#i lived with him and his wife for a year during hard times in college so im still reeling a bit

[jalattes]

walking out of a funeral home to 99% totality today was another incredible eclipse experience

[simpjaes]

MILF HUNT! ― P.JS

Jay, a favorite among classy wives to hire during the hot summer season for a nice, thorough pool cleaning, seems to have a favorite wife of his own.  You.  Or the one where Jay was the pain-in-your-ass son of the family you used to babysit for, but now he’s making it his mission to be the pain-in-your-ass pretend husband that you never asked for, but very clearly need. 

minors dni 

PAIRING ― park jongseong x afab milf!reader  

WORDCOUNT― 18.9k

CONTENT―  age gap: reader is 29 and jay is 22, milf trope/single mother reader, college pool boy jay (turned part time babysitter), reader has 1 kid and jay really wants to give her another, reader has morals!! jay just doesn’t see it as a moral issue, he is actually very sweet 

!WARNINGS! ―  age gap, jay is somewhat of a manipulator, he’s gentle but won’t take no for an answer. dub-con in one instance. major breeding kink and kind of a mommy and daddy kink (domesticity), angst regarding reader and her ex husband, reader has huge tits 

NOTE ― this was supposed to be a toxic jay fic but it turned into this instead because i love him so bad…………. NOT PROOF READ, mind the typos. i'm insane for him.

nsfw tags under cut

nsfw tags― big dick jay, masturbation, small instance of dubious consent, tit obsessed jay, groping and grinding, mommy/daddy kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, cum stuffing-ish, pussy eating, fingering, basically it’s jay doing stuff to you, this ain’t smut this is making love, also reader doesn’t shave her coochie and jay fucking loves it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Having a stray eye isn’t typically something you afford yourself when it comes to men. Things tend to change with time though, that much you know is true. 

It was proven to you for the first time when your ex husband decided to up and leave you three weeks before your due date for a woman–well, girl, fresh out of high school. Years of trust and promises crushed with just a single sentence and a slam of the door. Time must’ve changed you for him to leave so heartlessly. Time must’ve changed him to become so cold. 

 It was proven again when you were able to heal despite never believing you could. Seconds of pain turned to minutes, to hours. Days. weeks. Months. Years of pain before being able to wake up and feel somewhat numb to it all. Like a flip switch in your head that told you that you can be happy now even if as a single mother. After all, the hard part was over. 

It took some four to five years, but it did happen. Time did change you, it healed you, it matured you. As your child grew, so did you. And for the better, you think. You count your blessings of living a life far more lavish than you ever could have anticipated given the circumstances that had been thrown at you. Even to the point of nesting, wanting another child, wanting a big and happy family. But alas, your ex husband had better things to do. 

At the end of the day, you’d never be able to call this home yours if you had stayed with your ex husband. He didn’t like this kind of “flashy” lifestyle, and to him, everything you wanted seemed too flashy for him. Perhaps he was right to some extent, as you recognize the brand name goods you now own, solely because you had promised yourself in the depths of your despair that you’ll get to a point in life where you can buy yourself everything you not only need, but want. So, here you are, owning an expensive home, in a nice neighborhood, with a nice car and a nice pool. 

Your daughter has everything she could want and need too, aside from a sibling, it’s certainly still more than what you had growing up and it’s all because of you. A fully decorated bedroom drenched in glitter, purples, creams, yellows, and pink, her favorite color. All sorts of play houses, costumes, dolls, a few lego sets, and even some plastic swords and knives for the days she wants to pretend to be her favorite movie characters. Clothes she can grow into, and a nice little fund building up for her as she grows up. Her first car, college, help for a down payment on her own first house. 

Both of you have everything you could ever want or need and for that, you’re so proud. Especially knowing your husband would have never believed you could make it this far without him. Still, despite having everything you could ever ask for, there’s something in you that feels empty.

Time changes things. 

Time changes a lot of things, you note more than usual, as the man you’ve been ogling for the past three weeks makes himself far more known to you than you ever wished he would.

The interaction with him was always so quick before today and given the fact that he was a complete stranger, you never quite invited him into your home considering–you know, small child and all. You had hired him over text. Jay, your neighbor said his name was. His handsome features didn’t offer you anything more than a clean pool and a wandering eye. 

Your neighbor apparently has a friend who has a cousin that has an even nicer pool than you do. Given, it’s only a nicer pool due to the fact that this young man, Jay, tended to it weekly and made damn sure it could be drunk out of if a person had a craving for chlorine. 

You feel like an idiot now that it didn’t dawn on you quick enough. Sure, he looked a bit familiar to you but who doesn’t when you’re always out and about seeing so many different faces on a daily basis? His name, Jay, didn’t ring any bells. Now though, the shame of staring at his sweaty pecs and biceps came crashing down the moment you realized who Jay actually is. 

He didn’t do a damn thing to remind you either, if anything, all he did was walk around all sweaty in the afternoon heat with his tank top either sticking to him, or off entirely. It appears that you had just been too busy running errands with your child, considering his shifts were always when you were home. Too busy cooking, cleaning, reading, lounging. Too busy looking at…well, not his face. 

Too busy to give the man a glance more than that of a slice of pie behind a bakery window. 

Jay. 

Since fucking when was that his name?

“Park Jongseong.” You whimper near mortified, three weeks too late as you hand him his pay with nervous hands. “Spray-cheese in my hair Jongseong?” 

“Ah, was wondering when you’d pick up on that.” He smiles at you with that crooked grin, a knowing look that any man at a bar would give you if he had caught you checking him out. Then, he pockets the hefty amount of cash that you hand to him. “I go by Jay more often these days.” He trails off, an amused smirk half-falling as he looks at your expression of realization. “You can call me whatever you want though.”

He’s well aware of how often you’ve checked him out since he started intentionally taking his clothes off. After all, it’s mid-july by this point and the sun baring down on him doesn’t quite call for a fucking turtle neck sweater. Or a T-shirt, or a tank top, for that matter. It calls for all skin baby, beautifully tanned and toned for you and any of your neighbors to look at if they so wanted to. 

Jay doesn’t work out for nothing, after all. Summer after summer, he’s found himself to be quite fond of the rich women that hire him for their pool services. Always wanting an attractive young man to wander around half naked and satiate their lack of sex life with their husbands, or boy-toys, or what have you. He knows all that extra pay isn’t because he does a good job either. He’s gotten winks, small comments, even a few offers of his body for more pay.

He’s turned them all down, of course. For a full-on affair, anyway. Jay has gotten a few blow jobs and quickies as a tip before though, and a lot of that is why he keeps getting referred to more women. Richer women. Never single women. 

Until you. 

He quite enjoyed catching you looking at him. Especially given the fact that he knew exactly who you were when you introduced yourself to him via text. That little childhood crush on you came back within an instant upon actually seeing you again. Truly, he had forgotten all about you up until that fateful day three weeks ago. 

If he’s being honest, he’s been pining something fierce since he first stepped foot on your property. Excitement swelled inside of him just to see you again. To see if you’re still hot, to see how you’re doing, what you’re doing. How your life is going.

 He knew you didn’t recognize his nickname through text, and he definitely knew you didn’t recognize him to be eating him up with those eyes of yours either. So, he played along, enjoying it while he could before it would inevitably dawn on you. Still, he remembers you so well from back then. Crazy to know that he rarely thought of you for the past twelve years or so, and how all those little butterflies of his came back in a far more mature way. He was only ten back then, but he’s a man now. 

Twenty two and perfectly sound as a man who knows what he likes. The fact that you happen to fall into that category is no fault of his own, honestly. It’s your fault if anyone’s at all. Jay is a man that likes a specific type of woman too. Woman. Not a girl, not a young lady, not a free spirit, nor a prude. He is drawn to the idea of experience, to the idea of settling down. It’s not easy to find that at his age, in college, surrounded by party girls and casual drug use. 

And, well, imagine his smile upon seeing your lovely, lavish home with the large pool, no ring on your finger, a whole fucking child, and your motherly instincts when you buckle her into the car for an errand. Oh and the broken fence in the far back of your yard.

You’re a single mom. 

A hot single mom who lives lavishly. One who could probably use a man’s help around your house.

He half expected you to be able to recognize him when he appeared for work the first time. He even had a monologue in his head on what to say to you, and how to present himself. You didn’t seem to take notice though, introducing yourself to him as if you hadn’t spent all that time in his childhood home when you were a teenager. Like you never mothered him, or put him to sleep with the soft lul of your voice when you let him watch all those scary movies before bed. 

 Clearly you’re too busy experiencing life to notice the way he fawns over you too. Hating how you’re more reserved than the other lavish, fixed-up women. You seem to have standards, or maybe it’s just priorities ... that's so hot. Truly, it only makes him want you more because by now, the other women would already be rubbing all over him. The ones who shouldn’t be wanting him the way they do. So, yes, he’s always stealing glances at you with sparkling dark eyes, fantasizing in his head that this pool is his to clean now, because that’s what a good man would do for you, right? With him around servicing your pool and lawn, you’d never need to hire or spend money on another broke ass college student again.

Yes. That’s how quickly he fell into this infatuation solely because you looked at him like you want it without realizing who he was. Hell, without realizing how perfect you are in terms of what he wants.

God, how are you still single? 

Like, why do you have a child and a house so beautiful without a man wandering around doing all of this work for you? Not that you couldn’t do it on your own, it’s just, you clearly have the means to make a man do as you please. Why haven’t you?

You happen to fall almost perfectly into the categories of what he’s looking for. Save for the fact that now you recognize him as that kid you used to babysit rather than the man who tries to be sexy while cleaning your pool. Which is a fucking shame, if he’s being honest, to be written off as that same ten year old child rather than a fucking man who very clearly has needs and desires. 

The point is– Jay wants you and he parades around your pool for you to look at him. So what if you used to babysit him? It’s not like you’re an old swamp-hag trying to lure him with candy. You’re just…a woman. And he’s just a man. 

“Well, thank you for cleaning again,” You trail off in an awkward tone, shifting your eyes to anywhere but him. He watches you though, smiling a smile you know all too well from his childhood antics. It must mean something different now, or maybe not. “I guess I’ll see you next week?” 

“Well, actually,” Jay offers, “Would you be opposed to–” You cut him off instantly with an awkward wave of your hand.

You don’t know why you make assumptions, maybe from that damned smile on his face, but you do recall your ex husband reminding you time and time again that it’s one of the things he hated about you. 

Assumptions. Always thinking the worst, or perhaps the most filthy of situations and expressions. To be fair, you feel guilty about how you’ve been looking at him, you can’t help but panic trying to pretend like it never happened, and that he never saw it happen.

“I’m not interested, Jongseong.” You respond hastily, pressing your thumb to your bottom lip to bite the skin on it, keeping your eyes away from him with the awkward words. After all, he knew who you were this whole time and paraded around like that? 

Even before recognizing him yourself, you know men well enough to know when they’re trying to flaunt. Is it so wrong to assume?

“Interested in what?” Jay tilts his head knowingly, seeing the way you buckle under the guilt of staring at the very man you used to tuck into bed every night. He can see the way you try to push those sexual thoughts you had away in the quick rejection to a simple assumption. 

 “I was just going to ask if you want me to fix your fence.” 

Ah, you did get ahead of yourself through the guilt, and you’re far too aware of it as you draw your eyes back to him and note the expression on his face. Amused, maybe a bit of concern in his eyes, even? 

“Ah, um–” You start, trailing your eyes down your fence line never once noticing a break in it. Jay is quick to point though, leaning to you with a whisper of “right there.” And well, you did not need to hear that tone in his voice the way you just did.

God, it’s so awkward.

“Well, how much would that cost me?” You question with an empty voice, staring at the broken fence. 

“Free.” He uses the same tone, leaning away from you now and smiling wide. “That is, if you provide lunch.” 

Well, despite the awkwardness, that break over there would cost you a pretty penny to fix, and your daughter needs the safety of playing in her own yard without random animals or worse, people, making their way in. Plus, you’re quite fond of saving money. How else would you be here if you weren’t good at it? And now, given that you’re most definitely not interested in Jay, what's the harm in making a few sandwiches for someone you already know well enough? It’s not like you’ve never made him lunch before.

The awkwardness will pass and your guilt will subside. You both will laugh at it over a cold glass of iced lemonade, surely. It’s not like you realized who he was anyway, it’s not like you’re just gonna keep looking at him like that. You should just push forward and it’ll all be fine. 

“Hell, I’d even watch the kiddo so you can have a break every now and then.” He watches your reaction, wanting to ask so many questions about why you’re single, who the father is, where he is, why he isn’t here. “After all, I learned quite a bit from you.” 

For a second you consider that too.

And there’s three reasons as to why you should. The first being that you were literally just looking for a new child care facility due to learning of the staff coming to work while sick. Your poor daughter came home with a fever just last week, and you’ve had little luck in finding a place with the same educational benefits for her. 

The second being that, well, while you’re not hurting for cash or anything, it wouldn’t hurt to be able to put a little more back for her college fund. Or for fun little vacations. 

And lastly, despite your guilt of lusting over someone you shouldn’t have, you know Jongseong and you know his family even better. No background check would be needed, your daughter could be in the comfort of her own home rather than a classroom setting that she’s sure to see for at least twenty years of her life in the future. 

So, yes. You consider it instantly, and Jay sees it. 

You only know of the childhood version of him and, well, the slutty pool-side version of him apparently. If only you knew of that other side of him and how fond he is of watching his own younger cousins. How good he is with children, and how much he clings to the idea of being a father one day.

Jay is great with kids, with or without them having a hot mom.

And well, he knows that he’s fond of looking at you at least. Besides, as long as you can work with his class schedules, he’d be willing to do just about anything to play pretend-husband, even if you’re unaware of it. 

“Is that so?” You finally ask, curious eyes looking at him with a furrowed brow. “Shouldn’t you be out living the life? College parties and such?” You add, wondering why such a great deal has managed to flop down on your lap. The idea of even cheaper childcare without the risk of unvaccinated children, and sick caretakers being far too good of a deal to pass up. 

“Well, yeah I guess.” He shrugs, leaning backwards to stretch and roll his shoulders. “Not really my scene though. I have classes Monday and Wednesday all day, Tuesday and Thursdays my classes are online. If you can work around that, I’d rather just be making money and chilling.” 

You think about it just for a second more when he continues. 

“I can be here on weekends too. Maybe you should be the one out relaxing and having some drinks.” 

“Well, I don’t quite need that, or for you to be here on weekends.” You think as you say it, knowing you have given up on going out to try and meet men two years ago. “I could pay you though, let’s say, thirty an hour?” 

Well, shit, that’s not too bad at all, especially considering he’s about to give up on cleaning the pools of a few women in his contacts for this. It’s a major pay cut, but still enough to get by comfortably if you’ll have him multiple times a week. That plus the pool cleaning money? And free lunch? 

“Oh, you don’t go out at all? I don’t see why not, could probably get a man in no time–” Jay ignores the wage offer and pushes to note the singlehood he had been noticing for the past three weeks. “and the pay is fine.” 

“Ah, well, the dating pool isn’t so great in this neck of the woods.” You scratch the back of your neck when you say it. “That aside, I'll have her in day care on the days you can’t be here, but it really would be a big help. Thank you for the offer, Jongseong. And for the fence too.” 

He watches you with a firm nod, shoving his hands into the pockets of his basketball shorts, still entirely shirtless in front of you. 

