing down his thighs as you settled.

“Y/N,” he said, your name coming out low and gravelly. His eyes darkened, one hand moving to cup the back of your head. “What’re you up to?”

You glanced up at him, your glasses slipping down your nose slightly as you leaned forward. You didn’t answer, instead pressing a soft kiss to the exposed skin just above the waistband of his sweatpants. Logan’s breath hitched, his fingers curling gently into your hair. Taking that as encouragement, you began to work your way lower, trailing kisses and soft, teasing licks along the defined lines of his lower abdomen.

Logan shifted in his seat, his free hand gripping the armrest as you reached for the waistband of his pants. He lifted his hips slightly, letting you tug them down just enough to free him. You bit your lip at the sight, a flush spreading across your cheeks as you looked up at him. His chest was rising and falling in steady but heavier breaths, his sharp gaze fixed entirely on you.

You started slow, your lips brushing over the sensitive head, your tongue flicking out to taste him. Logan groaned, his hand tightening in your hair but not pushing you, letting you set the pace. Encouraged, you began to take more of him into your mouth, your tongue swirling and your cheeks hollowing as you moved.

“Jesus,” he muttered, his voice rough and strained as you picked up your rhythm. “You… you don’t have to… fuck…”

Logan’s breathing grew heavier, his hand gripping the arm of the chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He muttered something under his breath, too low for you to catch, but the way his hips lifted slightly off the chair told you everything you needed to know.

When you finally pulled back, your lips leaving him with a soft, wet sound, Logan’s eyes were dark with need. You pressed a kiss to the base of his length before dragging your tongue back up, savoring the way his body shuddered under your touch. He muttered your name, low and ragged, and the sound made your chest tighten in the best way.

You glanced up at him, your glasses slipping slightly down your nose, and caught the way his chest rose and fell with every uneven breath. "Logan," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, before you let your lips part again, taking the head of him back into your mouth. This time, you swirled your tongue in deliberate, slow circles, savoring the salty tang of his skin. The hand in your hair tensed, but still, he let you lead, his restraint making your stomach tighten with heat.

Sliding your hand along his length, you followed the motion of your lips, keeping the rhythm unhurried and teasing. You pulled back just enough to kiss down the side of him, your lips soft against the thick vein there, before trailing your tongue along his shaft. Logan exhaled sharply, his hips twitching as he muttered a string of curses under his breath.

"Jesus, darlin’," he rasped, his voice breaking slightly. "You… fuck, you’re…"

You looked up again, meeting his gaze as you kissed your way back to the tip, letting your tongue flick over the sensitive slit before taking him in deeper this time. The hand gripping the armrest of the chair tightened, his knuckles going white as his other hand cupped the back of your head, guiding but never forcing. You could hear his breathing grow rougher, each groan rumbling low in his chest as you worked your mouth over him.

Logan’s control began to slip as you took him deeper, your tongue flattening against him as your movements became more deliberate. You could feel his thighs tense under your hands, his body responding to every flick of your tongue and every hollowing of your cheeks. His grip in your hair tightened slightly, a quiet growl escaping him as he tipped his head back.

"Darlin', you keep this up, and… shit," he muttered, his voice strained. "You’re gonna finish me right here."

Encouraged by his reaction, you pressed your hands to his thighs, grounding yourself as you took him fully, letting him hit the back of your throat. Logan’s growl deepened, his hips jerking slightly as you bobbed your head, the sounds of your efforts mingling with his labored breathing. His thumb brushed the side of your face almost tenderly, a stark contrast to the desperation in his movements.

It didn’t take long before his control snapped. His grip in your hair stilled you as he released with a groan that bordered on a growl, the warmth of him spilling into your mouth. You swallowed as much as you could, some of it escaping the corner of your lips and landing in a small streak on one lens of your glasses.

You pulled back slowly, licking your lips as you looked up at him. Logan’s chest heaved, his gaze heavy-lidded and dark as he watched you. His hand moved from your hair to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your flushed skin. "You… fuckin’… unbelievable," he murmured, his voice still rough.

Rising to your feet, you adjusted your glasses, noticing the streak on one lens. Without a word, you took them off, brought the lens to your mouth, and ran your tongue over the spot, cleaning it with a deliberate swipe. Logan’s eyes widened slightly, his lips parting as if to say something, but no words came out. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, your movements unhurried and warm.

"See you later," you said softly, your tone matter-of-fact as you stepped back. The flush on your cheeks remained, but you didn’t let it stop you from moving toward the door.

Logan’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist before you could leave. "You can’t just walk away after that," he said, his voice low and still tinged with disbelief.

You glanced back at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I have a class, honey."

"Class can wait," he growled, pulling you closer. His grip was firm but gentle, and the look in his eyes made your stomach flip. "I’m not done with you yet."

"Logan," you said, your voice soft but resolute as you leaned in to kiss him again. This time, it was slower, deeper, leaving him with no doubt about how much you wanted to stay. When you pulled back, your fingers brushed over his jaw. "I’ll be back soon. Promise."

Logan sighed, releasing your wrist but not before trailing his fingers down to your hand, giving it a light squeeze. "You’d better be," he muttered, his smirk returning, though it was softer now. "We’re not done."

You smiled, grabbing your bag from the chair near the door and slipping out of the room. As you walked down the hall, you could still feel the lingering heat of his gaze on you, your heart racing at the thought of what was waiting for you when you got back.

---

As Logan walked into the bedroom, the first thing he smelt was the scent of Gabby’s shampoo. It wasn’t a strong scent—you used a scent-free shampoo, but he could still make out what it was.

Logan heard the telltale splash before he even opened the bathroom door. His brow furrowed, and his instincts kicked in. “Everything alright in here?”

Pushing the door open, he stopped short. There you were, sitting in the tub with Gabby in front of you. The baby was giggling wildly, splashing her hands in the water and sending little waves onto the tiled floor.

You glanced up, cheeks flushed as you kept Gabby steady in your arm. “I—uh—it’s not what it looks like,” you said quickly, your voice tinged with embarrassment.

Logan’s eyebrows raised, and his lips quirked into a smirk. “Darlin’, it looks like you climbed into the tub with her.”

You sighed, adjusting Gabby so she couldn’t slip as she reached for the floating rubber duck. “She was fussy,” you explained, your tone defensive. “I tried washing her hair, but she started crying, and... well, this seemed like the best solution.”

Logan crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe as he took in the scene. “So your solution was to hop in?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, though the flush in your cheeks deepened. “And it worked. She stopped crying, didn’t she?”

Gabby punctuated your point with a squeal of delight, smacking the water hard enough to splash Logan’s jeans. He didn’t even flinch, though his smirk widened.

“Well, looks like the kid’s havin’ a good time now,” he admitted, his voice laced with amusement. “But you’re gonna soak the whole floor if she keeps at it.”

“I’m aware,” you muttered, brushing some wet hair out of your face. “I’ll mop it up when we’re done.”

Logan stepped further into the bathroom, crouching down by the tub. Gabby immediately turned her attention to him, holding out the rubber duck like an offering. “You want me to join in, too?” he asked her, his tone teasing.

“Logan,” you warned, but your voice held a laugh. “Don’t even think about it.”

He chuckled, taking the duck and giving it a squeeze so it let out a loud squeak. Gabby’s eyes lit up, and she splashed harder, sending water over the edge of the tub and onto his boots.

“Alright, alright,” Logan said, handing the duck back to her. “You’re lucky you’re cute, kid.”

“She’s lucky she didn’t scare the life out of me,” you said, sitting back slightly as Gabby occupied herself with the duck. “I thought I was going to break the no-cry streak we’ve had this week.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he reached out to brush his knuckles lightly against your damp cheek. “You’re doin’ fine, Y/N. You always do.”

