#i had to wrangle her a bit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

guppiechuu · 1 month ago

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baby, baby, baby 𓂃🧸۶ৎ ˚ʚɞ˚ l.h. (part two is officially out! check it out here.)

exboyf idol!heeseung x youngmom!reader

length: 12.1k

contains: angst, hurt/comfort, abandonment issues, second chances, gaining back trust, ot7 hangouts, lots of teasing (of reader and heeseung), flirting, slow burn, co-parenting, mild explicit language, therapist jungwon, happy ending

warnings: none really... mentions of young single mom and absent father

synopsis: you never planned on seeing Heeseung again, let alone with another man's child on your hip. but when a run-in at the grocery store turns into an evening at your messy, toy-strewn apartment, you're forced to face everything you left unsaid. you're not the same girl he left behind all those years ago, and he's not the same guy that did the leaving. so where does that leave you now?

the question: how much are you willing to bet on second chances? the answer: everything.

⤷ chuu's 💌 ── .✦ finally posting this monster oh my god. this was meant to be a <1k word oneshot, but turned into a full-on fic. excuse me and my indulgences, i just have daddy issues and am in love with lee heeseung.

⤷ 💌 i edited this a ton and added like 1000 words cuz i needed more hehe so enjoy!

——

You cursed under your breath as your shopping bags began to slip through your fingers. From your hip, Hana fussed unhappily, tiny hands clawing at your face as you struggled to adjust your grip on her.

“S’cuse me,” A woman said, giving you an annoyed glance as she stepped around you. The others behind you made sounds of frustration as you struggled to wrangle your babbling child and groceries out of the store’s entrance.

“Would you mind getting out of the way?” A man asked impatiently as one of your bags slipped.

“I’m sorry,” You said, face burning with embarrassment.

Hana began to cry, her tiny body impossibly strong as she twisted in your arms, trying to escape your grasp.

“Jesus Christ,” He muttered, pushing past you.

You bit your lip, hair falling in your face to hide the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Everything was so hard. Ever since your ex had moved out, you’d had no one to help you.

No one to stay up with Hana when she was fussy, no one to entertain her so you could sneak a quick shower in, no one to get groceries while you washed, and fed, and tended to her.

Your parents were a state away, your friends busy with work or travel—none with kids of their own. No one who understood what you were going through. Standing in the doorway of the grocery store, you felt, for the first time since Hana's father left, the true gravity of how alone you both were.

Another exasperated sigh came from behind you as Hana began to cry in earnest, her shrill voice piercing the air of the store.

“Should’ve left her at home with dad,” An older woman said, tsking as she stepped around you. “New moms these days, thinking they can do it all on their own. That kind of attitude kills marriages, you know."

You opened your mouth to defend yourself—to tell her that you couldn't kill a marriage that didn't exist, to even just curse back at her—when the paper bag you’d managed to hold onto split open, the contents spilling out onto the floor.

“For fuck’s sake,” A man said, shoving past you. His shoulder caught yours, knocking you off balance.

Hana’s weight threw you off-kilter, and you stumbled to the ground, holding her tiny wriggling body to your chest.

You wanted to cry.

Beside you, someone stooped to the ground, hastily grabbing the groceries that had fallen out of your bag. You looked up, the apology already forming on your mouth. As your eyes landed on them, the words died in your mouth.

Heeseung.

Your heart skipped.

He didn’t say anything as he gathered the rest of your things, giving you a hand up. His eyes were glued to the squirming toddler in your arms.

With your groceries collected, you were able to step to the side, Heeseung’s hand still on your arm. The customers who’d gathered behind you filed past, one man glaring at you as he did.

“Finally,” He muttered.

Heeseung’s head snapped in his direction. “Fuck off,” He shot back. Then, looking from Hana to you, he chuckled nervously. “Sorry.”

You were speechless.

How long had it been since you’d seen him? Three years? Three years since he boarded the jet that had carried him out of your life forever.

You remembered it like it was yesterday—ENHYPEN was going on tour, he wasn't sure when he'd be back, or when he'd have time for you again. The group had just started to take off. This was the big break, he’d said. The one that would start the rest of his life.

Going with him was out of the question. Long distance was brutal. Fans were possessive of their favorite members, and a girlfriend was a risk that management couldn't afford. It took all but a few hours for him to be cut from your life. Gone. Erased. Entirely.

And now, here he was. Lee Heeseung, the great heartbreak of your life, standing in the middle of your friendly neighborhood grocery store, eyes darting back and forth between you and the one-year-old clinging to your hip.

Hana made a noise, reaching a hand out at him curiously. He glanced at her, his expression softening. He smiled as he leaned forward, cooing gently while she fiddled with the earring that dangled from his ear.

Your chest tightened.

“Here,” He said, taking the bags from your hands. “Where did you park?”

——

“I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” Heeseung said quietly as he put the last of your things into your car.

He looked just as you remembered him—tall, handsome, soft-faced, and even softer-voiced. He carried a bag of his own, full of items that sent you back to your school days with him—glossy packages of instant ramen, cling-wrapped kimbap, and those energy drinks he always liked.

You tore your eyes from them, trying to shake the memories of late nights in his dorm from your mind.

“No,” You said, meeting his eyes. God, his eyes. Just as deep and intense as you remembered them. “I should be thanking you. Back there,” You gestured awkwardly, “I was… It’s been a long day.”

His eyes darted to Hana again. You could practically see the question forming on his lips, but he was still the Heeseung you knew, far too polite to outright ask.

“Hana,” You said, smiling at the pink-faced toddler in your backseat. "She's one," You added quickly, watching for his reaction.

He nodded, his expression conflicted, like he was working through his thoughts. “I didn’t know…” He said slowly, looking back at you.

“I know. I… didn’t want you to,” You admitted. “You had a lot going on."

His face dropped. “Y/n, I want you to know, I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” You said simply, looking down. “You had a life to live. Dreams to chase.” You smiled at him, genuine, although something deep in your heart had begun to ache, starting the moment you’d locked eyes with him. “I was always proud of you for going."

“I shouldn’t have left like that. I know you wanted me to go, and I’m glad I did, but I…” His fingers toyed with the strings of his bag nervously. “…I shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.”

You shook your head, pushing the memories away. “Don’t worry about it. Water under the bridge.”

From the car, Hana began to cry again. It was well past her dinnertime, which meant she’d be inconsolable until you got her home and into her high chair, which was… still broken.

You bit back a curse, remembering that you’d needed to run to the store to replace it today. A week of trying to feed her without it had proven nearly impossible. Especially now that you were alone.

You turned back to Heeseung, trying not to feel disappointed that reality was sweeping you two apart again. What was that phrase? Right person, wrong time? Well, this was two for two.

“Anyways," You said. "Thank you. Seriously. I was losing it in there.”

“You headed home now?” He asked, looking between you, as if trying to keep the conversation going. Hanna was bawling, fists clenched angrily.

You nodded, pulling a snack pack from your bag and tearing it open, hoping it’d be enough to satiate her until you got home. If you could get her fed, maybe you’d have time to take care of all the other things that were piled on your to-do list.

There were dishes waiting for you, and sticky counters, and laundry. So much laundry. The light in your room had gone out and needed replacing, but you barely had enough time to sleep there, let alone perform a maintenance job on it.

You sighed out a tired laugh, rubbing your face with your hand. “Um, yeah. She needs to be fed and put to sleep, and there’s some housework stuff. You know, never a boring day,” You joked half-heartedly.

Heeseung hummed. Then, hesitantly, asked, "Where’s her dad?”

The question knocked the wind out of you.

He gazed at you curiously, a hint of concern in his eyes. It made your stomach twist uncomfortably. This was the one thing you didn’t want coming up.

The baby? Sure. Your embarrassing moment in the store? Fine. Even the state of your hair and clothes, covered in stains and baby powder and spit-up, whatever.

But the fact that you were alone, that the person you’d chosen to father your child was nowhere to be found, that stung in the back of your throat. Nothing had changed. You were still the one being left behind.

Heeseung read the look on your face. “Oh,” He said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay.” You cut him off, not sure if you could take the awkwardness of this conversation any longer. “But, yeah, I should go. I have… a lot to do at home. Everything’s on her schedule these days.”

“Can I help?”

You felt your breath catch for a second time. “What?” You laughed nervously.

Heeseung nodded at your groceries and at the squawking baby in the back seat. “Can I help you? We’re on break. Been doing pretty much nothing but sitting around the house, gaming all day. I’ll come over.”

“Heeseung…” You started, images of your messy baby-proofed home springing to mind. As if he needed to see any more of the disheveled single mom life. “You don’t have to do that, really, you’ve helped enough—”

“Y/n, we've known each other for a long time. I can tell you’re up to your neck right now. I want to help,” He said earnestly. “Will you let me?”

You held your breath, searching his face for some clue as to what this meant for you two. Ten minutes ago, you had no idea he was even back home. And now... he was asking for a step back into your life.

The inside of your cheek stung as you chewed on it. Finally, you sighed. "What the hell. Fine. Here, let me write down my address for you."

There, at the corners of his eyes, you caught it. That glimpse of joy in his expression, of hope. It confused the fuck out of you, but you just waved to him, climbing into your car and wondering what this meant for you.

——

It was practically impossible to walk across your house without tripping over one of the toys that littered the ground. There were dishes all over the kitchen counters, soup stains on the wall behind Hana’s highchair where she'd thrown her spoon, dirty laundry spilling out of your closet and across the floor.

Heeseung didn't seem to care at all.

In fact, the only thing he seemed to care about was your daughter. Her small fists, the rosy color of her cheeks, the bubbling sound of her laughter. You'd known Heeseung liked kids—you'd talked about having them once—but what you didn't know was how much they loved him.

He and Hana hit it off immediately, faster than you'd ever seen her take to anyone before.

Without a high chair, you’d been struggling to find the best way to keep her stationary long enough to feed her. Heeseung, however, only propped her on his leg, one hand around her stomach, the other holding her plastic pink Hello Kitty spoon.

It was like magic.

No crying, no spitting. No throwing or hitting. You watched in wonder as she sat there, hands resting on his forearm. The perfect little angel you always bragged about back in full swing.

Her preoccupation with him gave you a chance to not only make her dinner, but get her pajamas out and set up her bath for later. It was the most you'd managed to get done in a single hour in weeks.

Having Heeseung there wasn’t just helpful, it was... overwhelming. His presence filled your senses—the smell of his cologne intermingled with Hana's baby lotion, the feeling of him moving around the kitchen behind you, his voice mixing with her giggling nonsense in the living room.

It was intoxicating. It was dangerous. Because part of you wished—had always wished—desperately and against all reason, that this was what your everyday looked like.

You tried to dissuade that wish as you bent over the kitchen sink, elbow deep in soapy water and dirty dishes. Heeseung came in from the dining room, holding Hana's little bowl and matching spoon in one hand, her bib in the other.

"All done," He said, placing them on the counter. "Finished the whole thing." He sounded proud. It made your chest tighten.

"That girl sure can eat," You said lightly, grabbing the dishes and submerging them under water.

"Mmm, just like her mom, then," He joked.

Being there with him, joking with him, it stirred something in you. Something you'd spent a long time trying to forget. Your throat closed as he came up behind you, dry hand sliding over your soapy one.

"What—" You started, but he was already pulling the bowl from your hands, nudging you out of the way.

"I got this. Go finish up with her."

You pressed your lips into a thin line, ignoring the fluttering sensation that crawled up your throat. He was helping, just like he said he would. It was meaningless.

Still, the feeling of his palm on the back of your hand had your heart stuttering.

In the solitude of the bathroom, you rested your chin on your hand, watching as Hana dunked her plastic horse under the soapy bathwater. She held it up to you, babbling through the bubbles on your face.

You sighed. "What d'you think? Should we let him stick around?"

She slammed her horse back into the water with a squeal, sending water over the edge of the tub.

“Yeah,” You muttered, half to yourself. “That’s what I thought.”

You looked over at yourself in the mirror, leaned against the edge of the bathtub, your clothes and hair damp from your daughter’s splashing. So different from the girl that Heeseung had left behind all those years ago. The one he once swore he’d come back for.

You felt childish for even remembering that. Everything was different now. He could have anything he wanted. The girls around him were exactly what you weren’t, what you’d stopped being the moment you found out you were pregnant. They might have been your age, but they weren't saddled with motherhood.

You, on the other hand, would never be able to escape it again.

All anyone seemed to talk about with you was the baby. How old she was now, if she’d started talking yet, how well-behaved she was.

Even running into Heeseung, the first thing he looked at was her. It was like watching yourself fade from existence, all trace of what once made you you vanishing into nothingness.

You weren’t fun. You weren’t spontaneous. Not anymore. Motherhood had drained you of all that youthful vitality Heeseung had once loved so much about you. You felt bland. Boring. Nothing to call your own except for your daughter, who seemed to be the most interesting part of your life nowadays.

Looking at Hana now, you knew there was no way that Heeseung was going to make a permanent return to your life, not when there was a child involved.

And yet.

And yet, Heeseung was still around when you were done with Hana’s bath.

He’d finished the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. He’d put the rest of your groceries away and tossed all of Hana’s toys back in their bin. He even took the trash out, and was offering to fix the light in your room when you stopped him.

“Are you gonna make me kick you out?” You said, hands on your hips.

The corners of his mouth quirked, his brow lifting. “You really are someone’s mom, huh?”

“Heeseung.”

“Come on,” He laughed, “I’m already here, I might as well fix it. You really want me to go?”

No, of course you didn’t. Of course, you wanted him to stay and help you with your light, and fix your leaky shower head, and make your daughter laugh herself all the way to sleep.

Of course, you wanted him to find a million other things to help you with, and to let you keep imagining what life would be like if he were to be there. To really, truly be there.

What, were you supposed to say no to all that?

By the time the sun finally dipped below the horizon, Hana was dozing off in Heeseung’s arms, her cheek flat against his shoulder.

You watched from the kitchen doorway, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight of them. He swayed slightly, bouncing up and down with a hand to her back.

No one held her like that. Not even her dad. He’d wanted almost nothing to do with her. The diapers, the crying, the mess. He’d decided enough was enough before she was even born. But Heeseung…

“She’s incredible,” He said, glancing back at you. His face was soft, shoulders relaxed. It looked almost like she was as comforting to him as he was to her, with her hand wrapped around the fabric of his shirt.

Your throat was tight. “She is. Takes after me, you know,” You joked, trying to ease the effect that this scene was having on you. Your face was warm.

He chuckled, pursing his lips as she stirred gently. After a moment, he said, “I can’t believe I didn’t know.”

You leaned against the doorframe. “It wasn’t something I wanted you to hear from someone else.”

“Yeah,” He said. “Still.”

Still.

He finally looked up at you, and you saw it—how much he was holding back. How hard this was hitting him, all at once. Sure, it had been a long time, but the emotions on his face were like a second language to you. You could read them in your sleep.

“I’m not asking for anything,” You said quickly, maybe too quickly. “I’m not—bringing you here because I want something from you.”

“I know,” He said. But he kept holding Hana anyway, and when you laid her down in her room for the night, he was still in the living room, waiting for you.

“You do all this on your own?” He asked, keeping his voice low.

“Every day.”

“You’re amazing,” He whispered.

“Thanks,” You laughed.

He followed you into the kitchen. “I always knew you’d be a good mom.”

The comment sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“What?”

“Yeah, didn’t I ever tell you that?”

You stared at him. “No.”

“I’m sure I did.”

“I think I’d remember if you did. So, no.”

He flashed that smile, the one that used to make you weak in the knees. Still made you weak in the knees. “Then I was an idiot.”

You scoffed, eyeing him skeptically. “Whatever. My house is a mess, and I have literally no social life. Look at me, I’m covered in baby food, and I’m not even the one who fed the baby.”

“Yeah, well,” He shrugged, that stupid smile on his face. “You make anything look good.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re making fun of me.”

He gasped. “What? No, I’m just a very supportive friend who happens to know that you manage to make everything look sexy, even being covered in baby food.”

Friend.

“Heeseung.” You used to be the love of my life.

“What!” He grinned. “You’re the one who keeps blushing.”

“I am not blushing.”

He shook his head as he laughed, the sound light and pure. “I missed you. God, I missed you a lot.”

You tensed.

“That first year of tour was hell,” He reminisced, leaning back against your counter. “We hardly slept, or ate, or got any moments to ourselves. It was just go, go, go. All day, every day.” He glanced at you. “But being away from you was by far the worst part.”

“Whatever,” You said quietly. There was a lump in the back of your throat.

He hovered as you finished putting the dry dishes away in your cupboard. “It was hard without you there. You know, you’re the reason I debuted in the first place. Because you believed in me.”

Did you ever believe in me? You wanted to ask. Lingering resentment was seeping from the back of your mind, coloring those happy memories a shade darker. How was it so easy for you to leave me?

“It was hard looking out for everyone without you there,” He chuckled. “You always made that part easier. That’s how I know.”

“Know what?” You said, eyes on the plates in your hands.

“That you’d make a good mom. You were already halfway there with me.”

You froze. “Heeseung,” You said slowly, “Don’t.”

“What? I’m just saying—”

“No, you’re not. You’re flirting.”

He gave you a lopsided smile. “Is that illegal now?”

You stared at him. “We can’t do this.”

His smile faltered, just slightly. Enough that you knew he’d heard the part you didn’t say aloud: Not again. I can’t do this again.

“I’m not trying to mess anything up,” He said quietly.

“But you do, Heeseung. You walk in, and you smile, and she adores you, and then what? You go back to your life, and we’re left here pretending this never happened? I’ve been there, done that, okay? And I can’t— I won’t let it happen again.”

He opened his mouth, but no answer came.

“Look, I get it. You were gone for a long time. Being back home carries a lot of weight, I’m sure. But you can’t…” You looked at him, chest aching. “You can’t just come in here and make me feel like nothing’s changed when it has. I mean, look around. I have a kid now. I can’t— I’m not like you. Not anymore.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, a look of hurt flashing behind his eyes.

You ran your hand over your hair anxiously. It was late, you were exhausted, and you were letting your emotions get the better of you. You knew you should stop talking and just send him home, but you couldn’t.

“You have your whole life ahead of you,” You said. “You get to pack up and travel the world, do whatever you want, meet whoever you want. I don’t. That ended for me the second I had her.”

“Y/n,” He frowned, but you cut him off.

“I thought…” Tears pricked behind your eyes. “I thought that maybe things would just be a little different. That I’d still get to—” You caught your breath, the weight of everything you’d gone through rising suddenly, knocking the breath from your lungs. “And then it ended all over again. When her dad left.”

You saw the way his face hardened, a look you hadn’t seen in years. Hurt. Angry. Protective.

“I’m alone, Heeseung,” You whispered.

“That’s not true—”

“Yes, it is.”

“It’s not! You have me—”

“Then where were you!?”

His face fell. You didn’t want him to see you cry, but you were dangerously close. Being near him, seeing that god forsaken look in his eyes, like he was angry with himself, it killed you.

“I didn’t know,” He said quietly. “If I had—”

“You would have, what? Cancelled your tour? Come racing home to help your ex with some other guy’s baby? That’s not true and you know it.”

“I would have found a way to be there for you.”

“Really? You could have called. Once, even. You could have checked up on me, but you didn’t. You packed your things and you left. That’s all anyone ever does, is pack up and disappear.”

“Don’t, y/n. It’s not the same thing. I never would have left you with our kid like that,” He said seriously.

Our kid. The words seemed to burrow into your chest, curling up around the part of you that was still so angry, so hurt, so betrayed.

“No,” You said bitterly, wiping your eyes roughly with your sleeve. “You just left me. Not as big a deal, right?”

He flinched, those big, sad eyes of his wincing painfully.

You knew it wasn’t fair. You knew you were being cruel now, prodding a wound that was clearly still open in both of you, but you couldn’t help it. You wanted, just once, for someone to tell you that you were worth fighting for, that the way he and Hana’s dad had both abandoned you wasn’t your fault. That you weren’t defective. Disposable.

Heeseung held your gaze, brows creased. “I deserved that,” He finally said.

You looked away, jaw clenched.

He took a step toward you, slow, like he was scared you might push him away. “You’re right, I did. I left. I let you believe that I didn’t care about you. I thought… walking away would make things easier. That it would hurt less, instead of dragging it out, making you wait for me. You had a life of your own waiting. I couldn’t do that to you,” He reasoned. “And look at you! You brought a kid into the world, y/n. You never needed me, or anyone else. You’re strong.”

“I’m not,” You argued.

“You are,” He said firmly.

You shook your head, arms tightening around yourself. “I’m not strong. I’m surviving. That’s not the same thing.”

Heeseung didn’t argue this time. He gave you an apologetic look, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I didn’t mean to come here and upset you. I wanted… I really did want to help, y/n.”

“You have,” You said, not meeting his eyes. It was hard to speak without your voice shaking, and you didn’t want him to see you cry.

His voice softened, gaze dropping to the floor. “I know I can’t change the past. And you don’t trust me. But we’re back home until the next album’s finished.”

Your chest tightened. So, he was sticking around. Great, you thought to yourself. Just what you needed on top of everything else you had going on.

“If you need me, you can call me. You know that, right?”

You said nothing. Heeseung got his things and left, mumbling apologies as the door closed behind him. You had to catch your breath against the doorframe as the sound of his car faded down the street.

Here you were again. Watching the door swing closed behind him, wishing you were brave enough to ask him to stay.

That night, you went into Hana's room and curled up in the chair beside her crib. Looking at her—the soft fat of her cheeks, the way her tiny chest rose and fell so steadily without a care in the world—was the only thing that kept you from breaking down completely.

You watched her silently, the occasional rogue tear slipping down your cheek. Three years worth of emotions had bubbled up to the surface, crashing over you like a tidal wave of memories and regret. The house was empty again. You were alone.

For the first time, you confronted the hard truth you’d been trying to ignore: no one was coming to save you. You were on your own.

——

Heeseung must have looked upset, because the moment he got back to the dorm, the others were on him.

“Where were you?” Sunoo asked, looking up from his game.

Beside him, Jay, Sunghoon, and Jungwon were sprawled on the couch. Jake watched from the floor, stretched out on his stomach. Niki was curled up in the chair, half asleep.

“Nowhere,” Heeseung mumbled, kicking his shoes off.

“You look like shit,” Jay said bluntly.

“Thanks.”

“I thought you were just stopping at the store?” Jake turned to look at Heeseung over his shoulder. “Geez, you really do look terrible.”

Jungwon looked at him curiously. “Are you okay?”

Heeseung’s mind was still spinning. He could barely form a coherent thought, let alone answer their questions. He brushed them off, wanting nothing more than to disappear into his room in solitude.

But these were his group members, his best friends, and they always knew when something was wrong. They switched the game off and trailed after Heeseung as he made his way to his room, shoving his door open. It bounced against the wall loudly.

Heeseung winced, dropping onto his mattress. His body felt worn, his mind foggy, like he’d spent all day on stage instead of laughing with you in your kitchen. He still couldn’t believe he’d spent the day with you. In fact, he could hardly believe anything about what had happened.

There were no words to describe what Heeseung had felt, seeing you again for the first time. It was like every one of his senses dialed in on your figure crouched in the door, your hair falling over your shoulders. His throat had closed, his fingers curling into his palms by his side.

His heart had nearly leapt out of his chest completely.

And then, there was Hana.

He hoped he didn’t look as surprised as he’d felt, but he knew the chances were small. You’d always been able to read his emotions. You’d been the one to ask him out, after all—sick and tired of how painfully obvious his feelings for you were. No one else had ever came close to understanding him the way you did, not even the guys.

You probably saw right through his easy attitude, straight to the heart of his reaction: seeing you with Hana had scared him shitless.

He pressed a hand to his face. I’m never offering to go to the store for the others ever again, he thought hopelessly.

Jungwon appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame. The others poked their heads out from behind, waiting for him to say something first. Jungwon might have been younger, but he was their leader, through and through.

He always knew what each member needed in moments like these. For Heeseung, it was space. And time. Jungwon just stood there for a while, not saying anything.

Heeseung’s voice was rough when he finally spoke. “I saw y/n.”

More silence.

He hadn't talked about you in a long time, mostly because it brought his mood down every time someone so much as mentioned your name. Years later and he was still upset about the way you'd left things.

And now he knew that you were, too.

“I ran into her at the store,” He continued. “Her bag had ripped so her stuff was everywhere, and people were getting pissed.” Fucking assholes. “I couldn’t just— turn the other way, pretend I didn’t know her.”

No one argued with that, but Heeseung still felt the back of his neck go red.

"So I went up to her. I helped her grab her things. She..." He trailed off. "We went back to her's after."

Jake shoulders dropped, looking relieved. "So, what's with the long face? Haven't you been dreaming about this since, like, we left?"

“Yeah, I’m surprised you’re back here,” Jay smirked. “She didn’t want you to stay the night?”

"She has a kid."

That shut them up.

She has a kid. The words sounded foreign in Heeseung's ears. He still hadn't fully wrapped his head around it. The girl he’d been hung up on for years was a mom.

Jungwon’s eyebrows shot up. “Like.. has has?”

Heeseung nodded. “A little girl. Her name’s Hana.”

“So that means she’s…”

“Single,” Heeseung said incredulously, falling backwards onto his mattress. The entire situation was mind boggling. “Hana’s dad isn’t around. Not sure why. All I know is that it was sudden. He just packed up one day and… left.”