“And the pool.” You add quietly after a moment. 

“I think you’d be surprised about the dating pool.” He smiles as he pushes the subject back to what you had previously said, hoping you believe those words before continuing. “So, when do you want me to start?” 

“Is tomorrow too soon? You’re okay to set up here with your online classes?”

“Tomorrow is perfect.” He smiles.

“I’m sure she would be so happy knowing she won’t be going to daycare–” You clap, feeling a bit less awkward despite the boldness of the man in front of you. You’re sure he’s just teasing you for knowing you checked him out. “I know I am.” 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s a little too perfect, actually.

After that first day of watching your child and making a lazy attempt at “fixing your fence,” he’s settled in like it’s home. He wishes it was, with the lavish lifestyle in a house far too pretty compared to his own living space with piles upon piles of laundry he’s too lazy to pick up for himself. 

It’s different for you though. Different when he’s here.

Truly, he feels like he’s living the life after a couple of weeks with decent pay and a comfy space to do his homework. He watches your child, which is arguably the hardest part of the job but she’s well behaved for him. In fact, she seems to have taken a shine to him.

He’s starting to be very intentional with taking far too long to work on your fence too, and still maintaining your pool. He’s trying to drag this out for as long as he can. Even if just to see if you still look at him when you come home the same way you did before recognizing him. You never do though. When his shirt is off and he’s wiping his forehead in the sun, you don’t look at him anymore.

Hell, he’s even considered breaking things in your home just to give himself more jobs to do. More things that make him feel needed, like a husband. More things that you thank him for fixing, even if it breaks again two days later.

And ah, the food in your fridge is always free reign to him, that large television in the living room too. God, sometimes he dreads going home, and by sometimes, he means all the time. Who in their right mind would ever fucking want to live outside of this lifestyle? He really can’t believe you’re single, nor can he believe that he has the opportunity to be in your home, close to you. It shouldn’t take too long now to convince you, right? That you don’t necessarily have to be single? That you need him around to live even more comfortably?

In short, Jay is in his head about how he’s practically just roleplaying as your stay-at-home husband before having to go back to his shitty little apartment and remind himself that he’s just a fucking college student with no interest in the people on campus. And like, even with the way you come home from work, all groggy and exhausted on the days he’s there, you always thank him before giving him his pay. What he likes best about those nights is when you’re too exhausted to even pay him and you promise to do it next time.

In his mind, that’s you promising to see him again. 

He could give less of a shit about the pay at this point, as long as he gets to be in this house, smelling your favorite candles and dish detergents, seeing you, being a semi-father to a child who deserves more love than the two of you combined can give…he’ll fucking do anything you want for free. 

It’s difficult sometimes, like he really can’t help it. Some days wandering around this house and imagining how the two of you could have landed on buying it together. How the rooms would be organized if he were here from the start. Claiming his spot on your couch like any dad would. Playing dolls with your daughter, laughing with her, letting her paint his nails and put his hair in little pigtails. He even cleans your pool as if it were his own, meaning, he genuinely cleans it. 

He has taken it upon himself to mow your lawn, confusing the yard workers that you apparently hired years ago. Did he accidentally fire them? Maybe, but any good husband would save you money, right? He checks your mail, waves to your neighbors and lets them make assumptions. 

And every single fucking night it’s harder and harder to go back home.

Especially after a full day of playing dad then seeing you come back home so tired. Turning off that switch in his head isn’t easy. He wants to greet you like the husband you don’t have. He wants to ease your hard days in so many ways. Tell you he’s proud of you, that you still look so pretty after an exhausting shift of whatever the fuck you do. He wants to serve you dinner, run you a bath, fix your hair, lay you down– oh, he’s fantasizing again. Unfortunately, he has to settle with seeing the relief on your face when he lets you know in a soft voice that he’s cooked dinner and he will heat it up for you before leaving, kiddo is in her room sleeping, no dishes in the sink, and laundry is folded and put away. 

He loves the appreciation in your eyes, and sometimes even sees a glint of sadness. He can tell you wish you had this from a person who isn’t here for pay. Someone who loves you, and loves your child, and feels joy in making your life easier. 

Fuck, if only you knew. 

And  you’d be lying if you tried to say Jay isn’t a godsend to you on the days he babysits. Many times you find yourself wishing he’d just move in and do everything that you can’t do. You’d pay him well, give him a guest room, whatever. But it’s just…not viable to support a full time employee like that, nor is it fair to your daughter. 

She needs a parent, not a paid college student who needs some extra cash. You have to be that parent, you have to make time for her and witness all of her joys in life. You have to protect her and never bring in faces of men who claim to want to be a father, only to run and break her heart more than your own. 

For now, you settle with this godsend of a little shit you used to babysit. Still you can barely believe that’s the same person, but again…time changes things. And thankfully, the awkwardness of what you did has died down drastically.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Today, you’re more thankful for Jay than you have been previously. After a heavy workload has been lifted off your back with the approval of this project, you need a night out. For the first time in years, you’re giving yourself a night out, all because you have someone you can trust to be here for your daughter.

He was so understanding when you called, even happy to come over right then and there to put her to bed and mostly just house-sit for the night. Even without an end time for him, and even without asking for extra pay, he just…accepted with an understanding tone and that stupid breathy chuckle he gives to you when you ask for favors. “What? You need me there right now? I’m putting on my shoes.” He had said.

It’s the fact that now, as he sits on your couch looking at you in your chosen outfit– he seems a little off. Maybe it’s because you asked him where the best spots in town are because it’s been so long since you’ve gone out, or maybe he just feels awkward seeing so much skin on your body. 

To be fair, he didn’t realize you were going out out. He thought that maybe you were gonna go stay with a friend to celebrate and have a drink or two. 

In reality though, he’s just awestruck. Already you look great even after your busy days at work but…this is a different level. The way your tits look in that push-up bra and tiny ass top, when he’s used to seeing you head out in some sort of business casual outfit without an ounce of skin showing save for your ankles or wrists…jesus. He’s struggling more than usual to keep himself calm around you, hopping up on one leg when you walk away to try and adjust the chub in his pants, and releasing a small sigh before you’re looking at him again.

His skin feels like it’s on fire knowing you’re going out looking like that.

“You sure you're okay to sleep over? I figure it’ll be easier since I’m not sure when I’ll come home, or if I come home.” You smile with a wink, your stomach in knots over the two shots you’ve taken for the first time in years. “I can call my friends and tell them not to come if you’d rather focus on your studies.” 

Jay shakes his head, waving his hands in defense for you as if he didn’t just see the way your tits bounce and squish against your shirt with each move you make. 

“No, no! Go on, have fun.” He says, encouraging you to go out despite hoping you come home with no luck of finding a man out there. 

Just, look at you. Fuck, he’s staring again. He hates knowing that he could be one of the guys at whatever bar or club you’re landing on tonight. He could be the person that makes sure you don’t come home, getting to plant his face right there. He could be whatever you want him to be if you’re looking like that. 

But no, he has to play husband again, which is normally something he’s all too excited to do. Tonight though, he feels like a fucking cuckold. After everything he does for you, after not mentioning how you’ve skipped a few of his payments, after slaving away for hours over your pool, your household chores, fixing and breaking that fucking dishwasher, cooking you dinner every single night he’s here just to make sure you have a meal when you get off of work…you imply you may not come home tonight?

And you’re dressed like that?

And you’re…

God, you just look so good right now. It pains him to know you didn’t dress like this for him, the only man who cares enough to make your life easy. He’s not mad at you, per se, but he’s pissed that you don’t see him as an option despite showing you time and time again that not only is he an option, but the right choice. 

This is what you look like when you want to impress a man? This is how you act? How you talk? Fuck, god, fuck– maybe he’s just too deep in his one-sided roleplay but it really, really fucking feels like he’s watching his woman go off and look for someone else to fuck.

“Thank you, Jongseong,” You smile, walking over to him with a saunter in your step and a gentle smile across your lips. 

He’s never heard you speak his name so sensually, the way his cock twitches forces him to wince away from you. He’s never even seen you saunter before. Fucking hell, somehow it feels worse seeing you act like this after how many times he’s imagined it, all alone in his room. 

A slow walk from you, with the strap of your shirt slipping off your shoulder, fat tits threatening to spill out, lifting the hem of your skirt, or dress, or whatever you’re wearing in his fantasy at that point. Your voice, so soft, so sexy. And you’re practically bringing his fantasy to life right now, except he knows you’re going to fucking walk away from him like this. Into the fucking arms of some random dude at a club. 

Probably some loser he’s seen on campus too.

“It means a lot.” You add, popping a quick, platonic kiss to the top of his forehead. 

Ah, lipgloss. That little kiss on him is enough to ignite him to the point of no return. He almost wants to skip the part of asking you not to go and straight up just beg that you pick him, that you choose him. It’s not just your home, or the luxuries that come with it. It’s you that he wants. You’re the fucking luxury and you’re just gonna go to some sticky-floored club and pretend he’s not clearly checking you the fuck out right now? Like he’s not about three seconds from dropping to his knees just to see you from the angle you deserve?! 

“It’s no problem.” Jay relents, dropping himself onto your couch instead and adjusting his body to sink deep into the cushions just to keep himself from arguing against everything he’s giving you permission to do right now. 

Hah. Permission.

“Be safe.” He adds in an even more monotone voice. “I’ll be here when you get back.” 

And god, he seethes in his thoughts after you close that door and hop into the car with your friends. You don’t look like a mother tonight, and he wonders if you’ll be upfront and forward with anyone you intend to hit on too. Probably not. He’s well aware of the men in this city, after all, he’s one of them.

It’s really not something he can control after seeing you like that either. Your child is already in bed and he’s just sitting here on your couch with a throbbing, fucking weeping cock thinking about you. What’s stopping him from taking care of it? You’re not here, after all. 

You’re not fucking here. But everything about you is. 

And that’s how he finds himself in your bedroom for the first time, barely making it a foot into the room before closing the door and dropping to the floor. The scent in your room is different. It’s feminine, gentle, like the energy is kissing him all over and sending goosebumps straight to the head of his cock. He couldn’t even pull it out, already holding his breath with his hand down his pants, vigorously trying to get what he wants so badly yet knowing that his hand will never compare to you. 

And it’s here where he feels like a husband. Spilling against his pants with a silent, choked back sob as he stares forward at your bed, and the way you didn’t make it this morning. It’s messy, and he wants to be in that mess of sheets with you more than anything. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jay hates that he’s now forced to get used to your late night ventures. Every weekend now. Every. Fucking. Weekend.  You ask if he’s willing to stay over so you can go unwind, and despite his better (or worse) judgment, he accepts. The only solace he finds in these ventures is knowing you consistently come back home right after usual closing times, and you’re mostly sober. Sometimes a bit whiny that you’re not lucking out, worrying that maybe you’re too old now, or maybe you’re just not as desirable. There have even been a few times where you’ve exposed your ex husband during your rants, giving Jay little hints to follow as to why you’re single, and how he left you. 

Still, he knows in your tipsy state that you usually wouldn’t talk about these things with him, but he’s all too happy to get the details once you come home. Mostly because it calms his rising rage at how you’re doing this to not only him, but yourself. It’s mostly because you’re technically coming home to him though. 

And every single time, you go back to your bedroom to grab his payment even though it could wait until morning, considering he’s been sleeping in the guest room– all he can think about is how he’s been in your room. He’s gotten off countless times by now by the smell of your room alone, still barely able to even reach your bed to lay in it himself for a better experience. God, he’s probably memorized each little fray in your carpeted bedroom floor by now with how much he’s zoned out on it mid-jerk off session right there on his knees at your door. 

He’s truly pathetic for you. 

This time though…three in the morning has passed and normally you’d have been stumbling through the door an hour ago. Normally, he’d be fighting back the need to tell you that you’re beautiful, not too old, and entirely desirable. Normally, he would be fisting his cock again in your guest room before sleep, getting off on the idea that he can cum in a house that you live in, smothered by the sheets you meticulously picked out to match the walls of the room. Moaning for you, practically crying for you to let him do it all. 

Have you really done it this time? Gone off with some man? Are you getting railed right now in some hotel, or car, or someone’s shitty man-cave? God, his mind is racing, both aroused at the fact that you must be horny to be constantly wanting to go out like this, but equally as devastated because like…he’s right here.

Who the fuck cares if you babysat him? He’s a man. No longer that child who sprayed cheese in your hair or dumped salt into the bag of sugar. He’s a fucking man, cooking you dinner when you work, parenting your child, cleaning your house, maintaining your pool and fence….He does everything for you, why the fuck don’t you see it?!

Click.

Jay’s ears perk up instantly at the sound. He sits up on the couch from his depressed slump of scrolling through his phone, quickly fixing his hair and clearing his throat. 

In you stumble, right into the little entryway table with a whisper-screams “Shit, fuck–”

Jay looks at your state before standing to his feet and rushing to you, helping you balance on your feet despite your footing not quite being grounded even with his help. You lean on him closely, letting out an alcohol scented sigh. 

His nostrils flare as he holds his breath, feeling your tit press against his arm, smelling the drinks, the sweat, and the dulled perfume on you. Then, a hint of something else. Musk. 

You’ve been with a man. 

He holds back a gesture at the way you lean on him. Nothing more he could want at this moment but to hold you tightly and tell you that he’s got you, despite the panic in his stomach at the way he sniffs out another man. Out of lust, love, desperation, frustration. This is the closest you’ve been to him for this long. You feel clammy and cold, a clear indication that you drank far, far too much. Your tank top is sticking to you, your eyes are a bit glassy–

“You’re late.” He says shortly.

“Late?!” You raise your voice before looking at him with drowsy eyes, furrowing your brow. “I don’t have a curfe-”

“Shh–” He shushes you, helping you get to the living room. “She’s sleeping and you’re going to have her make a fuss about waking up.”

You giggle to yourself as he drops you onto the couch, now aware that yes, you are not a single college student anymore. You’re a single woman. A fucking mother. 

You should’ve just gotten a hotel for the night and slept there to dream a little longer. 

“Right.” You laugh, slouching, spreading out wide against the couch and trying to fix your gaze on him. “Why’re you still awake?” 

Jay fixes his eyes on you, swallowing around a lump in his throat. The way you’re slouching…seemingly forgetting that you’re wearing a skirt and basically flashing your panties at him. God, the things could do to you right now. The things he could get away with if he wanted to. He tries to shake those thoughts for now, and instead, inspects you from head to toe.

He’s never seen you look so relaxed. Chest raising and falling with each breath, hair a little messy, lipstick stains smeared on the outsides of your lip line. He chooses to ignore the faint swell against your neck indicating someone has been sucking on you. But, well, he can’t ignore it. Both his cock and heart aches at the very thought.

“You’ve been kissing?” Jay tries to ask nonchalantly. 

“A lot more than that–” You smile, feeling a flush cross your cheeks before the disappointment hits you square in the gut. 

Jay watches your face fall, and he mimics it by falling onto the couch and sitting by your head…you know, allowing you to lay your head on him if you want to. You’d probably not notice his arousal anyway, given your state. 

“Oh?” He asks gently, the disappointment now showing plainly on not just your face, but his own.

“Thought I was gonna go home with him, turns out he decided to be done after a blowjob in the parking lot.”

Oh, the way his blood boils. Not for the fact that you were used or rejected, but for the fact that you found someone that you were interested in and genuinely intended to leave your home life in his hands for however fucking long. Really? Just gonna leave him here all alone? Like he couldn’t do better for you?