You gave him a small smile, though your face was still warm. “Well, next time, maybe you can try washing her hair instead.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. “You think I wouldn’t?”

“I know you wouldn’t,” you teased, leaning back further in the tub.

Gabby let out another happy squeal, turning to wave the duck in Logan’s direction again. He took it, gave it another squeeze, and handed it back. “Alright, princess. You enjoy your bath. But don’t get too used to this, or your mom’s gonna start recruitin’ me for backup.”

You laughed softly, adjusting Gabby’s position as she reached for another bath toy. “Don’t tempt me.”

Logan’s grin stayed in place as he stood, grabbing a towel from the nearby rack. “Guess I’ll leave you two to it. Holler if you need me to mop the floor.”

“Will do,” you said with a laugh, watching him head for the door.

He paused, glancing back over his shoulder. His eyes lingered on you for a moment, warm and steady. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

Your cheeks flushed again, and you looked down at Gabby. “Go on, Logan. We’ll see you in a bit.”

Logan chuckled softly, shaking his head as he left. “You say that like I’m the one who needs convincing.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with Gabby’s happy babbling and the soft slosh of water.

“Your daddy’s impossible,” you muttered, leaning down to kiss the top of Gabby’s head.

Gabby squeaked in response, holding up the duck with an excited grin, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, you’re just as bad,” you said affectionately, brushing her damp hair back. “But I love you both anyway.”

---

18 Months

As Gabby cried, she held on tight to Nova, the stuffed bear soaked in her tears and snot. The crying was loud, too much for Logan—his enhanced senses weren’t helping him in this moment.

Rogue and Jubilee had no luck calming her, and neither did Laura. Jean crouched down in front of Gabby, her hands reached out but not touching, one thing that seemed to set her off more. “Hey, Gabby. It’s alright.”

Gabby cried harder, her tiny hands clutching Nova so tightly it looked like she might tear a seam. Logan stood nearby, his arms crossed, his jaw tight.

Logan finally let out a frustrated sigh, stepping closer. "She’s not gonna stop till Y/N gets back," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Jean glanced over her shoulder at him. "She’s got some serious separation anxiety. I haven’t seen her this upset in months."

"She’s not used to her ma bein’ gone," Logan said gruffly, kneeling down beside Gabby. "Hey, princess. You’re alright. She’ll be back soon."

Gabby didn’t respond, her wailing only getting louder as she buried her face in Nova.

Rogue appeared in the doorway, holding a cup of warm milk. "Tried this?" she asked, handing it to Logan.

He shook his head, taking the cup and crouching down again. "C’mon, kid. You love milk. Just take a sip."

Gabby turned her head slightly, peeking at him through tear-filled eyes, but she didn’t budge. She let out another loud sob, and Logan’s frustration was clear as he stood back up. "She’s not takin’ it. Damn it."

"Logan," Jean said gently, rising to her feet. "This isn’t your fault. She’s just a baby, and she misses Y/N. You couldn’t have stopped it."

"Yeah, well, I’m supposed to be able to handle it," he said, his voice low but rough. "Told Y/N to go do that lecture. Told her I could take care of Gabby just fine."

"And you can," Jean said, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "You’re doing your best. Sometimes they just need their moms, you know?"

Before Logan could respond, the sound of the front door opening and closing echoed through the mansion. Logan’s head snapped toward the sound, and Gabby immediately perked up, her cries faltering as she hiccupped.

"She’s back," Logan said, his tone heavy with relief.

You walked into the room moments later, still in your work clothes, your bag slung over your shoulder. Your hair was slightly disheveled, and there was a tired look in your eyes, but the second you saw Gabby, your expression softened.

"Oh, sweetheart," you said, hurrying over to her. "What happened?"

Gabby dropped Nova and reached out to you, her little arms trembling. "Mama!" she cried, her voice breaking.

You immediately scooped her up, holding her close as she clung to you. "I’m here, baby. I’m here," you murmured, kissing the top of her head as you swayed gently.

Logan stepped back, his arms crossed as he watched the two of you. "She’s been cryin’ for you all afternoon," he said, his voice quiet.

You glanced at him, guilt written all over your face. "I shouldn’t have gone," you said softly, pressing your cheek against Gabby’s head. "I knew she’d struggle, and I still left."

"Don’t do that," Logan said, his tone firmer now. He stepped closer, his eyes meeting yours. "I told you to do the lecture ‘cause I knew it’d mean somethin’ to you. You’re not givin’ that up, Y/N. Not for this."

"But look at her," you said, your voice trembling as you gestured to Gabby. "She’s been miserable without me. What kind of mom does that?"

"The kind that’s tryin’ to show her kid it’s okay to have her own life," Logan said, his voice low but steady. He reached out, his hand resting lightly on your arm. "She’s upset now, yeah. But she’ll get used to it. You can’t stop doin’ what you love ‘cause you’re afraid of her cryin’. You’re still her mom, whether you’re home or not."

You looked down at Gabby, who had finally calmed in your arms, her little face pressed against your chest as she hiccupped softly. Her tiny hand clutched the fabric of your shirt like a lifeline.

"Logan..." you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head, his grip on your arm tightening just slightly. "You’re not givin’ up somethin’ that makes you happy, Y/N. Not for me, not for Gabby, not for anyone. We’ll figure it out, alright? But you’re not stoppin’."

Tears pricked at your eyes as you nodded, your throat tight. "Okay," you said quietly, leaning into him slightly. "Okay."

Logan’s lips twitched into a faint smile as he rested his hand on the back of Gabby’s head. "Good. Now, why don’t you go sit down? Kid’s worn herself out cryin’ for you."

You let out a soft laugh, brushing a hand over Gabby’s hair. "Yeah. I think we could both use a break."

---

21 Months

“Gabby!”

You walked out of the bedroom to see Gabby running down the hall, her tiny feet pattering against the hardwood floor, no shirt on, and her dark curls an absolute mess. She let out a squeal of delight, her little arms pumping as she tried to make her escape.

"Ah, ah! Gabby, where are you going?" you called, adjusting your glasses as you stepped into the hallway.

From the nursery, Logan's gruff voice followed a second later. "Gabriella." His tone was firm but not angry, just enough to warn her she was pushing her luck.

Gabby, undeterred, turned to look at you, her big, mischievous eyes sparkling before she giggled and kept running, her chubby belly bouncing with each step.

Logan appeared in the doorway of the nursery, a tiny red sweater in one hand, his other hand braced against the frame as he let out a sharp exhale. "She was this close to bein’ dressed," he muttered, pinching his fingers together. "Turned my back for one damn second—next thing I know, she’s gone."

You covered your mouth, trying to hide your laughter. "She’s fast."

"Yeah, no kiddin’." Logan rolled his shoulders, shaking his head as he started after her. "Alright, kid, fun’s over. Get back here."

Gabby let out another squeal and picked up speed, but she only made it a few more steps before she miscalculated, stumbling over her own excitement. Before she could hit the floor, Logan was already there, scooping her up mid-fall like it was second nature.

"You think you're funny, huh?" he grumbled, shifting her against his hip. Gabby shrieked with laughter, kicking her legs wildly.

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow as you took in the chaos. "Need some help?"

Logan huffed, holding up the tiny sweater. "If you think you can get her to sit still long enough to get this on, be my guest."

Gabby squirmed in his arms, her little hands grabbing at his shirt, but her giggles hadn’t stopped. You reached over, gently smoothing down her wild curls. "Gabby, sweetheart, don’t you want to get dressed? It’s cold outside."

Gabby turned to you, blinking, her small face thoughtful. "No."