Just like I did, He thought bitterly. God, he’d made a number of mistakes throughout his life, but that had to be the worst of them all.

“Damn,” Jungwon said under his breath. “That’s a lot.”

Sunghoon shifted his weight anxiously. “How did she seem?”

Heeseung swallowed. “Tired. She looked so tired. And sad. I could see it in her eyes, even though she was trying not to show it.”

“She didn’t ask for anything?” Jake asked.

“No. She doesn’t want anything from me. She made that pretty clear.” Heeseung dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know what to do. I thought I’d moved on, or at least that I was done holding onto her. But seeing her like that…” His voice cracked, and he looked away. “It’s like everything I’ve been trying to forget just—came back all at once.”

Jungwon finally stepped into the room, going to sit beside Heeseung. The others trailed in after him. It was crowded with all of them there, but Heeseung was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude that they were with him. That he didn’t have to spend the night alone with his thoughts.

Like you were now. He thought of you alone in that house, working through the motions of your reunion by yourself. It made his chest ache.

“Shouldn’t have left her,” He mumbled, mostly to himself.

“Are you going to see her again?”

“I don’t know,” He mumbled. “We argued. I think she doesn’t want to believe I could ever be there for her. That I’m just going to leave again.” His throat tightened. “I can’t blame her for feeling that way.”

“Are you?”

“I— no, I don’t want to. But she’s afraid to trust me. And I’m scared, too! What if she’s right? She’s always right. I don’t wanna cause her more trouble…”

Now that he was talking, he couldn’t stop. The others listened intently, nodding along, humming sounds of understanding.

“I’m scared that the more I try to get closer to her, the further I’m going to push her away. She has enough shit going on in her life right now. I don’t want to add to that. But I can’t just let her be. Not when I know she’s too proud to ask anyone else for help.”

“No, not y/n.” Sunoo hid a laugh behind his hand. “That girl would rather die than rely on anyone else. She’s always preferred to figure it out on her own.”

“I know. I don’t want to fuck up her life anymore than I already have.”

“Hey, at least you’re not the asshole who knocked her up,” Jay said lightly.

Heeseung bit his lip, suddenly worried he was going insane.

Worried because the smallest part of him almost wished that he was. He would have never left you alone. And… Well, he’d always liked the idea of you with his kids. He meant what he said earlier—if anyone was going to make a good parent, it was you.

A baby would have killed his career for sure, but… he almost preferred that to the idea of you struggling through parenthood alone.

“So what are you going to do?” Jungwon asked.

“I don’t know,” Heeseung sighed, sitting up. “What if I try to be there for her, and I make things worse? What if she’s right not to trust me? I don’t want to—” He ran his hands through his hair anxiously. “I can’t hurt her again. I’d rather never see her again than have that happen.”

Jungwon pursed his lips, thinking. “It is true that you’ll have to leave again when the next album is finished.”

The others nodded, murmuring in agreement.

“Tour life isn’t exactly fit for a kid.”

“There’s always the chance that people find out about you two.”

“You’d have to be apart for a long time.”

Jungwon nodded. “But… do you love her?”

Heeseung’s face went red. “What?”

“Quit acting embarrassed. We had to listen to you go on about her for a year straight after we left. I think you can tell us if you’re still in love with her.”

He pursed his lips and frowned, mulling the question over. Was he still in love with you?

Who was he kidding, of course he was. How else could he explain the way the world seemed to blur when he caught sight of you in the store? How his body was moving to help you before he even had time to think about it?

Heeseung was in love with you. As in love with you as he was the day he left. Why else had he spent all day at your house doing chores, enjoying every minute? The way you moved around each other, the sound of Hana’s voice responding to yours, the way he could see pieces of you in her. God, he’d only known that girl for a day but he was already feeling protective of her.

Of both of you.

He sighed. “Yes… I do. I am.” He pressed his thumb into his palm, where he’d brushed the back of your hand. “I really missed her,” He mumbled. “But I’m scared to mess everything up. Again.”

“You’re not gonna do that,” Sunghoon said, leaning against the wall.

“Yeah, come on. I’ve never seen you make the same mistake twice.”

“Thanks,” He muttered, still unable to shake his fears.

“If you really love her, you’ll find a way to make it work,” Jungwon assured him.

Hearing that brought a small amount of relief to Heeseung’s anxiety, but he still wasn’t convinced. “What if she doesn’t want to see me?” He asked quietly.

Sunoo rolled his eyes. “Honestly, you’re so dramatic. If she doesn’t want to see you, she’ll tell you. Did she?”

“No… not explicitly…”

“Then you still have a chance. Don’t screw it up.”

Heeseung chuckled lightly, feeling slightly better. “I’ll try not to.”

“Screw your feelings, we miss having her around,” Sunghoon joked.

“Yeah, I wanna meet this kid,” Jake said eagerly. “If she’s anything like y/n, she’ll fit in just fine with us.”

Niki hummed in agreement. “Yeah, we never agreed to your break up.”

“Mm. Very inconsiderate of you,” Jay said.

Heeseung laughed, for real this time. He felt his chest untighten for the first time in hours, his shoulders dropping, his jaw unclenching. God, he was grateful for his friends. They were right.

Heeseung had been losing his mind over what he should do when there was really only one option in front of him: to prove to you how serious he was about you. Whether or not you were able to fix things between you two, that didn’t matter to him.

All he cared about was showing you that you could trust him. That you weren’t alone in this, no matter how long you’d spent believing otherwise.

Seeing you today confirmed what he’d known the second he’d left all those years ago: you were the only one for him. And meeting Hana—feeling the warmth of her against his chest, smelling your perfume on her skin, noticing the way her lips curved up in the same shape that yours did—it was the final nail in the coffin.

His life would never be complete without you in it, one-year-old and all.

——

Heeseung’s reappearance in your life didn’t happen immediately.

In fact, it was a few weeks before you heard from him again. Lost in the throes of trying to find a babysitter so that you could pick up an extra shift at work, his text was left buried in calls from your landlord and notices about upcoming bills.

Heeseung Are u busy this weekend? I have some overexcited friends who are anxious to meet that baby of yours.

It sat unanswered for a day.

You didn’t know it, but every single one of the 24 hours that passed before you got back to Heeseung was like knives in his skin. The day dragged by, long and torturous, as he sank deeper and deeper into the belief that maybe he’d been wrong, and you didn’t want to hear from him after all.

He was relieved when his phone buzzed on his desk, your name popping up on his screen for the first time in three years.

Y/N Oh god.

Y/N Are u really gonna bring them over here??

Heeseung Not if you’re not okay with it.

Y/N It’s not that I’m not okay with it. it’s just… weird

Y/N Never thought I’d be introducing your group members to my kid.

Heeseung Definitely weird.

Heeseung Always figured they’d meet ours first but this works too.

Y/N Heeseung.

Heeseung What? Just saying.

Y/N 🙄

Heeseung I’ll be good. I promise. Saturday?

He chewed the edge of his nail as he watched his screen, heart racing at the base of his throat. Your text came in and he couldn’t help the smile that took over his face.

Y/N Yeah right.

Y/N See you then.

You had precious little time to clean up before they got there. When you heard Heeseung’s knock at the door, you were part-way through clearing Hana’s things out of the living room.

Sweaty, hair a mess, sticky toddler on your hip, you pulled the door open to a group of faces you hadn’t seen in years.

The guys stood there for a second, taking you in. Sunoo was the first to break the silence, his face widening into a grin. “Wow,” he said, “Motherhood really does suit you.”

You rolled your eyes, your face warming as you shifted Hana on your hip. “Shut up, Sunoo.”

Hana peeked out at them, fists clutching your shirt nervously.

Jake’s eyes went wide as he crouched down, level with her. “Hi,” He said, his voice going soft. “You’re so cute, oh my god. Mind if we come in?”

Hana smiled shyly, burying her face in your shoulder.

“Sorry about the mess,” You said, stepping aside to let them in. “Can never seem to keep anything clean these days.”

“You should’ve called us,” Sunoo pouted. “We could’ve helped.”

“No way. You guys are busy enough as it is.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jay said. “You should see how these guys live”

“Oh, shut up, Jay. Your room is disgusting. I don’t know how you live in that filth.”

“My room is disgusting!? Should we talk about how you keep the living room—”

“Get out of the way!” Jungwon complained, pushing past them.

Heeseung was the last to come in, messy-haired and bare-faced. He looked nervous, but his shoulders dropped when he caught sight of you.

He paused in the doorway. “You sure you’re okay with this?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah,” You said. “It’s fine. Just… don’t expect her to start doing tricks or anything.”

“Are you sure?” Sunghoon asked, peeking at Hana. “I heard kids can dance these days.”

“Please,” You scoffed. “She can barely get a spoon from her plate to her mouth.”

They laughed as they filed in, avoiding the toys that were scattered around the floor. For a moment, no one wanted to sit down. They crowded around you, pulling funny faces to make Hana laugh, reaching out to pinch her face.

Heeseung hovered beside you, eyes flicking to yours. It felt good to have him close. You’d never had this many people in your house before, not since having Hana. His presence was steadying. Reassuring.

You found yourself wanting to stick close to him as well.

They followed you into the living room, pointing at the photos and finger-painting scribbles hung up on the walls. You noticed Heeseung from the corner of your eye, bending down to grab things from the floor as he went, tossing them into Hana’s toy chest the same way he had when he first came over.

It was instinctual, that desire to help you, to take some of the load off your shoulders. Always had been.

“How are you, y/n?” Jungwon asked, “Besides the cute baby and messy living room.”

“Um,” You sighed, “I’m… managing. Getting used to doing all this on my own. It’s hard but rewarding, too.” You smiled at Hana, pressing your lips to her head and breathing in the soft, sweet baby smell of her hair. “She makes it worth it.”

Your voice was easy, your face relaxed, but Heeseung could see the fatigue in your body. Your shoulders drooped, Hana’s weight sagging in your arms.

Getting used to doing all this on my own. You’d never know how sad it made him to hear you say that.

“I can’t imagine how tired you are,” Jake said, watching as Hana curled a hand around his finger.

You laughed lightly. “I definitely don’t sleep the way I used to. Or, at all, really,” You admitted. “You don’t even want to know how long it’s been since I’ve showered.”

“I can see that,” Sunoo teased, gesturing at the myriad of stains across your shirt. “I like the baby food. It’s a good look on you.”

“Glad to know it’s working on you, jerk,” You said playfully. God, you missed having these guys around.

“Do you want me to take her?” Heeseung asked. The question caught you by surprise. He seemed so easy about it, like it was something he did every day. “You can take a quick shower… if you want.”

“What? No way. You guys are friends, not my babysitters.”

“Not yet,” Niki said, leaning down to coo at Hana’s face.

“Seriously, we don’t mind,” Heeseung insisted.

You bit your lip sheepishly. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely. We’re professionals.” Sunghoon said seriously.

“I mean, we are terrible at music,” Jake added, “But picture books and stuffed animals? I think we got it.”

“Go,” Heeseung insisted softly. “We’re here. Let us help.”

You hesitated. It was such a small thing—showering, putting on a fresh t-shirt—but it felt huge. Like accepting their help would mean finally admitting just how worn out you were.

There was also your protectiveness over Hana, too. You’d never left her with anyone but your parents before. It was why finding a babysitter had become such an ordeal—trusting anyone with your child took an incredible leap of faith.

But then you saw the look in Heeseung’s eyes. The hopeful, almost desperate need to do something for you. He held your gaze, steady, solid.

As if in answer, Hana reached out for him, squirming away from your grasp. She’d always been good with faces, and he was wearing the same jacket he’d worn the first time he came over. She stretched towards the familiarity of his arms and you surrendered, allowing her to climb into them.

“She likes you,” Jungwon said, a big grin on his face.

“Yeah,” Heeseung said, unable to hide the pride in his voice. “I like her, too.”

Seeing her in his arms again brought back the same feeling from before. The one that made you want to see Heeseung with your daughter all the time.

They just looked so… at home together. Like Hana had known him since the start. You hated to admit it, but you were starting to wish that she had.

“All her toys are in there, and there’s snacks in the fridge if she gets fussy. If she gets really upset I’ve got a pacifier in her room—”

Heeseung nodded, the corner of his mouth quirking up at your rambling. “She’ll be great.”

You sighed. “Okay, but if she starts crying—”

“We’ve got it,” Jay reassured you.

Sunoo shot you a wink. “Go on, mama. We’ll look after her.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding and slipped down the hall, feeling, for the first time in a long while, that you had people in your corner. It was a good feeling.

——

“She sorta looks like you, Heeseung.”

“Oh, stop teasing him. He’s not gonna let us come back with him next time.”

“You’re so full of it. They don’t look anything alike.”

“She’s got a real Shin Min-a look to her. Old school.”

“She looks like her mom,” Heeseung said, only half-listening to what his idiot friends were debating about.

His attention was mainly on the tiny human balanced on his thighs, her hands tangling in his hair. She was a stout little thing, skin slipping under the slippery fabric of her shirt as he kept a firm grip on her.

A Laker’s jersey. Your guys’ favorite team.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady the emotions rising in him. Just being there—with Hana, with you—it was enough to make him crazy. He tried not to feel dizzy as Hana’s hands moved to his face.

“She missed you,” Jungwon said quietly, fidgeting with a plastic airplane in his lap.

For a second, Heeseung thought he was talking about Hana, but no. He was talking about you.

Heeseung glanced at him. “You think so?”

“You should’ve seen the way she was looking at you when she opened the door.”

Jay snickered at him, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Yeah, she was totally checking you out, man.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“It’s true,” Niki chimed in, tossing a stuffed rabbit at Sunghoon. “Don’t act like you didn’t notice.”

Heeseung just shook his head. “She’s just… It’s been a long time.”

Jay shook his head. “Nah, man. You’re still important to her.”

“It’s obvious,” Sunoo agreed. “If Jay noticed it, it’s real.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?”

“Well, you’re not the most observant of people, are you?” He said, side-eyeing him.

“That’s rich coming from you.”

Heeseung chuckled, shaking his head. He hoped they were right.

——

The guys started coming around more often after that. They always insisted that they were restless at the dorm and liked having somewhere else to hang out, but you knew it was more than that.

It became something of a tradition to have a big meal at yours at the end of the week, and as time passed, it became easier to rely on them. It felt good to have a kitchen full of noise, a table that wasn’t empty, a house that shook with laughter and music.

They’d bring bags of groceries over and cook these huge, chaotic dinners to share in your dining room. The kitchen was left a mess but they always cleaned up.

Weeks went by and Heeseung stayed behind more and more often, tidying up the rest of the house with you, even helping to put Hana to bed.

Despite your reservations, you liked having him there. You liked the way he’d come through your door unannounced, toting drinks for you and a snack for Hana in his bag. You liked the way he’d get up from the couch when he heard her fussing, and how the others teased him about it in front of you.

“Is that your baby now or what?” Jungwon would laugh, eyes flicking between you and Heeseung with that knowing look.

You’d turn red and Heeseung would just shake his head, smiling.

Even in your hardest moments, he was still showing up for you. Providing you with the comfort and stability that you were trying so hard to give your daughter. You tried to remind yourself not to get too used to his support, but there was no denying it—it was easier to take care of Hana when there was someone taking care of you, too.

“I don’t know what to do,” You sighed, reaching down to pick her back up from her crib. Your phone was tucked between your cheek and your shoulder, Heeseung on the other end of the line. “I’ve tried everything. She just won’t settle.”

His voice came through rough and scratchy with sleep. It was late, and he probably should’ve been asleep hours ago, but you’d started calling each other. A lot. If he wasn’t there in person, he was on your speaker phone, talking to you and keeping Hana entertained.

“Do you wanna try feeding her again?” He asked, yawning.

“I’ve tried. She doesn’t want it. She doesn’t want anything.” You sighed as Hana let out another ear-piercing wail. Her face was red and blotchy from crying. It looked like another all-nighter for you.

“Can you take her to your bed? I think she just doesn’t like being away from you.”

That was certainly true. Hana was getting clingier and clingier these days, spoiled by all her uncles constantly wanting to hold her.

“I can’t, I’m scared that I’ll fall asleep,” You said.

Countless horror stories about parents falling asleep with their babies in their bed had left you anxious to bring her to yours. It was moments like this that you wished her dad was there—that you had someone to take turns staying up with.

“I’ll let you go,” You sighed. “I’m gonna try walking her around the house or something, maybe another bath. Sleep well, okay?”

He hummed as you ended the call, the vibration tickling your ear through the phone. Almost like he was there with you. At least one of you would be able to get some sleep, you thought enviously as you pulled Hana to your chest.

Only, ten minutes later there was a knock at your door.

“Heeseung?” You stared at the man in your doorway. Hana scratched at your face as she wailed up at you. “Are you crazy? What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, smiling as he stepped over the threshold. “Wanted to make sure she was okay,” He said, as if that was a reasonable explanation for showing up at your house at 2 a.m.

“She’s fine,” You said, half-stunned as you shut the door behind him.

Hana let out a disgruntled whine at not having your attention. You raised a brow at her, shaking your head. “You’re such a little drama queen. Look, you’re not even upset anymore.”

It was true. Hana’s cries had slowed to a sniffle as she gazed at Heeseung with wide, glossy eyes. He held a hand out for her to grab onto.

“Had to make sure mom was okay, too,” He said quietly, thumb brushing over her knuckles.

You looked up at him, your chest tightening. His hair was a mess, poking out from under the hood of his sweatshirt. A rush of emotion washed over you at the sight of him, at the dark circles under his eyes, the tired smile on his mouth. The way he was trying—really trying—to be there for you both.

“You didn’t have to,” You mumbled, averting your eyes.

God, even in his most sleep-deprived state he was gorgeous. Eyes burning into yours in the low light. His body hummed with that quiet power that had drawn you to him in the first place—that confidence, that steadfastness. How he seemed perfectly at ease no matter where he was or what he was feeling inside.

Standing next to him, you felt slightly less exhausted. Like simply being around him was enough to energize you.

“I know,” He said softly, “But I wanted to.”

He stepped forward, hands slipping under Hana’s arms with a tenderness that made your heart sting. She let out a giggle as he lifted her up, hands smacking against his chest as he settled her against him.

“She’s always happier with you,” You said quietly. It wasn’t a complaint. Hana really was calmer around Heeseung, and that brought you a sense of peace that you weren’t quite sure how to explain.

He looked at you, his expression softening. “She’s happier when you’re okay,” He murmured. “Come on, let’s try this again.”

Despite his best efforts, Hana was still unhappy in her crib. She clung to his arm as he tried to place her down, voice going up several octaves. You winced at the volume, grateful that you didn’t share walls with your neighbors. They’d have lost their patience hours ago.

Heeseung didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t even flinch as she shrieked, clawing at his hands in frustration. He just scooped her back up, resting her against his shoulder and muttering reassurances over her cries.

You tried for an entire hour—walking her around the house, reading her favorite books and making sure to do all the funny voices, swaddling and unswaddling her, over and over and over. The best luck you had was in your room, like Heeseung had suggested, which both heartened and annoyed you at the same time.

How were you supposed to deny a man with such good instincts?

“You are so dramatic.” You shook your head as Hana hiccupped from your pillow, smiling like she’d never been crying in the first place.

“I wonder where she gets it,” Heeseung said lightly, sitting down on the other side of her.

You tried to stifle a yawn as Hana stretched out, both of your eyes drooping.

Heeseung couldn’t help but smile at the both of you. He’d never met your ex—hadn’t even seen a picture—but he didn’t need to to know that Hana hardly took after him.

Her smile, her mannerisms, that was all you. She was yours, through and through.

“Come here,” He said, pulling Hana closer to him to make space for you to lay next to her.

“I’ll fall asleep,” You protested.

“I know. That’s why I’m here.”

Anyone else, and you would have said no. Anyone but him, and you’d have insisted they leave, resigning yourself to another brutal night of no sleep.

But it was Heeseung. He propped himself up on one elbow, his arm curved over Hana’s head.

You sighed in resignation as you settled in on the other side of her, your hand resting over her stomach gently. His hand came down to brush the hair away from your face. His fingers were soft against your temple, the same gentle touch that you used to love so much.

Anyone else and you would have turned them away, but it was Heeseung, and he watched the two of you sleeping like you were the most precious things to him in the world.

——

When you woke the next morning, the sun was peeking through your window, filtering through your blinds and washing your room in soft, white light.

In front of you, Hana was still sound asleep, her fists clenched by her head. On the other side of her, Heeseung was there. Still on his side, shoulders curved inwards protectively. His arm was still stretched out above you both, his hand resting gently against your hair. He’d fallen asleep that way, holding you both like you were his to care for. His to protect.

And waking up that morning, you realized that maybe you were. Maybe you wanted to be. You slipped out from under his hand, trying not to disturb either of them as you rolled the ache out of your shoulders.

You padded into your kitchen, warm light spilling across the floor. Leaning against the counter, you finally admitted to yourself that you had a problem.

Heeseung was doing it. He was making you believe.

You let out a breath.

The nightly calls, the small gestures, the way Heeseung was there for you, it was working. Are you really falling for this? You thought stubbornly, trying to reason your way out of the way you felt about him. How much of it was real, anyways? And how much had you made up in your desire to have him close? Your mind screamed at you not to trust any of it.

He was an idea. You didn’t need him.

But you wanted him so bad.

Your heart warred against this truth, desperate for something—anything—to convince yourself otherwise. But it wasn’t easy to do. The life he’d painted around you in just under a month was like something out of a dream. One you’d had before the baby, before the breakup, when you still felt like dreams like this had merit.

It was everything you’d ever wanted, and that made you suspicious. What reason did the universe have for giving this to you? When it had been so intent on taking things away?

Your thoughts were interrupted as Hana came crawling into the kitchen, slapping her hands on the cool floor. Heeseung trailed in after, looking exceptionally tired with his hair sticking up in awkward places. He yawned, scooping Hana up with practiced ease and perching her against his chest.

“Hey,” He said, bringing her over to you. “Did you sleep well?”

You took her grabbing hand in yours, kissing a good-morning into her hair. “Thanks to you. You’re so good with her,” You said, trying to keep your voice even. Your stomach was fluttering nervously. “I don’t know how you do it.”

He shrugged, giving her a little bounce that sent her squealing with laughter. “It’s easy. She’s a charmer. Just like her mom.”

Your heart stuttered, and you looked away, fighting the stubborn burn in your chest. Heeseung saw it, though. He always saw it.

“I’m glad I came, y/n. Seriously. I slept great.”

“You slept terribly.”

“Alright, fine, I slept pretty badly, but it was worth it,” He insisted. “And I’d do it again. And again, and again, and again,” He laughed, nuzzling his face into her chest. “Can the guys come over today? Unless you want the day to yourself… I know we’ve been over a lot. I can go home if you want.”

Words could not describe how badly you wanted him to stay. “Yeah, of course. I like having you guys around.”

I like having you around, is what you should have said, but you didn’t have to say it for Heeseung to know what you meant. The smile on his face told you that he understood completely.

It was already the beginning of the end for you when the other members came over and started teasing you both mercilessly. Weeks of hanging out at yours had made them bold—and it was clear that they wanted you to address what was going on between the two of you.

“Should we start packing your room up?” Sunoo asked, side-eyeing you both as he came in.

“You might as well just move in, bro,” Jay said, clapping his hand on Heeseung’s back.

You scoffed. “Yeah right, not until he starts paying rent.”

Jay smirked. “He’d do it.”

“Shut up,” Heeseung mumbled, rolling his eyes.

Their banter might have embarrassed you once, but it felt natural now. The way they spilled into your living room, fighting over who got to hold Hana and which toys she wanted to play with more more—it was hard not to feel like this was how it had always been.

You clung to whatever thin resolve you had left as you watched them all with your daughter. No matter how much you tried not to, your gaze always landed back on Heeseung. The way he lifted Hana into the air, blowing raspberries into her stomach until she was screeching with laughter. The way he handed her off to someone else and insisted on helping you get her lunch ready.

Things between you and Heeseung became… different.

It didn’t fluster you as much when the others teased you for being attached at the hip anymore. And you didn’t mind when he’d sit with his arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers brushing the back of your neck.

For every inch you gave, he seemed to take a mile. Eventually, it became commonplace for him to collapse on the couch right next to you, thigh brushing yours, arm stretched behind your shoulders.

The others stopped asking if Heeseung was leaving with them. They knew he’d choose to stay with you.

“Are you just gonna stand there staring at me all night?” You asked, your back turned as you put your dinner leftovers into the fridge. You could feel his eyes on the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“Maybe.” He said, “I like watching you.”

“You’re insufferable.”

He smirked, eyes glinting. “You didn’t seem to mind earlier. When I put my arm around you on the couch, you didn’t move.”

Caught.

“That was different,” You managed, keeping your voice even. He didn’t need to know how much of a rise that simple touch had gotten out of you.

“Was it?” His voice was low as he came to lean against the counter beside you, arms crossed. “Felt pretty natural to me.”

Weeks passed and lines got blurrier. He touched you. A lot. Practically couldn’t keep his hands off of you—brushing a strand of hair from your face, a hand on your lower back, a stroke of his thumb against your temple.

By the time you realized it was happening, that you were really, truly falling for him again, it was too late.

Waking up with your head on his chest, Hana curled between you—it was too late.

His arms resting on either side of you against the counter, his chest to your back as Hana sat on top of it—it was too late.

His hand running back through your hair in front of everyone as he tried to find the scar you’d gotten from hitting your head on his dorm door all those years ago—it was too late.