“It’s for the better–” Jay says as he shivers with irritation, struggling to keep his façade up. It’s definitely not what you wanted to hear, and definitely not what you’d have expected to hear from a college guy at all either.

“This happened last time too, except he didn’t even get me to the parking lot.” You huff, unaware of how much you’re sharing right now. 

He bites back the anger yet again, inhaling deeply before releasing a calming breath through his nose just to contain it. So…it has happened more than once? 

“Why don’t you let me take you out someday?” He says suddenly, well aware that you’ll probably never remember he said it in the first place. 

If anything, he’s testing the waters for his own sake. He’d hate himself forever if he didn’t at least take advantage of this moment a little bit. 

“Then who will watch my daughter?” You respond in slurred speech, not even comprehending who it is that’s asking you this question right now. Not even thinking about your history with him, or the family ties. 

He, on the other hand, is quite entertained by the way you don’t bring the history up like he expected. His cock twitches at it, bumping your head just a bit, not enough for you to notice apparently. Fuck, it would be so easy for him to pull it out right now, and just…tap your lips with it. 

Maybe you’d even open your mouth for him. 

“I’ll skip class on a Wednesday, we can go while she’s still in daycare.” He continues through an almost-moan, encouraging the conversation to stay positive.

“Jongseong–” You slur before clearing your throat and sitting back up in a dizzy show of how drunk you are. “You know I can’t do that. It’s too weird.” 

In all fairness, you know he has like…a thing for you. After all, why else would a college dude be spending his weekends here babysitting your kid? It’s not like you haven’t noticed the way he checks you out before you go out for the night. Why would he do all of this if he didn’t have some sort of attraction to you? Sure, you’re taking advantage of it as best as you can despite how you didn’t recognize him at first. 

Despite how deep down, you very well know how attracted to him you are too. 

“Only because you make it weird.” Jay rolls his eyes as he looks at you, spreading his legs out to adjust his comfort, noting the way you glance down to his lap and see it. “I’m a grown man–” He starts, spreading his legs wider, pressing his cock against his pants to the point you can practically see the outline. ”you know this.” He continues, trying to be bold now by reaching forward and moving a strand of your hair from your cheek. 

“You’ve seen it.”

You freeze, suddenly feeling entirely too sober to be talking about this kind of thing with him. With Jongseong. God, his mother would fucking kill you if she found out he’s in your house while you’re out trying to get fucked by whoever is willing to love you temporarily. 

Jay sees you thinking though, and continues to take the advantage now that he’s feeling brave. Now that you’ve seen the twitch in his pants and haven’t moved off the couch, or told him to go home. 

“I saw you watching me when I was cleaning your pool, multiple times.” He whispers snidely. “You stopped when you realized who I am. Why?”

“Jongseo–…” You trail off. “You know this isn’t okay. What would people think of me? There are rules, and I will not go down this route with you.”

A rush of air hits your face and suddenly, warmth hits your cheek. You feel him so close, closer than ever before. It’s dizzying. Jay is over you, hovering with one hand ghosting over your hip. 

“You want to though, don’t you?” He gets even closer now, darting his eyes down at your chest and unable to pull them away. “Knowing how good I am with your daughter? How well I clean up? How strong I can be–”

You swallow hard. For a moment, you almost lean into him. You almost melt right then and there, the need for intimacy so heavy inside of you after being left high and dry, knowing that you’d accept it from just about anyone at this point. But– this is Jongseong. You can’t. 

You really, really, can’t. 

The look of disappointment in his eyes kind of hurts when you’re pushing him away. That playful smirk falling faster than you think your sanity did the day your ex husband left you. 

“This–” You pause, realizing all too well how he’s used your drunken state against you for this conversation. “This is your last paycheck.”

“I don’t think so.” The smirk is back now, except…it’s different. “You know I promised her a Barbie dream house next weekend.” He smiles fully now. “She’s a bit attached, you know, even called me dad by accident the other day.” 

You’re shocked. 

“She…what?”

“You know she’s attached to me already, don’t be selfish.” Jay shrugs at you while rolling his eyes, leaning against the couch again and turning his head to look at you. You try to pretend that you don’t see his hand slightly groping himself. “Guess she misses having a father around. Can’t be too easy for her, especially with her mom going out every weekend trying to fuck guys who would run the second they learn about her.” He ticks his tongue now, as if he’s pitying you more than your daughter. 

“Jongseong, that’s not–”

“That’s not, what?”

“That’s not what I’m doing…” You lower your voice to a near whisper, upset that you couldn’t even enjoy the drunken state you came home in, now feeling entirely too sober, and a little sick in the stomach. 

“Oh, so you haven’t gotten laid since I’ve been here–” He leans closer again now, trying to resume what he was going to do just moments ago. “They haven’t even touched you, have they?” His hands move to your thigh and presses down as if to hold you in place. “Why?”

“I try not to just sleep with anyone.” You lie, knowing you’d sleep with anyone just to feel wanted for once. And you’re trying to ignore his hands on you right now, trying desperately not to like it. It’s the first time a man has touched you in this house since your husband left you. As expected, you almost feel your knees buckle despite sitting comfortably. “I have to be careful, you know?”

“Mm, I know more than you think.” He leans into you, hovering yet again with his upper half over you as he whispers it. “Don’t need to be careful around me though.” He adds, this time trailing his voice right against your jaw, up to your ear. “You must be so frustrated.” He ghosts his lips there for a moment, waiting for you to push him away, or say something, anything, really. 

“Why would I be frustrated?” You lend the smallest of whispers, feeling the goosebumps against your skin rising at the mere thought of giving in just this once.

“Not having anyone to please you.” He adds now, landing a very slight kiss right under your lobe. “Always being used for someone else’s pleasure, maybe?”

You almost nod, feeling weak in your state and thoughts swimming with what if’s, morals, and anxieties. You’re frozen in place despite knowing a simple push would create the distance you need to breathe. 

“Your fingers will never be enough, will they?” He continues, essentially chaining you to this couch with his words alone. You can’t help the fight in your head, you need to feel wanted, and you want so badly to feel needed. “I bet you wish someone would love you for all that you are, not all that you have.” 

It’s silent as you feel his lips press down again, this time moving his body over you almost entirely. You can feel the couch dip a bit as he places all of his weight on a knee, moving his other leg to stand between yours.

“You must need someone to fill that hole in you by now, right? That pussy of yours?” He continues, his tone a bit more snide now as you give in to his hold with shaky breaths. 

And truthfully, Jay has never let himself come on this strong towards someone before. Usually the wives are doing this to him. They’re trying to convince him, encourage him. He’s so fucking horny right now though, with that daze in your eye, your legs spread around his knee, blinking up at him like a cheating wife. As if you want to apologize, as if you need him to forgive you. Need him to make everything better.

“I heard you the other day, you know, talking to your mom–” He smiles, tilting his head to look into your eyes, seeing a small shine in them. “You want another, don’t you?” He continues, moving his lips now just over yours as he, now, presses you firmly against the couch. “You must hate knowing that I’m the only person who can do that for you.” 

“God, Jay.” You immediately buckle, not realizing how suddenly he’s not Jongseong at this moment. He’s someone else. He’s Jay.

“Why don’t you go for girls on campus?! Don’t you have parties to be attending on the weekends instead of being here, trying to parent my chil–”

“Lower that voice of yours,” He whispers, eyes now hooded as he looks at you. “You know she’s asleep.”

God, he’s right. 

“Besides, why would I want them when I have you right here under me–” He tilts his head. “Looking so disappointed that you like it, too.” 

Right then, your moral code shines into the front of your mind at the consideration of giving in.

A weight on one shoulder chanting, “No! What would people say?! What would people think?!”, and then little to no weight on the other shoulder, echoing in a sweet song of “Finally! Someone who will love you! Finally! Someone! Finally!!! Finally!” 

You pause, not knowing at all what to do. Your body wants to push him away, even your mind and soul wants you to push him away. But you know deep down, you’d only push him away to see if he will try again. No man has ever tried for you like this, and you need more of it. 

To feel desired after so long of neglecting this side of yourself, it’s enough to make a person lose their footing in reality. To give in to just about anyone willing to look at you the way he is right now. It’s the fact that you go out to try and find it, and even with this alone, Jay has satisfied you more than any stranger promising to make you cum.

“I…don’t know what to say–” You stutter. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I do.” Jay smiles, glancing at your lips before meeting your eye again. “Why not hand over the reins and relax for a–” His hand dips under your skirt, cupping your sensitive cunt in one hand alone. “Ah, I knew it.” Then, his other hand finds purchase on your chest, lifting your heavy breast in his hand with a blatant, hard squeeze.

After a sharp inhale you look away from him in shame, afraid to admit it despite the truth of it leaking through your panties and onto his palm.

“Wet.” He smiles, no longer looking at you but flicking his eyes back and forth from between your legs, and to your chest. Still, he fumbles around the wet spot, wanting so badly to lift these fingers to his mouth and taste. He’s fantasized about it, about how you’d taste, how warm it would be, what your pussy would feel like against his fingers–

And just as he’s pushing your panties to the side, pads of his fingers touching right where you need them with his eyes hooded and watching you closely, something snaps.

You push his hand away, only to feel him push back, holding you down with more force, gripping your tit tighter, sliding his fingers in before massaging the slit with a blatant moan on his lips. Then, you try again, shoving him back only to hear him chuckle and continue his antics until– you jump to your feet. It felt too good, too grounding to have him touching you like this. You nearly stumble back over the coffee table, but you manage to stand tall and firm despite the fact that even though your mind feels sober, your body is fucking wasted.

“Jongseong.” You argue immediately, using his name the same way you did when he was a child. “Stop.” 

He throws his hands up in defense, raising his brows in surprise. 

“I–” He pauses, staring at you. “I thought you were enjoying it, my mistake.” 

It’s the fact that you were. You were enjoying it too much, and there would have been no defending your actions if you had given in to the feeling. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, fucking stupid. That’s what you are. 

Your ex husband was right all along. Out of everything you’ve accomplished since your heart was shattered, ripped to shreds, stomped on, you’d think it would take a lot more to break you. 

“You ask for too much.” Your ex husband had said once. “You can’t even stand to be alone for one day.” He had said a year or so later. Small digs on who you are and what you need sprinkled into small arguments, only to come more and more from the lips that you kissed and promised to kiss until you die. Until all of his words were to make you feel inadequate. Until everything he said to you stuck with you, forcing your confidence to bury itself six feet under. 

Are you to blame? As it stands, maybe. Why else would you be allowing yourself to consider it? Consider Jongseong, you mean. Never in your life would you have considered him of all people to be the one that you need. 

Never in your life would you have thought he’d be interested in a woman like you, in a situation like yours, with a child. Why did that night with him stick in your head more than every single mean thing your ex husband said to you? Why did his words seem more believable? 

Because you were drunk at the time? Wet, neglected, and drunk? 

Then why is it that you’re sitting here on your day off with your beautiful, bright-eyed daughter rummaging through your purse for whatever catches her eye….and you’re thinking about him? About what he's doing right now, how he’s feeling, if he’s eaten. 

Why is it that you’ve gone the entire week ignoring his texts, asking if you need him to come resume his job as babysitter? Why the fuck do you want to accept after how he took advantage of your state of mind? After he came onto you and tried to manipulate you? 

Despite all of his words ringing true in the back of your head. That was a dirty tactic he pulled on you. Yet, still…you want him back, and god fucking dammit you could cry knowing your daughter called him “dad.” You hadn’t believed him at first, but after this week alone it slipped from her mouth several times. 

“He’s not your dad, baby, that’s just Jay.” You remember correcting her more than once, and all she responded to you with was a confused expression. 

“Why not?” Is what her little voice gave back to you after her child-like brain decided it was fed up with you correcting her very right assumption of the guy who promised her the Barbie Dream House. 

Why not?

Why not?

Well, if you could have an adult conversation with a five year old it would be much easier to answer that. Because he sprayed cheese in your hair. Because you were seventeen and his babysitter when he was ten years old. Because you ogled him without recognizing him as your pool boy. Because of a lot of things.

“Uncle Jay.” You finally corrected her again. 

She shook her head, and continued doing and saying as her little mind pleased. It made you miss having a father around for her though. You think she needs it more than you do. 

And that fucking Barbie Dream house is what brings Jay back. 

Right at your doorstep today, with a gentle knock to the door and a timid smile on his face. He doesn’t even look at you when you open the door, and instead crouches down in front of you with the big, flashy box. He ignores you, tilting himself to look past you and straight at your daughter. 

You hold your breath when she runs to Jay, arms spread open and laughter shrieking in your ears. Your heart aches so much at this moment. 

Given your work schedule, you’d never gotten to see them interact much. He always came over as she was eating her breakfast, and you always came home after she was put to bed. You guess it’s fair that they have a bond now. She doesn’t even run at you like she does for Jay. In fact, the only time she ever did was when she had a bad day at daycare and had a tummy ache. 

She runs to you when she needs you, but she runs to Jay like she wants to. Like she genuinely is attached to him, and his kind smile, and his eyes, and probably that warm embrace that you’ve never let yourself experience.

You watch them, not allowing yourself to melt at the moment because you did not invite him over, nor did you give consent to bring that fucking doll house here. But you can’t say no now, as she clings to his leg when he stands up and looks at you with an almost irritated glint in his eye. 

His eyes trail all over you briefly too, as if checking for any new spots or marks that a man could have put on you. You feel seen, dipping your head to not meet his eye and scratching the back of your neck as if to hide a spot there. There isn’t a mark, it’s just…fear? nervousness? anxiety? 

And then he hauls the box in for her without saying a word to you. You watch him hard now that his back is turned. His voice sounds so loving when he speaks to your child as if she’s an equal. Plopping down on your living room floor with her and opening the large box. 

He Ooo’s and Aahhh’s with her as he pulls each piece out, connecting the walls, the doors, handing her little things to help him with. And both of them are so focused on the task at hand to create a safe space for all of her abused barbie dolls that… you feel invisible.

For the first time ever in front of them both, you feel like you are nothing but a ghost. That he is the single parent. As if you’re forgotten, less loved, not wanted, not even needed. 

There’s a bubbling in your gut when you tear up, reminding yourself that what Jay did that night was probably just, well, he’s a man. Men aim to fuck at all times usually, and you guess you should have expected it at one point from him because, again, you’re aware that he’s attracted to you. Even more aware now. 

But the way you feel right now outshines that. He’s ignoring you to keep your child happy. She is ignoring you because it seems Jay does a better job at it than you do. 

And, well, he’s not holding you down, whispering things in your ear, letting out frustrated little sighs at your drunken or drowsy words now. So, you say nothing. All you can do is go to the kitchen and prepare a snack, trying to force the tears to stay inside of you with quiet sniffles, hoping you can join their little picture perfect moment so that you can be helpful too. 

Your heart swells when they both look at you as you present a plate of snacks. You have to hold back tears again at the way their eyes shine, thanking you for the snacks. Jay’s eyes stay on you a bit longer though, as if saying “See? See what you’re making her go without?” 

You do see it. 

But…it can’t be him. As much as you wish it could be, you just can’t. There has to be another man out there just like him, one that doesn’t have a history with you that would cause whispers and questions. There has to be. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

That moment you witnessed seems to have solidified Jay’s place in your home. Whether it be for babysitting or simply so your child can see him when she’s asking for him (which is often.) It’s kind of an issue, actually, because now the choice isn’t yours anymore and it appears Jay knows that.