Logan smirked, shaking his head. "Well, there ya have it."

You sighed, pushing your glasses up your nose before looking back at Gabby. "Okay, how about this—you let Daddy put your sweater on, and then you can pick out any socks you want. Even the ones with the frogs."

Gabby’s eyes lit up. "Froggies?"

"Yep," you confirmed. "But only if you put your sweater on first."

Gabby thought about it for a second, then wiggled in Logan’s arms, holding out her hands toward the sweater. "’Kay!"

Logan shot you a look. "So that’s how you do it?"

You shrugged, smiling. "Bribery works every time."

Logan grumbled something under his breath but didn’t argue, tugging the sweater over Gabby’s head while she babbled excitedly about her frog socks. Once she was fully dressed, he set her down, and she immediately took off running back toward the nursery.

"You know she’s just gonna fight you on pants next, right?" Logan muttered, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he watched her disappear into the room.

"Probably," you admitted, adjusting your glasses again. "But one battle at a time."

Logan smirked, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. "You ever consider joinin’ negotiations for the U.N.? ‘Cause I think you just diffused a crisis."

You laughed, leaning into his touch. "I’ll put it on my resume."

Logan chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before nodding toward the nursery. "C’mon, let’s go see if she’s found those damn frog socks yet."

With a smile, you followed him, already bracing for the next round of negotiations with your tiny, very opinionated daughter.

---

2 Years

“Okay, and what do we say to Scott for cutting you your banana?” You looked at Gabby expectantly as she shoved a slice in her mouth.

Gabby chewed, her little legs kicking under the table as she looked at Scott. Then, without a single ounce of concern, she looked away and reached for another piece.

Scott exhaled through his nose, arms crossed as he leaned against the counter. "You're welcome, Gabby."

You adjusted your glasses, tilting your head at her. "Gabby, sweetheart, what do we say?"

Gabby popped another piece of banana into her mouth, completely ignoring you.

Scott raised an eyebrow. "She does know how to say 'thank you,' right?"

"Of course she does," you said, frowning slightly. "Gabby, you say it to Jean, to Jubilee, to Rogue… Why won’t you say it to Scott?"

Gabby kicked her feet again, still chewing, still not looking at Scott.

Scott scoffed. "Wow. Just me, huh?"

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "I don’t get it. She’s never done this before."

The kitchen door swung open, and Logan walked in. Scott watched him for a second, then said, "There’s still some coffee left if you want more."

Logan grunted in acknowledgment, pouring himself a cup.

You turned toward him, arms crossed. "Logan."

He glanced at you over his cup, already looking suspicious. "What?"

"Say 'thank you' to Scott."

Logan blinked. "What?"

"Say 'thank you,'" you repeated, nodding toward Scott. "Gabby won’t say it to him, so maybe if she sees you do it, she’ll follow along."

Logan narrowed his eyes. "You serious?"

"Yes," you said firmly, tilting your head toward Gabby. "She learns by watching us. Go on."

Logan exhaled through his nose, looking at Scott like this was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever been asked to do. "Thanks," he muttered, voice gruff. Then, after a pause, he added, "For doin’ the absolute bare minimum."

Scott rolled his eyes. "That’s the best I’m gonna get, isn’t it?"

"Yep," Logan said, taking a sip of his coffee.

And then—right on cue—Gabby, who had been silently observing the whole exchange, clapped her hands together and proudly parroted, "thanks, Scott!"

You stared. Scott stared. Logan choked on his coffee.

Scott pointed at her. "Oh, so now she says it?"

You covered your mouth, trying to suppress a laugh. "Gabby, sweetheart, why did you wait until now?"

Gabby looked at Logan, then back at her plate. “Dada no say.” She then briefly pointed at Scott before shoving another banana slice in her mouth.

Logan stared at Gabby, then at you, then back at Gabby. His expression was unreadable for a long moment, and then he let out a low scoff.

"You kiddin' me?" he muttered, running a hand down his face.

Scott, who had been watching with barely concealed amusement, crossed his arms. "So, just to be clear—she won’t say ‘thank you’ to me because you don’t say it to me?"

Gabby, still happily munching on her banana, didn’t react. But the way she pointed briefly at Scott again—before stuffing another slice into her mouth—made it painfully obvious.

Logan exhaled sharply. "I say ‘thank you.’"

Scott arched a brow. "To me?"

Logan didn’t answer right away, which was answer enough. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile, but Scott was clearly enjoying this too much to let it go.

"Right," Scott said, nodding. "So, let me get this straight—Gabby picks up on everything, and you’ve got no problem thanking Jean, Rogue, or hell, even Remy, but when it comes to me, nothing?"

Logan grunted, grabbing his coffee and taking a long sip. "Ain’t my fault she’s got selective hearing."

Gabby, as if sensing her moment, turned her big, expectant eyes to Logan and mimicked his gruff tone. "Dada no say."

Jean, who had just walked into the kitchen, immediately turned on her heel and left, clearly not wanting to be caught in whatever was about to unfold.

Scott made a vague gesture in her direction. "Even Jean won’t save you from this one."

You adjusted your glasses, glancing between Logan and Gabby. "Well, it’s only fair, Logan. She learns by watching us. If you won’t say it, why should she?"

Logan sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose before leveling Gabby with a look. "You really gonna do me like this, kid?"

Gabby, completely unfazed, held out the last slice of banana to Logan like an offering. "Dada say."

Scott’s smirk widened. "She’s got you cornered, old man."

Logan’s jaw ticked, and for a second, you almost felt bad for him. Almost. But then he huffed, reaching out to pluck the tiny banana slice from Gabby’s fingers. His gaze flicked to Scott, and with all the enthusiasm of someone getting their teeth pulled, he muttered, "Thanks."

Scott clapped his hands together once. "There it is!"

Gabby clapped too, clearly delighted, before she declared, "Dada say!" as if announcing his victory.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. "There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

Logan shot you a look, but you just sipped your coffee, feigning innocence.

Scott leaned against the counter, smug as ever. "You know, Logan, I never thought I’d see the day where a two-year-old forced you into basic manners."

Logan scowled. "Ain’t like I don’t got manners."

Scott shrugged. "Not to me, apparently."

Gabby, clearly satisfied with how things had played out, wiggled in her chair and reached for Nova, who had been sitting beside her on the table. She clutched the stuffed bear to her chest, then looked at Logan expectantly.

You nudged his arm lightly. "You know what to do."

Logan rolled his eyes but leaned forward anyway, brushing a hand over Gabby’s hair. "Thanks for sharin’, kid."

Gabby beamed, kicking her legs happily before reaching for her sippy cup.

Scott folded his arms. "So, what I’m hearing is… I have Gabby to thank for finally getting some basic human decency out of you."

Logan turned slowly to Scott, his expression flat. "You pushin’ your luck, Summers."

Scott smirked. "Nah, I think I just won."

Logan grumbled something under his breath, but you just leaned into his side, laughing softly. Gabby was already onto the next thing, babbling happily to Nova, completely unaware of the chaos she’d just unleashed.

You rested a hand on Logan’s arm. "Just admit it. She got you."

Logan exhaled sharply, glancing at Gabby, who was still grinning like she’d just solved the world’s greatest mystery. Despite himself, his lips twitched into a smirk. "Yeah, yeah. She got me."

Scott took a sip of his coffee. "Damn right, she did."

You shook your head, grabbing Gabby out of her high seat. “Alright, sweetie. Do you want to put on a dress for your birthday party?”

Gabby, still clutching Nova, looked at you with wide, thoughtful eyes. “No.”

You sighed, adjusting her on your hip. “Gabby…”

“No,” she repeated, shaking her head for emphasis.