As much as you tried to manage your affinity for him—remind yourself that he had always been friendly, that this was just a passing thing for him while he was bored at home—it was during your weekly dinner as a group that your feelings became impossible to deny any longer.

You were in the kitchen, putting the dishes away when you heard a sharp crash from the other room—the sound of glass breaking.

Your heart skipped as you dropped the bowl you were holding and ran towards the living room. Someone had knocked a cup from the table, the shards spraying across the floor.

Heeseung was on his feet in a second, scooping Hana up away from the broken pieces, stepping away as the others got up.

You paused in the doorway, your breath catching as you watched him. The others stepped around him to clean up, bickering lightly about who was to blame, but Heeseung’s focus never wavered. He murmured something in Hana’s ear, pointing at the broken cup, bouncing her gently as they swept up the shards.

He looked up and caught your eye, and it was suddenly so clear.

You’d been an idiot.

Looking at Heeseung now, it was impossible for you to deny any longer. Heeseung loved you. How had you managed to convince yourself otherwise?

Old grudges rose in the back of your mind—he left you. he left like it was nothing, like everyone else does, and he’s going to do it again—but for the first time, you pushed them away with ease.

They were words.

And what use were words when there you had actions to prove them otherwise?

Something about that moment, the way Heeseung had gone for Hana first, letting the others handle the mess while he made sure she was alright, made your doubts melt away. His first instinct wasn’t to scold whoever had knocked the glass over, or even to help clean it up.

It was to keep your daughter safe.

You spent the rest of the day with a lump in the back of your throat, the awkward ache of all the things you wanted to say to him. He seemed to notice your change in attitude, that something was bothering you, and he stuck even closer than he usually did, stopping to ask you if you were okay multiple times.

“Will you stay behind?” You asked, glancing up at him. “After everyone goes.”

He looked surprised, but nodded. “Of course.”

The others eventually left again, wanting to go out for dinner. Heeseung promised he’d catch up with them but they just rolled their eyes, not believing him for a second.

With the house empty again, it was impossible for you to dance around it anymore.

Hana was down for her nap—eased to sleep by Sunghoon and Jake’s rendition of her favorite bedtime story. Heeseung was leaned against the counter, as if half-expecting you to say something. And your words sat heavy in your throat, aching to come out.

“You don’t know how much it means to me,” You murmured finally, looking up to meet his gaze, “Having you and the others here. I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to make it up to us, y/n. We’re happy to help.”

“No,” You said, shifting uneasily. “I dont know how I’ll make it up… to you.”

His eyes widened slightly, but you went on before he could answer, afraid that if you didn’t talk now, you’d never be able to again.

“I know…” You started, cringing internally at how difficult this was for you. Your feelings were so strong, why was it so hard to explain them? “I know I was harsh on you when you came over the first time. You were being kind, and I got defensive. I’m not proud of how I behaved at all,” You admitted.

“Y/n…”

You stopped him. “Just—let me finish.”

He closed his mouth, but you saw the anxious twitch of his brow.

“You didn’t have to come back. You didn’t owe us anything, not after the way we left things and definitely not after the way I spoke to you. But you did anyways.” You crossed your arms, feeling self-concious. “I didn’t think that I would ever have this again,” You said, gesturing at the things left over from their visit. “I really thought I was going to do this by myself. And that was fine, I’d made my peace with it, but now…”

You paused, your eyes flicking to the picture Hana had drawn with the others—a mess of scribbles that resembled a house, and a group of people standing in front of it. “Now it’s different. And that’s hard for me.”

Heeseung swallowed, as if gathering every ounce of his strength to keep his voice steady. “It’s okay if… if you don’t want me here, y/n.” He held your gaze bravely, but you could tell the idea hurt him. “If this is too much, if you’d rather… I can go—”

“I don’t want you to go.”

He blinked, startled.

“I know I’ve been guarded, and I’ve been pushing you away. But… but seeing you with her, and with me—it’s made me realize how much I’ve missed this. How much I’ve missed you.”

Heeseung’s brow furrowed as if he didn’t quite believe you. You almost smiled. He was so reserved, hands clenched at his sides, braced for what you were going to say.

“I know I talk a big talk but… I don’t want to do this alone, not if you’re willing to be here. Not if you’re willing to… to be with us. I don’t want you to go.”

“You don’t want me to go.” He said it slowly, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

You bit your lip, laughing a little bit at the look on his face. “No, I don��t.”

Then, his face broke into a grin. His shoulders dropped and he was stepping towards you, pulling you into his chest like he’d been waiting to do it for years.

And he had. He really had.

His touch was overwhelming. His arms wrapped around you, the heat of his throat warm against your cheek. You buried your face into his neck, breathing in the smell of his cologne and the lingering smell of kid that was all over him. All over both of you.

You pulled away, giddy with nerves and relief. “Happy?”

“Happy,” He breathed. “So… what now?”

“I don’t know… what do you think?”

He quirked his head, lips twisting into a smile. “I think… I’ve been waiting a long time to kiss you again.”

Your heart skipped. “Then what’s stopping you?”

He smiled lazily, like he was half-dreaming, and brushed his nose against yours before pushing his lips onto yours. You melted against him, so happy you could hardly think straight.

Heeseung pushed you back against the counter, his hands on your waist as yours threaded through his hair.

“I was an asshole,” He mumbled against your mouth. “I’m sorry”

You shook your head, breathless beneath his lips. “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”

Besides, you thought, that was years ago. And the Heeseung in front of you now was not the same one that had left you behind.

Not by a longshot.

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #lee heeseung #lee heesung x reader #baby fic #angst #enhypen x reader #boyfriend heeseung #ex boyfriend heeseung #guppiechuu

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emystic-old · 2 years ago

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@s1lxcs replied for a starter with Trixy

"I got so more food for us, so eat up, okay?"

The child was wearing cheap pair of sunglasses and a face mask she stole from a convenience store the earlier this morning. Figuring if she wore them then even if she comes back to take something else they won't recognize her. Taking off the mask and glasses with her feline like eyes glowing brightly for a moment to readjust her eyesight once more.

She snagged a lot of snacks, juices, and pre-made sandwiches in her torn and wore down satchel bag. Taking two of the jam sandwich packages out and offering one of them to him.

#s1lxcs #trixy; interactions #interactions #sorry it took me a bit #i had to remake most of trixy's icons they were on a old laptop #trixy got that kid logic lol if i put on a pair of glasses i look totally different lol #tbh the convenience store def know it's her they probably just don't feel like wrangling her cause she's such a handful lol

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gravegoer · 7 months ago

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sevika, grayson and ambessa cuddling hcs 🥹🥹 i love them

Cuddling the butches -`✮´-

thank you for the ask, anon. heres some sevika , grayson , and ambessa because the last fic a while ago got a lot of love (rightfully so) <3 !!!

more of them , masterlist

Ambessa loves being the big spoon, pressed up behind you with one of her thick arms under your head, the other grabbing at your torso.

It's calming for you both when you trace over the scars on her arm under your head, leaving small kisses trailing after your fingers. She shows her appreciation by returning the favor and running her hands under your shirt to trail up your stomach.

If you grew ticklish at your touch, she would reluctantly stop, punctuating her actions with a kiss to the shell of your ear.

Sometimes, you would roll over to lay on her chest, her back now against the bed and her arm over your shoulders.

This way, she could see your face and admire your features with a smirk. Loving the way you look up at her with sleepy eyes and a smile gracing your lips.

Her chest was thick and comfortable to lay on, hearing her heavy heartbeat in your ear. This was one of your favorite sounds, and did its job at lulling you to sleep.

These were just your activities before you fell asleep, but once you do thats when the fun begins..

She was unusually hot when she slept (not just temperature wise). Sometimes, you'd have to throw the blankets off you both in the middle of the night just for some freedom.

And the fact that she is as close as possible to you doesn't help either. But on cold nights, you appreciated it, snuggling your face closer into her arms to feel the heat.

Her snores were deep and loud. That woman is always in a deep DEEP sleep. Sometimes, it woke you up, but you didn't mind. It just gave you more time to relish being in her arms.

Sevika is just a big softie, she wont admit it in words, but she loves being little spoon.

You definitely have to stretch your limbs a bit to wrap around her frame, but it's okay. it's for her. Usually, you can wrap your legs around her waist and hold her shoulders. She feels safe.

Sometimes she will turn around and put her face in your chest so that she doesnt have to face the world (just your tits).

She likes to inhale your scent and hear your heartbeat, and it makes it easier for you to stroke her hair and hum to her.

In that position she has her thick arm wrapped around your waist, holding you to the bed. (God knows she only needs one thats why she was nerfed)

She doesn't wear her mechanical arm to bed most of the time in fear of hurting you or crushing you with it.

But sometimes she will be lazy and just throw a pillow around her metal arm so that she can hold you still.

If you had a bad day, she insists you lay in her lap, face in her stomach while she smokes a cigarillo.

To add to that, have you seen her thighs? You fall asleep instantly due to comfort. And shes not complaining.

And if you are really sleepy, she will carry you around the house with one arm whilst doing her daily tasks. (Have you seen her wrangle isha with one arm?)

If she needs to step away for a second, she sits you on the counter, leaving you to huff at her absence before immediately picking you back up again.

Grayson is definitely the type of person to like the weight of someone's body on top of hers.

Just lay on her, legs on both sides of her hips and arms around her neck. She doesn't need a weighted blanket while you're sleeping over.

It's also easy to plant kisses on her neck and jaw, soothing her to sleep.

She also has a bunch of pillows, and you both wake up with them all over the floor (you might also be on the floor)

She is tossing in turning in her sleep every night. She was born this way, and if you do it too then you might be kick boxing eachother in your sleep.

Also, she will let you sit on her back while she lies on her stomach, pressing at her tense muscles and running your fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck.

When you are having a hard time falling asleep, she will soothe you with her husky/gravelly voice right in your ear. You can feel her hot breath on the side of your face while she whispers sweet nothings to you.

I know she's a dream to wake up to, her hair sprawled out all over the pillow and skin illuminated by the sun rise (NEED THAT).

When you wear her clothes to sleep, beware because you might not be sleeping for the next hour (that probably goes for everyone on this list..)

And her gun is always at her bedside. She is strapped and ready to protect you.

i know i said im on hiatus but shh...im posting drafts... i swear

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foldingfittedsheets · 25 days ago

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Today at work a little crow fledgling was just having the worst damn day. The little goober kept trying to shove its way into the door and screaming at its reflection while I was helping a lady look at a bed.

I pointed it out to her and together we regarded the infant screaming.

After she left my coworker came up and informed me there was a bird on her car. I went out to look and lo, the fledgling had scrambled up onto her windshield and was pecking forlornly at its reflection.

It stayed perched there in the hot sun, trying to move higher up the car with no success but too scared to fly down. She was agitated that it was on her car since she didn’t know if it would leave on its own.

“It’s a baby,” I told her, “It’s still learning how to fly.”

“That’s a baby?! It’s so big!”

“Yeah, it’s just a little guy.”

I went out to investigate. The parents began screaming and swooping. I placated them with crackers which they accepted without relenting their screaming. My coworker said she could now see that the creature on her car was indeed a baby with the sleek black parents swooshing angrily around in the air.

We regarded the baby together. After a while I started noticing it was showing signs of fatigue and distress. Mouth gaping but not begging for food, wings drooping. I went back out to check on it.

I was debating moving the baby; the day kept getting hotter and it didn’t have the energy or skill to relocate itself. My coworker also wanted the bird to stop pooping on her car. So eventually I announced, “I’m gonna move the bird.”

“Your gonna grab it? Aren’t you scared?”

I looked at her in bafflement. I grew up around every imaginable kind of fowl. The only bird I’d be scared of would be some of the big flightless ones. Even geese/swans are manageable if you just grab their necks before they really get flapping. The parents were not gonna go for my eyes like magpies and in general crows tend to recognize when you’re trying to help. “It’s just a little baby guy. It’s fine.”

I approached the baby amidst its parents shrieking crow obscenities down upon me. I scooped it gently like the burger.

I cannot begin to convey how soft that baby crow felt. It was the downiest most pleasant tactile thing that I’ve maybe ever held and the experience was only slightly marred by the goober trying ineffectually to bite me. It was stymied by the fact that it ain’t my first rodeo.

I brought it ten feet away to a nice shady tree. I held the baby gently so it could get its feet under it on the branch. It seemed a bit confused at this point but eventually gripped the branch and I stepped back and threw peanuts in self defense while the angry parents swooped showily around at me.

It stayed there pretty much the rest of the day. Its parents both checked in to make sure I hadn’t murdered it then flew back to where we could see a nest. So best theory is that this dingus was the first to start fledging and couldn’t actually return to the nest after launching.

I told my wife afterward and they went, “You. You touched the bird?!” My coworkers husband was also flabbergasted that I’d been brave enough to grab it. My coworker said she was just gonna shove it off her car with a broom.

As if they didn’t know who they married. As if I am not someone who would confidently help a stray cat or wrangle a chicken.

I informed them that barring gloves I had thoroughly washed my hands twice and it was worth it to get the silly infant off a slippery car and into the shade.

#ramblies #story #crow #fledgling #baby crow #technically this happened yesterday but I didn’t have the brain to finish writing up the events til today

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sushirrrry · 19 days ago

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NEEDED || a harry styles x you one-shot. word count: 3,138 content warning: fluff fluff and more fluff

summary: you plan father's day, & chaos is the only way you, your three girls, and harry know how to do it.

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You’d tried—you really had.

The girls had tiptoed through the kitchen in their little socks at six-thirty in the morning with wild hair and even wilder energy, whispering with all the stealth of a herd of elephants. You let them—smiling from behind your coffee mug as the older two argued over who would crack the eggs into the bowl, and the littlest just wanted to lick the batter even though you weren’t making pancakes yet.

It was Father’s Day today, which meant it was a whole Sunday just for Harry. Just for celebrating him, showering him with affection and love and showing him that all four of his girls could make him feel the most special he had ever felt.

Now that the girls were older, it was much more fun to watch them shower their dad with love—you found it to be exciting to watch their little brains love their father so much and knowing that it was everything he had ever dreamed of.

And the plan, in theory at least, was to let him sleep in, shower him in homemade cards and kisses, then spoil him rotten all day long without needing a single thing from him—that was his gift, relaxation. Just one day where you’d all handle everything—the food, fun, chaos. All of it.

This didn’t even last an hour.

“Daddy! Snake!”

Hazel, your six-year-old, screamed from the back porch like her legs had been bitten off.

You were holding a bowl of fruit salad in one hand and your toddler, Bea, on your hip—because she refused to wear pants and you were trying to preserve what little dignity she had left even though she loved streaking through the yard. You and Harry had decided to let that go, but you realized it may have started to become a habit with taking her clothes off just to go outside.

You were already sweating in the heat of the June morning. It was 8:47 a.m.

Harry came out the back door barefoot, blinking sleep away from his eyes, t-shirt probably inside out and hair all askew. He still looked stupidly good, which made you smile just a bit. It was the kind of good that made you want to grab him by that messy collar and drag him back to bed just so you could have him yourself—but Hazel was pointing toward the flowerbeds like she’d seen the devil, and you watched your oldest, Lucy, start to panic too.

“There’s a snake!” Lucy pointed, obviously not going anywhere near it either.

You groaned, not even wanting to look—if it was a snake, you didn’t want to know about it being so close to the house. “It’s probably a garden hose again, baby.”

“It hissed!” Hazel interjected, moving over to grab your waist.

Harry yawned, stretched, and gave you a drowsy grin. “Father’s Day, huh?”

You giggled, bouncing Bea on your hip. “Well, we had breakfast plans, I swear.”

He kissed the top of Bea’s curly head, to which she giggled and grabbed for Harry—as they all did. You had just gotten used to the fact that he was overall the favorite parent; you could understand why. “What’s a man need with eggs when there’s a reptile to wrangle?”

It hadn’t really taken much to get the snake out of the yard—yes, the real snake. Not the garden hose. The snake, a harmless garter snake, was gently relocated to the trees behind you home and over the rock wall with a pool net and a lot of squealing. Hazel stayed on top of the patio table the entire time like it was lava. Bea clapped like it was a circus.

And just like that, Harry had become the hero of the morning.

“Daddy’s the best snake catcher,” Lucy declared proudly, her eight-year-old voice full of awe. “Mummy would have let us get eaten.”

He knelt down, giving her a look, “Mummy is a bit of a scaredy-cat, but she’s also quite a tough one. Doubt she’d let you get eaten.”

Of course, that made Hazel giggle, and you shook your head as you watched her follow him back onto the deck. You took a sip of your lemon water as you sat on the chair and rolled your eyes at him, “I am not a scaredy-cat!”

“And now we’re going to cook breakfast!” Hazel chimed in, holding a spatula in her hand as you all start to move inside towards the stove to make the pancakes. “Without your help!”

You handed him a coffee when you got inside from the hot pot that was sitting, waiting for you to take it to him in bed, but now he was standing here in front of you. “Please don’t go far.”

He sipped it, grinning. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

By noon, the “we’ll do it ourselves” barbecue had devolved into Harry manning the grill because you couldn’t light it, Hazel almost lost an eyebrow when she stood too close to it, and the hot dogs slid off the plate onto the deck, as you shooed the dog away—but Honey grabbed one as soon as she could, regardless.

Harry gave you a smirking look as he stood by the stove, shirtless, in his swim trunks. You scrunched your nose back at him. You were flustered. The girls were giggling. And Harry was as calm as ever, with just tongs in hand, flipping burgers like he wasn’t being slowly pulled into his own Father’s Day responsibilities.

“Harry,” you said, from your perch under the patio umbrella, nursing a lemonade and your pride, “you’re not supposed to be doing everything today.”

“I’m not,” he said, glancing at the girls dancing to the speaker’s bubblegum pop mix. “I’ve got three assistants and a very pretty supervisor, who I’m now realizing, I dramatically underpay.”

Lucy ran up grabbed at his waist. “Daddy, the pool! The floaties are stuck!”

He raised an eyebrow at you, handing over the tongs, “You’re on grill duty, babe.”

“Gotcha’ covered, daddy.” You tell him with smirk, knowing that you’re both making an eye at each other under your sunglasses.

He sighed deep and quite theatrical and kissed your temple as he walked past. “Good thing I wouldn’t want to be needed anywhere else.”

The pool rescue mission led to full-on splash war—it was really a way to get him into the pool. You gave up on trying to keep Bea dry after she waddled in in her diaper. You had to tell Harry to cut it out after the third cannonball that soaked the surrounding area of the deck.

The girls were shrieking with laughter, spraying him with their mini water guns, and even Lucy forgot she’d said she was too big for pool games now.

“Team Daddy loses!” Hazel shouted gleefully, water dripping down her cheeks as she swam towards the edge of the pool.

“Team Daddy is outnumbered!” he yelled back, wiping his hair back off his forehead when he resurfaced.

You were sitting on the edge of the pool, watching him chase them around like he wasn’t pushing thirty-five. You caught his eyes through the mess of laughter and sunlight. He winked back at you, swimming up to your legs as you looked down at his big, green eyes.

“Having fun?” You ask him, feeling the coolness of the water on your legs as he comes to lean on you.

“They’re animals out there,” he tells you, shaking his head. “Don’t know when we acquired a zoo.”

“They, unfortunately, are our circus, and our monkeys.” You tell him with a giggle, watching as he pushes himself from the wall.

The afternoon was soaked with downtime in a chorus of protests, wet towels, and sticky popsicle fingers. You wrangled the girls into dry clothes, curled up Bea on your chest, and tucked Hazel into her bed for a quick nap—even at six, she loved taking an afternoon nap, after two books and three sips of water.

By the time you got downstairs, Harry was laying on the couch with Lucy curled against his side, her chapter book resting on his chest as she had proudly been reading back to him. He’d fallen asleep mid-sentence, mouth slightly open, arm protectively around her back as she laid next to him.

You stood there for a moment, heart tugging painfully. You loved him—you really did. Especially when he was pulling snakes out of the garden. Especially when the entire day you’d planned for him ended up looking more like a tribute to his problem-solving skills than a break.

Maybe that was the point. Maybe being needed was its own kind of gift.

Dinner was takeout—because you admitted defeat. Bea wanted noodles, Hazel voted pizza, Lucy demanded sushi, and Harry just looked amused while you FaceTimed the local Thai place and begged them to do a split order.

You all piled on the couch and surrounding areas afterward, the girls curled against him, watching Finding Nemo for the fiftieth time—of course, not a movie he wanted to watch, but a movie he preferred out of the ones they had given as suggestions.

“I had a different day planned,” you whispered to him over a plate of dumplings.

“I didn’t.” Harry shook his head, taking a bite of his Szechuan beef and looked over at you with a smirk.

You hesitated for a moment, tilting your head. “You didn’t?”

“I figured I’d be unclogging something or getting tackled into the pool,” he said, setting down his finished plate on the coffee table, “Being a dad doesn’t come with quiet Sundays. It comes with snake calls and princess parties and no hot food. But I wouldn’t want to be needed anywhere else.”

You kissed him softly, right over his smile. “We love you.”

“I know,” he murmured, eyes crinkling. “You show me every time you break something.”

Later, when all three girls were getting their clothes picked out for the next day, and the lights were low, and you finally got him to yourself—just you and him on the back porch, your bare feet on his lap and his hand tracing lazy circles along your shin—you looked up at the stars and said:

“Next year, we’ll let you sleep past ten.”

He chuckled, eyes warm. “I won’t hold my breath.”

“But we’ll try again.”

“You will. And I’ll get up again. That’s the gig.”

You leaned in, kissed the soft underside of his jaw. “Happy Father’s Day, love.”

And with the cicadas humming and the moon overhead, he gave your ankle a squeeze and said it again, so quietly and so full of truth:

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be needed.”

You stayed on the porch a little longer after he stood and kissed your forehead, murmuring something about checking on “his girls.” You let him go.

The warm buzz of the day still clung to your skin—sun-kissed cheeks, a satisfied ache in your legs from chasing barefoot toddlers through the yard, laughter still echoing in your ears like music you never wanted to turn off. You could still see him in your mind: soaked at the pool, tongs in hand at the grill, wrangling a snake with a grin like it was a fairground game.

But this part… this was your favorite. Watching him be a dad at bedtime was sacred. It always had been, because it felt like this was the moment you both had waited so long for—you remember every single moment with him in detail, and you never took it for granted.

You padded in barefoot, quiet, the hallway dim with the soft glow of the nightlights. From the doorway of Lucy’s room, you saw him seated at the edge of her bed, her chapter book in his lap again. Harry always went oldest to youngest, from each room.

She was sprawled under her quilt, freshly showered, hair wet and put in a braid to keep it from tangling. Her face was tilted up toward him, the freckled bridge of her nose wrinkling with curiosity as he finished a sentence. Her eyes were big—they were his eyes, truly—and locked on his like she’d never heard anything more fascinating.

He didn’t rush reading through chapters to get from one girl to another; he never rushed bedtime.

Even when he was tired, even when his back ached, even when there were dishes in the sink or emails to answer or things left undone. When it came to these few quiet moments—just him and his daughters, he never hurried.

“That’s the end of chapter twelve,” he murmured, setting down the fantasy book that she had recently been into.

“Can we do thirteen?” Lucy asked, already turning the page to see what was up next.

“You’ll fall asleep before I finish the first paragraph,” he teased, brushing her damp hair behind her ear. “Tomorrow. I promise.”

Lucy smiled, stretching her arms up and wrapping them around his neck. “You’re the best.”

He closed his eyes. Just for a second, like he was letting the words sink all the way down. He was letting this memory hold on him as he recalled how another year, they got older, and another year bedtime would be long gone.

“Love you, bug.”

You felt something twist sweetly behind your ribs.

In Hazel’s room next door, he found her sitting cross-legged on her bed in her favorite ballerina pajamas, trying to rearrange her plushies in some very complicated performance tableau. Harry dropped down beside her with exaggerated effort, groaning like his knees had betrayed him.

You missed what he had said to her, but could never miss the way that she wound up during bedtime; Harry tickling her until her squeals were muffled in his hoodie, and he just laughed—endlessly amused at her laughter.

When she’d settled back onto the mattress, he helped her line up each stuffed animal the way she wanted, nodding seriously when she said that Beary and Bunbun were getting married tomorrow and everyone else was invited.

“Even you,” she said, kissing his cheek. “Because you’re the handsomest.”

“Well now I’m definitely coming if you’re going to flatter me like that.”

She kissed his other cheek too and whispered something that made him smile. You watched Harry lean down and press a kiss to her head. He lingered there a moment, hand stroking her back through the blanket, before gently rising and meeting you outside the door.

“What was that?” you asked softly from the hallway, leaning against the doorframe now.

Harry turned, grinning as he caught your waist. “Apparently I’m the handsomest and the bestest.”

“She’s not wrong,” you said with a laugh, grabbing at his bicep before he kissed your cheek.

Hazel turned over and burrowed beneath the covers, already half-asleep.

“One more,” he whispered.

Bea was waiting, always waiting. Somehow your youngest had the keenest sense for routine, and she didn’t like when things deviated, but she was always patient with him as he had to go from one girl to the next. She sat in her crib, already holding her blanket in one fist and the other arm extended toward the doorway where her daddy’s shadow had just appeared.

“Da-da,” she said, sleepy and soft, her curls sticking out in every direction like dandelion fluff.