You hate that you’re forced to see him for what he is now. How he proves himself over and over again to be the man you need. The issue is that you still don’t want it to be him. The bigger issue is that he’s breaking down your walls, doing little things for you, looking at you with those dark eyes– your resolve cracks and reminds you every time he’s here that maybe it could work. Maybe you’ll give him a chance. Maybe you won’t have to go out anymore looking to fill a void that no one else fits into. 

It’s the way that now, you can’t help but to compare him to your ex husband. The man who you loved for so long, who you genuinely thought you’d spend your life with happily and safely. Now, compared to Jay, your ex seems like…nothing. Like a little crack in your resolve. He was older than you by just two years, took care of you for so long, impregnated you, and slowly but surely throughout all that time grew to resent you too.

You still don’t know why, but perhaps it’s just because you were growing into your own. You were becoming more independent, though he never had the capability to realize just how much you depended on him during the very time he left you. 

“I just don’t want to do this anymore.” Your ex had said to you on that fateful morning. 

Your belly was big as you tried to waddle up to him when he said that. You can’t help but think back now and wonder how pathetic you must have seemed when he yanked his arm from your grip, especially due to the difficulty of your pregnancy already. You were sick through most of it, only having a few good days here or there where that pregnancy glow would make your ex husband second-guess himself. 

The slam of the door after that was more exhausting than the months of pregnancy you’d gone through. It felt loud, so loud you could hear it vibrate throughout your whole body. You recall falling to the floor and carefully holding your stomach. It’s like all of the heartbreak pooled there. The loss of your husband three weeks before he got to meet the child he was supposed to love. Her little heart must have been breaking inside of you too. 

Double the pain.

And then you were mending yourself on your own. Going into labor early from stress,  your family helped take care of you more than her. You were needier. You were broken. 

And never, fucking ever, did you think you’d find yourself sitting comfortable in your lavish home realizing that your ex-husband didn’t deserve all of that pain from you. He left you for that girl, and not two months later did she leave him. 

Never did you think you’d find yourself thinking about Jay as a replacement either. Well, not a replacement, but like, maybe just…he’s the idea of a perfect dad if you pay attention to how your child talks about him. How they act together. How she cries for him before bed when he’s not there, asking you why you don’t read to her the way Jay does. Why don't you sing to her the way he does? Why don't you use the same voices for her dolls? Why you don’t cut her food like he does, why you don’t do this or that.

That’s what makes it click the most you think. The fact that Jay has given her something you never can. The love of a father. It doesn’t even feel like he’s babysitting at this point, he’s parenting, teaching her lessons, bandaging small boo-boos, fixing her hair,…cooking dinner, cleaning…existing here like he belongs.

Jay has done more for your daughter than your ex husband ever could have, more than you could have done for her too, you think. 

Even now, as you come home night after night and see him, you struggle to see him as anyone that isn’t who your daughter needs. Maybe who you need. 

His summer semester is coming to an end too, and it’s hard to see him as a college student now. He really does coursework and everything that needs to be done at your home all within a single work day? With no complaints at all? Lately, you’ve noticed that he’s been more focused on studying when he babysits too, but still your daughter listens to him better than she listens to you. 

Yet, still, it’s like you’re avoiding each other as you go through the motions, but you notice him more. You feel more discomfort because of it, mostly because you know your resolve about this is breaking. There’s a fear inside of you that revolves around him.

What if you missed your chance? 

What if it does end up being a mistake if he still wants you?

You don’t know what to do, but you know you want him. 

Some nights, Jay does sleep over due to exhaustion and you don’t even ask him to leave because you know he’s not doing it to try anything. The avoidance is loud. Lately, you come home from work and there he is, sitting up with his laptop on his lap but sound asleep, softly snoring. Each time, you remind yourself of how he’s sacrificing his study time to babysit. You know your child can be distracting and needy when she wants something too, but he doesn’t complain even a little bit. The least you could have done was bring him a blanket, which you did. And you woke the next morning to find him curled up on the same couch, laptop toppled over onto the floor.

Small, gentle acts of kindness towards each other but never face to face. You’ve woken to fresh coffee countless times, made exactly the way you like it because you know he’s watched you make it yourself. You’ve come home to re-stocked items, like milk and eggs, laundry detergent, and even toothpaste. It’s nice, and a small indication that he doesn’t resent you. Even through face-to-face avoidance on your part.

Tonight seemed different though, compared to all of the other nights when you can’t go out. You walked through the door to the smell of dinner and your child still awake, sing-songing at you the moment you walked in. 

“Dad said I can stay up late!” 

You quirk a brow, her calling him that now becoming a regular occurrence to the point it goes through one ear and out the other for you. You recall discussing her bed time though, with absolutely no exceptions.

“Did he now?” You hug her before taking off your coat, walking with her to the kitchen where you find Jay, placing down a small plate on the table with cartoon characters on it, right in front of two bigger plates with bigger portions of delicious looking food placed neatly on it.

Your heart swells, but your anxiety grows twice as big alongside it. This. 

This is what you’ve wanted for so long. This is what you never thought you could find. So, why is it that you still have push-back in your mind? Despite knowing that Jay has proven himself time and time again, you want to argue?! 

Perhaps it’s because you like the way he tries. Maybe you’re not ready to lose that feeling of being chased in some way, of being begged to let him stay. Maybe it’s because you begged your husband, desperate for him to keep you, but he left anyway. It feels like Jay gives you power over yourself, over your love-life, over everything, really. 

And if you were to actually accept his advances, even just a dinner on your table, what if he stops? What if he gets bored once he gets what he wants? After all, he’s still young, you can’t truly imagine he wants to do this forever. 

Not with you, and not with your daughter either. 

“What’s all this? Isn’t it a bit late for her to have dinner?” You question him instantly, anxiety bubbling up out of assumption alone. 

“We had a small snack a few hours ago.” Jay reassures you. “I finished my exams and had a burst of energy to celebrate, besides, it’s a Friday–” He goes to pull out a chair for you. “You don’t need to be up early either. A late dinner every now and then never hurt anybody.”

The way this is the first time the two of you have had a face-to-face conversation since…that night. His voice calms you, and that’s scary. 

You huff, happy because you could easily melt into this chair and pretend you’re having a family dinner, like you always wanted, like you never rejected a touch from him that you desperately wanted. You could just play along and pretend Jay is everything you need. Except, it wouldn’t even be pretending at this point. The whole idea of him has changed. But, again, that anxiety. You still have that little voice holding you back, no matter what you want, or what you need, you fear it’ll be ripped from you again if you were to let yourself be weak for another person.

“I’m really tired, Jongseong.” You explain, walking past the kitchen and towards your bedroom. “Thanks for dinner but I’m not too hungry and I just want to lay down.”

And with that, he watches you leave. No real appreciation, no congratulations on him finishing his exams, not even a kiss to your child’s forehead. Is he still expected to be the one to put her to sleep? 

Why is he even here? Why did he do all of this? 

His patience is running dry.

So, he eats with your child as your plate goes cold and he leaves it there. If you can’t even handle a dinner at the table with the person who cooked it, you can deal with your own fucking plate. Throw away your own fucking food, wash your own fucking dish. And if you can’t tuck your child into bed, he’ll do it, but you can shove that fake ass exhaustion right up your ass for all he cares. 

He knows you’re not exhausted. He’s seen you when you are. You’re just being an asshole to him at this point, trying to appear like you’re perfectly happy with the life you live when your drunken rants prove otherwise. You treat him like everything he does has an ulterior motive. Which, yeah, maybe it does, but he was genuinely excited to have someone celebrate the end of this semester with him. Maybe assuming you’d indulge him went too far. For the first time, he wasn’t doing it to impress you.

By the time Jay gets your daughter to bed, all tucked in with a little tune to fall asleep to, he closes her door and just stands there in the silence on the other side of it. 

You must really enjoy being a single mother, huh? This is why too. He always questioned it. You’re so attractive, so well-adjusted. You work hard, your daughter is a sunshine in this world, and you’ve not managed to find anyone to love you yet? He thought he was lucky to be the one getting to spend time with you. 

Turns out, you refuse to let anyone in despite Jay knowing, fucking seeing straight through you. You want something from someone. You need it, yearn for it, even. But it’s almost laughable at the way you refuse it. 

Excuses, excuses, excuses. 

It’s the fucking audacity you have taking advantage of him. You’ve practically led him on. You lend him everything he wants in life. That’s it. You lend it. From flaunting yourself before you go to bars, to exposing all the marks you allow other men to leave on you. Letting him stay in this house, father your child, cook, clean, mend, fix, heal. 

From being a faux-father to being minimized to a college student that you used to babysit. He’s offered you relief in so many ways including sexual, and all you fucking do is avoid, deny, fucking reject him. You still go out to bars, later and later you’ll come home with new swells against your skin, but always looking so empty and disappointed. Sometimes he thinks you try to make him jealous. Sometimes, he thinks you want him to try again. 

Sometimes, he thinks you get off on the fact that he keeps trying.

And he has tried. Albeit more gently lately, but he has. Small, lingering touches when he hands you your coat to help you get out the door and to work quicker. Starting your car for you before you leave. Fuck, he even opens the goddamn door for you. Anything to make you feel appreciated, respected, and fucking wanted.

The silence is loud in his ears due to the sheer irritation as he drops his head, staring at his feet and knowing it’ll only take a few strides to reach your bedroom. A room he still craves to be in.

He’s raided those drawers by now, because of course he has. Soiling your panties, your sheets, anything that still smells like you when you’re gone for the day, all so he can act normal upon seeing you when you come home. He’s laid in your bed by now too, wondering what it would feel like to have your weight beside him. He fantasized about anything and everything he possibly could in there.

And he’s always warmer. Always cums the hardest with weak, muffled moans as he stuffs your pillows into his mouth to keep quiet. All before cleaning every trace of himself there, closing the door, and wishing he was allowed to exist in there with you. 

Right now will be the first time Jay enters your room to your knowledge, and it sucks for him because he has essentially trained himself to get hard every time he opens this fucking door. Still, he composes himself, and it’s a bit of a shock if you’re being honest.  You thought he’d go home after this, you were kind of hoping he would after you made it so awkward. 

You felt guilty the second you saw his expression fall to your rejection of eating dinner like a big fucking happy family. You want it so bad, you want him so bad.

When you left the kitchen, you immediately went to your room and hopped in the shower, well aware that he wouldn’t follow you. You thought hard while the hot water made attempts to wash away your feelings. Would it have been so bad to just eat with him? With your daughter? With both of them? The way his eyes fell, it burned your heart a little bit.

Still, no answers came to you because you know part of you just wants to see what else he will do for you. Despite the history with him, and despite knowing his entire family would question and scoff at you for it…Is it really so wrong? To want to give him a chance just to see if he’ll leave you too? 

Just to see if it’ll hurt when he does it too?

Inviting him to your home almost every day of the week isn’t wrong, right? Forgetting to pay him all those times before, hoping to see him again and get that confidence boost, that wasn’t wrong. Letting your daughter attach herself to him when you swore he wasn’t permanent, no longer having the energy to correct her use of “dad” towards him… none of that is wrong.

 It’s all Jay. He’s the one in the wrong for willingly following along, not you. Right? 

And as you’re sitting on your bed in your towel, zoning out and staring at your floor, Jay swings your bedroom door open without a single knock, mindfully closes it, and immediately goes off on you.

Somehow, you really expected him to accept your rejection but your heart swells that he didn’t. You don’t think he ever will, and you’re exhausting yourself hoping he’ll prove you wrong.

He’s shown you enough by now. This is what breaks down that wall inside of you, isn’t it?

“What am I doing wrong?” He shoots his first question out in a desperate whisper shout, eyes searing into you before continuing without a single breath. “Because I do everything for her, and i do everything  for you, does that really make you so fucking uncomfortable?”

“J–” You try to respond, feeling your skin prickle at the sheer irritation in his expression.

He’s fighting for you.

“Isn’t that what you want?!”

“After everything I do–” He throws his hands up now, running his fingers through his hair as if you make him feel like he wants to rip it out. “After trying to make your life easy while making mine harder, for what? You to not eat the fucking food I made? For you to go to the bar all the time just to come back disappointed like I’m not right here waiting for you to come back?” 

“What ar-”

“Don’t ask me any stupid fucking questions, Just answer me.” He drops his hands, stepping up to you, placing both hands on either side of your hips, doing his best not to react to your near-naked body. “Why?”

You lean back, trying to create more distance to try and give him an answer that you don’t even know yourself, but he just keeps closing in. Not letting you escape this time. You’ve never seen him so riled up before, it’s…

Well…

“Because I came onto you? Because I tried to do what no one else will do for you?” His voice shakes when he says it, and you can feel the heat radiating from him. Is he…about to cry?

Only now, seeing him so close with an entirely sober brain do you realize an answer. Maybe not to his question of why, but to the same question you’ve been asking yourself. It’s because of that look in his eye. You’ve never been able to put a word to it, but now with him demanding you explain yourself so closely, you see it.

He’s desperate. 

Arguably as desperate as you’ve felt to fill the void. Except, he’s trying to do that for you and you won’t let him out of what? Fucking fear? Hell, at this point the history means close to nothing when it comes to all the new memories he’s made in this home, even without you. The history of babysitting him, the history of your ex husband leaving you. It doesn’t matter.

You think hard, so hard that you feel your eyes burn as you stare up at him. Glancing without intention to his jaw when he clenches it, to his neck when he swallows his words, to his lips, his eyes, the hair falling in his face…and you just–

You reach up, running a soothing hand through his hair to get it out of his face. Then you see those same desperate eyes somehow grow more desperate as he lowers them, leaning into the touch, as if you’ve been starving him the same way you’ve been starved for years. He falls silent too, cutting himself off mid-question just to feel you touch him for the first time.

“I don’t know.” You say, which seems like a better answer than having an excuse. What can you say otherwise? That it’s because it shouldn’t  be him? That you’re afraid he’ll realize he’s not ready to settle? To be a dad? He’ll ask why, and it’ll be the same answer you gave on that drunken night. An answer that you no longer care about. 

You babysat him when he was a child, but you were still a child too. 

You were still a child, and time changes things.

Your ex husband left you, and you’re afraid he will too, especially because he’s so much younger? Who cares?

Your answer seems to fly right past his head though, because he’s still leaning to feel your fingers in his hair, and he’s looking at you as if nothing you say will matter unless you make it hold some weight to him. 

“Jongseong–” You pause, scratching right at his nape, uncaring of how you can feel your towel loosening on your body. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Somehow, his name on your lips is what he needed to hear. The tone of it, the rasp in your voice, your fingers in his hair. Actions speak louder than anything the two of you could say right now, and he can’t help it. Nothing can stop him, not even you at this point. 

He hasn’t done anything wrong you say? It’s because he fucking knows what you need.

You inhale deeply, holding your breath when you feel your back hit your mattress, his warm hands instantly taking advantage of your freshly-showered state and tugging at the towel just slightly to let it fall open. You hear a slight breath from him at that moment, an inhale. There, he climbs onto the bed, nudging himself between your legs and trapping you there under him, both hands holding your arms down.

Like he’s afraid you’ll reject him again.