Logan, who had been watching the whole exchange with his arms crossed, smirked. “She’s got an opinion, that’s for sure.”

You shot him a look before turning back to Gabby. “Okay, what if you pick the dress?”

Gabby perked up slightly, her little fingers curling around Nova’s fur. “Froggies?”

You blinked. “What?”

“She wants the frog dress,” Logan said, shaking his head with an amused huff.

You narrowed your eyes. “She doesn’t have a frog dress.”

Gabby squirmed in your arms, her little hand reaching toward the hallway. “Froggies!”

Logan chuckled. “Guess we’re about to find out what the hell she’s talkin’ about.”

With a sigh, you carried Gabby to her room, Logan following close behind. The moment you stepped inside, she wriggled to get down. You set her on the floor, and she toddled over to the dresser, pulling open one of the lower drawers with determination.

Sure enough, she pulled out a green dress with tiny, barely noticeable frog prints on it.

You stared. “Where did this come from?”

Logan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I think Jean got it for her last month. Said she saw it and thought of Gabby.”

You exhaled, rubbing your temple. “Of course she did.”

Gabby held the dress up to you proudly. “Froggies!”

You smiled, taking it from her. “Okay, okay. Froggies it is.”

Gabby squealed happily, clapping her hands.

“Guess that settles that,” Logan muttered.

You knelt to help Gabby into the dress, her little fingers grasping at the fabric as you slipped it over her head. She wiggled in excitement once it was on, patting the front of it proudly.

“Froggies,” she announced again, spinning in a tiny circle.

“You look beautiful,” you told her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Gabby beamed up at you before turning to Logan expectantly. “Dada?”

Logan smirked, crouching down. “Yeah, kid. You look real cute.”

Satisfied, Gabby threw her arms around Nova again, practically vibrating with excitement.

You stood, smoothing out your own shirt as you glanced at Logan. “Alright. One crisis averted.”

He smirked. “For now.”

You shot him a look before moving to scoop Gabby back into your arms. “Come on, birthday girl. Let’s go party.”

Gabby avoided your arms and walked over to her small play boutique, grabbing two green sparkly hair clips. She clumsily put one in her hair, the clip hanging on the end of a curl, before toddling out of her room and heading straight for Laura’s.

Logan, still leaning against the doorway, watched her go with an amused huff. “Where’s she off to now?”

You adjusted your glasses, following a few steps behind. “I think she wants Laura to match.”

Gabby reached Laura’s door and, without hesitation, pushed it open like she owned the place. Laura sat on the floor near her bed, flipping through a book. She barely looked up as Gabby marched over, stopping right in front of her.

Laura finally glanced at her, her brows pulling together as Gabby held out the second clip with all the seriousness a two-year-old could muster.

“What?” Laura asked flatly.

Gabby thrust the clip closer to Laura’s face. “Froggies.”

Laura blinked. “That’s not a frog.”

Gabby frowned, her little fingers tightening around the clip. “Froggies,” she insisted, waving it slightly.

You stepped into the room, watching the exchange with a small smile. “She wants you to wear it, Laura.”

Laura’s eyes flicked between you and Gabby before settling back on the sparkly clip. She hesitated for a moment, then exhaled through her nose. “Fine.”

Gabby squealed, delighted, and immediately climbed into Laura’s lap, her chubby hands reaching for her hair.

Laura stiffened. “Wait—”

But it was too late. Gabby shoved the clip into Laura’s dark hair, managing to secure it at a slightly awkward angle. She patted Laura’s head with satisfaction, then sat back to admire her work.

Laura reached up, touching the clip. “It’s crooked.”

Gabby beamed. “Match!”

Logan, now leaning in the doorway, let out a short laugh. “Guess you’re stuck with it, kid.”

Laura gave him a flat look but didn’t take the clip out. Instead, she picked up her book again, as if accepting her fate.

Gabby clapped her hands, clearly proud of herself, then slid off Laura’s lap and grabbed her hand. “Come.”

Laura glanced at you, then at Gabby. “Where?”

Gabby tugged on her arm. “Party.”

You crouched beside them, brushing a stray curl from Gabby’s face. “She wants you to come downstairs with us.”

Laura glanced down at her book, then back at Gabby, who was still holding onto her hand. Finally, she let out a small sigh and closed the book. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Gabby cheered, bouncing on her feet before grabbing your hand, too. She looked up at Logan and pointed. “Dada, come.��

Logan smirked. “Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’.”

Together, the four of you headed downstairs, Gabby practically vibrating with excitement. As you reached the bottom step, Jean spotted you first, her lips twitching when she saw the clip in Laura’s hair.

“Nice accessory, Laura,” Jean teased.

Laura crossed her arms. “It wasn’t my choice.”

Gabby reached for Jean’s hand, tugging at her fingers. “Cake?”

Jean laughed softly, glancing at you. “Guess we better get to it before she starts a riot.”

You smiled, adjusting your glasses. “Yeah, let’s not risk that.”

Logan squeezed your hand briefly before nodding toward the kitchen. “C’mon, birthday girl. Let’s get you that cake.”

Gabby let out a loud, excited “Cake!” and the entire room seemed to brighten.

The kitchen was already packed with people by the time you all stepped inside. Balloons were tied to chairs, streamers hung from the ceiling, and a large birthday banner stretched across the back wall. The X-Men had gone all out—Jean, Jubilee, and Kitty had taken the lead on decorations, while Scott had begrudgingly handled the candles and party logistics.

Gabby wiggled excitedly in your arms, her little hands grabbing at the air. “Cake!”

“Alright, alright,” Logan grumbled, though there was amusement in his voice as he took her from you, resting her against his hip. “Let’s get to it before you explode, kid.”

Jubilee bounced up beside you, a camera in hand. “Okay, hold up. We gotta do the whole ‘big entrance’ thing. She’s the birthday girl!”

Rogue rolled her eyes. “Jubes, she’s two. She’s already been in the room twice today.”

“It’s about presentation,” Jubilee argued, already snapping pictures.

Gabby, unaware of the debate, clapped her hands and wiggled again. “Cake!”

Jean, standing by the table where the cake was waiting, shook her head with a fond smile. “I think she’s more interested in the sugar than the entrance.”

“She’s got priorities,” Logan said, smirking as he set her down in her high chair.

As soon as she was settled, everyone gathered around. The cake was placed in front of her, a small but beautifully decorated creation with green frosting swirls and two candles shaped like frogs—Jean’s handiwork, no doubt.

Gabby gasped dramatically, pointing. “Froggies!”

“I told you she’d love it,” Jean said, nudging Scott.

Scott, arms crossed, just muttered, “Yeah, yeah.”

Jubilee gestured wildly with her camera. “Okay, light the candles! I need prime footage of the big moment.”

Logan grabbed the lighter, flicking the small flame to life before glancing at you. “You wanna do it?”

You smiled, taking the lighter from him and carefully lighting both candles. The tiny flames flickered, reflecting in Gabby’s wide, fascinated eyes.

“Alright, everybody,” Jean said, lifting her hands in preparation. “On three—”

“One, two, three!”

The entire room erupted into an enthusiastic, if slightly off-key, rendition of Happy Birthday. Gabby looked around in awe, her little hands gripping the edges of her high chair tray as everyone sang to her.

By the time the song ended, Logan leaned in close, tapping her nose gently. “Go on, kid. Blow ‘em out.”

Gabby scrunched her nose, staring at the candles like they were a puzzle she had yet to solve. Then, with all the force her tiny lungs could muster, she pursed her lips and let out a short, breathy puff.

One candle flickered out, but the other stubbornly stayed lit.