“There’s my bumble-bee,” Harry cooed, lifting her with a practiced ease, letting her cling to his shoulder and pat his cheek with her sticky little hand. “Did you wait for me?”

“Mm-hmm,” she said, smushing her face into his neck.

You stood by the doorway, not daring to interrupt. This was their moment. You’d had your share earlier—bubble baths and brushing teeth, outfit battles and bedtime songs that lead to the girls giving their best Eras Tour performance down the hallway. But this… this part belonged to him.

She melted into him, her tiny body going limp with trust, with complete love. And Harry… Harry held her like he’d waited his whole life to be needed like this. And the truth was—he had.

You’d seen it before with him in the earliest years. In the way he’d looked at Lucy when she was first placed in his arms—like the entire world had been rewritten in one moment, because it had been. In the way he’d stood outside the bathroom door while you puked through every trimester, rubbing your back and reading baby name lists aloud. In the way he knew every pediatrician visit by heart, every favorite cup, every stuffy nightmare fix, every girl’s favorite bedtime story, every song they wanted hummed before bed.

Fatherhood wasn’t a costume he wore once a year to be celebrated. It was stitched into his bones and this was who he was meant to be—this was the best version of him.

And as you watched him lay Bea back down, tucking her in with her favorite blanket just so, your eyes stung with the weight of how full your house was, of how lucky you all were, of how deeply you loved the man who carried all of you in quiet, steady hands.

He turned back toward you in the dark, his expression soft and proud. You met him in the hallway, winding your arms around his waist. “You’re such a good dad.”

He tucked you into his chest, holding you close as he rocked you back and forth. “They make it easy.”

You pressed your nose to the hollow of his throat. “You make it look easy.”

He held you there. In the glow of the nightlight and the sound of the sound machine down the hall, in the soft thud of three hearts asleep.

You pulled back and smiled, eyes glassy. “You waited for this. All those years you said you’d be the fun one, the soft one, the dad who showed up for everything. You did it.”

He kissed your forehead, reassuring that he had made his promise, and was meant to keep it. “I’d do it again a thousand times over.”

“And next year…” you murmured against his chest, “we’ll try to let you sleep in past nine.”

“Sure, you will,” he said, chuckling, knowing very well that this would happen again next year. Maybe the next things would change as the girls got older, but he knew one thing for sure: he wouldn’t have it any other way.

You looked up at him, hand cupping his cheek. “Happy Father’s Day, Harry.”

He kissed you then—slow and tender. The kind of kiss that says thank you for this life. For them. For all of it.

Then he whispered it again, right against your lips, like a promise: “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be needed.”

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nylqnder · 21 days ago

Text

TRYING NOT TO, JACK HUGHES

summary: the day before quinn and emmeline's wedding, you are sent on a last-minute road trip to fix a major emergency with quinn's infuriating younger brother, jack. what starts as a tension filled drive turns into something far more complicated as old grudges, misunderstandings, and an unexpected moment forces you to confront the past. with wedding chaos unfolding around you, you are forced to figure out whether your connection is just fleeting or something worth holding onto.

warnings: enemies to lovers, jack being a bit of a dick but so is the reader? fake fiancée/wife for quinn, a couple of uses of curse words, one or two mentions of alcohol

wc: 14.4k

notes: call me patrick swayze the way i'm coming back kids! holy shit genuinely the longest thing i've ever written but i really love it. i also love the fake character i've created in emmeline. she's perfect for quinn. hope y'all enjoy love you!!

The scent of freshly cut grass hung in the warm summer air, clinging to the polished marble floors and driftwood beams of the yacht club’s grand lobby. You stood in the centre—clipboards, binders, and last-minute instructions spilling from your arms—as a flurry of staff moved around you, wrapping garlands of faux flowers around railings, and helping the last flow of guests get checked into their rooms. Outside, the water glittered under the late afternoon sun, serene and still—the exact opposite of your current mental state.

Tomorrow was the big day. Emmeline’s big day.

The thought alone made your heart clench—not in the way some girls felt about weddings, but because Emmeline was your person. Cousins by blood, but closer than sisters. You were both only children, raised more like twins than distant relatives. You knew the way she chewed her thumbnail when she was nervous, the breathy laugh she let out when she was trying not to cry, and how deeply—stubbornly—she loved Quinn Hughes, the man she was about to marry.

You were her maid of honor, and you would make this perfect. Even if it meant re-tying bows, wrangling both the flower girl and ring bearer who were both under the age of 6, and micromanaging every floral arrangement down to the angle of the damn tulips.

“These need to face outward,” you said, approaching the tall centrepiece being adjusted at the welcome table. “We want the blooms to greet people, not glare at the ceiling.”

You took over the flower-adjusting, angling the blooms towards the entryway.

And that’s when you heard it—the low hum of a luxury engine. The kind that didn’t sputter or whine, but purred like it belonged.

You turned toward the wide front windows just in time to see a sleek black Range Rover pull up to the curved drive. Its glossy body caught the sunlight like a mirror. The back door swung open before the SUV had fully stopped, and out stepped Quinn—tall, lanky, dark; the total opposite of Emmeline, but maybe that’s what made them work so well.

You smiled instinctively. He was good for her. Kind in the quiet, steady way. The kind of man who held doors and remembered anniversaries without needing reminders. Emmeline was lucky.

But then another door opened.

And your heart dropped.

Out came Jack.

His suit bag was slung over one shoulder, dark blond curls windblown, sunglasses perched like a crown of arrogance atop his head. He looked taller than you remembered. Broader too.

The smile brought on by your cousins' fiancé quickly vanished at the sight of his brother.

Jack spotted you quickly, too, as the groomsmen climbed the marble entry steps. His eyes flicked over you with quick precision—clipboard, binder, pencil behind your ear, the purposeful way you stood like you owned the lobby. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the sight. Of course, you’d overtaken the planning. Of course, you were micromanaging every last detail. He was surprised, frankly, that you hadn’t demanded Quinn and his groomsmen be at the wedding venue at the same time as you were, instead of letting them spend the week at the family lakehouse as they had.

You ignored the presence of the middle Hughes sibling, smiling at Quinn as he entered the lobby. “Hey groom,” you smiled, stepping forward. “Nervous yet, or just pretending not to be?”

Quinn grinned and walked in for a hug. “Only excited,” he said, pulling you in. “I can’t wait for tomorrow.”

When you pulled back, Jack was there too, lingering just behind him, sunglasses now hanging from the collar of his t-shirt. His eyes locked with yours. A smirk that nearly curled into a sneer tugged on his lips.

“Ma’am,” he said, mock saluting you.

You blinked. “Seriously?”

Quinn gave his brother a warning glance, but Jack simply let out a breathy laugh through his nose as he stepped past you. Jack’s shoulder just barely grazed yours, but it was enough to make your spine stiffen. He knew exactly what he was doing—calculated, casual, just irritating enough to make it seem accidental. You turned slightly, watching him saunter toward the welcome table and delicately graze one of the tulips you’d just adjusted, tipping the bloom back towards the ceiling.

“Please,” you said coolly, “try not to mess anything up in the five minutes you’re here.”

Jack glanced over his shoulder with a crooked smile. “Jesus Christ, y/n, it’s the bride that’s supposed to be controlling, not the maid of honor.”

You felt your teeth grind against one another, a slurry of evil words bubbling to the surface, before Quinn spoke up. “Guys, please,” he started, shifting uncomfortably beside you. “Can you not go at it all weekend?”

“I’m not ‘going at’ anything,” you said through gritted teeth, never taking your eyes off Jack. “I’m just asking him to stay out of the way.”

“Gonna be hard for the best man to stay out of the way.” Jack snorted. “Y’know you’re kind of taking the fun out of the whole weekend for me?”

You took a step forward, pointing the clipboard at Jack. “This weekend isn’t about you having fun, Jack. It’s about your brother and Emmeline. Try and remember that.”

His smile flickered just enough for you to catch it. “Trust me,” he said, voice dropping slightly, “no one’s forgetting who’s running the show.”

Quinn cleared his throat. “Okay. Great reunion, everyone. Can we maybe not start the weekend with a fight?”

Neither of you said anything, but the look Jack gave you was enough. It was a challenge—one he’d clearly enjoy stretching out over the next forty-eight hours. You could already picture it: sly comments during the rehearsal dinner, backhanded compliments during speeches, finding little ways to push your buttons every chance he got.

“Fine,” you said, stepping back and motioning toward the grand staircase. “Groomsmen are in the west wing, second floor. Your rooms are labeled. Try not to switch them around for fun.”

Jack winked. “You wound me.”

You didn’t answer. Just turned on your heel and walked away, jaw tight, footsteps sharp against the marble floor.

The wedding hadn’t even started, and already Jack was under your skin like a splinter, exactly where he wanted to be.

If you could have it your way, you would never have to see Jack this weekend. You would never see him for as long as you lived.

It’s hard to believe there was a time when you couldn’t wait to meet Jack.

That summer, two years ago now, felt like a dream. Emmeline had just hit the one-year mark of living with Quinn in Vancouver, and everything was suddenly moving fast. She was blissed out and in love, and when she invited you to join her at the Hughes’ lakehouse for a week in July, you said yes before she even finished asking. A week's vacation at a nice-ass lakehouse, doing nothing but lounging on the lake in the summer sun? There was no reason to say no.

You’d only ever seen Quinn’s brothers in tagged Instagram photos or in quick NHL highlights that Emmeline made you watch when she was tipsy and bragging. But still, you were curious. And nervous. You wanted to make a good impression. These were the people Emmeline was beginning to think of as family—and by extension, people who might one day be yours too.

The first day at the lakehouse was golden hour from beginning to end—long stretches of dockside lounging, frozen margaritas, casual games of spikeball that turned surprisingly competitive. And then Jack arrived.

He walked onto the deck barefoot, wearing swim trunks and a backward cap, his tan lines sharp, his grin easy. You remember exactly how your stomach flipped, the unbidden flutter. He had that kind of charisma that wasn’t loud but insistent, magnetic even when it didn’t try to be. And the worst part? He knew it.

Still, he was polite. Friendly, even. He offered to help carry your bag upstairs after dinner and held open the screen door without a word. There was something about the way he looked at you, too—assessing, a little smug, but interested. You caught him watching you during breakfast the next morning, the way his head tilted slightly when you laughed too hard at something Emmeline said. You thought, maybe. Maybe there was something there.

But then that afternoon, something changed.

You had just finished changing into the bikini you’d splurged on just for this trip, heading down to the dock to hopefully add to the nice tan you’d begun to develop. You froze at the door to the screened porch when you heard Quinn ask his brothers what they thought about Emmeline. They had glowing reviews. Of course they did, who wouldn’t absolutely love her? Then you heard Jack’s voice come through.

“Yeah, no, Emmeline’s great,” he said. “She’s chill. Fun. And she doesn’t make you feel like you’re five minutes late to a meeting she scheduled in her head.”

A pause. Someone snorted—probably Luke.

“I mean, her cousin’s cool too,” Jack added, like it was an afterthought. “Just... very on top of things. Like, I blink wrong and I feel like I’m getting silently judged for not folding my towel right.”

Another laugh. Jack spoke again.

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s pretty. Smart, too. But I don’t know, man—she’s just trying too hard or something; trying too hard to prove herself. It’s a lake week, not a job interview.”

Quinn had muttered something you couldn’t hear—hopefully a weak defense—but Jack kept going.

“I mean, it’s not a shock she’s single. I couldn’t imagine dating something like that and lasting more than a week.”

Your stomach twisted before the words even finished leaving Jack’s mouth.

You stood frozen on the threshold of the porch, the screen door creaking slightly under your grip, but none of them noticed. They couldn’t see you—thank god. You weren’t sure what your face looked like in that moment, but it definitely wasn’t something you wanted them to witness.

The heat you’d been chasing for your tan rushed to your cheeks instead, a flush of embarrassment so sharp it made your skin prickle. Trying too hard? Your chest tightened like someone had cinched a belt around it, breath caught somewhere halfway between a gasp and a scoff. You’d spent the whole morning organizing breakfast cleanup because no one else seemed inclined to lift a finger. You’d brought extra sunscreen, made a shared playlist, and reminded Luke twice about reapplying after he had started turning a light shade of pink yesterday. You weren’t trying to prove yourself, at least, not consciously. You were just being helpful. Friendly. Yourself. But to Jack, it all came off as performative. Forced.

It stung. God, it burned. Not because it was the worst thing someone could say, but because it came from him—the one who’d made you laugh by the fire last night, who’d teased you about your marshmallow-toasting technique, who you’d maybe, maybe been starting to like. Just a little.

Now all you could feel was the sting of humiliation—and a rising, quiet fury behind it. You stepped back from the porch, as silently as you’d come. Let them sit there and laugh. Let Jack think whatever he wanted.

You didn’t confront him. You didn’t cry. You just stopped trying.

The rest of the week, you kept your distance. Jack seemed to notice the change, but if he cared, he didn’t say anything. The few times you did interact, it was cold. Cordial on the surface but laced with sarcasm. He’d ask if you were “running the guest itinerary” or if he needed to check in for breakfast. You’d fire back with biting commentary about him showing up late to dinners and vanishing before clean-up.

By the end of the trip, the two of you were locked in a kind of mutual disdain that no one else quite understood. Emmeline didn’t push it—she figured you’d both just gotten off on the wrong foot. Quinn mostly tried to pretend it didn’t exist.

But it never really went away. And now, two years later, you were standing in the middle of a wedding you were trying to keep perfect, while Jack Hughes was doing his best to derail your sanity one smug smirk at a time.

It would have been easier if he were just an asshole. But Jack wasn’t heartless—he was good with his brothers, made Emmeline laugh, and was now helping your aunt, Emmeline’s mom, carry her suitcase up the stairs to her room.

That’s what made it worse.

Because somewhere beneath the friction and insults and eye rolls was the memory of a boy you almost liked.

And the gut-deep irritation of knowing he could have liked you too.

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

Emmy

FIZZBOMB!!!!!!

When the text appeared on your phone screen, you raced out of the reception hall and towards the bridal suite. Fizzbomb was the code word invented by you and Emmeline when you were 10 and 11. It was meant to signify that one of you needed help; when you were 16 and at your first party, you texted fizzbomb to Emmeline because you had gotten too drunk to have one of your parents pick you up, so she came to get you. When Quinn was taking Emmeline out for an evening, and she was convinced that he was proposing, she texted you fizzbomb to help her get ready so she looked perfect in the proposal photos.

You gave the door to the bridal suite a short knock, but realized that to be futile, considering the noise you could hear coming from within. When you walked into the suite, your jaw practically dropped.

The room looked like a tornado had touched down somewhere between the vanity and the velvet chaise lounge. Dresses hung crooked on hangers. Makeup brushes littered the counter like fallen soldiers. And in the center of it all stood Emmeline—usually the picture of poise and Pinterest-worthy perfection—frantically digging through one of her matching polka dot suitcases.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, yanking out a matching lace lingerie set that was no doubt meant for the wedding night. The rollers in her hair had begun to come loose, her blonde hair just barely holding them in place. “No, no, no, no—this can’t be happening.”

You stood frozen in the doorway for a second too long before stepping into the chaos. “Hey… what’s going on?”

Emmeline’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice, her eyes wide with panic.

“The rings!” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I can’t find the rings!”

Your stomach dropped. “Wait—what?”

“The wedding bands,” she clarified, as if you’d somehow misunderstood. She stumbled to her feet, stepping in front of you and placing her hands on your shoulders. “They’re not in the box. They’re not with the jewelry. I checked my bag, the dress bag, the bathroom—they’re not here.”

You blinked at her. “Okay. Okay, let’s just slow down for a second.” But she was already pacing, muttering under her breath, and clutching her wedding notebook that had every checklist, every to-do list, everything about the wedding handwritten in Emmeline’s perfect, loopy handwriting. “Where were they last? Where do you remember them being?”

“They were in the velvet box—Quinn’s grandma’s box—the one I put in the top drawer of my nightstand at the lake house so I wouldn’t forget them,” she said in a rush. “But then I packed everything, and I thought I brought them, but they’re not in my jewelry bag, they’re not in my makeup case, and I just tore apart my suitcases, but—” she flung out her arms helplessly “—they’re not here.”

You tried to stay calm for both of you. “Okay. Okay. So… maybe Quinn has them?”

Emmeline’s eyes lit up for a second. “Maybe! Maybe I gave them to him and just forgot, or—or he grabbed them before he left!”

Emmeline practically sprinted out of the room, with you hot on her heels. You dodged a floral arrangement, startling Quinn’s teammate and his girlfriend as you raced down the corridor to the grooms’ suite. Emmeline didn’t even knock—she burst through the door, breathless and wearing a worried look.

Quinn sat at the table, poker chips and cards scattered in front of him, surrounded by the rest of his groomsmen. His wide grin vanished when he spotted his fiancée in the doorway, crazy-haired and red-faced.

Quinn dropped his hand of cards, standing and stepping over to Emmeline. “Emmy? Are you—”

“Do you have the rings?” she asked, voice tight with panic.

Quinn blinked. “Do I have the— No, I don’t have the rings, I thought you had them.”

Emmeline let out a strangled sound. “No, I thought I had them, but they’re not in any of my bags, and they’re not in my purse, and now I’m thinking… Quinn, I think I left them at the lake house.”

A few members of the bridal party—you not included as you genuinely felt like you couldn’t spend a week in the same house as Jack without murdering him—spent the week leading up to the wedding weekend at the Hughes family lake house for some R&R. Emmeline left a couple days early so she could get settled before the wedding and give her body time to relax.

He frowned. “You left a few days before me. I thought you grabbed them then?”

“I thought you grabbed them after me!”

“No, babe, you told me you were bringing them because you didn’t trust me not to lose them.”

You and Quinn locked eyes for a beat. He looked pale.

“They’re still at the lake house then,” he said flatly. “Three hours away.”

A thick silence settled over the room as the full weight of the situation landed on everyone. Then Emmeline let out a squeak of horror and dropped into the nearest armchair like a marionette who’d had her strings cut. Her wide green eyes began to well with tears. Quinn was at her side in seconds, taking her into her arms and offering her words of comfort.

You looked between them—Emmeline curled into Quinn’s chest, trembling and teary-eyed, and Quinn rubbing her back with one hand while gripping his phone in the other.

Emmeline had planned this wedding down to a T, making sure every detail was perfect and in her control. She’d been dreaming of this day since she was a little girl. You’d seen the Pinterest board she made when she was sixteen—an elaborate collection of lace gowns, waterfront venues, color palettes in butter yellow and ivory, long banquet tables beneath canopies of string lights. Back then, it had seemed like a fantasy—a collage of someday. And now, somehow, it had all come to life. Every last inch of it.

This was her dream unfolding in real time. You weren’t about to let something like this ruin it.

“How far is the lake house from here?” you asked.

Quinn glanced up at you. “Three hours or so?”

“Two hours and fifty-one minutes… with no traffic.” Jack supplied.

You turned and shot him a glare you hoped conveyed the exact amount of annoyance you felt. “Thank you, Google Maps.”

He just shrugged.

You turned back to Quinn and Emmeline. You thought for a second, then nodded. “I’ll go. I’ll drive to the lakehouse and get the rings.”

Emmeline jerked her head up, mascara already smudging under her eyes. “What?” she asked, sniffling. “You don’t have to—”

“It’s fine. It’s just a few hours. I know what the box looks like, you know you trust only me to go get them… And if I leave now, I’ll be back before the rehearsal dinner even starts,” you said it as calmly and confidently as you could, already pulling your phone from your pocket to check traffic.

Emmeline stood up from the chair and stepped in front of you, her laminated brows creasing together. “You are not driving six hours round-trip by yourself. That’s insane.”

“Emmy, I just flew to Detroit on my own three days ago,” you argued. “This is literally nothing compared to that. You don’t need to worry.”

“Honey, she’ll be fine,” Quinn interjected.

Emmeline shook her head, hands still fluttering like she couldn’t decide what to do with them. “That’s different. That was planned. This is—this is a panic trip,” she argued, sitting forward now. “You’ve barely slept, and I don’t want you white-knuckling it on some back road while I’m here trying not to throw up.”

You softened a little at her distress. “I’ll be fine. I’ll stop for coffee, I’ll blast your stupid pilates playlist that pumps you up, I’ll—”

“Take Jack,” she interrupted, as if it were obvious.

Your body went stiff. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” she asked, blinking at your sudden tone.

“Because—” you struggled, flailing for a reason that didn’t sound as childish as it felt. “Because I can just go! I don’t need a babysitter.”

She narrowed her eyes, all bridezilla panic momentarily replaced by sisterly suspicion. “He’s the one who drove everyone down. He has the car. You don’t.”

That brought you up short. Your mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “Still. There’s gotta be—”

“She’s right,” Quinn said reluctantly from Emmeline’s side, stroking her shoulder. “Jack’s the only one with a car that’s not rented or part of the shuttle fleet.”

“You’re all forgetting I can Uber to the lake house if I have to,” you said weakly.

Emmeline crossed her arms. “And you’re forgetting that I know you. You’ll pretend you’re fine but spend the entire time trying not to cry because you hate being alone in confined spaces with people you don’t know.”

You wanted to protest, but she was right. Of course, she was right. She was the one person who knew you inside out, back to front. Emmeline sat up straighter as you hesitated, a plan now forming in her head. “He’ll drive. You’ll ride. You can even nap if you want. I don’t care how it happens, I just care that someone brings the rings back before I walk down that aisle without them.”

Both you and Jack spoke at the same time:

“I’m not going with him.”

“I don’t wanna go with her.”

You blinked at each other. Jack looked like he wanted to vanish. You were pretty sure you wanted to as well.

Your eyes snapped towards Emmeline. Because, for the first time during her perfectly planned and executed wedding week, she yelled.

“Oh, for the love of God! Can the two of you give up this stupid hatred you have for one another for one fucking second and do this for me!”

The room fell into a stunned silence. You stared at Emmeline, momentarily stunned into silence. She never yelled. Not like that. Not when her boss took credit for the proposal she’d spent three months perfecting. Not when she moved in with Quinn and they dropped her grandmother's piano down five steps. Not even when their neighbor's dog ran through their screen door for the fourth time and broke a vase that was a family heirloom.

Jack shifted uncomfortably beside you, clearly just as rattled. His mouth opened like he was going to argue back, but then he caught the look on Emmeline’s face—pleading, furious, and one exhale away from breaking completely.

You took a breath and looked at her, really looked at her. Her shoulders were tense, her lower lip trembling, and her hands were clenched tight around the arms of the chair like it was the only thing anchoring her to the floor. This wedding wasn’t just a party. It was the culmination of months of planning, color-coded spreadsheets, sleepless nights, and calls to vendors that always seemed to go to voicemail. It was her dream, carefully and lovingly constructed—her one shot at a perfect memory—and it was slipping.

And the rings? They weren’t just any rings. They were symbols. A legacy from Quinn’s grandmother. Heirlooms that had been handled with care and reverence. Leaving them behind had to feel like a betrayal of everything she’d worked for.

You exhaled slowly, shoulders slumping in surrender. “Fine,” you said. “I’ll go with Jack.”

Jack held up his hands. “I still haven’t agreed to this.”

You looked pointedly at him. “We’re going.”

Jack muttered something under his breath, but when you went to retort, you caught him watching Emmeline too, jaw tight, expression unreadable.

“Come on,” you said, brushing past him.

But before you made it two steps, Emmeline was on you, wrapping her arms tightly around your shoulders, burying her face in your neck. “Thank you,” she whispered, voice raw. “I’m sorry I yelled.”

You hugged her back, tighter than you intended. “It’s okay. You only yelled a little.”

“She definitely yelled a lot,” Jack said unhelpfully from the side.

You pulled away from Emmeline to glare at him. He held up his hands in surrender, but there was a flicker of a smirk at the corners of his mouth that made your stomach turn in the way it always did when he smiled.

Emmeline pulled you back to her. Her eyes were lined with tears, but looked slightly steadier than they had moments ago. You gently brushed away the tears that slipped down her cheek with your fingers. “We’ll be back. With the rings. I promise.”

She nodded, eyes still glinting with tears, but steadier now. “Drive safe. Don’t kill each other. And… thank you. Again.”

You nodded and turned to leave, Jack following a few steps behind.

As you walked down the hallway toward the exit, your steps echoing against the walls, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched, taut and tense. Outside, the sun beat down on the parking lot like it had no idea the world was falling apart. Jack hit the unlock button, both of you moving toward the car in sync, climbing in with synchronized sighs.

The doors shut with a loud, heavy thud.

Jack started the engine and pulled out of the lot. “So…” he said, glancing sideways at you. “This is gonna be a blast.”

You slumped in your seat, arms crossed. “Just drive.”

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

And drive Jack did—at mach fucking ten. “Jesus Christ, Jack, slow down!” you snapped, gripping the door handle like it might detach and fly off.

“I’m not even going ten over,” he said without looking at you, his knuckles white on the wheel.

“You took that last curve like we were in a Fast and Furious reboot.”

“We’re on a schedule,” Jack said pointedly. “In case you forgot, someone left the goddamn wedding rings three hours away.”

“That someone is about to be your sister-in-law,” you reminded him, shooting him a look. “And she’s also practically my sister, so you can shut the hell up about it.”

He exhaled through his nose. “Not blaming her. I’m just saying if we want to make it back before the rehearsal, maybe don’t bark at me every time I tap the gas.”

You muttered something under your breath that definitely wasn’t polite.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you lied.