“You’re going to let me take care of you now.” He demands, though to him it sounds more like a plea solely due to the fact that he’s so fucking turned on it’s unreal. That feeling of when your fingers were in his hair? Seeing your naked body? Unshaved pussy? Being in this fucking room with you? It throws him into overdrive, especially with the way you just lay there blinking up at him in surprise. The anger melting away only amplifies it more. 

How could you do this to him? Genuinely, how could you have let him fucking suffer for you like this? 

Still, you blink up as if you’re a deer caught in headlights and it makes his heart thump against his ribcage. Your eyes are so bright, that glint of sadness he had seen so many times isn’t there right now. And there’s so much adrenaline inside of him, like he needs to move fast before you change your mind again. You’ve not let him do this for some fucking reason or another and now you’re just laying here for him.

 There, with your entire body on display, and you appear to be docile. Fucking obedient? Like he always knew you would be if you’d just drop the fucking act?! You were meant for him and him alone, and he’s going to show you why.

In all honesty, you’re tired of denying yourself by now. From the moment you saw him that day cleaning your pool for the first time, you’ve wanted him on some level. It wasn’t an emotional attachment, but a hope, a fantasy for you. And when you recognized him, you were more impressed with him than embarrassed. You tried not to let your eyes wander out of guilt, out of feeling like a pervert. 

And then, that day when he came onto you, he was just a man to you. Your faux guilt kept you from letting him, and your hope to be chased kept you from it too. As if you’ve never pleasured yourself to the thought of him, shamefully in this very bed. As if you’ve never called out his name with a silent breath. If you keep going at this point, you’ll lose him before ever knowing what he could really be for you. 

This is his last ditch effort to beat you at your own game, and you’re ready to lose.

  So, now, you let yourself get lost in him. In  his eyes and the way he pleads and makes his demands. He probably doesn’t recognize his strength against you right now, or how much it’s turning you on. With the way he has both hands on your wrists, probably bruising them, and there’s nothing you could do even if you wanted to. His weight holding you down feels better than you imagined. 

After so long, with so many failed hookups where you’ve told them of your daughter and all they’ve done in return is get their orgasm then leave…Jay. He wants to take care of you? 

He wants to…give you what you need?

Fuck, you know he can. That’s the fucked up part. He’s proved it so many times to you in so many ways. You’ve watched him, the way he moves and acts around you. He’s exactly what you need. You pushed him to this point, where his sanity is on the brink of crashing. Taking it away from him again feels wrong, because it’s exactly what you want.

And when he presses his leg between yours, he knows.

“Again?” He comments, now releasing your wrist from one hand and running it down, able to slip his fingers right into the slick of your bare pussy. “You’re wet.” 

You still just blink up at him with an intake of breath at the pleasure, thoughts running left and right on what to do, finally realizing you don’t want to do a damn thing. He’d do it all if you let him. Clean your house, be a father, fix all of the breaks, make you wet.

And you just feel him, the way his fingers play around with what he does to you. You can practically feel his confidence rise at the way you spread your legs a bit more, as if to give him more access. When you look at him, his expression remains harsh, but slowly he moves himself down, lips brushing over one of your nipples while keeping eye contact.

Still that irritated look, like he’s mad you haven’t let him do this before now.

“How many times are you going to pretend like I’m not the one who gets you wet?” He asks before rubbing circles around your clit, tongue flicking in the same way around your nipple. “Like I don’t have a right to take care of you?”

Your breath is still caught in your throat, trying to be careful about what you say right now despite knowing you can’t speak. You focus on what he’s doing instead, losing yourself to something you’ve not felt in far, far too long. 

He’s right. He’s gotten you wet more than once by now. More than he knows. 

And goddamn, he knew your tits could bounce, but the way they move without the support of a bra, the plush, soft feeling of your nipple growing erect in his mouth, all for him to bite and pull at. He does it too, listening to the little seething sound of pain from you when he pulls all the way back with your nipple between his teeth. Only to let it fall from his mouth and break eye contact with you to see the jiggle as it falls.

His cock twitches, at everything that you are right now, feeling more pleasure through seeing you like this alone compared to fucking his own fist on your bedroom floor. He notes how your legs squeeze him more at the nipple stimulation than his fingers too, memorizing the way your labia falls open between them. He smirks, flicking his tongue more, quicker. 

There. There it is.

A low rumble in your chest falls from your lips. Soft, a moan. A very small, delicate sound.

“You like this?” Jay asks, looking up at you, letting his tongue fall from his mouth again and flicking the erect nub. “When I play with your tits?”

You nod, throwing an arm over your face in embarrassment that this is actually happening. You’re letting him. Already you feel yourself heat up more, even when he takes his fingers away from your clit and instead, uses them to flick your other nipple. 

And he does this for a few minutes. Paying special attention to your tits, going back and forth with his fingers and tongue to each bud, trying so hard to not stop just to shove his cock between them and use them the way he’s always wanted. He focuses on drawing out more and more little sounds from you instead, slurping his own saliva from your painfully erect nipples, pulling back, blowing cold air, then warming it up again with his lips. All while simultaneously groping, flicking, and pinching with his other hand. 

“Jesus, Jay–” You moan quietly, chest rising and falling as he squeezes and licks against you. 

That’s right, say his name. Let him fucking know he’s doing what you like. Jay thinks, feeling his cock weep in his pants as he does it. Wondering just how sensitive you are to be reacting like this to simple nipple stimulation. God, he’s wanted to suck on these for so long, and now you’re letting him. They’re so big, so plush. He wants to fucking cover them with his mouth, he wants to bury his face in them, kiss them all over them. 

And if they were to get bigger? He moans at the thought, remembering that conversation you had with your mom. You want another. He bets they’d swell up–Oh, fuck yeah. They’d probably hurt to rub against your shirt. God, fuck, he can’t control his thoughts right now.

 Finally. 

Fucking finally, he has you and he’s not going to let you run away again.

He doesn’t fucking care if it’s forward. He wants what he wants, you want what you want. That want just so happens to line up. Besides, he’s already proved himself to you, he knows it. If you’re letting him do this, maybe you’d let him stay like this. 

“Did they get bigger?” He moans briefly as he swaps to your other nipple again. “So full, so heavy, were they leaking all over you?”

You listen to him, trying not to feel the pit in your stomach bubble with even more arousal at his blatant and dirty words, feeling your clit throb at the stimulation your tits are getting right now. 

“Makes my dick fucking throb just thinking about it. Fuck–” 

“Let me give you another,” He mumbles now, almost mindlessly before looking up at you with an intense gaze as he bites down, indicating that he’s not mindless about it at all. 

“Swell you up, make you glow–”

Oh. 

Why is that– why are you dripping?

He hears that moan you let out. Different from the others, almost desperate.

“Mm, yeah.” He encourages it, now allowing his hand to travel back down to witness how much wetter you’ve gotten at those words. So messy, so perfect. “Knew you’d want it raw.”

You can’t help the nod, as it comes before you even process his words solely because you feel his fingers slip inside of you. You haven’t been this wet in so, so long. You want to feel it. To be full again, of anything. Of him.

“Ye-” You start, interrupting yourself with a bite of your lip and your eyes rolling back. 

“That’s right mama,” He coos, tilting his fingers up and amplifying the pressure inside of you. “Gonna let me take good care of this pussy, yeah?” He adds, lifting from your tits and ghosting his lips over yours. 

He watches you closely, that daze in your eye. God, you look so horny right now. There’s nothing more he wants than to see this time and time again. To let you wake up every morning with his warm cum inside of you, to see your belly swell with his child, to see your tits grow until they hurt. 

He’d take care of you. He’d take good fucking care of you. 

“Say something.” Jay whispers against your lips, darting his tongue out against your lips, angling his fingers up and making you moan. “Say you want me to give it to you raw.”

You open your mouth, feeling his tongue lick and swallow up that moan you just gave him before you try to compose yourself. You can’t help it, you’re so, so sensitive right now and you can’t help but find it incredibly sexy to be here, laid bare, while he’s still fully clothed.

Like he really is doing this for you. He’s not trying to get his own orgasm and leave. You’re weak and those words of “let me give you another” shines in your head. Weak, you’re weak. You should be thinking about condoms, you should be thinking about the consequences of this. 

But you’re not. 

You do like it raw.

“Jay–” You stutter as you try to grasp the reality of his words, feeling his fingers repeatedly hit right where you need it. “I’m…not protected.”

He moans. Loudly, before huffing out an irritated groan.

“You must really want it then.” He narrows his eyes at you. “Going out all the time trying to get fucked–” 

He plunges his fingers in again, deep, and holds them there as he pulls back to look at you. To really look at you, then he glares.

“You’d really let just some fucking dude give you a baby?” 

You repeatedly shake your head. 

“No!” You retort, thrusting your hips up. “I just–”

“Mhm,” He pulls his fingers out now, sliding himself down so fast that you can barely comprehend him sucking your clit into his mouth before pulling back in a moan at the taste of you. “If mama wants another, daddy will give her one.” He says now, as if to pacify you.

As if to give you everything. 

And you’d argue, really, you would.  You want another child so bad, but this is– it’s too soon. You haven’t even established a relationship with him yet. Boundaries haven’t been discussed. His college plan– but fuck it’s not entirely your fault that you’re like, super turned on by the idea of it. To the thought of being so filled with cum that there’s no possible way you couldn’t end up pregnant. An indication that, no matter what, no man at a club could fulfill the arousal for you even if they cared to do it. 

You’d never have let them actually fuck you raw. 

Jay though…how can you keep telling him no?

How could you reject him again when you want it so badly? 

Fuck now, think later.

“Yeah–” You say against your better judgement, hands reaching down to his hair so you can grind up against his mouth, lost to the arousal as you mimic what he referred to himself as. “Daddy?”

You feel his mouth fall slack at that, as if you’re accepting him in full now. You feel your clit hit nothing in his open mouth, but it throbs harder. 

 He knew you were slightly into him for letting him do this at all, but now, you’re truly accepting it. Like you know he’ll fucking do it, like you want him to fucking do it.

“That’s right,” He moans against your clit as he licks at it, barely able to comprehend your voice calling him that but clinging to it all the same.  “Gonna let daddy do it all for you.”  

Yeah. You are. You’re gonna let him do it. All of it. 

And then, the room is enveloped in quiet moans, more from Jay than from you due to your breath being stuck in your throat. His tongue, licking every part of your sensitive cunt, his hands reaching back up to your tits, fondling, pinching, painfully tugging at them as he moans louder, louder, louder for you to want him.

He presses his hips up and against your mattress as he tastes you, so deeply it hurts his cock to neglect it like this. Each rub feels raw, twitching and pulsing to be let out, to be inside of you, on you, against you. Filling you up with his cum, plugging it in as a promise that you can’t leave him even if you wanted to. 

He’s going to fucking do exactly what he said he would. 

And only when you feel his tongue lap against your hole do you finally release your breath, “Daddy” coming out in a choked back sob. It breaks him, his body going into overdrive as he pulls back and just– stares at you with wild eyes. 

You stare back up at him, knowing that calling him that means something more than a cringe little roleplay kink. It means something deeper to him. He wants to be a dad, a real one.

“Oh yeah?” He finally says, hands going straight to his button and zipper. 

You can’t help it, biting your lower lip as you blink up, watching his shoulders move, the veins on his arms protruding as he rushes to pull it out and– oh. You moan at it, the way his heavy, slicked up, cock falls out, heavy, needy. 

“Daddy–” You urge him on, knowing that it’s driving him absolutely insane. 

“Mhm?” He shuffles himself off the bed, letting his pants drop as he lifts his shirt off of him and fucking glares at your tits. “You want daddy’s cock?”  He adds now, shooting his eyes up to you as both of his hands land on your legs.

Your mind goes blank when you feel him slide his hands around to the back of your thighs, pushing your legs forward, curling you in on yourself, forcing your pussy to be out and on display for him. 

And you watch him, the way he stares down at it. It’s embarrassing to be so seen right now, not having expected to get fucked open by anyone tonight, let alone him. You probably should have shaved or something, or like, not gotten out of the habit in the first place. But he moans at it, mouth falling open at the fact that you are entirely a fucking woman. 

A fucking mother.

The prettiest pussy he’s ever fucking seen let alone tasted.

And he moans, breaking the silence, forgetting only for a moment how long he’s been wanting this. It boosts your confidence more than you’ve ever felt. His reaction to this is more than your ex husband’s reaction to you when you were pristine and borderline pornstar quality. 

Jay doesn’t see you as used and neglected, he just sees you. And this. This is the pussy he wants. This is what he wants to put his baby in. 

When he flicks his eyes back to you, with that same open mouthed expression, it knocks the breath out of you. There’s so much love in his eyes, or maybe lust, you don’t care. You think you’re matching that expression for him too, because it’s like he can’t hold back anymore. He can’t just sit and look at you anymore. 

He just can’t.

And you feel it, his thick head pushing past the tightened, pulsing hole and not stopping. He pushes in slowly, painfully slow, to the point you’re both looking at each other with a slack jaw. Finally. The pain of it, the pleasure, the fucking need you’ve been trying to fulfill. 

That look on your face drives him wild too, he knows he has you by now. You like it, you love the way he slides in and makes damn sure you feel it the way he does. Every second of the slide pries you open, and he wants to remember this moment forever. He wants you to fucking remember too. 

Wants you to know that no one will ever fit inside of you so perfectly, so deeply.

When he finally bottoms out, he leans forward to keep himself buried deep as he ghosts his lips over yours. He feels the way you try to kiss him, but he pulls back with a confident smirk. 

“When was the last time you’ve felt a cock so deep in you?” He whispers hotly, knowing you need not answer. Knowing you won’t answer, not with the way you’re instantly lifting your head and kissing him. 

Your pussy pulses around him when you lick into his mouth, the first real kiss sending his heart soaring. He twitches inside of you with each squeeze, and kisses you harder, deeper. And somehow, it brings tears to your eyes. 

The way he kisses, the way he makes you feel him. Fuck, the way he makes you feel whole, so wanted, like you’re amazing to him. In more ways than just a body to fuck, but he’s stuck around despite all of your avoidance and rejections. You hope you’re making it worth it. 

Fuck, you need to feel worth it to him.

“You’d better not fucking pull out.” You groan through a breath, his lips still kissing you through your words as he finally pulls his hips back, fucking in once. 

Hard.

Honestly, could you have said anything else at this moment? He’s trying to make this last, he needs it to last. If you keep fucking talking, saying everything he’s ever wanted to hear– 

“Fuck,”  He moans, his hands moving up to your cheeks as he licks into your mouth. “You can’t–”  He continues, fucking in again, moving your body up with each thrust do to the sheer force of him trying to plunge in as deep as he can. “You can’t fucking say that to me right now.”

You’re seeing stars though, unable to say anything else as your eyes roll back at the way the head of his cock practically kisses your cervix with each push into you. He’s so rough, so desperate for it. 

You don’t think he expected you to respond either, with the way he keeps his lips on yours, his body pressed so closely that having your legs to your chest means nothing to him now. Mating press be damned, he’s lost his mind to the feeling, not the aesthetic of being a fucking dad. 

Your legs wrap around him instead, and he’s all to happy to feel it. Your legs hug him the same way your arms do, the same way your pussy does, and he’s fucking in love with you. 

He braces one hand back against your leg, holding it against his hips as he continues to fuck forward, still at the same pace. Deep and with purpose. Every few seconds the bursts of pleasure run through him, making him shiver and moan into your mouth. Little grunts, near whimpers for you to let him give you the world. 