Jubilee gasped. “Oh no! Emergency backup needed!”

Jean leaned in with a gentle blow, helping extinguish the final flame. The room erupted into cheers, and Gabby clapped her hands with a delighted squeal.

“She did it!” Rogue cheered.

Remy smirked. “Took a little assist, but still counts.”

“Alright, now for the fun part,” Logan said, reaching for the knife. “Let’s get this cut before she starts eatin’ the decorations.”

Gabby immediately grabbed a fistful of green frosting with her bare hand.

“Too late,” Scott muttered.

The room filled with laughter as Gabby gleefully smeared frosting across her face, then reached for Nova, threatening to turn the stuffed bear into a sticky mess.

“Alright, kid, let’s take it easy,” Logan said, grabbing a napkin before she could do more damage.

You shook your head with a soft laugh, reaching out to wipe some frosting from Gabby’s cheek. “I think she’s enjoying herself.”

“No doubt about that,” Logan muttered, dodging a swipe of frosting-covered fingers.

Jubilee continued snapping pictures while Kitty handed out plates of cake to everyone else. Laura, still wearing her slightly crooked sparkly clip, sat beside Gabby, eyeing the mess she was making with mild horror.

“She’s so messy,” Laura observed.

“Yeah, well,” Logan said, smirking. “That’s part of the deal.”

Gabby, completely oblivious to the mess she was making, grabbed another handful of cake and stuffed it in her mouth with a delighted hum.

Jubilee grinned. “Best birthday ever.”

Logan sighed, shaking his head. “She’s gonna be bouncin’ off the walls in an hour.”

Jean smirked, taking a sip of her drink. “That sounds like a you problem.”

As the party continued, you leaned against Logan, watching as Gabby babbled excitedly between bites of cake, her cheeks flushed with happiness.

“Think she had a good day?” you asked softly.

Logan glanced at Gabby, then at you, his expression warm. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Think she had the best one yet.”

And from the look of pure joy on Gabby’s frosting-covered face, you had to agree.

---

26 Months

You muttered to yourself as you graded the multiple-choice quizzes on your desk while Gabby played with her kitchen playset—courtesy of Jubilee and Rogue.

Hands patted your thigh. “Mama. Mama.”

You looked away from the quizzes and down at Gabby. “Yes, baby?”

“Potty!”

You blinked down at Gabby, your grading pen still poised mid-mark over the quiz paper. She patted your thigh again, her little face expectant. "Mama, potty!"

Logan, who had been lounging in the doorway with his coffee, immediately straightened. "You serious?"

"Yes, Logan, she's serious," you said, quickly setting your papers aside. "Okay, sweetheart, let's go."

Gabby beamed, already turning toward the communal bathroom, her tiny feet padding across the floor.

Logan followed as you trailed behind her. "She’s never told us before," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Think she means business?"

You shot him a look over your shoulder. "Let’s not jinx it."

Gabby reached the bathroom, gripping the edge of the door for balance before looking up at you expectantly. "Mama, help!"

You crouched beside her, pushing your glasses up your nose. "Okay, baby, let’s do this."

Logan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed as he watched with an expression that was half skeptical, half amused. "You got this, darlin’?"

"I think I can handle it, Logan," you said, reaching to help Gabby with her training pants.

Gabby, however, had other ideas. She pushed your hands away and, with a determined grunt, tried to do it herself. "Gabby do!"

Logan huffed a short laugh. "Well, she’s got the attitude for it."

You bit back a smile. "Yes, she does."

After a few moments of struggling, Gabby managed to tug her training pants down and plopped herself onto her little potty. She looked up at both of you, her expression serious. "Privacy."

Logan's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"Privacy," Gabby repeated, pointing at the door.

You clamped a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing. Logan just blinked at her, then turned his gaze to you. "She’s jokin’."

Gabby was not joking.

You cleared your throat. "Logan, I think she wants us to step out."

Logan scowled. "Ain’t like we’re strangers, kid. We change your diapers—"

"Privacy!" Gabby insisted, waving both hands at him like she was shooing him away.

You grabbed Logan’s arm, tugging him toward the door before he could start arguing with a two-year-old. "Come on, let her be independent."

Logan let himself be pulled out but muttered, "First she demands privacy, next thing I know, she’ll be kickin’ me outta my own chair."

You shut the door enough to give Gabby her requested privacy, though you kept it cracked just in case. Turning to Logan, you crossed your arms. "You realize she’s growing up, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," Logan grumbled, running a hand through his hair. "Still weird."

A few minutes later, the door creaked open, and Gabby peeked out, her face full of pride. "All done!"

Logan smirked, stepping forward. "Yeah? Lemme see."

Gabby grabbed his hand and tugged him inside, pointing at the potty like she’d just solved world hunger. "Gabby potty!"

Logan peered inside, then nodded approvingly. "Well, damn. You really did it, huh?"

Gabby beamed. "Yes!"

You crouched down, brushing a curl from her face. "I’m so proud of you, sweetheart."

Gabby clapped her hands. "Prize?"

Logan’s smirk widened. "You already askin’ for a reward?"

Gabby nodded, completely serious.

You sighed, shaking your head. "Well, I guess we did say we’d give her a treat when she told us she had to go."

Gabby bounced excitedly. "Froggies?"

Logan glanced at you. "She mean those frog gummies?"

You smiled, standing up. "Yep. Looks like we owe her some."

Logan huffed but ruffled Gabby’s hair. "Alright, princess. You earned it."

Gabby cheered, pumping her little fists in victory before running out of the bathroom, presumably to claim her prize. You grabbed her wrist before she could exit. “Ah, what about hands? Remember?”

Gabby blinked up at you, her excitement momentarily paused. Then, with dramatic flair, she sighed and held out her hands. “Microbes,” she mumbled.

“That’s right,” you said, leading her back to the sink. “We always wash our hands after potty.”

You helped Gabby onto the step stool, guiding her hands under the water. “What the hell is a microbe?”

“Microbe is just a different name for ger—”

Gabby spun around on the stool, water splashing onto the floor and onto Logan’s clothes. Her eyes went wide before she gasped dramatically. "Oooh, Dada bad word. Money!"

Logan blinked, looking down at the damp spot on his jeans, then back up at Gabby. "What?"

Gabby held out her tiny hand, palm up. "Money!"

You barely managed to hold back a laugh, adjusting your glasses as you looked between them. "Logan, I think she’s charging you for swearing."

Logan exhaled sharply through his nose, rubbing a hand down his face. "You gotta be kiddin’ me."

Gabby shook her head, entirely serious. "Nope. Dada bad word. Money."

He looked over at you as you shrugged. “Scott babysat her during our class. Apparently she liked the idea of a swear jar and he taught her all the bad words she should look out for to put in the jar. At the end of the month, he’s gonna take her out to a store and buy a toy for her.” You turned off the water.

Logan looked at you, his expression unreadable, before turning back to Gabby. "So, lemme get this straight—you’re shakin’ me down for cash because I said a bad word?"

Gabby nodded solemnly, her little hand still outstretched. "Dada money."

Scott, who had been passing by the communal bathroom, and casually sipping his coffee, was absolutely loving this. "You heard her, Logan. Rules are rules."

Logan shot him a glare. "You’re real smug for someone who’s about to get banned from babysittin’."

Scott shrugged, unfazed. "I don’t make the rules, I just enforce them."

Jean, who had just walked in and clearly caught the tail end of the conversation, smirked as she leaned against the counter. "I mean, she’s got a point, Logan. You swear more than anyone in this house."

Logan exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face before fishing into his pocket. He pulled out a crumpled bill and placed it in Gabby’s tiny hand. "There. You happy now, kid?"