A tense silence settled in the car again. The highway stretched in front of you like a never-ending punishment. The new Laney Wilson song came to an end on the radio, seamlessly transitioning into “Last Night” by Morgan Wallen. You groaned, reaching over to the touchscreen on the dashboard and switching the channel.

“Woah, go back, I like that song,” Jack said, switching the channel back.

“God, of course you do. That song literally makes my ears bleed,” you complained, switching the channel back again.

“It’s catchy,” Jack said, flicking it back on again.

“Jack, I swear to God—”

He raised his voice to drown you out. “I know that last night, we let the liquor talk—”

“Oh my God, you sound like a drunk raccoon,” you said, smacking the power button so hard the whole console beeped in protest. Silence filled the car again, save for your aggravated breathing.

Jack’s jaw ticked. “You always do this.”

“Do what? Have taste?”

He huffed, shaking his head. “No—this thing where everything I like suddenly sucks.”

“You like Last Night by Morgan Wallen. That’s not a personality trait, Jack.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry we can’t all be elevated enough to only listen to indie folk sung by sad men with acoustic guitars.”

“At least they write lyrics that aren’t pulled from a rhyming dictionary and a six-pack of Busch Light.”

Jack gripped the wheel tightly. “You know what? Fine. Let’s just sit here in silence, like two fuckin’ zombies, because that’s so much more fun.”

“Sounds perfect,” you said, turning to stare out the window.

A beat passed. Then another.

Jack reached for the console again.

You didn’t even look. “Don’t.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were. I can feel it.”

Jack let out a slow, theatrical sigh. “You are the most stubborn human being I’ve ever met.”

“Better than being tone-deaf with garbage taste.”

“Oh my God,” he muttered. “I hope they put your name on the wedding program next to ‘Honorary Music Snob’ so everyone’s prepared for the shit music the DJ’s gonna be forced to play.”

“I hope you trip walking down the aisle.”

“Well,” Jack said with a sharp smile, “you’ll be walking with me, so when I fall, I’m dragging you down with me.”

Thick silence fills the car, only broken by the surrounding sounds of traffic and rubber tires crunching on the asphalt. Jack didn’t dare touch the screen again out of fear of hearing your nagging voice jumping on his back about his music taste. Despite your mutual disdain for silence, you didn’t want to back down from the stance you’d taken, so you let the radio stay muted.

As if summoned by the bitter tension in the car, the GPS chirped with a sudden change in tone—a cheery, far-too-optimistic “Rerouting to avoid delay. Estimated arrival time: 2:37 PM.”

You frowned and leaned forward. “What now?”

Jack glanced at the screen and groaned. “There’s a wreck up ahead. Looks like it’s taking us off the main highway.”

You sighed, adjusting your seatbelt. “Great.”

“Relax, Debbie Downer, it’s only adding like, ten minutes to our time,” Jack said, motioning to the dash. “We’ll be back with time to spare.”

The new route snaked through what could only be described as the forgotten veins of America: cracked blacktop roads, lined with skeletal trees and rusted-out mailboxes. The scenery turned more rural by the second, old barns sagging in open fields, tractors parked like relics in yards, and roadside signs that hadn’t been updated since the Bush administration.

“Jesus, are we being lured to a second location?” you muttered.

Jack scoffed. “Calm down. GPS knows what it’s doing.”

You eyed the pothole he narrowly missed. “Does it? Because this looks like a place where horror movies start.”

He didn’t respond—probably because the next bump hit hard enough to rattle your teeth. You gripped the armrest, casting a sidelong glance at him.

“Maybe slow down, Lewis Hamilton. This car is not built for off-roading.”

“I’m going thirty,” he snapped, but eased off the gas anyway. A silence stretched between you again, frayed and worn thin.

Then came the sound you never want to hear on a deserted back road: a loud popping noise, followed by rattling and the sound of rubber dragging across the pavement.

Jack cursed under his breath, pulling over to the gravel shoulder in front of the only landmark for miles—a faded, crooked sign that read “Ace’s Diner” in chipping red paint.

Jack killed the engine and stepped out with a grunt. You followed, shielding your eyes from the late-afternoon sun. Sure enough, the front left tire was completely absolved from air.

“God fucking dammit.” Jack cursed, tugging a hand through his dark blond curls.

“Please tell me you know how to change a tire?” you said hopefully.

“Oh, I can change a tire,” Jack said. Your brows raised in hope, posture straightening as you realized you might not be screwed. “But I don’t have a spare.”

Your hopes immediately deflated, a deep groan escaping your lips as you looked up at the blue Michigan sky.

“I’ll call Triple-A.” Jack sighed, pulling his phone out of his pocket and strolling down the shoulder.

You reached into the rolled-down window, grabbing your sunglasses from the cupholder. The mid-July sun beat down on your exposed shoulders, sweat immediately beginning to seep out of your skin.

Jack came back a few minutes later, shoving his phone into his shorts pocket, the set of his jaw doing all the talking.

“They said it’ll be at least an hour,” he said grimly. “Maybe longer if the guy has to come from the next town over.”

You let out an incredulous laugh. “An hour? In this heat?”

Jack shrugged, wiping the back of his wrist against his damp brow. You shifted your weight onto one hip, arms crossed. “I can’t stand in the sun for an hour, Jack. I’ll melt.”

Jack snorted, one eyebrow climbing. “Oh, come on. You can’t stand in the sun for an hour? You? The same girl who laid out on the dock at the lakehouse for eight hours straight with Emmy, looking like you were auditioning to be a rotisserie chicken?”

“That was different,” you said defensively. “That was controlled sun. Lakehouse sun. With SPF and an umbrella and a Yeti cup full of ice water.”

“This is sun,” Jack said, arms spread toward the wide, blinding expanse of sky. “It’s literally the same sun.”

“No. This is hellfire, death-ray sun,” you argued, pointing to the shimmering heat rising off the road like something out of a cartoon. “And we’re in the middle of nowhere without an ounce of breeze, a speck of shade, or even a goddamn iced coffee to our names.”

You spun on your heel, fanning yourself with your hands. The rundown diner came into your eyeline. The place looked like it hadn’t seen a health inspection since the early ’90s, but it was standing—and hopefully air-conditioned.

You turned back to Jack. “Let’s go in.”

Jack made a face like you’d suggested swimming in a septic tank. “What? No. That place looks like it serves food that’ll give us tetanus.”

“Then don’t eat,” you said, already walking backwards toward the door. “You can roast out here with your flat tire and heat stroke while I sit in air-conditioning and order greasy diner food. Your call.”

Jack looked from the car to you, eyes narrowing like he was weighing whether stubbornness was worth dehydration. You could practically hear the gears grinding.

You pulled the sunglasses down the bridge of your nose, looking at him over the top. “Coming?”

With a long-suffering sigh and a muttered curse, Jack slammed the car door shut and trudged toward you.

A little brass bell jingled as you stepped inside, immediately hit with the blessed wave of cold air. You nearly moaned.

“Thank God,” you whispered, pausing under the vent like a plant soaking up rain.

Jack stood beside you, arms crossed, squinting around at the outdated booths and laminated menus resting on sticky tables. “You realize this place is 100% haunted,” he muttered.

You ignored him, heading toward the bar top and perching on one of the cracked vinyl stools. The seat let out a dramatic creak under your weight. Jack reluctantly took the one next to you, eyeing it like it might collapse.

“If a ghost wants to serve me fries and a Diet Coke, I say let him,” you said, grabbing a menu that was wedged between two ketchup bottles.

A woman in her forties shoved through the swinging kitchen doors wearing a waitress uniform that looked like it hadn’t been updated since the 50s, her nametag reading Tanya. She looked you both up and down like you were intruders in her soap opera rerun.

“Is that your fancy black car out there with the flat?” she asked.

Jack nodded.

“Well, you’ve probably got an hour or two before AAA gets out here if you called ‘em,” Tanya said knowingly. “Y’all ordering or is it just ice water and complaints?”

You grinned. “No, we’ll order, just give us a sec.”

Tanya shuffled off, back into the kitchen. “If I die from eating a burger in this place, I’m haunting you,” Jack said as soon as she was out of earshot.

You nudged his shin with your sandal under the counter. “Perfect. Then I can blame the ghost every time someone plays Morgan Wallen.”

Jack groaned, resting his elbows on the countertop and bowing his head in his hands. “You’re insufferable.”

You smirked. “And yet, you followed me inside.”

He tilted his head towards you. “Only because you’re slightly less unbearable than a heatstroke.”

“Aw,” you said, fluttering your lashes. “You always know how to make a girl feel special.”

Jack just shook his head, but there was the faintest curve of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Jack was quiet for a minute, pretending to read the laminated menu like it held the secrets of the universe. You let the silence linger, amused by the fact that it was the first time in hours it didn’t feel tense—just tired, maybe. A little heat stroked. But not tense.

“So,” he said, voice casual in a way that meant it wasn’t casual at all, “no date to the wedding?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“The wedding,” he repeated, like you were slow. “Emmy and Q’s. You flying solo, or did you finally cave and bring someone to shut your mom up?”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back. “Why do you care?”

Jack shrugged, mouth twitching like he was trying not to smile. “Morbid curiosity.”

“No date,” you said after a pause, fiddling with the edge of your straw wrapper. “I was seeing this guy, but turns out he was cheating on me with one of his coworkers.”

Jack winced. “That fucking sucks.”

“Yeah…” you sighed. “What about you?”

“What about me?” he said, eyes still glued to the menu.

“You here alone? Or is there a secret girlfriend stashed away somewhere?”

Jack gave a low chuckle, finally looking towards you. “No secret girlfriend.”

You tilted your head. “Really? Mr. Big Shot Hockey Prodigy can’t find a date for a wedding?”

Jack shrugged again, and this time, it wasn’t deflection—it was something closer to resignation. “Hockey’s kind of… all-consuming. There’s always something. Practice, travel, games, off-season training. Even when I’m not on the ice, I’m thinking about being back on it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “So you’re saying hockey’s the reason you’re single.”

He looked at you evenly. “It’s the truth.”

You hummed. “I don’t know. That feels like a cop-out. Like yeah, you’re busy, but you could make it work if you actually wanted to.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you said. “There are surgeons with soulmates. Firefighters with families. Astronauts who FaceTime their wives from space. You can’t tell me a guy with a bus schedule and meal prep can’t send a text back or plan a date.”

He looked at you for a long moment, the weight of the conversation hanging somewhere between sarcastic banter and something heavier, unspoken.

“That’s fair,” he said eventually, his voice quieter.

You blinked. “Wait—did Jack Hughes just admit I was right about something?”

“I said it was fair,” he clarified, lips twitching. “Let’s not get carried away.”

Tanya returned with two glasses of water and a pen tucked behind her ear. “Y’all ready?”

You both glanced at each other. Jack gestured for you to go first, and you ordered your burger and fries. He ordered the same, begrudgingly.

Tanya shuffled off again, disappearing behind the swinging kitchen doors with a tired sigh. In the meantime, you and Jack filled the silence with light conversation—mostly about how the Yankees' season was going, the weird decor of the diner, and the fact that the ketchup in front of the two of you was nearly empty. It wasn’t anything deep, but it passed the time. A couple of minutes later, Tanya reappeared, balancing two steaming plates on her arms and wearing a faint smile as she slid your burgers in front of you with a practiced motion, plates clinking softly against the bar.

You barely waited for Tanya to step away before picking up your burger, the smell alone making your stomach twist in anticipation. The first bite was everything—greasy, savory, perfectly charred—and you practically melted into the booth as you chewed. A soft, involuntary sound escaped your throat, somewhere between a sigh and a moan.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, hand already reaching for another bite. “I haven’t eaten since like… eight this morning. This is the best decision I’ve made all week.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, taking a bite of his own. For a second, he looked like he was ready to make a joke, but then his expression shifted. He chewed slowly, then nodded, a little surprised. “Okay… okay, I judged too fast. This is actually a really good burger.”

You gave him a smug look, mouth still full. “Told you.”

You both fell into a quiet rhythm again, focused on your food. The diner buzzed faintly around you—Tanya clattering dishes behind the counter, a weathered radio playing old country tunes, the hum of a fan in the corner barely cutting the heat.

Jack made quick work of his burger, leaving behind nothing but a smear of ketchup and a few lonely pickles. He picked at his fries next, choosing only the crispest ones to eat with a level of scrutiny that bordered on obsessive.

You were halfway through your own plate when he finally spoke again, dragging the words out like he was picking them carefully.

“So,” he said slowly, “how’s maid of honour world domination going?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He gave an exaggerated shrug, but you could see the smile twitching at the corners of his mouth again. “Just saying… Emmy’s color-coded itinerary didn’t exactly scream laid-back vibes. I figured it had your fingerprints all over it. Or your iron grip.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were grinning. “Okay, first of all, that itinerary was a joint effort. And second, yes—I am organized. It’s called being helpful.”

“Sure,” Jack said, drawing out the word like he was humoring you. “Helpful. Some might say a little type A. Maybe even… controlling?”

“Alright, I am type A. I like schedules. I make lists. I have opinions about font hierarchy. But at least I’m not emotionally stunted and allergic to the words ‘let’s communicate.’”

Jack blinked, caught between a snort and a look of offense. “Ouch.”

But you weren’t laughing now. Because the word—controlling—had hit something, knocked a memory loose. And suddenly you were back at the lakehouse, standing just out of sight in the hallway.

Now, you shifted on your stool and stared at the condensation sliding down your own water glass. “You know,” you said quietly, “you’ve actually called me that before.”

Jack tilted his head, eyebrows pinching slightly. “What?”

“Controlling. Intense.” You met his eyes. “That’s what you said the first time we met—at the lake house. The second morning, you were on the porch with Luke and Quinn. You made jokes about me being controlling. Then you said you thought I was trying too hard, and it was no wonder I was single—because you couldn’t imagine being with something like me for more than a week.”

He was quiet for a beat. The lightness from earlier seemed to vanish from his face like someone had flicked off a switch as the memory of his words flooded back into his head. “Wait—what? I—hold on.” He set his glass down a little too hard. “You heard that?”

You nodded, keeping your expression steady even though your chest felt like it was slowly folding in on itself.

Jack ran a hand through his hair and sat back. “Shit. I didn’t… I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I swear.”

“But you said it.”

“I—yeah. I did. And I was being an asshole.” He paused. “Honestly, I don’t even remember the context. But I wasn’t trying to be cruel. I was probably just—” He exhaled. “Trying to seem clever. Or funny. Or… I don’t know. Cool, maybe?”

You arched a brow. “By casually trashing me?”

He winced. “Yeah. I know. I’m sorry.” He looked at you again, earnest now, no trace of the smirking, water-sipping version of him from five minutes ago. “You being the way you are? That’s not a flaw. That itinerary? It was kind of genius, if I’m being honest. Emmy would’ve had a panic attack without it.”

You stared at him for a second, unsure of what to say. The memory of that night had haunted you more than you’d let on. You weren’t even sure why it had mattered so much. But now that it was out, it felt… strange. Lighter, maybe.

“You really don’t remember saying it?” you asked, voice softer this time.

“I remember being a coward about things,” Jack said. “And saying dumb stuff because I didn’t know how to deal with the fact that you—” He stopped himself. His jaw flexed, like he was debating how much to give away. “You threw me off,” he finished, quieter.

Your heart did that annoying fluttery thing you’ve been trying to ignore since you’d met the green-eyed boy in front of you.

You looked at him for a long moment, the edges of your hurt softening into something quieter, more complicated. Maybe it was the way he wasn’t meeting your eyes now, or how his voice had lost all that practiced charm. Or maybe it was just the fact that he’d actually said sorry, which you weren’t sure you’d ever heard from him before.

Still, you swallowed, the next words catching in your throat before you forced them out.

“I guess I should apologize, too.”

Jack blinked. “For what?”

“For the way I acted. After I heard what you said. I could’ve talked to you. I could’ve… I don’t know, given you a chance to explain. But instead, I went full scorched-earth. Cold shoulder. Eye-rolls. Passive aggression.” You gave a weak, self-deprecating smile. “I took the hostile route because it felt easier than admitting I was hurt.”

His expression shifted—some mix of understanding and regret. “You had every right to be hurt.”

“Maybe. But I didn’t exactly take the high road either.”

A quiet beat passed between you, thick with the strange, tentative weight of two people trying to untangle a knot that had been there too long.

Jack shifted on his stool, his knee brushing yours briefly as he leaned a little closer. When he spoke again, his voice had gone softer. “For what it’s worth… I’m glad we’re not just pretending we don’t know each other anymore.”

You gave a tiny nod, then dropped your gaze to your glass. The condensation had pooled into a perfect ring on the bar top beneath it. Your hand, still resting near the glass, felt strangely aware of the few inches that now separated it from his.

“Me too,” you said.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The noise from the kitchen filtered in—clattering pans, muffled laughter—but it all felt far away. You looked over at him again and found him already watching you. There was nothing smug in it. Just quiet, steady warmth.

“You still think I’m trying too hard?” you asked, voice light but curious.

Jack’s mouth tilted into a lopsided smile. “No,” he said. “I think you care. About things. About people. And sometimes that looks like trying hard. But I don’t think that’s a bad thing anymore.”

Your chest tightened at that, in the good way. The scary way. You hadn’t even realized you’d leaned in slightly, drawn by the low, honest rhythm of his voice. Neither of you pulled back.

A long pause, and then:

“You still think I’m emotionally stunted?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You gave him a look. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

A beat of laughter lingers between you, softer this time—real. The kind that crinkles the corners of your eyes and tugs something loose in your chest. You're both still leaning in slightly, like neither of you noticed how close you've gotten until now. His knee brushes yours again, deliberately this time, and your breath catches—not because of the touch itself, but because he doesn’t pull away.

You look at him. Really look. His green eyes, usually so guarded or teasing, are uncharacteristically open, searching yours with something uncertain but sincere. There's no smirk. No deflection. Just Jack, raw in a way you’re not used to seeing him.

And then, without thinking, or maybe because you've both been thinking about it for far too long, you kiss him. Or Jack kissed you. Either way, your lips met halfway, soft and hesitant.

It’s tentative at first, like both of you are breaking a rule and you’re scared you’re about to be caught. But he answers with the way his hand lightly brushes your cheek, his thumb grazing the edge of your jaw. The kiss deepens for just a breath, soft, sweet, startling in its gentleness.

When you pull back, your heart is doing that fluttery, annoying thing again, wild against your ribs like it’s trying to make sure you can’t ignore it this time. For a beat, you both just stared at each other, wide-eyed and wordless.

Your mind scrambled to process the moment—what had just happened, what it meant. Your mouth opened, then closed again. Jack blinked, color rising fast into his cheeks as he suddenly stood, too fast, knocking his stool back a few inches.

“I’m, uh—I’m gonna check on AAA. See how far they are,” he says quickly, already halfway toward the door like physical distance might buffer the emotional whiplash.

Before you could respond, he was out the door, the bell overhead jangling in his wake.

The silence he left behind was deafening.

You sat there, staring at the door for a long moment. Your fingers brushed your lips, still warm. What the hell just happened?

You leaned forward, elbows planting on the countertop, as if your middle fingers massaging your temples were going to help you organize your thoughts. You weren’t supposed to feel this way. You’d spent years hating Jack, despising him. But now…

Your heart fluttered in your chest.

You glanced out the window. Jack was standing a few feet from the car, pacing in small circles, phone to his ear. Even from here, you could see how flustered he was. His free hand kept running through his hair, and he looked like he was thinking too hard.

You didn’t speak when he came back inside, and he didn’t either. The air was tight, stretched thin with everything unsaid. But your eyes met for a second—just one—and it was enough to make your stomach flip. You didn’t speak when Tanya left the bill in front of you, or when Jack wordlessly gave her his card and covered both your meals.

The AAA guy arrived less than ten minutes later, equipped with a spare tire. Jack stood silently beside the car, hands shoved in his pockets, posture tight with something he didn’t want to name. You hung back near the diner door, arms crossed, fingers grazing your lips now and then as if trying to erase—or remember—the feel of his mouth on yours.

Neither of you said anything as the tire was changed. The mechanic made a few comments about the summer heat bearing down on the day. The air smelled faintly of rubber and asphalt as the AAA guy gave a final tug on the new tire. Jack nodded, muttered a thank you, and barely waited for the man to pack up before sliding into the driver's seat again. You followed without a word, tugging your seatbelt across your chest with fingers that still felt a little too aware, a little too shaky.

He started the car. The engine roared softly to life. Neither of you said anything.

Outside, the sky was dipped in late afternoon gold, the edges of the clouds glowing orange where the sun caught them. Jack kept his eyes on the road, hands steady on the wheel, but you noticed the tension in his jaw. The way his thumb tapped an erratic beat against the steering wheel. The way he blinked just a little too long at stop signs. Like he was stuck in his own head.

You weren’t doing much better. You watched the trees blur past your window and tried to breathe normally, tried to ignore the phantom sensation of his lips on yours.

You didn’t know what the kiss meant. You didn’t know what he thought it meant. Maybe it had been a moment—a blip. A mistake. Or maybe…

The lakehouse came into view faster than you expected. Familiar and quiet, nestled between tall trees and wrapped in a fading light that made the windows glow. Jack pulled into the driveway and put the car in park. Your seatbelt was already coming off before the doors were unlocked.

“I’ll grab the rings. I won’t be long.”

Jack nodded once, still not looking at you. You opened the door and stepped out, sandals crunching on gravel, the door thudding closed behind you.

As soon as you were gone, Jack let out a slow breath, dropping his head back against the headrest. The sound echoed faintly in the quiet of the car, the only accompaniment the ticking of the engine cooling down and the occasional rustle of wind through pine.

He closed his eyes.

“What the hell did I just do…” he muttered aloud, voice barely above a whisper.

His fingers scrubbed over his face. The kiss hadn’t been planned—it had just… happened. Or maybe it hadn’t just happened. Maybe it had been building for a long time, and neither of you had wanted to admit it.

He let out a soft, bitter laugh. “Smooth move, asshole.”

Because now he didn’t know what was worse: the kiss itself or the uncertainty in your eyes afterward. He’d thought you kissed him back. Thought. But what if he misread it? What if it had been hesitation, not reciprocation? What if the heat in your eyes hadn’t been longing, but confusion?

Or worse—pity.

He cursed under his breath, palms flattening against the steering wheel like he could squeeze the truth out of it. “God, did I screw this up already? We were just starting to not hate each other.”

He could still feel it, though—your lips soft against his, your breath catching just a little. That startled sound you made, not pulling away. Your fingers twitching, like maybe you’d wanted to touch him and didn’t.

He sat there, trapped in that overthinking spiral, the memory of the kiss looping in his brain like a song stuck on repeat. He could still taste the moment, the gentleness of it. The way his heart had slammed against his ribs like he was back on the ice for his first game.

And now, everything felt unsteady. Not just between you, but inside him. Because this wasn’t some casual crush. It hadn’t felt light or meaningless. It had felt real. And that terrified him more than he wanted to admit.

Jack’s spiral of thoughts was snapped when the car door swung open, and you hopped in. He spotted the small white bag containing the ring boxes in your hand. Jack sat up straighter automatically, trying to school his expression into something neutral.

He failed.

You didn’t say anything right away, just slipped back into the seat beside him and clipped your seatbelt. But your gaze drifted to him, lingering on his profile.

Jack caught it, eyes flicking over. For a second, it felt like you might say something. Ask. Acknowledge. Clarify.

But you didn’t.

And neither did he.

Instead, he started the engine again. The soft purr filled the space between you, and the silence settled in once more.

The drive back to the wedding venue was quieter than any you’d shared before—and that was saying something, considering how often you two fell into mutual, petty silence after an argument. But this wasn’t angry silence. It was… something else. Heavy and tense, full of sharp edges and delicate threads, you were both too afraid to touch.

The radio played on, and when another Morgan Wallen song came on, you didn’t even reach to change it. Jack didn’t tease you for your exaggerated sigh the way he normally would. He didn’t even glance your way. He just stared straight ahead, one hand gripping the wheel, the other limp in his lap, fingers twitching now and then like he was thinking of saying something and couldn’t quite bring himself to do it.

You stared out the window, watching as the trees blurred into a green smear. Your hands were folded in your lap, nails digging into your own skin. You hated silence like this—not angry, not cold, just... uncertain.

You could still feel the kiss. Not just the press of lips, but the weight of it. The intent. The way Jack’s thumb had grazed the edge of your jaw, featherlight, reverent.

Your heart did that annoying flutter again just thinking about it. You clenched your jaw, forced yourself to exhale slowly through your nose. You’d spent years hating Jack. And now this?

By the time you pulled into the venue’s gravel lot, the sun had sunk low enough to cast long shadows across the property. The rehearsal dinner had already begun; you could hear music and laughter drifting through the open doors. String lights glowed like fireflies overhead, and the scent of roasted vegetables and grilled steak lingered faintly on the warm air.

Jack cut the engine, but neither of you moved right away. The silence remained, thick and taut, stretching like a rubber band on the verge of snapping.

You opened the door first. The sound startled both of you slightly—proof of how deep in your own heads you’d been. Jack followed suit, and you stepped out together, though the space between you felt far wider than the physical few feet.

Emmeline and Quinn were already standing near the back doors of the venue, Emmeline shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand, Quinn lifting a hand in a half-wave. Relief crossed Emmeline’s face when she spotted you both.

“There you are!” she called out, walking toward you. “God, Q and I were so worried.”