More than this. More than fucking, more than taking care of you, more than anything he could ever possibly give you. He’ll find a way. 

And then, you’re clenching hard, matching his near-whimpers except moaning in full pants, babbling and drooling cries against his mouth. 

“Mama–” Jay soothes, continuing his pace as he tilts his head back to get a good look at that lost gaze in your eyes. “You’re crying?”

You nod with a laugh, tears rolling down the same way the wet of your cunt slips down your ass. You’ve never felt so good, so fucking full.  And for some reason, that does him in. Making it last be damned, he genuinely thinks he’s won you over. He can make it last next time, he can do more next time, he can–

He leans back all the way now, onto his knees as your legs try to hug him back to you, and his eyes go straight back to those tits. The way he made a promise. The way they bounce, slick with his sweat from pressing against you. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He grunts in a breath, now quickening his pace and snapping his hips. Pulling out all the way briefly to plunge into your again. “Can’t get any deeper–” He continues, flicking his eyes from your face, to your tits, to that beautiful pussy of yours swallowing him up. 

Now his eyes roll back, hands going back to your thighs to push you back into position. No way in hell can he last, not at a pace like this, inside of a woman like you. 

“Don’t pull out.” You repeat again in a breath, seeing his face and the way he focuses solely on you. You know he’s going to cum, and you want him to. You want to feel it, every single fucking drop of it. 

“Yeah?” He nods his head with laser-focus on your pussy now, staring down as he points tight, short thrusts inside of you. “Momma wants my cum? Hm?”

Oh, he’s fucking gone.

“She likes it?” He continues to talk himself up. “Likes being so fucking full of it? Yeah?” 

Goddamn, fuck, he’s insane. 

“Yes, daddy!” You whisper-shout, fingers shooting to your clit, other hand raising to your mouth to silence the moans as to not be too loud. 

“Fuck, yeah you do.”  He lets out a near growl, his voice low and rumbled as he slaps your hand away, pressing hard on your clit with his thumb as he buries himself in you once more and stiffening his abs. “That’s right.”

And instantly upon feeling him pulse, that first spurt of cum painting your insides, you lose yourself with him. Your fingers drop from your mouth and you release a pornographic moan for him, rutting yourself against him, as if to fuck it deeper into you. 

It only prolongs the orgasm though, for both of you. 

Jay is silent, trying to keep his eyes open through the pleasure as you pulse and squirt around him, his thumb pressing so hard  into your clit, his cock cumming so deep, filling you up so well– He wants to see it. Wants to watch you fall apart for him. Wants to witness the way you let him do this. 

And he holds himself there, so hard and so full of pleasure for you. Keeping himself practically impaled against your cervix until your body falls slack. Still, he fucks it into you, holding you in place with a softer moan now. No longer guttural or deep from his chest. His breathing is rough, a soft, near feminine moan leaves his lips as he falls forward onto you. 

You wince along with him at the sensitivity, panting, a sweating tangle of a mess the two of you have become. And it’s the fact that it’s the first time you’ve ever gotten off at the same time as someone else. You feel…soft. 

Your hands find their way to his hair as his face squished against your tits while he regains breath, not daring to move his hips because your pussy is too warm to leave right now. You brush the sweat-slicked hair out of his eyes, running your fingers all the way back to his nap, and then slowly down his back to rub and scratch.

He shivers at the feeling, humming the same feminine-tone he had released previously. And all he can do is hear your heart thumping against your chest, even through these soft tits of a pillow he’s lying against.

Jay never wants to move again, not from this spot, ever. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“You know I’m in love with you, right?” Jay mentions briefly after a long moment of silence, looking up at you with his wet hair. 

Deep in the night, your food still cold and on the table, you’ve found yourself freshly showered and on your living room couch with Jay’s head on your lap. He made sure to have stayed long enough inside of you to implant…something if it was going to happen. So he didn’t argue a shower, and you didn’t argue letting him join you either. 

He had washed you, gently running his hands between your legs with what you can only describe as the softest, most alluring face a man has ever given you. Like he won the lottery, or found the answer to eternal life or something. You repaid him by letting him admire your tits again while you jerked him off, but that’s besides the point. 

“Like, I’m not going to leave. I hope you know that.” He adds with a soft groan to your hands still in his hair. His new favorite thing. 

You look down at him, hand moving to his cheek as the words hit you in the chest.

There’s anxiety along with happiness, at all of the boundaries and serious conversations that will need to be had now, but still, you feel like you’re glowing when he looks at you.

He didn’t even have to say it, and arguably you probably don’t need to say it back either. You think he sees it in you. Even if he didn’t, you think he’d take anything you give to him and cling to it. After all, it only took one time for you to break entirely for him. 

“Are you now?” You smile with a chuckle, looking back to the tv and pretending to watch it. “Well, that’s good. Otherwise I’d be making you go get a plan B or something.” 

His eyes narrow at you.

“Like hell I’d let you, even if I didn’t love you.” He groans. “But I do, so don’t ever say that shit again.”

You chuckle, feeling the calm in your home that once felt so chaotic. It’s quiet now, both inside and outside of your head. 

“Congratulations, by the way.”

He looks at you with question, quirking a brow.

“For finishing your finals, I mean.” You smile, going back to petting through his hair and feeling like you’re on top of the world, despite what you assume to become half of your world lying his head on top of you. 

“Oh, right.” He smiles, now turning his head to watch the tv. “I probably failed them.”

You don’t believe that, but even if he did, you think you could be what he needs too. He wouldn’t have to work if he didn’t want to.

If he’s really in love with you, all he’d have to do is…not leave. 

“Are you sure you want to be having these conversations with me? You can just call it a hook-up.” You finally say, hoping he means it, knowing it breaks your heart a bit to give him an out. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m going to trap you here just because I’m a little smitten too.” 

Jay glares, blinking up at you.

“I literally just tried to put a baby in you.” 

That’s fair. 

“And you’re not going to run off? Get cold feet?” 

“Can you stop doubting me and just let me do what I want for once?” He argues playfully. “Do you even know how much that barbie fucking dream house costed me? I couldn’t run even if, for some stupid ass reason, wanted to. I love her too.”

Silence for a moment.

“Maybe even more than I love you.” 

You really, really, want to believe him.

So, you do. ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・ please remember to like and reblog! feedback would be lovely too, of course ; 3 ; i'm not below begging.

[ncteez]

M.I.L.F. (Make It Last Forever) ― L.DH

Haechan, a favorite among classy wives to hire during the hot summer season for a nice, thorough pool cleaning, seems to have a favorite wife of his own.  You.  Or the one where Haechan was the pain-in-your-ass son of the family you used to babysit for, but now he’s making it his mission to be the pain-in-your-ass pretend husband that you never asked for, but very clearly need. 

minors dni 

PAIRING ― lee haechan  x afab milf!reader  

WORDCOUNT― 18.9k

CONTENT―  age gap: reader is 31  and haechan is 24, milf trope/single mother reader, college pool boy haechan (turned part time babysitter), reader has 1 kid and haechan really wants to give her another, reader has morals!! haechan just doesn’t see it as a moral issue, he is actually very sweet 

!WARNINGS! ―  age gap, haechan is somewhat of a manipulator, he’s gentle but won’t take no for an answer. dub-con in one instance. major breeding kink and kind of a mommy and daddy kink (domesticity), angst regarding reader and her ex husband, reader has huge tits 

NOTE ― this was written for jay from enhypen over on my other blog, but i am gifting it to you guys here as well! I WROTE THEM BOTH!!!! NOT PROOF READ.

nsfw tags under cut

nsfw tags― thick big dick haechan, small instant dubious consent, tit obsessed haechan, groping and grinding, mommy/daddy kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, cum stuffing-ish,pussy eating, fingering, basically it’s haechan doing stuff to you,  this ain’t smut this is making love, also reader doesn’t shave her coochie and haechan fucking loves it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Having a stray eye isn’t typically something you afford yourself when it comes to men. Things tend to change with time though, that much you know is true. 

It was proven to you for the first time when your ex husband decided to up and leave you three weeks before your due date for a woman–well, girl, fresh out of highschool. Years of trust and promises crushed with just a single sentence and a slam of the door. Time must’ve changed you for him to leave so heartlessly. Time must’ve changed him to become so cold. 

 It was proven again when you were able to heal despite never believing you could. Seconds of pain turned to minutes, to hours. Days. weeks. Months. Years of pain before being able to wake up and feel somewhat numb to it all. Like a flip switch in your head that told you that you can be happy now even if as a single mother. After all, the hard part was over. 

It took some four to five years, but it did happen. Time did change you, it healed you, it matured you. As your child grew, so did you. And for the better, you think. You count your blessings of living a life far more lavish than you ever could have anticipated given the circumstances that had been thrown at you. Even to the point of nesting, wanting another child, wanting a big and happy family. But alas, your ex husband had better things to do. 

At the end of the day, you’d never be able to call this home yours if you had stayed with your ex husband. He didn’t like this kind of “flashy” lifestyle, and to him, everything you wanted seemed too flashy for him. Perhaps he was right to some extent, as you recognize the brand name goods you now own, solely because you had promised yourself in the depths of your despair that you’ll get to a point in life where you can buy yourself everything you not only need, but want. So, here you are, owning an expensive home, in a nice neighborhood, with a nice car and a nice pool. 

Your daughter has everything she could want and need too, aside from a sibling, it’s certainly still more than what you had growing up and it’s all because of you. A fully decorated bedroom drenched in glitter, purples, creams, yellows, and pink, her favorite color. All sorts of play houses, costumes, dolls, a few lego sets, and even some plastic swords and knives for the days she wants to pretend to be her favorite movie characters. Clothes she can grow into, and a nice little fund building up for her as she grows up. Her first car, college, help for a downpayment on her own first house. 

Both of you have everything you could ever want or need and for that, you’re so proud. Especially knowing your husband would have never believed you could make it this far without him. Still, despite having everything you could ever ask for, there’s something in you that feels empty.

Time changes things. 

Time changes a lot of things, you note more than usual, as the man you’ve been ogling for the past three weeks makes himself far more known to you than you ever wished he would.

The interaction with him was always so quick before today and given the fact that he was a complete stranger, you never quite invited him into your home considering–you know, small child and all. You had hired him over text. Haechan, your neighbor said his name was. His handsome features didn’t offer you anything more than a clean pool and a wandering eye. 

Your neighbor apparently has a friend who has a cousin that has an even nicer pool than you do. Given, it’s only a nicer pool due to the fact that this young man, Haechan, tended to it weekly and made damn sure it could be drunk out of if a person had a craving for chlorine. 

You feel like an idiot now that it didn’t dawn on you quick enough. Sure, he looked a bit familiar to you but who doesn’t when you’re always out and about seeing so many different faces on a daily basis? His name, Haechan, didn’t ring any bells. Now though, the shame of staring at his sweaty pecs and biceps came crashing down the moment you realized who Haechan actually is. 

He didn’t do a damn thing to remind you either, if anything, all he did was walk around all sweaty in the afternoon heat with his tank top either sticking to him, or off entirely. It appears that you had just been too busy running errands with your child, considering his shifts were always when you were home. Too busy cooking, cleaning, reading, lounging. Too busy looking at…well, not his face. 

Too busy to give the man a glance more than that of a slice of pie behind a bakery window. 

Haechan. 

Since fucking when was that his name?

“Lee Donghyuck.” You whimper near mortified, three weeks too late as you hand him his pay with nervous hands. “Spray-cheese in my hair Donghyuck?” 

“Ah, was wondering when you’d pick up on that.” He smiles at you with that crooked grin, a knowing look that any man at a bar would give you if he had caught you checking him out. Then, he pockets the hefty amount of cash that you hand to him. “I go by Haechan more often these days.” He trails off, an amused smirk half-falling as he looks at your expression of realization. “You can call me whatever you want though.”

He’s well aware of how often you’ve checked him out since he started intentionally taking his clothes off. After all, it’s mid-july by this point and the sun baring down on him doesn’t quite call for a fucking turtle neck sweater. Or a T-shirt, or a tank top, for that matter. It calls for all skin baby, beautifully tanned and toned for you and any of your neighbors to look at if they so wanted to. 

Haechan doesn’t work out for nothing, after all. Summer after summer, he’s found himself to be quite fond of the rich women that hire him for their pool services. Always wanting an attractive young man to wander around half naked and satiate their lack of sex life with their husbands, or boytoys, or what have you. He knows all that extra pay isn’t because he does a good job either. He’s gotten winks, small comments, even a few offers of his body for more pay.

He’s turned them all down, of course. For a full-on affair, anyway. Haechan has gotten a few blow jobs and quickies as a tip before though, and a lot of that is why he keeps getting referred to more women. Richer women. Never single women. 

Until you. 

He quite enjoyed catching you looking at him. Especially given the fact that he knew exactly who you were when you introduced yourself to him via text. That little childhood crush on you came back within an instant upon actually seeing you again. Truly, he had forgotten all about you up until that fateful day three weeks ago. 

If he’s being honest, he’s been pining something fierce since he first stepped foot on your property. Excitement swelled inside of him just to see you again. To see if you’re still hot, to see how you’re doing, what you’re doing. How your life is going.

 He knew you didn’t recognize his nickname through text, and he definitely knew you didn’t recognize him to be eating him up with those eyes of yours either. So, he played along, enjoying it while he could before it would inevitably dawn on you. Still, he remembers you so well from back then. Crazy to know that he rarely thought of you for the past twelve years or so, and how all those little butterflies of his came back in a far more mature way. He was only twelve back then, but he’s a man now. 

Twenty four and perfectly sound as a man who knows what he likes. The fact that you happen to fall into that category is no fault of his own, honestly. It’s your fault if anyone’s at all. Haechan is a man that likes a specific type of woman too. Woman. Not a girl, not a young lady, not a free spirit, nor a prude. He is drawn to the idea of experience, to the idea of settling down. It’s not easy to find that at his age, in college, surrounded by party girls and casual drug use. 

And, well, imagine his smile upon seeing your lovely, lavish home with the large pool, no ring on your finger, a whole fucking child, and your motherly instincts when you buckle her into the car for an errand. Oh and the broken fence in the far back of your yard.

You’re a single mom. 

A hot single mom who lives lavishly. One who could probably use a man’s help around your house.

He half expected you to be able to recognize him when he appeared for work the first time. He even had a monologue in his head on what to say to you, and how to present himself. You didn’t seem to take notice though, introducing yourself to him as if you hadn’t spent all that time in his childhood home when you were a teenager. Like you never mothered him, or put him to sleep with the soft stories when you let him watch all those scary movies before bed. Even at twelve, he was a scaredy cat.

 Clearly you’re too busy experiencing life to notice the way he fawns over you too. Hating how you’re more reserved than the other lavish, fixed-up women. You seem to have standards, or maybe it’s just priorities ... that's so hot. Truly, it only makes him want you more because by now, the other women would already be rubbing all over him. The ones who shouldn’t be wanting him the way they do. So, yes, he’s always stealing glances at you with sparkling dark eyes, fantasizing in his head that this pool is his to clean now, because that’s what a good man would do for you, right? With him around servicing your pool and lawn, you’d never need to hire or spend money on another broke ass college student again.

Yes. That’s how quickly he fell into this infatuation solely because you looked at him like you want it without realizing who he was. Hell, without realizing how perfect you are in terms of what he wants.

God, how are you still single? 