Gabby inspected the money carefully—probably mimicking something she’d seen Laura do—before nodding with satisfaction. "Dada bad word. Scott store."

You adjusted your glasses, trying to contain your laughter. "She’s really committed to this, huh?"

Scott grinned. "Oh, absolutely. She’s been keeping track all week."

Logan turned to you, exasperated. "You knew about this?"

"I may have heard something about it," you admitted, biting back a smile.

Gabby, still holding onto the bill, waddled over to you and patted your knee. "Mama no bad words."

Logan scoffed. "Oh, so she gets a free pass?"

"She doesn’t swear," Jean pointed out.

Scott added, "Yeah, it’s just you."

Logan groaned. "Unbelievable."

Gabby, oblivious to Logan’s suffering, toddled back over to Scott and placed the money in his palm. "For toy."

Scott nodded approvingly. "Good work, kid. You’re gonna have a nice little shopping trip at the end of the month."

Logan muttered under his breath, crossing his arms. "This whole thing’s a damn scam."

Gabby gasped. "Dada! Bad word!"

Logan froze.

Scott grinned. "That’s another dollar."

Jean laughed, and you reached over to squeeze Logan’s arm. "You walked right into that one, honey."

Gabby held her hand out expectantly. "Money."

Logan sighed, pulling out another bill and placing it in her tiny palm. "You’re robbin’ me blind, kid."

Gabby giggled, delighted, and turned to Scott again. "More toy."

Scott chuckled, slipping the money into his pocket. "I like the way you think, Gabby."

Logan shook his head, rubbing his temples. "I’m raisin’ a con artist."

You smiled, brushing a stray curl from Gabby’s forehead. "A very smart con artist."

Logan huffed. "Great. Just what I need."

Gabby, still proud of herself, toddled over and raised her arms toward Logan. "Up!"

Despite his grumbling, Logan bent down and scooped her up into his arms. She patted his face with her chubby hands before leaning in and planting a wet, sloppy kiss on his cheek.

"Kissy," she announced.

Logan sighed, but his expression softened as he kissed the top of her head. "Yeah, yeah. You still owe me for all this money."

Gabby just giggled, completely unbothered, and snuggled against his chest.

Scott smirked. "You know, Logan, if you ever run out of cash, I take Venmo."

“What the fuck is Venmo?”

Gabby let out a loud gasp, her little hands smacking against Logan’s cheeks as she stared at him with scandalized horror. "Dada! Bad bad word!"

Logan closed his eyes for a brief second, his jaw tightening before he exhaled sharply. "Alright, alright, I get it." He shifted her higher on his hip, but Gabby was already holding out her tiny hand, fingers wiggling expectantly.

"Money," she demanded.

Scott nearly choked on his coffee, barely containing his laughter as he leaned against the counter. "She doesn’t miss a thing, does she?"

Jean, who had just walked back in, sighed dramatically. "Logan, this is, what, the third time today?"

Logan shot her a look. "You keepin’ count now?"

Gabby, unimpressed by the stalling, smacked his chest lightly with her free hand. "Dada," she said sternly. "Money!"

You adjusted your glasses, barely holding back a laugh. "Logan, just pay up before she starts charging interest."

Logan grumbled something under his breath—something probably fine-worthy—but fished another bill from his pocket and placed it in Gabby’s tiny palm. "This better be goin’ to somethin’ good, kid."

Gabby clutched the money in her chubby fist, twisting in his arms to hand it straight to Scott. "Toy," she reminded him.

Scott took it with a grin. "Don’t worry, kid, I’ve got you covered."

Logan shot Scott a glare. "You’re enjoyin’ this way too much."

Scott smirked, slipping the money into his pocket. "Oh, absolutely."

Gabby, apparently satisfied with the transaction, patted Logan’s face again, this time much gentler. Then, with an exaggerated level of sweetness, she leaned in and pressed another wet, sloppy kiss to his cheek.

"Kissy!" she announced, beaming.

Logan’s scowl softened instantly, though he tried to hide it. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. You still love me, even if I’m broke."

Gabby nodded, completely serious. "Dada broke."

Scott outright laughed this time, and Jean covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking.

You finally gave in and laughed too, shaking your head as you reached out to smooth down Gabby’s curls. "That’s what happens when you swear around your daughter, Logan."

Logan just exhaled, shaking his head as he rested his forehead against Gabby’s. "You’re lucky you’re cute, kid."

Gabby giggled, throwing her arms around his neck. "Lucky!" she repeated, like she was agreeing with him.

Jean leaned against the counter, smirking. "You know, Logan, if this keeps up, she’s going to be able to buy her own car by the time she’s five."

Scott nodded. "Or at least fund her own college tuition."

Logan groaned. "I swear to—" He stopped himself mid-sentence, catching the way Gabby perked up, waiting for another fine-worthy word. He let out a sharp breath through his nose, then glanced at you. "You see what you did?"

You grinned, adjusting your glasses again. "I didn’t do anything. You were the one who decided to swear in front of her."

Scott smirked. "And now he’s suffering the consequences."

Gabby, entirely unaware of the havoc she’d wreaked, wriggled in Logan’s arms, reaching toward you. "Mama!"

You took her from Logan, settling her against your hip as she nuzzled into your shoulder, her tiny fingers curling into your shirt. "What is it, baby?"

Gabby lifted her head, looked at you seriously, then turned to Logan and pointed at his pocket. "More money?"

Jean actually snorted. "Oh my God, she’s relentless."

Logan groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "I’m gonna need a raise."

Scott grinned, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the collection of bills Gabby had accumulated. "And this is why you should say 'thank you' to me more often."

Logan shot him a glare. "I take it back. You’re banned from babysittin’."

Gabby gasped again. "No! Scott store!"

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine, but next time, you’re watchin’ her with a muzzle on."

Scott smirked. "Oh, yeah. That’ll go over well."

Jean shook her head, smiling as she took a sip of her coffee. "I love this kid."

You kissed Gabby’s forehead, grinning as she rested against you. "Yeah," you murmured. "Me too."

---

Over the next few weeks, Gabby hadn’t just targeted Logan. She found the other weakest people in the mansion: Remy, Rogue, and Kitty, though out of the three of them, she tended to follow Remy around the most.

It started small. She’d waddle into a room where he was lounging, her chubby fingers clutching Nova, and just stare at him. No words, no noise—just big, expectant eyes. Remy, not one to handle awkward silence well, would inevitably sigh and ask, “What you want, petite?”

The first time, she’d simply held up her tiny hand and said, “Money.”

Remy had laughed. “Oh, you tryna hustle me, eh?”

But then she’d pointed at Scott, who had been passing through the hall, and very seriously informed him, “Dada bad word. Money.”

Scott, delighted beyond reason, had stopped in his tracks. “She’s right, Remy. If Logan’s paying up, I don’t see why you shouldn’t.”

And that was how Remy LeBeau, a man with actual experience in thievery, got outplayed by a two-year-old.

After that, Gabby didn’t even wait for Remy to swear. She’d just sit next to him, watching. Waiting.

“Gabby,” Remy had said one afternoon, narrowing his eyes at her as she perched beside him on the couch, kicking her little legs. “You can’t just assume I’m gon’ say somethin’ bad.”

Gabby, unbothered, just nodded. “Uh-huh.”

Logan, watching from across the room, had smirked and muttered, “She knows you too well, Cajun.”

And of course, the second Remy sighed and muttered a curse under his breath, Gabby’s little hand had shot out. “Money.”

It had gotten so bad that Rogue had started carrying around a roll of quarters just so Remy wouldn’t go completely broke.