“We had a flat,” you offered, holding up the small white bag with the ring boxes tucked safely inside. “All good now.”

Quinn nodded, walking up behind Emmeline. “Damn. You guys okay?”

“Yeah,” Jack said, voice low and even. He didn't meet their eyes.

You passed the bag to Emmeline, whose smile faltered just slightly as her eyes darted between the two of you. Her brow knitted ever so subtly. You could see the question forming behind her eyes—What happened?

But she didn’t ask. Maybe she could tell it wasn’t something either of you was ready to say aloud.

Instead, she simply said, “Glad you made it,” and squeezed your hand once before stepping back.

Quinn clapped Jack on the back. “Dinner’s basically done, but the bar’s still open. Both of you look like you could use a drink.”

You nodded numbly and followed them up the steps into the venue, Jack a pace behind. You and Jack split off the moment you walked in. Not obviously, but instinctively—like two magnets flipped the wrong way. You busied yourself with the wedding coordinator, nodding along as she listed off timing and music cues. Jack drifted to the groomsmen, feigning engagement in some joke Josh was telling.

Once or twice, your eyes met across the space. You spotted him across the room, talking to your parents, likely meeting them for the first time, when his gaze flicked to you. In a heartbeat, everything that had happened in the diner came rushing back like a flash flood.

You looked away first.

You finally got hold of Emmeline, stealing a quiet moment together while the chaos of the wedding loomed just beyond. You sat at an empty table, sipping a gin & tonic, listening to her fuss over the final seating chart.

“I swear, if Aunt Delia asks to be moved one more time, I’m putting her at the kids’ table.”

You laughed softly, but your eyes drifted again to Jack, who was leaning against one of the deck railings, talking with Quinn. He laughed at something Quinn said, the curve of his smile familiar and so Jack it hurt.

But it was different now. You felt different now. The kiss had carved something open between you, and now every glance, every breath felt like a balancing act on a wire you didn’t remember agreeing to walk.

Emmeline’s gaze followed yours and, again, you saw that flicker of understanding in her eyes. But she didn’t press. Instead, she leaned closer and murmured, “What the hell happened between you and Jack?”

You blinked, then nodded too quickly. “Nothing, nothing. Just a long day.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she let it go, looping her arm through yours. “Come with me. We’re doing a shot for the bride.”

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

The bright early morning sun seeped through the sheer curtains, casting a peaceful glow on the hotel room. You groaned as you sat upright, stretching out the soreness that settled deep in your bones.

You hadn't slept much. Maybe a couple of hours, tops. And not for lack of trying. You tried to listen to music and white noise. But the moment your head would get quiet, he would come back. Jack. The kiss.

It played on loop in your mind—soft lighting, heart beating loud in your chest, his hand on your cheek, the surprised look in his eyes when it was over. Then that awful silence in the car. The Morgan Wallen song. The one you hate. And how you didn’t even complain.

But this morning? This morning is… beautiful. Unfairly so. The kind of morning that feels like it’s been curated just for a wedding: sun filtering through gauzy curtains, birds chirping obnoxiously in the trees outside your window, the breeze lifting your hair when you crack the glass open. It smells like lilacs and cut grass.

You glance at your phone. 7:13 a.m. You’re needed in the lobby by eight to help with last-minute decorations, and Emmeline has already texted twice with a bubbly sort of nervousness that makes you smile despite yourself.

The moment your feet hit the floor, though, something settles inside you—a steadiness. This isn’t your wedding. It’s Emmeline’s. She deserves your best today. Whatever happened between you and Jack last night…it can wait. You can compartmentalize. You’re excellent at compartmentalizing.

You don’t even bother to change out of the satin pyjama set that Emmeline had bought for all the bridesmaids, heading down to the lobby, where a quiet hum of activity already buzzes. String lights are being tested, chairs straightened, and a staff member consults a clipboard like it’s the Bible.

The scent hits you first—sweet, heady, unmistakable. Roses, eucalyptus, and something else more potent, weaving through the air.

You turn just as the florist breezes through the lobby doors, arms full of bouquets wrapped in tissue and satin ribbon. She’s balancing a second tray on her hip, trying not to jostle the carefully arranged blooms.

“Hi!” she calls with a polite smile, breathless but bright-eyed. “Delivery for Emmeline Scott—bride and bridesmaids' bouquets?”

“That’s me—well, not the bride, obviously.” You offer a sheepish smile as you step forward to help, brushing your hair behind one ear. “I can take some of those.”

The florist starts to hand off the top bouquet when—

“Wait! Don’t touch those!”

You freeze, arm midair.

The shout echoes too loudly across the pristine lobby, startling both you and the florist. Heads turn. Your heart stutters as you spin toward the sound of it.

Jack is coming down the staircase two steps at a time, hair still wet from a shower, shirt rumpled like he threw it on without looking. There’s a small, frantic crease between his brows, and he’s got that look—somewhere between alarmed and furious.

You blink, momentarily stunned by his urgency—and, okay, the fact that he looks like a walking disaster in the most distracting way.

“You can’t touch those,” he says again, voice lower now as he reaches you, a little out of breath. “They’ve got lilies in them.”

You frown, confused. “What—?”

He gestures to the bouquet still hovering in the florist’s arms. “Right there—see?” He doesn’t wait for a reply, just steps forward and lightly turns the arrangement so the offending flowers are front and center. “You’re allergic. Seriously allergic.”

It takes a beat for that to register, because you are. It’s a mild reaction for most, but for you, even the scent can trigger a chain reaction that could land you in the hospital. Your throat tightens at the realization, not from the allergy, but from the thought: he remembered.

You’re about to say something when Jack rounds on the delivery driver with an edge to his voice. “You were told no lilies. Someone could’ve died.”

The poor driver stammers, clearly taken aback. “I—I just picked up the order—”

“It’s not your fault,” you cut in quickly, reaching for Jack’s arm. “Hey. Seriously. It’s okay. I didn’t touch them.”

But Jack doesn’t look at you right away. His jaw’s tight, the muscle there ticking. “You could’ve, though.”

You gently tug his arm, grounding him. “I didn’t.”

That does it. He exhales, finally turning to look at you. There’s something intense in his expression, something you don’t know what to do with—like he’s still coming down from the idea of you in an ambulance instead of here, in pyjamas and bare feet, in the middle of a sunlit lobby.

He rubs a hand over his face. “I’ll get it sorted. Give me five minutes.”

Before you can argue, he’s already pulling out his phone and walking away, dialing as he goes.

You try not to stare at him. It’s hard not to. You’re still trying to get used to this version of Jack. The one who kissed you. The one who looks at you a second too long. The one who, apparently, now knows the ingredients in a bouquet well enough to spot allergens from across a lobby. You didn’t even know he knew about your allergy.

You glance back at the florist, who mouths a silent sorry, and you wave it off with a grateful half-smile. “Don’t worry. Crisis averted.”

A few minutes later, Jack reappears, phone still in hand, hair wind-tousled from stepping out into the breeze.

“They’re sending replacements,” he says, a little gruff. “No lilies. They’ll be here in forty-five minutes.”

You blink. “You convinced them to redo everything?”

“Yeah,” he huffed, barely looking at you. “I mean, we wouldn’t want you to go into anaphylactic shock mid-aisle.”

Then, without giving you a second to respond, he turns on his heel and walks off.

You stare after him, heart annoyingly out of rhythm again.

Not because of the lilies.

But because he remembered.

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

The air in the bridal suite was filled with Emmeline’s favourite songs and hairspray, the chatter between bridesmaids and stylists filling the space. The floor was a flurry of fabric and half-sipped mimosas, with Emmeline perched in an armchair, wrapped in a white robe embroidered with bride in cursive across the back. Her smile was tight with nerves, hands clasped in her lap as one of the makeup artists prepped her skin.

You were seated nearby, sipping orange juice through a glass straw, your robe slightly slipping off one shoulder. A gentle buzz of anticipation vibrated in your bones—wedding mornings had a strange kind of magic, and this one, Emmeline’s, felt especially charmed.

Then came the knock. A quiet, polite tap against the wooden door, followed by the sound of it creaking open.

Jack’s head appeared in the gap, tousled hair and a sheepish grin giving him away immediately. Your pulse spiked at the sight of him—part nerves, part something else that you hadn’t quite named yet. His eyes scanned the room, and when they landed on you and your hair wrapped up in large rollers.

“Hey,” he said, voice low so as not to disrupt the calm. “Can I borrow you for a second?”

You stood instinctively, brows pulling together. “Is everything okay?”

Emmeline’s eyes widened in the mirror. “Wait—why? Is something wrong?”

Jack stepped fully into the room, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “No, no. Sorry. I didn’t mean to freak anyone out.” He looked at Emmeline. “I just need her help with the flower girl real quick. Nerves or shoes or… something.”

Emmeline blinked at Jack through the reflection. “Okay, just uh—you’re supposed to be next to get your makeup done,” she said to you.

You turned to Emmeline, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Your mom can start getting her makeup done now—I'll be back before it’s your turn.”

Emmeline blinked. “Okay. But if anything is wrong—”

“It’s not,” Jack promised, already backing into the hallway. “Scout’s honor.”

You slipped out with him, tugging the sash of your robe tighter as the door closed behind you. The corridor was quieter than you expected, the kind of hush reserved for churches and very big moments. You glanced at Jack. His pace quickened.

“She’s not having a meltdown over flower petals, is she?”

He blew out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s no flower girl issue. That was a lie.”

You stopped. “Jack.”

“I panicked,” he muttered. “It was the first thing that came to mind. But it’s Quinn. He’s freaking out. Like… real bad.”

“Why?”

Jack looked over, his brows drawing together. “He lost his vows.”

You stared at him. “His vows?”

“The handwritten ones. Only copy. He wrote them in a little notebook because he said typing felt ‘insincere,’ and now he can’t find them.”

“Oh my god.”

“Exactly.”

You both picked up your pace.

By the time you reached the groomsmen’s suite, the energy was starkly different from the bridal calm—music was off, ties were untied, and Quinn was pacing like he was trying to wear a hole through the floor. His hair wasn’t done, and he was muttering to himself, half-dressed in a white button-down and socks.

“Hey,” Jack said gently. “I brought reinforcements.”

Quinn turned, eyes wide. “I checked everywhere. I had them last night. I remember practicing. I had this whole thing about the lake—about how we met—and now I can’t even remember what I wrote. I feel sick.”

You crossed to him, putting a hand on his arm. “We’ll find them. Okay? Let’s retrace your steps. Where were you when you last saw them?”

He swallowed. “I was in Jack’s room… then he went to bed, so I left. Then I think I took them to the kitchen at some point, cause I was starving and the chefs said they had leftovers from dinner. Then I went to Luke’s, but he said I was muttering too much and made me leave—”

“Luke’s room,” you and Jack said in unison.

Without another word, the three of you moved down the hall. Luke’s door was ajar—of course it was—and the faint smell of cologne hit you the moment you stepped in.

Jack headed to the desk while you beelined for the armchair, where a dress shirt was hanging half-on, half-off. Quinn hovered in the doorway, silent and nervous.

You dropped to your knees, checking beneath the bed and side tables. Nothing.

Then Jack made a sound—a triumphant half-laugh, half-gasp.

He held up a small, black faux-leather notebook. “Found them.”

Quinn exhaled like someone had just lifted a mountain off his chest. He moved forward quickly, grabbing them from Jack’s hand, eyes skimming the pages like he couldn’t believe they were real.

“I owe you both so much.”

“You owe me a drink,” Jack said. “And a thank-you in your vows.”

Quinn turned to you. “Seriously. Thank you.”

You gave him a soft smile. “You’re going to marry the love of your life in less than two hours. You’ve got this.”

Jack nudged you gently. “Come on. Let’s get you back before Emmeline thinks I kidnapped you.”

You followed him into the hallway again, pulse finally starting to level. But as Jack glanced sideways at you, his voice low, something else fluttered in your chest.

“You’re good in a crisis,” he said.

You looked up at him. “I work well under pressure.”

He smirked. “Noted.”

And though the crisis was over, the buzz in your chest didn’t fade.

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

The ceremony unfolds like something from a dream—light streaming through stained glass, the delicate rustle of fabric, and the steady hum of love filling every pew. You’re barely holding it together as the vows are exchanged. Words so personal and full of promise that your heart aches a little, as though some small part of you longs to be seen like that, held like that, chosen like that.

You cry—not dramatically, but quietly, the kind of tears that gather slowly and fall before you can even think to wipe them away.

When they kiss—sealed now in every legal, emotional, and spiritual way—the room erupts in cheers. You’re clapping and cheering like everyone else, watching through damp lashes as the couple walks back down the aisle, glowing, triumphant, wildly in love.

The recessional begins, and Jack offers his arm, as planned. You hesitate only a second before slipping your hand through, and together you walk down the aisle. The room blurs a little with the soft focus of flowers and applause and music, and yet Jack beside you is the one thing that feels sharply, unmistakably real.

When you reach the grand, vaulted lobby with its marble floors and floral arrangements taller than you, he turns to you. There’s a small smile on his face, something gentler than you’ve seen in hours. Maybe days.

Jack had rehearsed this moment a hundred times in his head since the early morning. And yet, now that he was standing in front of you, flushed and radiant in the soft post-ceremony glow, hand still tucked in the crook of his arm, he felt completely unprepared.

God, you were beautiful.

It had hit him like a sucker punch when he first saw you this morning in the lobby, barefoot and bleary-eyed in those satin pyjamas, hair wild and cheeks flushed from sleep. You were half-asleep and entirely unaware of how close you’d come to disaster with the lilies, and all he could think about was how badly he wanted to wrap his arms around you. Not just to keep you safe, but because it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Then in the bridal suite, with your hair up in massive rollers and your robe slipping off one shoulder, laughing softly. Then your steady presence as you attempted to calm Quinn, as if it were the easiest thing. He’d felt something settle heavy in his chest. You were chaos and calm all at once. A contradiction he couldn’t stop watching.

But now?

Now he could barely breathe.

There was something about this version of you that wrecked him—composed, poised, glowing in the aftermath of vows and violins and a room full of love. Your dress shimmered under the chandelier light, catching reflections of the roses behind you. Your eyes were still damp from tears, lashes clumped just slightly, and you were chewing the inside of your cheek in that way you did when you were trying not to feel too much.

And all Jack could think was Wow.

He remembered the exact second he’d seen you walk into the church, bouquet clutched tight and face tilted upward like you were catching light with your skin. His breath had caught somewhere in his throat, and he’d had to look away, not because he wanted to, but because the look on your face had felt too intimate to witness.

And the worst part?

He didn’t even know where the line was anymore.

Not after last night. Not after the kiss. Not after the way you’d touched his arm in the lobby like it meant something. Not after the way you had looked at him just now, cheeks warm from crying, smile slipping onto your face.

He wants to tell you. God, he wants to tell you.

You look stunning. That you’ve been knocking the wind out of him since seven this morning. That he keeps replaying the kiss in the car like it’s his personal version of slow torture. That you’re the only thing he’s seen clearly all day, despite the chaos and ceremony and flowers and vows.

But just as he opens his mouth, just as the words begin to gather in his throat—

“There you two are!”

A burst of voices and movement breaks the moment like a stone through glass. The bridal party floods the lobby behind you, laughter and congratulations spilling into the space like champagne overflowing a glass.

Someone claps Jack on the shoulder. A photographer pulls you to the side for a photo of the bridesmaids.

And just like that, the moment vanishes.

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

After the photos, you all make your way into the reception hall.

It’s breathtaking. Truly. The kind of beauty that makes you pause in the doorway.

Golden light spills from chandeliers strung with crystals, mingling with the glow of hundreds of delicate string lights wound through the rafters like fallen stars. The tables gleam with polished glassware and candlelight, and soft jazz plays in the background, blending with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and footsteps on polished floors.

Everything is perfect.

You try—really, truly try—to focus on Emmeline and Quinn. On their joy, on the way Quinn can’t stop stealing glances at his wife like he still can’t believe it’s real. On Emmeline’s bright smile as she and Quinn spin and twirl to “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You”.

But it’s hard. Because no matter how hard you try, your gaze constantly drifts to Jack. You try not to watch him, but you do. Of course you do. How could you not? He looks good. Sharp suit, tie hanging loose around his neck, his hair now curling a little at the ends from the humidity.

And every time your eyes are pulled to Jack, you find his green ones already on you.

Not just glancing. Not just noticing. Watching.

It makes your stomach do this slow, nauseating flip. Not unpleasant, just… overwhelming.

You busy yourself with anything—laughing too hard at Emmeline’s father’s toast, fussing with your napkin, trying not to spill champagne when someone proposes yet another toast—but Jack is there. Always just at the edge of your vision. Sometimes talking to Quinn or one of the groomsmen, sometimes nodding along to someone else’s story, but his attention always strays.

You’re standing near the edge of the dance floor when you finally crack.

The laughter and clinking glasses, the swirling dresses and shimmering lights—it all starts to feel a little too loud, too much. You step away quietly, unnoticed. It’s not dramatic. You just… need a breath.

The venue opens onto a terrace that overlooks the lake. Beyond it, the water stretches out dark and glassy, the sky above littered with stars.

The air is cooler than you expect, the kind of gentle, refreshing chill that only comes after a day of heat. You wrap your arms around yourself out of habit rather than cold, your heels clicking softly against the stone path as you make your way toward the water. The canopy of string lights above glows like fireflies frozen mid-flight, casting your shadow in a hundred directions.

The noise from the reception drifts in on the breeze—bass from the speakers, laughter echoing across the lawn, the occasional clink of glass. But out here, it feels quieter. Calmer. Like the entire world has decided to hold its breath.

You settle near the railing, arms resting on the cool metal, looking out at the water as it glitters faintly under moonlight. The silence is almost enough.

Then, you hear the footsteps, the clacking of dress shoes against pavement. You don’t have to turn to know who it is.

His presence announces itself before he says a word. That quiet, deliberate energy of his. A stillness wrapped in intensity. You hear him pause a few feet behind you. A beat. Two.

“Running away?” he asks quietly.

You glance over your shoulder. He’s standing a few feet away, hands shoved in his pockets, hair a little messier now, curls looser around his forehead. The tie is completely gone. His shirt is unbuttoned at the collar.

“Just needed air,” you reply, your voice low. “Too many people. Too many feelings.”

He steps closer, his shoes crunching faintly on the gravel. “Yeah. It’s a lot.”

You turn to face him more fully now, leaning one hip against the railing. “I thought maybe if I slipped out, I’d get a minute to think.”

Jack’s eyes search yours, serious now. The teasing is gone.

“Did it help?” he asks.

You swallow. “No.”

A beat. Just long enough for the breeze to rise and fall again.

Jack shifts, jaw working like he’s trying to find the right words. Then he breathes out and just says it:

“About the kiss.”

You feel it instantly—that jolt in your chest, like someone pulling a thread too tight. You glance down at your hands, fingers curling around the metal railing. “I figured we’d pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Is that what you want?”

You don’t answer immediately. The silence between you stretches.

Then, softly: “I don’t know what I want.”

Jack exhales a quiet laugh—one that’s more self-conscious than amused. He closes the space between you until you’re nearly shoulder to shoulder, his voice quieter now.

“I’ve been thinking about it. A lot. The kiss. The car. You.”

He pauses. “And I know it was messy. I know we were yelling, and we hated each other…literally yesterday, and the whole thing feels like some kind of fever dream…”

You glance at him.

“…but I haven’t stopped thinking about it,” he admits, his voice raw around the edges now. “And I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

Your breath catches. “Jack…”

“I know we weren’t supposed to like each other. That was kind of the deal, right? Keep it civil for our Quinn and Emmy’s sake, tolerate each other long enough to make it through this wedding weekend without bloodshed.”

You laugh softly, the sound almost startled.

He goes on, eyes flicking to your face. “But then you started showing up in all the spaces in my head where you weren’t supposed to be. Laughing in the bridal suite. Crying during the ceremony. Standing barefoot in that fucking hotel lobby in satin pajamas.”

You look down, a smile tugging at your mouth despite yourself.

“And I know it’s fast,” he says. “I know we’ve gone from sworn enemies to whatever this is in the span of just barely twenty-four hours. But if you feel even a fraction of what I feel…”

Your heart is pounding.

“…then maybe we should stop pretending this isn’t happening.”

Your throat is tight. “It is confusing,” you whisper. “We were supposed to hate each other.”

“I still think you’re insufferable,” Jack says, grinning now, but his eyes are too soft for it to land like a joke. “But God help me, I don’t think I can go back to not caring about you.”

You inhale slowly. The words settle in your chest like something sacred.

Then you say, quietly, “I haven’t stopped thinking about it either. The kiss. You. All of it.”

Jack’s expression shifts—relief, warmth, maybe even a little fear. “So… what do we do?”

You glance up at the string lights above you. The world feels smaller here, wrapped in twinkle and quiet.

“I think we should stop pretending,” you say.

And that’s all it takes.

He steps in closer, one hand coming up to rest against your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek. You lean into the touch without thinking, your own hands finding his chest, the fabric of his dress-shirt soft beneath your fingertips.

There’s a heartbeat between you—a pause, one last breath before everything changes.

Then he kisses you.

And this time, it’s not rushed or stolen or unsure. It’s deliberate. Full. The kind of kiss that unfurls heat low in your stomach and steals the ground from under your feet. His other hand finds your waist, fingers splaying against the yellow satin fabric as he draws you in, close enough to steal your breath all over again. Your hands slide up, threading into the back of his hair.

You kiss him like you’ve been waiting all night. Like maybe you’ve been waiting longer.

When you finally part, your lips still tingling, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath shallow. The kiss lingers between you, slow and certain this time—not impulsive, not confused. Just real.

Jack exhales, leaning back slightly to look into your eyes. “So…what now?”

You smile, small and tentative. “I guess we go back in before someone sends a search party.”

He chuckles. “Right. But…after that? What about after the wedding?”

You hesitate, because it’s a good question. After the wedding, everything scatters. Guests go home. Real life starts back up. The weekend magic evaporates.

But then you look at him—this boy you thought you couldn’t stand, who ended up holding lily bouquets away from you like he was shielding you from poison, who kept glancing your way during the entire reception like you were the only one in the room.

You reach for his hand. “After the wedding… we figure it out.”

He squeezes your hand. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You walk back together, not talking much, but your fingers stay laced. And this time, when you re-enter the reception, people notice. Emmeline catches your eye from across the dance floor, her gaze examining the sight before her before widening. You watch as her manicured hands grip her new husband's arm tightly and she urgently whispers something to him. Quinn’s eyes flick towards you, a matching shocked look coming across his face.

Later, when the party is dying down and the stars are starting to peek through the canopy of lights, Jack asks you to dance. There’s no more tension, no more rivalry—just a slow song, a full heart, and a whole new beginning unfolding between you.

#˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ nylqnder #jack hughes #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #new jersey devils #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #hockey fanfiction #nj devils

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moonsgemini · 10 months ago

Text

cherry wine - firefighter!rafe

* ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ₊˚ ⋅

summary: who knew career day would involve a hot sexy mustached firefighter wanting to take you on a date.

warnings: teacher!reader x firefighter!rafe, mutual pining, fluff, a little self doubt, lots of flirting, sexual innuendos, talk of sex but no smut

an: that pic is how I picture firefighter!rafe, I don’t think I need to elaborate any more. title will make more sense in the second part, hope you all enjoy!! & yes this will be a part 2 of the date hehehe. I did not proof read this so my bad

masterlist - part two

* ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ₊˚ ⋅

This day could not end sooner. I had been the most chaotic day trying to consistently wrangle a bunch of nine year olds. It was the third grade’s career day at the school you taught at.

The day has been filled with moving from station to station and learning about new careers. Some were a little more interesting than others. It was hard to get the kids to leave the lizard wrangler but they didn’t care much for the optometrist.

Some of the lovely volunteers were kind enough to provide treats for the kids which only made their energy sky rocket. It was your first year teaching and even though you felt confident in your abilities to handle the kids you still tripped up a bit. A kid scraped his knee running from the hair stylist to the park ranger. You were a bit busy untangling a brush out another students hair to tell him not to run. It had been a lot.

Now it was nearing closer to the bell ringing and your weekend starting. You were definitely going to need a drink after today. Career day led up to the fire department coming and showing the kids every tool, button, and switch on their trucks. It would give you and your fellow teachers some time to relax as they all sat around the parking lot waiting for them to arrive.

“You survive today?” Martha asked as she stood next to you. The two of you started at this school together, both being first time teachers. That alone strengthened the immediate bond you had with the curly haired woman.

You let out a tired laugh, “Barely, you?”

She nodded, “Barely.”

You looked around briefly to make sure students weren’t listening to you two, “Winnie’s tonight?”

She grinned happily, “Thought you’d never ask. I could use a drink or ten.”

“Agreed.” You nodded.

That’s when you all spotted the two trucks approaching. The kids started to cheer and scream as they honked.

Martha leaned in to murmur, “At least we get to end the day with hot men with mustaches.”

That’s when it hit you. You hadn’t even thought about that all day. Now your hair was a mess and your light makeup all practically gone.

“I didn’t even think about that. I look like a mess,” You muttered.

“Oh please you look good. Even after wrangling twenty five children all day.”

You nudged her with a grin. The trucks parked in front of the students and the firefighters began filing out. The principal stood in front introducing them and what they were going to do.

Martha was right. Hot fireman indeed. There were six guys and they all began introducing themselves. You tried your hardest to pay attention to each one and watch your kids, but it was hard when one particular firefighter stood out.