Like, why do you have a child and a house so beautiful without a man wandering around doing all of this work for you? Not that you couldn’t do it on your own, it’s just, you clearly have the means to make a man do as you please. Why haven’t you?

You happen to fall almost perfectly into the categories of what he’s looking for. Save for the fact that now you recognize him as that kid you used to babysit rather than the man who tries to be sexy while cleaning your pool. Which is a fucking shame, if he’s being honest, to be written off as that same ten year old child rather than a fucking man who very clearly has needs and desires. 

The point is– Haechan wants you and he parades around your pool for you to look at him. So what if you used to babysit him? It’s not like you’re an old swamp-hag trying to lure him with candy. You’re just…a woman. And he’s just a man. 

“Well, thank you for cleaning again,” You trail off in an awkward tone, shifting your eyes to anywhere but him. He watches you though, smiling a smile you know all too well from his childhood antics. It must mean something different now, or maybe not. “I guess I’ll see you next week?” 

“Well, actually,” Haechan offers, “Would you be opposed to–” You cut him off instantly with an awkward wave of your hand.

You don’t know why you make assumptions, maybe from that damned smile on his face, but you do recall your ex husband reminding you time and time again that it’s one of the things he hated about you. 

Assumptions. Always thinking the worst, or perhaps the most filthy of situations and expressions. To be fair, you feel guilty about how you’ve been looking at him, you can’t help but panic trying to pretend like it never happened, and that he never saw it happen.

“I’m not interested, Donghyuck.” You respond hastily, pressing your thumb to your bottom lip to bite the skin on it, keeping your eyes away from him with the awkward words. After all, he knew who you were this whole time and paraded around like that? 

Even before recognizing him yourself, you know men well enough to know when they’re trying to flaunt. Is it so wrong to assume?

“Interested in what?” Haechan tilts his head knowingly, seeing the way you buckle under the guilt of staring at the very man you used to tuck into bed every night. He can see the way you try to push those sexual thoughts you had away in the quick rejection to a simple assumption. 

 “I was just going to ask if you want me to fix your fence.” 

Ah, you did get ahead of yourself through the guilt, and you’re far too aware of it as you draw your eyes back to him and note the expression on his face. Amused, maybe a bit of concern in his eyes, even? 

“Ah, um–” You start, trailing your eyes down your fence line never once noticing a break in it. Haechan is quick to point though, leaning to you with a whisper of “right there.” And well, you did not need to hear that tone in his voice the way you just did.

God, it’s so awkward.

“Well, how much would that cost me?” You question with an empty voice, staring at the broken fence. 

“Free.” He uses the same tone, leaning away from you now and smiling wide. “That is, if you provide lunch.” 

Well, despite the awkwardness, that break over there would cost you a pretty penny to fix, and your daughter needs the safety of playing in her own yard without random animals or worse, people, making their way in. Plus, you’re quite fond of saving money. How else would you be here if you weren’t good at it? And now, given that you’re most definitely not interested in Haechan, what's the harm in making a few sandwiches for someone you already know well enough? It’s not like you’ve never made him lunch before.

The awkwardness will pass and your guilt will subside. You both will laugh at it over a cold glass of iced lemonade, surely. It’s not like you realized who he was anyway, it’s not like you’re just gonna keep looking at him like that. You should just push forward and it’ll all be fine. 

“Hell, I’d even watch the kiddo so you can have a break every now and then.” He watches your reaction, wanting to ask so many questions about why you’re single, who the father is, where he is, why he isn’t here. “After all, I learned quite a bit from you.” 

For a second you consider that too.

And there’s three reasons as to why you should. The first being that you were literally just looking for a new child care facility due to learning of the staff coming to work while sick. Your poor daughter came home with a fever just last week, and you’ve had little luck in finding a place with the same educational benefits for her. 

The second being that, well, while you’re not hurting for cash or anything, it wouldn’t hurt to be able to put a little more back for her college fund. Or for fun little vacations. 

And lastly, despite your guilt of lusting over someone you shouldn’t have, you know Donghyuck and you know his family even better. No background check would be needed, your daughter could be in the comfort of her own home rather than a classroom setting that she’s sure to see for at least twenty years of her life in the future. 

So, yes. You consider it instantly, and Haechan sees it. 

You only know of the childhood version of him and, well, the slutty pool-side version of him apparently. If only you knew of that other side of him and how fond he is of watching his own younger cousins. How good he is with children, and how much he clings to the idea of being a father one day.

Haechan is great with kids, with or without them having a hot mom.

And well, he knows that he’s fond of looking at you at least. Besides, as long as you can work with his class schedules, he’d be willing to do just about anything to play pretend-husband, even if you’re unaware of it. 

“Is that so?” You finally ask, curious eyes looking at him with a furrowed brow. “Shouldn’t you be out living the life? College parties and such?” You add, wondering why such a great deal has managed to flop down on your lap. The idea of even cheaper childcare without the risk of unvaccinated children, and sick caretakers being far too good of a deal to pass up. 

“Well, yeah I guess.” He shrugs, leaning backwards to stretch and roll his shoulders. “Not really my scene though. I have classes Monday and Wednesday all day, Tuesday and Thursdays my classes are online. If you can work around that, I’d rather just be making money and chilling.” 

You think about it just for a second more when he continues. 

“I can be here on weekends too. Maybe you should be the one out relaxing and having some drinks.” 

“Well, I don’t quite need that, or for you to be here on weekends.” You think as you say it, knowing you have given up on going out to try and meet men two years ago. “I could pay you though, let’s say, thirty an hour?” 

Well, shit, that’s not too bad at all, especially considering he’s about to give up on cleaning the pools of a few women in his contacts for this. It’s a major pay cut, but still enough to get by comfortably if you’ll have him multiple times a week. That plus the pool cleaning money? And free lunch? 

“Oh, you don’t go out at all? I don’t see why not, could probably get a man in no time–” Haechan ignores the wage offer and pushes to note the singlehood he had been noticing for the past three weeks. “and the pay is fine.” 

“Ah, well, the dating pool isn’t so great in this neck of the woods.” You scratch the back of your neck when you say it. “That aside, I'll have her in day care on the days you can’t be here, but it really would be a big help. Thank you for the offer, Donghyuck. And for the fence too.” 

He watches you with a firm nod, shoving his hands into the pockets of his basketball shorts, still entirely shirtless in front of you. 

“And the pool.” You add quietly after a moment. 

“I think you’d be surprised about the dating pool.” He smiles as he pushes the subject back to what you had previously said, hoping you believe those words before continuing. “So, when do you want me to start?” 

“Is tomorrow too soon? You’re okay to set up here with your online classes?”

“Tomorrow is perfect.” He smiles.

“I’m sure she would be so happy knowing she won’t be going to daycare–” You clap, feeling a bit less awkward despite the boldness of the man in front of you. You’re sure he’s just teasing you for knowing you checked him out. “I know I am.” 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s a little too perfect, actually.

After that first day of watching your child and making a lazy attempt at “fixing your fence,” he’s settled in like it’s home. He wishes it was, with the lavish lifestyle in a house far too pretty compared to his own living space with piles upon piles of laundry he’s too lazy to pick up for himself. 

It’s different for you though. Different when he’s here.

Truly, he feels like he’s living the life after a couple of weeks with decent pay and a comfy space to do his homework. He watches your child, which is arguably the hardest part of the job but she’s well behaved for him. In fact, she seems to have taken a shine to him.

He’s starting to be very intentional with taking far too long to work on your fence too, and still maintaining your pool. He’s trying to drag this out for as long as he can. Even if just to see if you still look at him when you come home the same way you did before recognizing him. You never do though. When his shirt is off and he’s wiping his forehead in the sun, you don’t look at him anymore.

Hell, he’s even considered breaking things in your home just to give himself more jobs to do. More things that make him feel needed, like a husband. More things that you thank him for fixing, even if it breaks again two days later.

And ah, the food in your fridge is always free reign to him, that large television in the living room too. God, sometimes he dreads going home, and by sometimes, he means all the time. Who in their right mind would ever fucking want to live outside of this lifestyle? He really can’t believe you’re single, nor can he believe that he has the opportunity to be in your home, close to you. It shouldn’t take too long now to convince you, right? That you don’t necessarily have to be single? That you need him around to live even more comfortably?

In short, Haechan is in his head about how he’s practically just roleplaying as your stay-at-home husband before having to go back to his shitty little apartment and remind himself that he’s just a fucking college student with no interest in the people on campus. And like, even with the way you come home from work, all groggy and exhausted on the days he’s there, you always thank him before giving him his pay. What he likes best about those nights is when you’re too exhausted to even pay him and you promise to do it next time.

In his mind, that’s you promising to see him again. 

He could give less of a shit about the pay at this point, as long as he gets to be in this house, smelling your favorite candles and dish detergents, seeing you, being a semi-father to a child who deserves more love than the two of you combined can give…he’ll fucking do anything you want for free. 

It’s difficult sometimes, like he really can’t help it. Some days wandering around this house and imagining how the two of you could have landed on buying it together. How the rooms would be organized if he were here from the start. Claiming his spot on your couch like any dad would. Playing dolls with your daughter, laughing with her, letting her paint his nails and put his hair in little pigtails. He even cleans your pool as if it were his own, meaning, he genuinely cleans it. 

He has taken it upon himself to mow your lawn, confusing the yard workers that you apparently hired years ago. Did he accidentally fire them? Maybe, but any good husband would save you money, right? He checks your mail, waves to your neighbors and lets them make assumptions. 

And every single fucking night it’s harder and harder to go back home.

Especially after a full day of playing dad then seeing you come back so tired. Turning off that switch in his head isn’t easy. He wants to greet you like the husband you don’t have. He wants to ease your hard days in so many ways. Tell you he’s proud of you, that you still look so pretty after an exhausting shift of whatever the fuck you do. He wants to serve you dinner, run you a bath, fix your hair, lay you down– oh, he’s fantasizing again. Unfortunately, he has to settle with seeing the relief on your face when he lets you know in a soft voice that he’s cooked dinner and he will heat it up for you before leaving, kiddo is in her room sleeping, no dishes in the sink, and laundry is folded and put away. 

He loves the appreciation in your eyes, and sometimes even sees a glint of sadness. He can tell you wish you had this from a person who isn’t here for pay. Someone who loves you, and loves your child, and feels joy in making your life easier. 

Fuck, if only you knew. 

And  you’d be lying if you tried to say Haechan isn’t a godsend to you on the days he babysits. Many times you find yourself wishing he’d just move in and do everything that you can’t do. You’d pay him well, give him a guest room, whatever. But it’s just…not viable to support a full time employee like that, nor is it fair to your daughter. 

She needs a parent, not a paid college student who needs some extra cash. You have to be that parent, you have to make time for her and witness all of her joys in life. You have to protect her and never bring in faces of men who claim to want to be a father, only to run and break her heart more than your own. 

For now, you settle with this godsend of a little shit you used to babysit. Still you can barely believe that’s the same person, but again…time changes things. And thankfully, the awkwardness of what you did has died down drastically.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Today, you’re more thankful for Haechan than you have been previously. After a heavy workload has been lifted off your back with the approval of this project, you need a night out. For the first time in years, you’re giving yourself a night out, all because you have someone you can trust to be here for your daughter.

He was so understanding when you called,  happy to come over right then and there to put her to bed and mostly just house-sit for the night. Even without an end time for him, and even without asking for extra pay, he just…accepted with an understanding tone and that stupid breathy chuckle he gives to you when you ask for favors. “What? You need me there right now? I’m putting on my shoes.” He had said.

It’s the fact that now, as he sits on your couch looking at you in your chosen outfit– he seems a little off. Maybe it’s because you asked him where the best spots in town are because it’s been so long since you’ve gone out, or maybe he just feels awkward seeing so much skin on your body. 

To be fair, he didn’t realize you were going out out. He thought that maybe you were gonna go stay with a friend to celebrate and have a drink or two. 

In reality though, he’s just awestruck. Already you look great even after your busy days at work but…this is a different level. The way your tits look in that push-up bra and tiny ass top, when he’s used to seeing you head out in some sort of business casual outfit without an ounce of skin showing save for your ankles or wrists…jesus. He’s struggling more than usual to keep himself calm around you, hopping up on one leg when you walk away to try and adjust the chub in his pants, and releasing a small sigh before you’re looking at him again.

His skin feels like it’s on fire knowing you’re going out looking like that.

“You sure you're okay to sleep over? I figure it’ll be easier since I’m not sure when I’ll come home, or if I come home.” You smile with a wink, your stomach in knots over the two shots you’ve taken for the first time in years. “I can call my friends and tell them not to come if you’d rather focus on your studies.” 

Haechan shakes his head, waving his hands in defense for you as if he didn’t just see the way your tits bounce and squish against your shirt with each move you make. 

“No, no! Go on, have fun.” He says, encouraging you to go out despite hoping you come home with no luck of finding a man out there. 

Just, look at you. Fuck, he’s staring again. He hates knowing that he could be one of the guys at whatever bar or club you’re landing on tonight. He could be the person that makes sure you don’t come home, getting to plant his face right there. He could be whatever you want him to be if you’re looking like that. 

But no, he has to play husband again, which is normally something he’s all too excited to do. Tonight though, he feels like a fucking cuckold. After everything he does for you, after not mentioning how you’ve skipped a few of his payments, after slaving away for hours over your pool, your household chores, fixing and breaking that fucking dishwasher, cooking you dinner every single night he’s here just to make sure you have a meal when you get off of work…you imply you may not come home tonight?

And you’re dressed like that?

And you’re…

God, you just look so good right now. It pains him to know you didn’t dress like this for him, the only man who cares enough to make your life easy. He’s not mad at you, per se, but he’s pissed that you don’t see him as an option despite showing you time and time again that not only is he an option, but the right choice. 

This is what you look like when you want to impress a man? This is how you act? How you talk? Fuck, god, fuck– maybe he’s just too deep in his one-sided roleplay but it really, really fucking feels like he’s watching his woman go off and look for someone else to fuck.

“Thank you, Donghyuck,” You smile, walking over to him with a saunter in your step and a gentle smile across your lips. 

He’s never heard you speak his name so sensually, the way his cock twitches forces him to wince away from you. He’s never even seen you saunter before. Fucking hell, somehow it feels worse seeing you act like this after how many times he’s imagined it, all alone in his room. 

A slow walk from you, with the strap of your shirt slipping off your shoulder, fat tits threatening to spill out, lifting the hem of your skirt, or dress, or whatever you’re wearing in his fantasy at that point. Your voice, so soft, so sexy. And you’re practically bringing his fantasy to life right now, except he knows you’re going to fucking walk away from him like this. Into the fucking arms of some random dude at a club. 

Probably some loser he’s seen on campus too.

“It means a lot.” You add, popping a quick, platonic kiss to the top of his forehead. 

Ah, lip gloss. That little kiss on him is enough to ignite him to the point of no return. He almost wants to skip the part of asking you not to go and straight up just beg that you pick him, that you choose him. It’s not just your home, or the luxuries that come with it. It’s you that he wants. You’re the fucking luxury and you’re just gonna go to some sticky-floored club and pretend he’s not clearly checking you the fuck out right now? Like he’s not about three seconds from dropping to his knees just to see you from the angle you deserve?! 

“It’s no problem.” Haechan relents, dropping himself onto your couch instead and adjusting his body to sink deep into the cushions just to keep himself from arguing against everything he’s giving you permission to do right now. 