“Here,” she said one afternoon, shoving a handful of coins into his palm as Gabby once again held out her hand expectantly. “Just cut out the middleman and make it easier on yourself.”

Kitty, on the other hand, had tried to bargain with her.

“Gabby,” she had said, crouching down so they were eye level. “What if instead of money, we… I don’t know, traded? Like, I give you a hug instead of cash.”

Gabby, considering this, had squinted at her like she was weighing the pros and cons of the deal. Then, very seriously, she had said, “two hugs.”

Kitty, delighted, had scooped her up. “Deal!”

Later, when Scott had found out, he’d been outraged.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he’d said, pointing at Kitty. “She lets you pay in hugs? I’ve been handing over real money!”

Kitty had just shrugged, smug. “Guess she just likes me more.”

Scott, grumbling, had shot Logan a look. “And you just let this happen?”

Logan had only smirked, arms crossed. “Ain’t my problem, Slim.”

But Gabby’s biggest win? That had come when she finally, finally got Charles.

It had happened after a long morning class, when you’d gone to grab a coffee before picking Gabby up from the daycare room. You’d walked into the kitchen to find Charles sitting at the table with her, his expression deeply amused as he handed over a five-dollar bill.

You’d blinked. “...What did you do?”

Gabby, smiling brightly, held up the bill. “Toy.”

Charles chuckled, folding his hands in his lap. “She very politely reminded me that I once let an impolite thought slip while reading a particularly frustrating research paper.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And,” Charles said, still amused, “she informed me that she expected payment in full.”

Logan had walked in at that exact moment, taken one look at the scene, and burst out laughing. “You’re tellin’ me she got you?”

Charles shook his head, though there was clear admiration in his tone. “It appears no one is immune.”

Gabby, delighted with her success, beamed up at Logan and proudly announced, “Dada broke.”

Logan, still laughing, patted her head. “Yeah, kid. You really got us all.”

“I just don’t understand how you know how to con someone, Gabby. That takes a lot of brainpower.” You said, rubbing your temples.

"Her second word was ‘Nova’ ‘cause you were readin’ her a space book," Logan replied, shaking his head like it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard.

You adjusted your glasses, crossing your arms as you leaned back against the counter. "It wasn’t just any space book. It was an encyclopedia. And I wasn’t teaching her. She just… picked it up."

Logan smirked, taking a sip of his coffee. "Yeah? What part of ‘quasars an’ black holes’ really spoke to a six-month-old, you think?"

Gabby, sitting on the floor with Nova in one hand and a frog gummy in the other, perked up at the mention of her teddy bear’s name. She looked between the two of you, her little brows furrowing. "Nova!"

"See?" You gestured toward her, triumphant. "She just absorbs information."

Logan exhaled, shaking his head as he crouched beside her. "Alright, genius. What else you got? Say ‘quasar.’"

Gabby blinked, then shoved the entire gummy into her mouth. "Froggies."

Logan smirked. "Yeah, that’s what I thought."

Charles rolled over, “yes, I had quite an interesting conversation with her about protozoa.”

“What the—” Logan cut himself off just in time, luckily, Gabby hadn’t noticed his near slip-up. “What is that?”

Charles folded his hands neatly in his lap, ever the picture of patience. “Protozoa are single-celled microorganisms, often found in water or soil. Some are harmless, but others can cause disease.”

Logan blinked. “Yeah, that’s real interestin’, Chuck, but what I’m askin’ is why the hell she knows what they are.”

Charles simply turned his head toward you.

Immediately, Logan’s gaze snapped to you, his brow furrowing. “You wanna explain that one, sweetheart?”

You adjusted your glasses, suddenly very focused on straightening Gabby’s dress. “It’s… not a big deal.”

Logan crossed his arms, not buying it. “Go on.”

You sighed, brushing a stray curl from Gabby’s forehead as she continued munching on a frog gummy, completely unbothered by the conversation about microscopic organisms. “When I was potty training her, she asked why she had to wash her hands.���

Logan arched a brow. “And?”

“And I told her because she needed to clean them,” you said, keeping your voice casual. “But then she asked why.”

Logan exhaled, shaking his head. “Of course she did.”

“She’s curious,” you defended, though your lips twitched in amusement. “And I wasn’t just going to say ‘because I said so.’ So, I explained germs to her.”

Logan let out a short laugh, rubbing a hand down his face. “Darlin’, most people woulda just said ‘germs are bad’ and called it a day.”

“I did at first!” you insisted, adjusting your glasses again. “But then she asked what germs were.”

“And?”

“And I explained bacteria, viruses, fungi, and protozoa.”

Logan just stared at you, then ran a hand through his hair, muttering something under his breath. “You really sat her down for a whole damn microbiology lecture?”

You frowned slightly, glancing at Gabby, who was now rocking Nova in her lap, completely content. “It wasn’t a lecture… Just a little lesson.”

“A lesson,” Logan repeated, his voice flat. “On protozoa.”

“She asked!” you argued, crossing your arms.

Charles chuckled softly. “I, for one, think it’s rather impressive. She retains quite a bit for someone her age.”

Logan grumbled, shaking his head. “First she’s runnin’ a swear jar scam, now she’s talkin’ about microorganisms. What’s next? She gonna start teachin’ physics?”

Gabby perked up at the word, turning to you with a wide grin. “Mama teach stars!”

Logan shot you a pointed look. “You been givin’ her space lessons, too?”

You cleared your throat, suddenly very interested in adjusting the hem of Gabby’s dress. “…Maybe.”

Logan exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. “You’re gonna have her doin’ calculus before she’s in kindergarten, aren’t ya?”

“She’s just curious,” you said, brushing Gabby’s curls back. “She asks questions, and I answer them.”

Gabby nodded enthusiastically, looking up at Logan. “Mama say space big!” She stretched her arms as wide as they could go for emphasis.

Logan chuckled despite himself, shaking his head. “Yeah, kid, I bet she did.”

Charles smiled. “It’s quite a gift, really. She’s absorbing more than most children her age. A natural curiosity like that should be nurtured.”

Logan smirked, looking back at you. “Yeah? You plannin’ on teachin’ her about quantum mechanics next?”

You hesitated.

Logan’s smirk widened. “Oh, you already did, didn’t you?”

“…Just a little.”

Logan barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

Gabby turned back to Charles, holding up Nova. “Nova big, space big!”

Charles nodded, completely engaged in the toddler’s logic. “That’s very true, Gabby.”

You smiled, watching Gabby chatter excitedly about stars and space and Nova, completely in her own little world.

Logan leaned in close, his voice low in your ear. “She picks up on everythin’ you say, darlin’. You keep goin’, she’s gonna be runnin’ circles around the whole mansion by the time she’s three.”

You smirked, nudging him lightly. “Good.”

Logan huffed, shaking his head, but there was a fondness in his eyes as he watched Gabby proudly tell Charles all about the universe.

And if, later that night, he caught you whispering about neutron stars to Gabby as she drifted off to sleep, he didn’t say a word.

---

By the end of the month, the swear jar was full. And somehow, Gabby had scammed almost everyone in the mansion—even Ororo.

But then, she set her sights on you.

At first, it was just quiet observation. You’d be grading papers at the kitchen table, sipping your tea, when you’d catch her watching you with that same expectant look she’d used on Remy. Big, patient eyes. No words. Just… waiting.

You adjusted your glasses, setting your pen down. “Gabby, what’s up?”

Gabby blinked at you. “Money.”

You frowned. “For what?”

Gabby toddled closer, clutching Nova tightly. “Bad word.”

Your brow furrowed. “I didn’t say a bad word.”

Gabby’s expression didn’t change. She just kept looking at you, waiting, like she expected you to fold under pressure.