He looked younger than the rest with his bleached hair and untrimmed mustache. His biceps bulged in his navy tee shirt as he crossed his arms over his chest. He looked so big and broad you wanted to melt. His eyes scanned the crowd as the guy next to him began introducing himself. That’s when his eyes passed you and did a double take. At least that’s what you hoped that was. He made eye contact with you and a small smirk began forming on his lips. Not looking away as your face began to heat up from his stare.

You looked away briefly as your nerves bubbled. When you looked back he was still looking at you and that smirk had gotten wider. Even when it was his turn to introduce himself he didn’t look away.

“Hi everyone I’m Rafe, I’ve been a firefighter for three years now. I also help train the new fire dogs to be able to help us out when we need them,” He finished giving the crowd a big smile. He finally looked away from you as he rubbed his mustache.

The presentation was supposed to be and hour but it somehow felt like five minutes. Probably because you couldn’t look away from someone in particular. He was just so handsome. The way his back muscles tightened and arms bulged as he picked things up had you feeling butterflies in places you didn’t know were possible.

This was not like you to get so dumbstruck by a man. You should know better that attractive fireman should not be trusted. But damn was he good to look at.

Rafe was grateful that he had decided to sign up to volunteer for career day at the schools. He liked seeing how excited kids got at their job so he was doing it solely for that. He didn’t expect to lay eyes on the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. At first he thought the teachers were all going to be his mom’s age older, but nope. He had been very wrong.

As him and the guys went through their presentation he couldn’t help but glance over at her any chance he got.

Even the mom’s who arrived early to get a glimpse of them weren’t enough to distract him. Even after first setting his eyes on her he knew he was going to do everything in his power to talk to her.

The firefighters stayed until all the kids had been picked up so they didn’t get stuck in the after school traffic. Rafe was thankful they didn’t get a call either or else he would have missed his chance. He looked over to where you were waving goodbye to your last student of the day and saw his open window.

He pat Javier on the back leaving him to wind up the hose himself, “Be right back.”

He stood up with a furrowed brow, “Of course Cameron.” He muttered as he said the blonde stride over to the pretty teacher.

You were texting Martha as you began walking to your class to see if she was already at Winnies. She had gotten out earlier as all her students were picked up already. You didn’t notice the broad man that approached you.

“Hi, can I walk you back to your class?” You looked up slightly startled.

Were you hallucinating because of the heat? Why was this big tall handsome stranger talking to you? You looked around to see if he was talking to someone else.

“Me?” You pointed at yourself with a questioning look.

His smirk widened, “Yeah, it’s really dangerous out here to be walking alone.” He teased.

You laughed, “Right um yeah sure.”

“Lead the way,” He said as he put his hands in his pockets.

“Your guys presentation was really good, the kids loved it. I already know they’re not going to shut up about it next week,” You laughed brushing hair behind your ear. You felt like a teenager again with a crush.

He smiled, “Thanks. Hopefully inspired some future firefighters. I’ve been doing it for a couple years now, is this your first year teaching?”

You were surprised he even thought about that, “Yeah actually it is.”

“I knew I’d remember that face if I’d seen you before,” Rafe wasn’t one to hold back with his flirting. When he knew what he wanted he would do anything in his power to get it. His career choice definitely helps him out a bit.

You coughed a surprised laugh, “Oh I- uh this is me,” you stuttered out as you got to your classroom. You weren’t used to men being so forward. They usually danced around compliments like they wanted you to work for it before earning one.

He opened the door for you, “I’m Rafe by the way,” He held his big hand out for you to shake. He took your much smaller hand in his as you told him your name. The heat of having his attention never leaving your cheeks.

“Are you doing anything tonight? I’d love to see you outside of work,” He leaned against the door casually. As he folded his arms over his chest they looked even bigger. You’re surprised there’s no drool dripping down your chin.

“No uh well yes I am, I’m meeting my friend Martha. She was standing next to me during the assembly. We’re going to Winnie’s if you’d like to join. Or not it’s fine if you don’t and you changed your mind or something,” You cleared your throat as you finished rambling.

That smirk turning into a wide grin, “I’ll see you there. Maybe I’ll bring one of the guys with me.”

She nodded with a smile, “That’d be great, I’m sure Martha would appreciate that.”

“I’ll see you then,” He winked subtly and walked back out. That smug grin still on his face.

“You are the bestest friend I’ve ever had!” Martha exclaimed as you finished telling her about your conversation with the hot firefighter.

You laughed, “I didn’t even do anything, god he’s so hot I hope I don’t embarrass myself.” You looked back at the entrance to the bar to see if he was here yet.

“You won’t. He probably loves the whole cute young elementary teacher thing,” Marth said as she took a sip of her cocktail.

“I don’t wanna be that though. I want to be a hot sexy woman,” You sighed dramatically.

When you got to winnies you spent about 10 minutes in your car fixing your smudged makeup and messy hair. You really wished career day didn’t put you through the ringer. You even changed into a random top that was in the backseat because the tee shirt you were wearing wasn’t doing you justice.

It had been almost an hour and they still hadn’t shown up. You had begun to feel disappointed that maybe he was just all talk. Maybe he did that to every new teacher at the schools he went to. But to save yourself the self pity you thought maybe he got a call and had to work. That was the most reasonable explanation. At least that’s what you told yourself.

“They probably got busy. Saving lives or something,” Martha waved off as she finished her second drink. You were also currently on your second and your feet were feeling fuzzy so you were cutting yourself off. You’d probably end up going home after the buzz wore off.

You tried not to show how disappointment flowed through you, “Yeah probably. Guess it was too go-“ you cut yourself off as you saw the door open and a head of bleach blonde hair came through. Your eyes widened and look away quickly.

“Ohmygod he’s here,” you mumbled to Martha. He hasn’t seen you yet.

She smiled, “Is the friend hot?”

You looked over and that’s when you met his eye. Rafe was already looking at you. He smirked and began walking over with a guy to a similar build as him walked behind him.

“Yes and they’re coming,” You said quickly as you cleared your throat.

“Hello ladies,” Rafe smirked as he approached.

You smiled softly, “Hey,”

Rafe thought you were pretty before but now in this setting you looked unreal. He was so glad he signed up for career day.

“This is Josh,” He nodded towards the brunette next to him.

You smiled politely at him, “Hi Josh. I’m y/n and this is Martha,” You looked over at her, “Martha, Rafe.”

They greeted each other as the guys sat down. Having Rafe so close to you was making you a bit dizzy. The alcohol wasn’t helping that either.

“What are you drinking?” Rafe asked you nodding towards your drink.

“Oh I was having gin and pineapple juice but I think I’m done for the night,” You admitted sheepishly.

He smiled teasingly, “Well wish I could have made it earlier to actually have that drink with you.”

You thought about it for a minute, “I guess I could have one more with you. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“You sure about that? You’re okay with just straight tequila shots?”

Your eyes widened muttering, “Geez maybe you will be drinking alone.”

He laughed, “In that case I guess we’ll just have a beer?” He said more as a question wanting to make sure that was okay with you.

You pretended to think for a minute humming, “Hmmm fine with me. Except no IPA’s,” you said making a face

“Yes ma’am,” He nodded getting up from the high table.

Across from you Josh was getting Martha’s drink order and you could already tell he liked her. The way he leaned in as if he couldn’t hear her despite the bar not being loud yet. You looked over at the bar where Rafe stood waiting for a bartender. He looked so good leaning over the bar. The muscles of his back flexing under the navy shirt. You couldn’t be more grateful for career day.

Rafe was oh so screwed. He was liking this third grade teacher a little too much. He had never felt so attracted to someone. Not just physically. He loved how animated you were when you talked, always using your hands. The passion in your eyes when you spoke about your class was admirable.

It was a done deal that you weren’t going to just be a hook up. No way would Rafe think about letting you out of his grasp. You were so soft and sweet, he can already imagine just how sweet you taste.

He knew it wasn’t one sided either. He saw the way you watched him as he told childhood stories and how he became a firefighter. You didn’t look at him like some hero the way most women did but you looked at him like you were proud of him. It made this weird feeling in his chest bloom. But he loved that look in your eye.

Whatever dance you two had been playing the last hour was starting to wear him thin. He wanted to touch you. Not even in a sexual way but he wanted to tuck that piece of hair behind your ear or give your thigh a reassuring squeeze every time you thought you were rambling. Rafe wanted to hear you go on and on about everything.

Throughout the night your chairs had slowly started to scoot closer to each other. Then your arms started brushing each other. Even the small contact set his skin on fire. The need in his bones growing.

You would dare to move a muscle once your skin touched he was so warm and as you looked over his bicep was just beghing to be bitten. The alcohol was helping your brain wander to that place you only visited at night alone in your bed.

As was telling a story about his vacation in Italy your eyes couldn’t help but wander back over to those biceps that had you drooling when you first saw him. He had his arms crossed over the table. Muscles flexing as he picked up his beer bottle and took a sip. The way his neck moved as he swallowed had you clenching your thighs. You wondered what his skin would taste like. You also wanted to know what it’d feel like to be wrapped in those biceps as he held you up while pou-

“You good?” Rafe asked lowering his head to your gaze. A teasing smirk on his lips.

Your doe eyes looked up at him, “Uh huh.” Way to play it cool.

He chuckled, “What were you thinking about?” You hadn’t noticed that Martha and Josh had gotten up and walked over to the dart board across the bar. Now leaving the two of you alone. The bar had gotten more crowded now and

You shook your head fighting the heat creeping up your spine, “Nothing really.”

“Yeah?” He leaned in closer, “I bet we were thinking about the same thing.”

You swallowed hard trying to use as much of that liquid courage as possible, “Then tell me what you’re thinking and I’ll let you know if you’re right.”

He liked that playful look in your eye, “Well I was thinking about soft your thighs would feel on my cheeks.”

Your eyes widened. Maybe you really weren’t expecting him to be honest. But that truth had you fidget in your seat as that warm feeling in your stomach blossomed.

“I guess we were then,” You hum.

“Mhmm,” He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “And what should we do about that sweetheart?”

“I-I” And just like that you had lost your cool. This insanely attractive, funny, smart guy wanted to get into your pants. Hot guys with all those personality traits come once in a blue moon and you were fumbling.

He laughed raising a hand to your shoulder brushing your hair back. His fingertips grazing your exposed collarbone. The light touch making goosebumps rise on your skin. You wanted to lean into his touch but before you could he pulled away, “Let me take you out. Just you and me.”

“Really?” You were a bit dumbfounded. It’s not like you thought he was going to be a bad guy but a part of you had prepared for a one time hook up kind of guy. Which you didn’t mind at first because well it had been almost a year since anyone has met your needs. You weren’t going to turn down sex with a hot firefighter so you’re definitely not turning down a date with one. But you couldn’t help but be curious as to why.

He nodded, “Of course. You’re beautiful, sweet, funny, smart, passionate. I really could go on but I’ll save that for our date.”

You huffed out an amused laugh, “Okay yeah I’d love to go on a date. Assuming this doesn’t count?”

He shook his head with a frown, “I’d never do this for a first date, especially not for someone like you. I’ll treat you right y/n don’t you worry.”

That heat was back again, “You say this to all the women you meet at on career day?”

He smirked, “Just the ones I can’t stop thinking about. Which has only happened with you.”

His reassurances ignited something in you. The feeling of being wanted was something you hadn’t felt in a while and you really liked it. You really liked who was making you feel wanted.

“So how would you treat me Rafe?”

God. He loved the sound of his name coming out of your mouth. He wanted to hear you say it in so many scenarios. Specifically ones where you’re naked.

His knee bumped hers under the table, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at six and show you exactly what I’d do.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron obx #rafe x you

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noisilyscreechingsong · 1 year ago

Text

Alfred knows Danny from long ago during his secret service days. He always found the other odd, but his company was enjoyable enough to overlook. They were friends for a short while. Danny even saved his life once or twice. However, despite their trust in each other, they didn’t keep in touch. It was like Danny disappeared and he never heard from the jolly man again. That is until Danny showed up at the Wayne manor decades later looking the same as when they parted ways carrying the daughter he talked so much about.

Danny stood on the front porch with a toddler Ellie in his arms. She’s been behaving wonderfully. The new environment gave her curious self something to look at and distract her from a tantrum.

He rings the doorbell awkwardly with her in one arm and a bag of supplies resting on his shoulder.

If things were any different he wouldn’t be here, but he’s got to do what he’s got to do even if it’s the last scenario.

Footsteps can be heard on the other side before it opens to reveal a boy in sweatpants and a hoodie. It’s a little warm for the summer and Danny expects they have an expensive electric bill for this large place.

The kid, Damian Wayne he remembers, scowls. He gives Danny a once over with narrowed eyes.

“How’d you get through the gate?” Damian demands.

Danny blinks and adjusts Ellie on his hip.

“I walked of course.” Damian grows even more suspicious and Danny decides to change the subject. “I’m Danny. Danny Fenton. And this little monster is Ellie. Want to say hello, Ells?”

Ellie looks at Damian for all of three seconds before losing interest.

“No.”

Danny sighs. Yea, he was expecting that answer. It’s her favorite word at the moment.

“Why are you here?” Damian asks.

Straight to the point then.

“I’m looking for Alfred Pennyworth. Is he around? It’s urgent.”

“What is it concerning?” Damian straightens his spine to appear taller but it doesn’t change the head difference.

Danny sets Ellie down on the brick when she won’t stop squirming to be let down. She doesn’t waste a moment wandering away to investigate her surroundings. Damian raises a brow while watching her.

“I’m cashing in that favor he owns me.”

That got the boy’s attention. He studies the adult for a moment before opening the door wider for the both of them to enter.

Danny manages to wrangle Ellie into the house with Damian’s judgmental gaze following them. The bag had slid down to his elbow when he bends down to hold Ellie’s hand to steady her.

It’s as Damian is closing the front door that a man comes around the corner in a butler uniform. The same man he was looking for.

Alfred freezes after registering who was in front of him. The older of the two sighs heavily. Shoulders back and chin high, as expected he approaches this situation with a level head and posh dignity.

“Daniel,” addresses Alfred. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Danny cringes. He really should have called with a warning but there wasn’t time. He also always hated it when Alfred refused to use Danny’s preferred nickname, a sort of teasing that was consistent. If Alfred was anything, he’s stubborn enough to do what he wants and get away with it.

“Sorry, Alf. Next time for sure.” Danny sends a cheeky grin that doesn’t impress anyone. He glances over at his daughter to see her trying to touch the expensive looking vase on a side table.

“Ellie!” He dashes over to pull her away which immediately starts a struggle war and fussing. He knows if he lets this continue it will turn into a full blown tantrum.

“That’s not ours, we can’t touch it without permission.” She whines in frustration. “Do you want to ask if it’s okay to touch? Gently?”

Ellie thinks about it a second before looking up at him. Danny nods in understanding and turns her a bit to look at the two spectators.

“Toush?” She asks with an adorable chubby arm raised to point at the vase.

“Are you going to break it?” Damian asks with folded arms.

“Master Damian, I’m sure that’s not her intention.” Alfred turns with a smile back to Ellie. “That vase is fragile. Can you be very careful?”

Obviously her answer is a confident nod of the head and immediately trying to reach out again. Danny helps to lift her and hold her wrist steady.

She pets the vase like a kitten, feeling the raised edges of the design with her little hand. After a few long moments Danny pulls her away to set her on his hip like before, earning an annoyed huff in his direction for his efforts.

“Very good, Ellie. I knew you could do it.”

She hides her face in his shoulder and he takes the opportunity to send a look at Alfred. The older man understands immediately and inclines his head before turning to walk further into the house.

“It was nice meeting you,” Danny shoots Damian before following Alfred to what appears to be a parlor a few rooms away.

“I shall fetch some tea.”

Danny shakes his head as he sits.

“No time. I’m in a rush.”

Alfred eyes him up and down before gingerly sitting in the armchair across from him.

“Yes, so I have noticed.”

In other words, spill your guts for abruptly intruding like you have.

“Something…urgent has come up-“

“I assumed as much.”

“-and I know how good you are with kids-“

“Daniel, you cannot expect me to-“

“You owe me,” Danny says firmly. Alfred leans back at the reminder. He knows Danny would never hold that over his head without a good reason. “I have no one else to go to, to look after her. I normally would just take her with me, but I- it’s gotten dangerous. Too dangerous for her.”

He looks to Alfred with desperate eyes. Ellie tries to squirm out of his arms, which reflexively tighten securely around her middle. He can see the dark bags under the younger eyes.

Alfred sighs.

“How long?”

Danny sags and Ellie slips out of her father’s arms as soon as the chance presented itself. Alfred would need to keep a close eye on her in the future.

“A week, two, three tops.”

Alfred sends an unimpressed look and Danny cringes but doesn’t redact his statement.

“Anything I need to know?”

Danny looks down at the hastily packed diaper bag like it had all the answers.

“We’re kind of in the middle of potty training so I threw in some pull ups but those will go quick. She hates carrots. Won’t go to sleep without a bedtime story. Don’t give her any sugar after four or she’ll turn into a monster. Oh, and her powers are coming in so I packed a shield for at night.”

Alfred raises a single eyebrow.

“Could you be more specific?”

Danny waves it off like it was no big deal.

“Just the normal stuff. Invisibility, intangibility, and flight. It’s all very weak and sporadic right now. Keep calm until she figures it out on her own. She’s just learning.”

“So you are leaving a child in my care for an unknown amount of time, a child that can disappear, walk through walls, and fly. Anything else?”

Danny rubs the back of his neck guiltily.

“Why do you always have to make everything sound so…” He sighs heavily, glancing over at Ellie who has managed to take every blanket out of the basket in the corner and crawled in to make a nest out of the materials. He smiles fondly.

“I’ve probably forgotten something, but I know you can handle it. You can take care of her.”

Danny then stands and pulls out a piece of paper, handing it over.

“My number is at the top in case of emergencies. Her favorite stuffy is in the bag, she won’t sleep without it. Her favorite word right now is ‘no’. I wrote down anything I could think of, which you probably can’t even read my chicken scratch…”

Alfred gently takes the paper from his hand and Danny slowly makes his way to the messy corner.

“Hey, Elles,” he says softly, far softer than anything Alfred has heard from him. Usually he was a rambunctious, jovial loudmouth, but right now he was hesitant. Prolonging the farewell they both know needs to happen with how urgent this mysterious problem was.

Ellie looks up for a moment before going back to maneuvering her fort.

“I gotta go away for a while. Alfred here will be watching over you while I’m gone, okay?”

That got her attention. For a child that young, she knew something was wrong, but didn’t know what. And now her dad, her protector, was leaving.

“No.”

Danny folds his lips together, expecting the response but still not ready to go through the hard part of leaving.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl. I am, but I have to go. I’ll be back when I’m finished.”

“No!”

Danny sighs and reaches in to pull her into his arms. She fights him valiantly, but he was stronger and bigger.

“I know. I know. I’m sorry. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”

They might as well have been empty words for the lack of effect it had on the struggling toddler. Danny sways with her for a few beats until he gets an idea.

“Danielle, look.”

He makes sure she’s watching as he creates a loop of ice, infused with his ectoplasm and therefore, his signature.

“Hold out your hand,” he coax.

She does so with a sniffle and he gently moves the glowing green ghost ice around her wrist to make an indestructible, unmeltable bracelet. He shrinks it until he’s sure it won’t fall off and won’t be too tight either.

“There. Now you have a piece of me wherever you go. Even when we’re far apart.”

She pointedly doesn’t look at him.

“I love you, Ellie. I’ll be back soon.”

He kisses her forehead, breathes in her soft scent, and turns to Alfred. The older man is watching carefully and makes his arms available for a new passenger.

With a deep breath Danny hands her over, Ellie immediately starts whining and tears fall from her eyes.

“Hey, you’ll be okay. Alfred here is a mighty warrior. He’ll keep you safe. I trust him.”

He does his best to wipe away her tears but he has to physically step away when she reaches for him. Instead he looks to Alfred.

Alfred holds her securely and nods in assurance.

“Not to worry. Danielle and I will be too busy to notice your absence.”

Danny smiles at the effort but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He can’t resist petting her head one last time, her pigtails in disarray, and wiping her tears from her cheeks.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he promises, marking it with another kiss to her head before backing away again. He looks at Alfred sending his gratitude without words. Alfred accepts it with a slight incline of the head. Danny nods once and leaves before he can’t.

The door opens and the young boy from earlier stumbles back with a glare to hide his embarrassment.

“Master Damian-“

Danny holds up a hand to stop Alfred. Of course the boy would eavesdrop, what did either of them expect?

The young father leans down to get eye level with Damian, looking him straight in the eye with seriousness. Damian straightens at the attention.

“It’s very important Ellie is safe and occupied while I’m away. It would mean a lot to me if you would help Alfred do that.”

Damian folds his arms.

“What would I get out of that useless goal?”

“What would you want?”

“Daniel, Master Bruce would not-“

“A knife,” Damian interrupts. “Not just any knife though. It has to be special.”

Danny hums in thought, studying Damian for a moment, almost making the boy squirm.

“Deal.”

He holds out his hand and Damian shakes it after a second of hesitation. Danny nods to the boy, then nods to Alfred, and he’s finally out the door making a portal as he walks from the gentle breeze of outside to the chill of ectoplasm, transforming into his kingly attire as he crosses the threshold.

The GIW had a lot to answer for and he couldn’t hold his subjects back any longer. The United States had declared war against the Infinite Realms and he would be the one to answer.

#dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #alfred pennyworth #damian wayne #secret service #long time no see #babysitting #time travel #clockwork shenanigans #de aged ellie #Danny is Ellie’s dad #Alfred’s got this #dc x dp prompt #ghost king danny

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wonderjanga · 9 months ago

Text

Marvel Eating Random Things

I love allllllllll the Billy eating random things as Marvel posts/headcanons. I don’t know why. I just love it. I love unhinged Marvel soooo much. But what if we took it one step further and had Marvel eat anything, including living creatures. Also, I’m gonna connect this to the Marvel being a Good Cook post. In that post, he’s just a good cook basically.

Flash: *passed out on the floor of the kitchen in a hypoglycemic coma*

Marvel: *walks into the kitchen and stops dead in his tracks* “Wally?” *walks over and prods him with his shoe* “Are you dead?” *kneels down to sniff him* “Can I eat you?”

Flash: *groans*

Marvel: *stands up* “Oh, thank the gods.” *picks Wally up to take him to the medbay* “Come on, bud. Let’s see if we can fix you up.”

A little bit later…

Flash: *on a medical cot and wakes up*

Marvel: *nearby, doing a crossword puzzle*

Flash: *sees Marvel* “Cap?”

Marvel: “Yes?” *fills in one of the words on the puzzle*

Flash: “Did you… Did you ask if you could eat me?”

Marvel: “Nope.”

Flash: “Yeah, that’s what I thought. It’s just I swear I heard you say something like that.” *sits up, stomach rumbling*

Marvel: “You were pretty knocked out, man. I don’t remember saying that.” *puts crossword down* “Why don’t we get something to eat? Like chili dogs or burgers or something?”

Flash: “Sounds great.” *gets off the cot so they can head to the zetas*

He gaslit, gatekeeped, and girlbossed. He’s also done this to multiple leaguers by the way. One of them was Batman who now has a recording of Billy asking if he could eat him. Bruce listened to it a solid ten times because in this AU, he knows next to nothing about Marvel, and now, because of this recording, he’s wondering if Marvel is, or was even human.

Then, there was the time him and Wonder Woman went together to wrangle some demons back into Tartarus. Unfortunately, one of the demons died during the process and didn’t make it back into the gates. So, now Diana and Billy were stuck with a demon corpse.

Diana: *looking at the corpse* “What should we do with it?”

Marvel: *also looking at the corpse* “Hmm… I have an idea.”

Diana: “Oh? Could you sha-” *now sees Marvel in his little lightning bolt apron and chef hat* “Why’re you dressed like that?”

Marvel: “I like to get into it.” *starts pulling salt, pepper, paprika, Goya Adobo, basically a bunch of seasonings out of his pocket dimension*

Diana: “Cap…? Cap. You can’t seriously be suggesting we eat the demon?”

Marvel: “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just politely telling you that it’s one, delicious, and two also delicious.” *conjures up a giant, demon-sized, floating frying pan from nowhere with a fire underneath it*

Diana: *watches as Marvel picks the demon up, puts it in the pan, and starts seasoning*

She does end up eating some of the demon later with Marvel. Though she swore she would “never do it again.” But, when she heard Marvel tell her of a demon that tastes like hard candy when you mix its body with a certain magical herb, she wouldn’t admit it, but she had second thoughts. Those second thoughts amped up when he told her they were really good to eat with ice cream.

Then, there was the time with Aquaman. He came over to Atlantis because he wanted to see Aquaman’s sea creatures. His school had a field trip to the aquarium and he not only did he not have an adult to sign the permission slip, he also didn’t have enough money to pay the fare. Thankfully, Billy’s Marvel form didn’t need to breathe so he could go underwater just fine. Meanwhile, Arthur was just happy to yap about the sea creatures to and listen intently and ask questions and all that. Unfortunately, some mermaids swam up and decided to ruin their fun. Now, you see, they were sort of fighting them in an underwater cave and all the fighting caused a piece of rubble to come loose and fall on one of the mermaids, killing her. This caused the rest of them to run.

Aquaman: “Alright, back to the tour.” *sees Marvel casually sawing off the mermaid’s tail* “What’re you doing, man?”

Marvel: “I’m gonna eat this later.” *holds the mermaid tail up, shaking it a little*

Aquaman: “Oh. Cool. Can I have some?”

Marvel: “Sure, I can make it when our tours done.” *puts the mermaid tail in his pocket dimension*

Aquaman: “Nice, I’ll bring some Atlantean mead.”

Later…

Marvel and Aquaman: *both munching on mermaid tail*

Aquaman: “This really good!” *grabs some mead to drink down his mouthful of fish*

Marvel: “Thanks.” *munches on fish* “You know, I was surprised you wanted to eat this.”

Aquaman: “Why?”

Marvel: “You can talk to fish right? So, if you were to go to an aquarium, wouldn’t you hear some fish screaming to be let out or something?”

Aquaman: “Geez, I haven’t been to an aquarium since I was a kid.” *sounding nostalgic* “But nah, they normally just chill.”

Marvel: “I haven’t been to one ever. And really? Huh.” *munches on fish more* “But I guess what I’m really asking is if you’re sensitive about eating fish or not.”

Aquaman: “Nah, not really. In this great big sea, what did you think the main source of protein was? Plus, this is mermaid, it’s only technically fish.”

Marvel: *shrugs* “So is that a no? You don’t care about eating fish?”

Aquaman: *nods head as he drinks more mead* “It’s a no.”

Marvel: “Sweet! Cause I have a bunch of fish recipes I wanna try out.”

About an hour after this, Marvel had to help Aquaman home since the Atlantean challenged him to a drinking contest, not knowing the Captain couldn’t get drunk. Mera had a brow raised at Billy judgmentally the entire time he explained why he came home with her husband black out drunk.

#billy batson #captain marvel dc #dc captain marvel #shazam #fawcett #fawcett city #fawcett comics #diana prince #wonder woman #aquaman #arthur curry #batman #bruce wayne #the flash #wally west

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prythiansprincess · 1 year ago

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poison paradise.

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: toxic by omido.

author's note: smutty unhinged theo won the poll. here’s your silly little treat. this came to me in a dream proving that even my subconscious isn't safe from theodore. this is pure filth, but ya'll already know that that's what i do best 🤪

The taste of cherry chapstick lingered on your tongue as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Lost in euphoria, you cried out just as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, dragging you to the depths of sensual self-indulgence.

Back arching off the bed. Fingers gripping the sheets. Moans echoing off the walls.

This was hedonism at its finest.

The heady scent of sweat, skin, and sex permeated in the air long after your orgasm passed, inducing you into a foggy haze as you scrambled to anchor yourself back to the present. Between your legs, your girlfriend lifted her head up with a pleased smirk and pressed a chaste kiss against your lips.

The kiss tasted like cum and cherries, a sweet and intoxicating combination that sent your head spinning. Hannah hummed, her pretty doe eyes focused on you while your own fluttered open.

“Babe, I’ve really got to get to practice now,” she whispered softly. “I’m late enough as it is.”

You chuckled, twirling a strand of her red hair between your fingers. “Whose fault is that? You’re the one who dragged me in here, love.”

Hannah grinned sheepishly as she pulled your red and gold skirt down. “Can you blame me? I can’t control myself when you’re strutting about in your cheer uniform.”

“Then go out there and give me something to cheer about, babe. I expect a win against Slytherin tomorrow.”

“If Potter doesn’t kill me first for being late,” she said with a final kiss to your cheek. “See you after practice?”

You nodded as you tossed her jersey over. “I’ll be here.”

After taking a much needed shower, you sat in front of the vanity and blasted music as you diligently adhered to your skincare routine. The best thing about having a girlfriend was that you shared everything. Since dating Hannah, your makeup, clothes, and shoe options doubled overnight.

As you combed through your hair, a sudden knock at the door caught your attention. You figured it was just a courtesy from Hannah’s roommate. Merlin knows that the poor witch had walked in on you and your girlfriend in countless compromising positions.

Tightening the scarlet robe around your waist, you sauntered over to the door, fully expecting Emma to greet you from the other side. Instead, a looming figure eclipsed the doorway. You were surprised to find none other than Theodore Nott staring back at you.

While you two weren’t exactly the best of friends given the rivalry between your houses, you and Theo were civil. You sat beside each other in Herbology and occasionally shared a laugh every time you caught him muttering sarcastic remarks under his breath about the ridiculous bloody plants that Professor Sprout had you wrangling during class.

“Well, what do we have here?” you teased, cocking your head at the dead eyed Slytherin. “A serpent in the lion’s den? What brings you behind enemy lines, Theo?”

Theo smiled back in response, shuffling a bit and allowing a glimpse of the wine bottle and bouquet of roses cradled in his arms. “Waiting for my girlfriend to leave so I can set this up for our anniversary.”

You grinned. “Oh, how romantic!” You had always been a sucker for cheesy gestures. It was the hopeless romantic in you. “Come in, then.”

To his credit, Theo kept his eyes firmly on your face as you ushered him inside the room. Taking the hint, you quickly excused yourself to the bathroom and changed into something a little less revealing than your silk robe. When you came out, Theo was sprinkling rose petals on the bed.

“Those are gorgeous,” you fawned over the flowers. “You’re definitely getting laid tonight.”

Theo smirked in response as he set the vintage wine bottle into a fancy crystal ice bucket. “That’s the plan.”

Slipping into your fuzzy slippers, you cocked your head at the arrangement. “Wait. I think you set it up on the wrong side. Emma’s bed is over there.”

Theo nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, I know. This is for Hannah.”

Whatever warm, fuzzy feeling his sweet gesture invoked suddenly soured at the mention of your girlfriend’s name. “What do you mean it’s for Hannah?”

“Hannah,” Theo repeated slowly. “As in, my girlfriend, Hannah.”

The words hit you like the Hogwarts Express. Surely, Theo was mistaken. He had to be. That was the only explanation. “This can’t be right. I’m sure I heard you wrong. You can’t be dating Hannah.”

The confusion in your face was mirrored in Theo’s features. “And why is that?”

“Because I’m dating Hannah.”

Theo stared at you. You stared back. The room fell silent as the declaration hung heavy in the air.

“Wait,” he backtracked, furrowing his brows. “What? That’s not possible.”

“We’ve been dating since term started.”

“We’ve been dating since summer,” Theo countered. Disbelief dawned over his handsome features. “This is for our three month anniversary.”

Desperate to make sense of the situation, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through your photo album. It didn’t take long to find a recent picture of you and Hannah. “See?” you said, pointing at the screen. “This is us sharing a hot fudge sundae in Hogsmeade just last weekend.”

Theo’s mouth gaped open as he pulled out his phone in response, scrolling through his pictures just as you had done moments ago. “This is us swimming in the lake last July.”

The photo of your girlfriend smiling up at the camera while Theo’s arms wrapped around her bikini clad body made your stomach plummet. The confirmation left a bitter taste on your tongue. There was no reason for Theo to be making this up, which left only one possible conclusion. Hannah was dating both of you. At the same time.

You pursed your lips. “Hannah played us both.”

Theo looked about as dejected as you felt. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize it,” he muttered to himself.

“All that tension between you during the quidditch match,” you recalled. The lingering looks that Hannah and Theo shared during last month’s scrimmage flashed before your very eyes. In hindsight, it was obvious that there was more to it than rivalry.

“You know, I think I saw her kiss you on the cheek in the halls once, but she said that the two of you were just really close.”

“Oh, we are,” you said rather bitterly. “She’s kissed a lot more than my cheeks. Gods, how could I have been so stupid?”

“You’re not stupid,” Theo said softly. “How could we have known? Outside of Herbology, the two of us don’t really interact. We’re in different houses and our social circles rarely overlap. If you think about it, it’s actually the perfect plan.”

“Yes, bravo to our girlfriend for being the cleverest fucking liar in the castle.” You winced at the title. "Correction, ex-girlfriend."

Nott nodded in agreement. "Definitely ex-girlfriend."

"What a bloody mess."

Theo rubbed his temples. “Well, fuck.” The sentiment of total and utter confusion was one you knew all too well. “I am way too sober for this.”

Without a word, he swiped the bottle of wine from the crystal bucket and popped it open. You stared at him with slight bewilderment, which he responded to with a nonchalant shrug. “What? It’s not like I’m going to drink this with Hannah now after I found out that she’s been lying to me for three whole months.”

While Theo was taking the perfectly understandable approach of getting absolutely pissed off his arse, you weren’t willing to take the hit so easily. You were angry. Correction, you were fucking livid. Seething in the heat of your fury, you snatched the wine bottle from Theo’s grasp and chugged a good amount.

“That’s a vintage from my family’s vineyard. You’re supposed to sip slowly to really appreciate the flavor—“ Theo grimaced as you leveled him with a glare. “Or drown yourself in it. That’s fine, too.”

You swayed on your feet as you gestured dramatically. “I can’t believe she cheated on me!”

Who the fuck did Hannah think she was? You didn’t need this bullshit. She was the one who chased after you. Before she pursued you, you were perfectly fine ruling this school under your thumb, flashing pretty smiles and innocent doe eyed looks to the unsuspecting masses. You were head cheerleader, for fuck’s sake! You could’ve had your pick of boys and girls in this whole bloody castle. Even worse, Hannah dragged Theo into this too. While the Slytherins certainly had a reputation, he seemed sweet if not a little sardonic and cynical at times.

”I can’t believe she cheated on you.” You added, surveying the now tainted roses and wine. Indignation weighed heavily on every word. You and Theo were both hot as fuck and a complete catch. Neither of you deserved this. “We can’t let her get away with this.”

Theo sighed in response, taking the bottle from you and drinking a decent amount before wiping his wine stained lips with the back of his hand. “If I’m being honest, this isn’t the first time a relationship has imploded on me. Usually, it’s my fault. But I can’t say I’ve ever gotten cheated on. My ego’s taken a little bit of a blow, but what can we do? She fooled us both.”

“What can we do?” You repeated incredulously. “Obviously, you haven’t dealt with a Gryffindor’s wrath before. This is a matter of pride, Theo. She hit us where it hurts the most. I say we hit her back.”

Theo blanched, his watercolor eyes glazed from the alcohol. The wine was no joke. You never would’ve known it from the smooth taste, but this shit was strong. “As upset as I am, I hardly think violence is the answer. My mum told me to never raise a hand against a lady and I don’t intend on breaking that promise. No matter how angry I may be.”

For the first time in that fucked up night, you managed a laugh. Something about that was so endearing to you. “Relax, Nott. I don’t mean we hurt her physically. That’s not really my style. I have a much more effective way to enact revenge.” Your lips curled into a smile as Theo hung onto every word. “We’re going to wage psychological warfare on our ex-girlfriend, Theo.”

“I’ll confess I’m a little bit scared,” Theo declared as he gulped down the last of the wine. “And a little bit turned on. Guess that says a lot about me, huh?”

You smirked as you retrieved the wine bottle and gingerly set it on the nightstand. Theo glanced up at you curiously, anticipation evident on his handsome face. “What exactly is the plan, dolcezza?”

Whether it was the alcohol or your anger, a devious plan started forming as you looked over your ex-girlfriend’s now ex-boyfriend. “Hannah comes back from practice in an hour,” you stated, toying with the neck of the bottle. “She’s expecting to find me in bed waiting for her.”

Mischief danced in Theo’s eyes. Up close, you could see flecks of green swimming in his blue irises. Those mesmerizing eyes—the very same ones that had the entire castle weak in the knees—locked on yours. Now that you were single through no fault of your own, you had no reason not to ogle Theo and ogle you did. Your gaze flickered over his lean physique, examining his solid chest and broad shoulders before snagging on the sliver of skin that revealed the hard abdominal muscles beneath his light grey shirt as he stretched. A cocky smirk graced his handsome face when he caught you looking.

Merlin, he was fucking pretty.

How had you not noticed that before? Oh, right. You were too busy being a good girlfriend. Well, fuck that.

“Oh?” He murmured, his gaze flickering over you.

Though you changed into a baggy shirt and cotton shorts, you might as well have been naked with the way Theo was looking at you. His dead eyed stare burned holes into your skin and a shiver crawled up your spine as he gravitated closer.

“And she will,” you said with a smirk, closing the gap between you. “You’ll just be in it with me.”

“Oh,” Theo hummed salaciously.

“Wouldn’t wanna waste those pretty roses you got, do we?”

The low rasp of your voice seemed to entrance Theo as he shook his head, appearing dazed as you pulled him in by the front of his shirt. “No, no at all. We should…” The nervous bob of his Adam’s apple sent a thrill through your body. “We should definitely make use of them.”

With a grin, you led him towards the bed. Theo walked backwards, his eyes never leaving yours even as he landed on the mattress. The golden glow of the lamp kissed his sharp cheekbones, its warm hue coloring the slope of his nose, which were smattered with moles and freckles, before emphasizing his wine stained lips. The red roses fluttered around him as the bed dipped, soft petals tickling his skin as he settled against the headboard.

Theo felt like he was under a spell as you crawled over him. He couldn’t tell whether he was dizzy from the wine or if it was just the effect you had on him, but either way, he wasn’t complaining. There were worse things to suffer from than a pretty witch straddling his lap.

Instinctively, Theo gripped your waist while you settled over him. The sight of you leaning over him, your face mere inches away from his felt like a fever dream. One that he had no desire of waking up from.

“I thought you liked girls,” Theo whispered softly as your lips brushed over his. Teasing, taunting, tasting. Fuck, what he would give to have you devour him whole.

“I do,” you replied, tickling his cheek with a rose petal. Theo shivered as the low rasp of your voice pulled him in. “But I like boys too. Especially pretty ones like you.”

Theo couldn’t help but blush. Obviously, he was aware that he was attractive, but he’d never been called pretty before. He was surprised to find that he really fucking liked it.

“Don’t flatter me, dolcezza. Not unless you plan on following through.”

“I’ve never been with a Slytherin before,” you whispered huskily. “Tell me, Theo. Will you sink your teeth into me tonight?”

A part of him pondered the slightly fucked up situation that Theo managed to get himself into tonight. Was he really about to fuck his ex-girlfriend’s ex-girlfriend in her own bed? Yes. Did he feel an ounce of guilt over what he was about to do? No.

Honestly, fuck Hannah. But more importantly, Theo needed to focus on fucking you.

“Fuck yes.”

When you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, it was over. There wasn’t a single trace of self control in him as he kissed back, his mouth hot and eager against yours. The infamous Gryffindor boldness didn’t disappoint as you moaned into his mouth, your fingers threading through his silky brown waves before tugging in a way that made Theo weak in the knees. As he parted your lips with his tongue, you grinded against him and laughed seductively when he whimpered in response.

“Yeah?” you purred as you rolled your hips. “You like that, pretty boy?”

“Bloody fucking hell,” Theo groaned before he kissed you again, rougher this time.

There was something satisfying about the way he grabbed you, his big hands guiding you to grind over him, providing a delicious friction between your clothed sex. Theo was hard and throbbing underneath you. By the feel of him, you knew you were in for a ride. The sheer size of him was going to absolutely destroy you.

You pulled away and a glistening trail of spit extended between you as a result of your sloppy make out. Theo panted as you tugged at the hem of his shirt, keeping your eyes trained on him while you licked a path down his abdomen. He watched hungrily as you grazed your teeth over his hard muscles, flicking your tongue expertly while he shuddered underneath you.

“I can see why Hannah went for you,” you hummed against his tan skin. “You’re hot as fuck. Your abs are unreal and your happy trail,” Theo groaned as you pressed soft kisses along his torso. “It leads to something delicious, doesn’t it?”

“Fuck, bella. You’re killing me,” Theo groaned as he fisted your hair in one hand. The whimper that slipped past his lips as you palmed his cock was utterly shameless. “You’ve got a filthy fucking mouth, Y/N.”

“Yeah? Shut me up, then.”

His head lolled back against the headboard as you released his cock from his boxers, stroking purposefully and savoring the filthy moans that echoed against the walls. Those pretty eyes of his were nearly black with lust as he looked down at you, biting his lip while your tongue swirled over the head of his cock. Licking up his precum, you smirked before fully wrapping your lips around him.

Theo tugged at your hair and bucked against your mouth as you sucked, licked, and pumped every inch of his thick, hard cock. You knew you were good, but the desperation in Theo’s voice all but confirmed it.

“Dio mio, right there. Fuck, you’re perfect. Your throat was made to be fucked. You can take it, bella. Choke on my cock, just like that.”

You gagged as he hit the back of your throat. Sucking dick had never been your favorite, but sucking Theo’s dick was something else. He looked so pretty with his waves plastered to his forehead, rosy cheeks flushed as he fucked your face with a dominance that had you growing wetter by the second. Tears streaked down your cheeks as you choked on his cock, but it was worth every second to hear Theo moan your name.

“Fuck, Y/N,” hissed Theo after a particularly rough thrust. You could tell he was close by the way his body seized underneath you, but you weren’t done with him yet. You wanted more and so did he. “So fucking close, but I don’t want to come yet. I need…Fuck, I need more.”

You released him with a pop, but kept stroking him with your right hand. “Use your words, pretty boy.”

“I want to feel you,” Theo whined. “I need to feel your pussy clenching around my cock, principessa. I need you so fucking bad. I’d get on my knees to be inside of you. Please.”

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” you said as you kissed his temple. “Who am I to refuse?”

Theo watched as you shuffled above him, barely breathing as you slipped out of your clothes. When you threw your shirt off, Theo cursed to find you completely bare before him. He cupped your tits, flicking his thumb over your nipples before wrapping his lips around them. You could tell he was eager to please and that alone was a huge fucking turn on. It was rare to find a man who cared about pleasure beyond his own, which is why you usually preferred women. Theodore Nott seemed to be the exception.

With rapt attention, Theo helped you lower down onto his length. He kept his eyes on you as you adjusted, gasping when your walls stretched to accommodate his size.

“You know, I thought the rumors about you were exaggerated,” you groaned as you sank lower. “But I’ve never been so glad to be wrong.”

Theo smirked as he nibbled at your earlobe. “What kind of rumors, dolcezza?”

“That you had a huge dick,” you responded, sounding slightly winded once Theo was finally fully sheathed inside of you. “And that you fuck like a—“ You moaned when Theo shifted his hips to rut into you. He was so big that the minuscule movement felt like you were being split apart.

“That I fuck like what, bella?”

Never one to be outdone, you tugged at his hair and grinded against him. “That you fuck like an absolute demon.”

“Yeah?” He drawled, sliding in and out of you with a cocky smirk. “Well, you’re no angel either, Y/N.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet, Theo.”

The sight of you bouncing on his cock and riding the fuck out of him was almost too much. Theo was mesmerized as you used him to get off, head thrown back as you placed your hands on either side of his legs before bending in an angle that he wasn’t even sure was possible for a human to contort to.

Damn, he should’ve fucked a cheerleader sooner. He should’ve fucked you sooner.

“I guess you’re not the only one who listened to the rumors. They said you were flexible, but goddamn, this is something else. You’re something else, Y/N.”

“Oh fuck, Theo,” you keened as you gripped the sheets. “You’re so big. It feels so fucking good, baby.”

“I like the way you moan my name,” he said. “Gods, I could’ve had this all along. Why was I even wasting my time with Hannah? Sei una fottuta dea.”

“I have no idea what you just said,'' you panted, picking up the pace. Your legs ached from the effort, but it felt too good to stop. “But I’m soaked now.”

“I said,” Theo grunted as he fucked up into you and tugged your hair back. “You’re a fucking goddess, Y/N.”

When he rubbed circles on your clit, you absolutely lost it. The room spiraled around you as you came hard, creaming Theo from tip to base. He pulled out suddenly, making you whine at the loss of contact until he replaced his cock with his mouth. Theo flattened his tongue, licking up along your soaked folds. His nose brushed against your already sensitive clit and you cried out as he lapped you up like a man starved.

“Can’t take anymore,” you whined, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes as you pushed against Theo’s broad shoulders. “It’s too much. I’m so sensitive.”

Theo gripped your ankles and spread your legs wider. “Where’s that Gryffindor bravery, bella?” He chuckled, tracing circles on the inside of your thighs. His mouth glistened with your cum and rose petals stuck to his skin as he looked up at you. “Surely you can take more. We barely just started. I want you drenched in tears. Shaking, crying, and moaning my name. Right now, you’re not even close.”

He sucked on your clit and you swore to Godric your eyes rolled back so hard that you saw heaven. Theo was determined to drive you to the brink of insanity. “I know you want it, baby. Let me make you feel good.”

“Oh gods,” you cried out as he filled you with two fingers. It wasn’t as much of a stretch as his cock, but the way he curled them inside of you, touching that sensitive spongy spot within your walls made you whimper all the same. “Fuck, yes, gods. I want it. I want you, Theo.”

A satisfied smile graced his handsome face before Theo flipped you over, pressing you headfirst into the pillows as he feasted on your pussy from behind. There wasn’t a single thought in your head as he unraveled you with his tongue and fingers. It was a deadly combination that had you on the edge quicker than you thought possible.

“Turn around, principessa,” Theo cooed. “Come ride my face.”

For Godric’s fucking sake. The man was absolutely insatiable. You liked to think that you had excellent stamina. Most of the time your partners struggled to keep up with your pace, but Theo was seriously challenging that. You didn’t know if you could come three times in a row without passing out, but tonight was as good as any to find out.

Theo rewarded you with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss before positioning your thighs on either side of his head. You held onto the headboard above him. Part of it was for balance, but mostly to keep yourself from collapsing all together. You felt so overstimulated that the line between pleasure and pain was blurring by the minute, but still, neither one of you had any plans of stopping.

At this point, you actually couldn’t give less of a fuck about revenge. Hannah had long become a thing of the past. It seemed ironic that you and your ex-girlfriend were in this exact position mere hours ago yet you couldn’t even recall anything past the Slytherin fucking you with his tongue.

“Theo, oh my fucking gods,” you cried out as you grinded against his mouth. “Right there. Yes, that’s it. So good.” Theo squeezed your thighs in response, which elicited a hoarse laugh out of you. “You like when I praise you, pretty boy?”

Theo hummed against your clit and squeezed your ass in confirmation. “You’re so pretty when you’re eating my pussy,” you cooed, brushing his wavy locks back. “But you’re even prettier when you’re fucking me.”

That seemed to be all the encouragement Theo needed. Before you knew it, your back was against the mattress as he hiked your legs over your shoulder. Theo slipped in easily, thanks to the juices coating both his tongue and cock now that he was filling you up again.

“How’s the view now, principessa?” Theo asked with a cocky smirk.

You bit your lip as he pounded into you, holding your gaze with every sharp thrust. His tanned skin glistened with sweat and his muscles flexed while he buried himself inside of you again and again, watching you take all of him with rapt attention. His balls slapped against your ass every time his hips snapped to yours, drilling so deep that you struggled for words.

“The best in the castle,” you quipped back, putting on a serene smile as Theo grunted and fucked any and every coherent thought right out of you.

Neither one of you noticed the door opening nor the sound of the broom hitting the floor. You were too busy staring into Theo’s pretty eyes to care.

He turned your head towards the door, but didn’t stop fucking you as Hannah watched with her mouth hung wide open. Theo made sure that your ex-girlfriend had a clear view of the money shot as he claimed you with his mouth, moaning your name against your lips as he came with a loud cry. He filled you to the brim and you could feel him leaking out of you and onto the sheets as your eyes rolled back.

Theo collapsed on top of you, sweaty and sinful. As you lay boneless and blissed out of your mind, you couldn’t quite believe that you’d just fucked your ex-girlfriend’s ex boyfriend. In her own bed, nonetheless. If that wasn’t poetic justice, you didn’t know what was. Merlin, you hadn’t gotten shagged like that in—well, ever. The Slytherin really knew how to slither in. You lifted your head to find Theo already looking at you. When you made eye contact, the two of you burst into laughter.

Your ex-girlfriend, on the other hand, was not as amused. “What the fuck!” Hannah screamed.

Her shrill voice brought you out of the post haze aftermath of your earth shattering orgasm. Completely unbothered, you stretched lazily and waved your fingers at Hannah. Theo smirked as he tugged his sweatpants back on, but opted to remain shirtless as he pulled his oversized shirt over your head like a proper gentleman. You were grateful, since you had absolutely no desire to walk around in your ex-girlfriend’s clothes. Plus, it didn’t hurt that Theo looked absolutely delicious from the afterglow.

You bit your lip, already thinking of all the ways you’d like to have him. Again and again. As often as possible.

With a little smile, you met Theo’s gaze. It was clear that neither of you had any intention of calling it an early night. You had a feeling that you had a lot of sleepless nights ahead of you. Theo looked like he wanted to tear you apart and you were more than willing to let him. “My dorm?”

“Whatever you say, dolcezza,” Theo said as he slipped his fingers through yours. “You could lead me off the astronomy tower and I’d follow.”

Theo didn’t bother looking at Hannah as the two of you passed her. You, on the other hand, couldn’t pass up the chance to get the last word in.

“By the way, we’re breaking up with you. Have fun cleaning up the mess.”

Theo chuckled darkly as he tugged you out into the hallway, smacking your arse as the two of you raced back to your dorm. Behind you, your long forgotten ex-girlfriend gaped as she watched her ex-girlfriend and ex-boyfriend walk away hand in hand.

#yes i know this is unhinged but i dreamt it so now you all have to deal #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theo nott x y/n #theo nott smut #theo nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott #theodore nott smut #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott imagine

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