From across the room, Logan leaned against the counter, arms crossed, clearly amused. “She’s been doin’ this all day,” he said, smirking over his coffee. “Tried to shake down Kitty earlier.”

“I do not swear,” you said, looking down at Gabby. “You know that.”

Gabby did not budge. “Money.”

You exhaled, rubbing your temple. “Gabby, sweetheart, I can’t give you money for something I didn’t do.”

Gabby stared for a few more seconds, then pointed at Logan. “Dada give money.”

Logan snorted. “Yeah, ‘cause your dad’s got a bad habit of lettin’ words slip.”

Gabby’s little brow furrowed in deep thought. Then, as if realizing something, she turned back to you and said, completely serious, “Mama no bad word.”

“That’s right,” you said with a small, triumphant smile.

Gabby considered this for a second longer before adjusting her grip on Nova and declaring, “unfair.”

Logan outright laughed. “Kid’s got a point.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Gabby, I can’t just start swearing to give you money.”

Gabby huffed, clearly displeased with this answer. But instead of giving up, she toddled over to Logan, reaching up toward him. “Dada.”

Logan crouched down, resting his arms on his knees. “Yeah, kid?”

Gabby held up Nova like she was presenting evidence. “Mama no bad word.”

Logan smirked. “Yeah, I been tellin’ you that.”

Gabby’s little fingers curled into fists. “No fair.”

“Oh, so now it’s about fairness?” Logan drawled, glancing up at you with amusement. “Look what you did. You broke the game.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I didn’t break anything.”

Gabby, still determined, turned back to you and tried a different angle. “Mama say.”

“Say what?” you asked.

Gabby hesitated. Then, in a whisper, she said, “bad word.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Sweetheart, that’s not happening.”

Gabby frowned. Clearly, this was not the outcome she expected. After a few seconds, she dramatically flopped onto the floor, sighing heavily. Nova ended up half-draped over her face.

“Wow,” Logan said, deadpan. “Guess she’s givin’ up on life now.”

You leaned over, brushing Nova off her forehead. “Gabby, you okay down there?”

Gabby, still flat on her back, just mumbled, “no fair.”

Logan snickered, standing back up. “Well, I hate to break it to ya, kid, but life ain’t always fair.”

Gabby peeked up at him. “Dada bad word?”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “You tryin’ to trick me into slippin’?”

Gabby did not deny it.

You sighed, scooping her up before she could escalate her dramatics. “Nice try, sweetheart. But I think the swear jar has plenty of contributions already.”

Gabby flopped against your shoulder with another sigh, clearly realizing her plan had failed.

“Better luck next time, kid,” Logan said, ruffling her curls.

Gabby let out a dramatic little humph, but after a few seconds, she was already babbling about something else, completely forgetting her quest for your nonexistent bad words.

Logan smirked, leaning in close to murmur in your ear, “still think it’s cute that you never swear. Even after all these years.”

You felt your face warm slightly, adjusting your glasses. “Well, someone has to set a good example.”

Logan chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Guess that ain’t me.”

You smiled, shifting Gabby in your arms. “Nope.”

Gabby, perking back up, clapped her little hands together. “Kissy!”

Logan rolled his eyes but still leaned in to press a kiss against your cheek. “There. That what you wanted?”

Gabby giggled, nodding.

Logan sighed, shaking his head. “This kid, I swear to fucki—”

Gabby’s eyes immediately widened.

Logan froze.

You gasped, covering your mouth.

Gabby pointed dramatically. “Dada! Bad word!”

Logan groaned, reaching into his pocket. “Son of a—” He cut himself off just in time. With an exasperated sigh, he handed her a crumpled bill. “Fine. Take it.”

Gabby grabbed it gleefully, stuffing it into her little pocket before snuggling back against your shoulder.

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh as Logan crossed his arms. “You laughin’ now, but I’m tellin’ ya—she’s a menace.”

You kissed Gabby’s forehead. “She’s perfect.”

Logan huffed, but there was nothing but fondness in his eyes as he watched Gabby settle in your arms.

Gabby, satisfied with her earnings, yawned. “Mama no bad word,” she mumbled sleepily.

You smiled, rubbing her back. “That’s right, sweetheart.”

Logan shook his head. “Unfair.”

Gabby’s sleepy little voice echoed his complaint. “Unfair.”

Logan sighed. “See? She gets it.”

You just laughed, pressing another kiss to Gabby’s curls as she dozed off in your arms.

She may have scammed everyone else in the mansion, but at least you were safe.

---

Later that day, after dinner, Scott called off the timer, meaning Gabby could no longer get money to put in the swear jar.

The small mason jar was stuffed full, bursting from the top. Hank and Scott counted the money as quick as they could.

Hank whistled, “I don’t know how she did it, but she got $600 out of us.”

“What the hell?” Logan barked, looking over at Gabby who muttered something about “no money anymore.”

You adjusted Gabby in your arms, biting back a smile as you glanced between Logan and Scott, who was busy counting the pile of crumpled bills. “Six hundred dollars?” you repeated, adjusting your glasses. “That can’t be right.”

Scott let out a short laugh, flipping through another stack of bills. “Oh, it’s right.”

“I don’t understand how she got that much,” you said, pressing a kiss to Gabby’s temple. “Logan, how much did you give her?”

Logan exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. “Apparently too damn much.”

Gabby, half-draped over your shoulder, peeked up at him. “Dada bad word?”

Logan sighed, reaching into his pocket on instinct before freezing. “Oh, no. Game’s over, kid.”

Gabby’s brows furrowed as she turned to Scott, her tiny fingers gripping your shirt. “More money?”

Scott, still deeply entertained, shook his head. “Sorry, kiddo. Timer’s up. No more swear jar.”

Gabby’s whole body slumped against you, a dramatic sigh leaving her little lips. “No fair.”

Logan crossed his arms. “Oh, now it’s not fair?”

Gabby wiggled in your arms, twisting to look up at you, her chubby hands pressing against your cheeks. “Mama fix.”

You laughed softly, smoothing her curls back. “Sweetheart, I can’t fix this.”

Gabby considered this for a long moment, then turned back to Logan with a hopeful look. “Dada say bad word?”

Scott actually snorted, covering his mouth as Logan scowled. “You’re real close to gettin’ put in time out, kid.”

Gabby just sighed again, clearly unbothered.

Jean walked into the room, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Scott with his growing pile of cash. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Oh, it is,” Scott confirmed. “Six hundred dollars. That’s how much your goddaughter scammed out of us.”

Jean let out a low whistle, shaking her head. “Damn.”

Gabby’s head shot up. “Jean bad word?”

Jean’s eyes widened slightly before she turned to Logan with a smirk. “Oh, so this is what you’ve been dealing with.”

Logan huffed. “She’s worse than a damn IRS agent.”

Gabby perked up again. “Dada bad word?”

Scott grinned. “That’s another one, Logan.”

Logan ran a hand down his face. “I’m gonna lose my damn mind.”

Gabby gasped. “Dada three bad words!”

Jean outright laughed, shaking her head as she pulled out her wallet. “You know what? Just for that, I’m throwing in another five bucks.”

Scott took it without hesitation, adding it to the pile.

You shook your head, smiling as Gabby clapped her hands together. “I think she just won.”

Logan sighed, looking at Gabby with a mix of exhaustion and amusement. “Yeah, yeah. She won.”

Gabby grinned, victorious, before resting her head against your shoulder. “Dada broke.”

Scott smirked. “Yeah, he is.”

Logan pointed at him. “I will kill you, Summers.”

Scott just shrugged, unbothered. “You can try, but you can’t afford the fine.”

this is the first part of the chapter! go read the second part!