Hah. Permission.

“Be safe.” He adds in an even more monotone voice. “I’ll be here when you get back.” 

And god, he seethes in his thoughts after you close that door and hop into the car with your friends. You don’t look like a mother tonight, and he wonders if you’ll be upfront and forward with anyone you intend to hit on too. Probably not. He’s well aware of the men in this city, after all, he’s one of them.

It’s really not something he can control after seeing you like that either. Your child is already in bed and he’s just sitting here on your couch with a throbbing, fucking weeping cock thinking about you. What’s stopping him from taking care of it? You’re not here, after all. 

You’re not fucking here. But everything about you is. 

And that’s how he finds himself in your bedroom for the first time, barely making it a foot into the room before closing the door and dropping to the floor. The scent in your room is different. It’s feminine, gentle, like the energy is kissing him all over and sending goosebumps straight to the head of his cock. He couldn’t even pull it out, already holding his breath with his hand down his pants, vigorously trying to get what he wants so badly yet knowing that his hand will never compare to you. 

And it’s here where he feels like a husband. Spilling against his pants with a silent, choked back sob as he stares forward at your bed, and the way you didn’t make it this morning. It’s messy, and he wants to be in that mess of sheets with you more than anything. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Haechan hates that he’s now forced to get used to your late night ventures. Every weekend now. Every. Fucking. Weekend.  You ask if he’s willing to stay over so you can go unwind, and despite his better (or worse) judgment, he accepts. The only solace he finds in these ventures is knowing you consistently come back home right after usual closing times, and you’re mostly sober. Sometimes a bit whiny that you’re not lucking out, worrying that maybe you’re too old now, or maybe you’re just not as desirable. There have even been a few times where you’ve exposed your ex husband during your rants, giving Haechan little hints to follow as to why you’re single, and how he left you. 

Still, he knows in your tipsy state that you usually wouldn’t talk about these things with him, but he’s all too happy to get the details once you come home. Mostly because it calms his rising rage at how you’re doing this to not only him, but yourself. It’s mostly because you’re technically coming home to him though. 

And every single time, you go back to your bedroom to grab his payment even though it could wait until morning, considering he’s been sleeping in the guest room– all he can think about is how he’s been in your room. He’s gotten off countless times by now by the smell of your room alone, still barely able to even reach your bed to lay in it himself for a better experience. God, he’s probably memorized each little fray in your carpeted bedroom floor by now with how much he’s zoned out on it mid-jerk off session right there on his knees at your door. 

He’s truly pathetic for you. 

This time though…three in the morning has passed and normally you’d have been stumbling through the door an hour ago. Normally, he’d be fighting back the need to tell you that you’re beautiful, not too old, and entirely desirable. Normally, he would be fisting his cock again in your guest room before sleep, getting off on the idea that he can cum in a house that you live in, smothered by the sheets you meticulously picked out to match the walls of the room. Moaning for you, practically crying for you to let him do it all. 

Have you really done it this time? Gone off with some man? Are you getting railed right now in some hotel, or car, or someone’s shitty man-cave? God, his mind is racing, both aroused at the fact that you must be horny to be constantly wanting to go out like this, but equally as devastated because like…he’s right here.

Who the fuck cares if you babysat him? He’s a man. No longer that child who sprayed cheese in your hair or dumped salt into the bag of sugar. He’s a fucking man, cooking you dinner when you work, parenting your child, cleaning your house, maintaining your pool and fence….He does everything for you, why the fuck don’t you see it?!

Click.

Haechan’s ears perk up instantly at the sound. He sits up on the couch from his depressed slump of scrolling through his phone, quickly fixing his hair and clearing his throat. 

In you stumble, right into the little entryway table with a whisper-scream of “Shit, fuck–”

Haechan looks at your state before standing to his feet and rushing to you, helping you balance on your feet despite your footing not quite being grounded even with his help. You lean on him closely, letting out an alcohol scented sigh. 

His nostrils flare as he holds his breath, feeling your tit press against his arm, smelling the drinks, the sweat, and the dulled perfume on you. Then, a hint of something else. Musk. 

You’ve been with a man. 

He holds back a gesture at the way you lean on him. Nothing more he could want at this moment but to hold you tightly and tell you that he’s got you, despite the panic in his stomach at the way he sniffs out another man. Out of lust, love, desperation, frustration. This is the closest you’ve been to him for this long. You feel clammy and cold, a clear indication that you drank far, far too much. Your tank top is sticking to you, your eyes are a bit glassy–

“You’re late.” He says shortly.

“Late?!” You raise your voice before looking at him with drowsy eyes, furrowing your brow. “I don’t have a curfe-”

“Shh–” He shushes you, helping you get to the living room. “She’s sleeping and you’re going to have her make a fuss about waking up.”

You giggle to yourself as he drops you onto the couch, now aware that yes, you are not a single college student anymore. You’re a single woman. A fucking mother. 

You should’ve just gotten a hotel for the night and slept there to dream a little longer. 

“Right.” You laugh, slouching, spreading out wide against the couch and trying to fix your gaze on him. “Why’re you still awake?” 

Haechan fixes his eyes on you, swallowing around a lump in his throat. The way you’re slouching…seemingly forgetting that you’re wearing a skirt and basically flashing your panties at him. God, the things could do to you right now. The things he could get away with if he wanted to. He tries to shake those thoughts for now, and instead, inspects you from head to toe.

He’s never seen you look so relaxed. Chest raising and falling with each breath, hair a little messy, lipstick stains smeared on the outsides of your lip line. He chooses to ignore the faint swell against your neck indicating someone has been sucking on you. But, well, he can’t ignore it. Both his cock and heart aches at the very thought.

“You’ve been kissing?” Haechan tries to ask nonchalantly. 

“A lot more than that–” You smile, feeling a flush cross your cheeks before the disappointment hits you square in the gut. 

Haechan watches your face fall, and he mimics it by falling onto the couch and sitting by your head…you know, allowing you to lay your head on him if you want to. You’d probably not notice his arousal anyway, given your state. 

“Oh?” He asks gently, the disappointment now showing plainly on not just your face, but his own.

“Thought I was gonna go home with him, turns out he decided to be done after a blowjob in the parking lot.”

Oh, the way his blood boils. Not for the fact that you were used or rejected, but for the fact that you found someone that you were interested in and genuinely intended to leave your home life in his hands for however fucking long. Really? Just gonna leave him here all alone? Like he couldn’t do better for you?

“It’s for the better–” Haechan says as he shivers with irritation, struggling to keep his facade up. It’s definitely not what you wanted to hear, and definitely not what you’d have expected to hear from a college guy at all either.

“This happened last time too, except he didn’t even get me to the parking lot.” You huff, unaware of how much you’re sharing right now. 

He bites back the anger yet again, inhaling deeply before releasing a calming breath through his nose just to contain it. So…it has happened more than once? 

“Why don’t you let me take you out someday?” He says suddenly, well aware that you’ll probably never remember he said it in the first place. 

If anything, he’s testing the waters for his own sake. He’d hate himself forever if he didn’t at least take advantage of this moment a little bit. 

“Then who will watch my daughter?” You respond in slurred speech, not even comprehending who it is that’s asking you this question right now. Not even thinking about your history with him, or the family ties. 

He, on the other hand, is quite entertained by the way you don’t bring the history up like he expected. His cock twitches at it, bumping your head just a bit, not enough for you to notice apparently. Fuck, it would be so easy for him to pull it out right now, and just…tap your lips with it. 

Maybe you’d even open your mouth for him. 

“I’ll skip class on a Wednesday, we can go while she’s still in daycare.” He continues through an almost-moan, encouraging the conversation to stay positive.

“Donghyuck–” You slur before clearing your throat and sitting back up in a dizzy show of how drunk you are. “You know I can’t do that. It’s too weird.” 

In all fairness, you know he has like…a thing for you. After all, why else would a college dude be spending his weekends here babysitting your kid? It’s not like you haven’t noticed the way he checks you out before you go out for the night. Why would he do all of this if he didn’t have some sort of attraction to you? Sure, you’re taking advantage of it as best as you can despite how you didn’t recognize him at first. 

Despite how deep down, you very well know how attracted to him you are too. 

“Only because you make it weird.” Haechan rolls his eyes as he looks at you, spreading his legs out to adjust his comfort, noting the way you glance down to his lap and see it. “I’m a grown man–” He starts, spreading his legs wider, pressing his cock against his pants to the point you can practically see the outline.”you know this.” He continues, trying to be bold now by reaching forward and moving a strand of your hair from your cheek. 

“You’ve seen it.”

You freeze, suddenly feeling entirely too sober to be talking about this kind of thing with him. With Donghyuck. God, his mother would fucking kill you if she found out he’s in your house while you’re out trying to get fucked by whoever is willing to love you temporarily. 

Haechan sees you thinking though, and continues to take the advantage now that he’s feeling brave. Now that you’ve seen the twitch in his pants and haven’t moved off the couch, or told him to go home. 

“I saw you watching me when I was cleaning your pool, multiple times.” He whispers snidely. “You stopped when you realized who I am. Why?”

“Donghyu–…” You trail off. “You know this isn’t okay. What would people think of me? There are rules, and I will not go down this route with you.”

A rush of air hits your face and suddenly, warmth hits your cheek. You feel him so close, closer than ever before. It’s dizzying. Haechan is over you, hovering with one hand ghosting over your hip. 

“You want to though, don’t you?” He gets even closer now, darting his eyes down at your chest and unable to pull them away. “Knowing how good I am with your daughter? How well I clean up? How strong I can be–”

You swallow hard. For a moment, you almost lean into him. You almost melt right then and there, the need for intimacy so heavy inside of you after being left high and dry, knowing that you’d accept it from just about anyone at this point. But– this is Donghyuck. You can’t. 

You really, really, can’t. 

The look of disappointment in his eyes kind of hurts when you’re pushing him away. That playful smirk falling faster than you think your sanity did the day your ex husband left you. 

“This–” You pause, realizing all too well how he’s used your drunken state against you for this conversation. “This is your last paycheck.”

“I don’t think so.” The smirk is back now, except…it’s different. “You know I promised her a Barbie dream house next weekend.” He smiles fully now. “She’s a bit attached, you know, even called me dad by accident the other day.” 

You’re shocked. 

“She…what?”

“You know she’s attached to me already, don’t be selfish.” Haechan shrugs at you while rolling his eyes, leaning against the couch again and turning his head to look at you. You try to pretend that you don’t see his hand slightly groping himself. “Guess she misses having a father around. Can’t be too easy for her, especially with her mom going out every weekend trying to fuck guys who would run the second they learn about her.” He ticks his tongue now, as if he’s pitying you more than your daughter. 

“Donghyuck, that’s not–”

“That’s not, what?”

“That’s not what I’m doing…” You lower your voice to a near whisper, upset that you couldn’t even enjoy the drunken state you came home in, now feeling entirely too sober, and a little sick in the stomach. 

“Oh, so you haven’t gotten laid since I’ve been here–” He leans closer again now, trying to resume what he was going to do just moments ago. “They haven’t even touched you, have they?” His hands move to your thigh and presses down as if to hold you in place. “Why?”

“I try not to just sleep with anyone.” You lie, knowing you’d sleep with anyone just to feel wanted for once. And you’re trying to ignore his hands on you right now, trying desperately not to like it. It’s the first time a man has touched you in this house since your husband left you. As expected, you almost feel your knees buckle despite sitting comfortably. “I have to be careful, you know?”

“Mm, I know more than you think.” He leans into you, hovering yet again with his upper half over you as he whispers it. “Don’t need to be careful around me though.” He adds, this time trailing his voice right against your jaw, up to your ear. “You must be so frustrated.” He ghosts his lips there for a moment, waiting for you to push him away, or say something, anything, really. 

“Why would I be frustrated?” You lend the smallest of whispers, feeling the goosebumps against your skin rising at the mere thought of giving in just this once.

“Not having anyone to please you.” He adds now, landing a very slight kiss right under your lobe. “Always being used for someone else’s pleasure, maybe?”

You almost nod, feeling weak in your state and thoughts swimming with what if’s, morals, and anxieties. You’re frozen in place despite knowing a simple push would create the distance you need to breathe. 

“Your fingers will never be enough, will they?” He continues, essentially chaining you to this couch with his words alone. You can’t help the fight in your head, you need to feel wanted, and you want so badly to feel needed. “I bet you wish someone would love you for all that you are, not all that you have.” 

It’s silent as you feel his lips press down again, this time moving his body over you almost entirely. You can feel the couch dip a bit as he places all of his weight on a knee, moving his other leg to stand between yours.

“You must need someone to fill that hole in you by now, right? That pussy of yours?” He continues, his tone a bit more snide now as you give in to his hold with shaky breaths. 

And truthfully, Haechan has never let himself come on this strong towards someone before. Usually the wives are doing this to him. They’re trying to convince him, encourage him. He’s so fucking horny right now though, with that daze in your eye, your legs spread around his knee, blinking up at him like a cheating wife. As if you want to apologize, as if you need him to forgive you. Need him to make everything better.

“I heard you the other day, you know, talking to your mom–” He smiles, tilting his head to look into your eyes, seeing a small shine in them. “You want another, don’t you?” He continues, moving his lips now just over yours as he, now, presses you firmly against the couch. “You must hate knowing that I’m the only person who can do that for you.” 

“God, Haechan.” You immediately buckle, not realizing how suddenly he’s not Donghyuck at this moment. He’s someone else. He’s Haechan.

“Why don’t you go for girls on campus?! Don’t you have parties to be attending on the weekends instead of being here, trying to parent my chil–”

“Lower that voice of yours,” He whispers, eyes now hooded as he looks at you. “You know she’s asleep.”

God, he’s right. 

“Besides, why would I want them when I have you right here under me–” He tilts his head. “Looking so disappointed that you like it, too.” 

Right then, your moral code shines into the front of your mind at the consideration of giving in.

A weight on one shoulder chanting, “No! What would people say?! What would people think?!”, and then little to no weight on the other shoulder, echoing in a sweet song of “Finally! Someone who will love you! Finally! Someone! Finally!!! Finally!” 

You pause, not knowing at all what to do. Your body wants to push him away, even your mind and soul wants you to push him away. But you know deep down, you’d only push him away to see if he will try again. No man has ever tried for you like this, and you need more of it. 

To feel desired after so long of neglecting this side of yourself, it’s enough to make a person lose their footing in reality. To give in to just about anyone willing to look at you the way he is right now. It’s the fact that you go out to try and find it, and even with this alone, Haechan has satisfied you more than any stranger promising to make you cum.

“I…don’t know what to say–” You stutter. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I do.” Haechan smiles, glancing at your lips before meeting your eye again. “Why not hand over the reins and relax for a–” His hand dips under your skirt, cupping your sensitive cunt in one hand alone. “Ah, I knew it.” Then, his other hand finds purchase on your chest, lifting your heavy breast in his hand with a blatant, hard squeeze.

After a sharp inhale you look away from him in shame, afraid to admit it despite the truth of it leaking through your panties and onto his palm.

“Wet.” He smiles, no longer looking at you but flicking his eyes back and forth from between your legs, and to your chest. Still, he fumbles around the wet spot, wanting so badly to lift these fingers to his mouth and taste. He’s fantasized about it, about how you’d taste, how warm it would be, what your pussy would feel like against his fingers–

And just as he’s pushing your panties to the side, pads of his fingers touching right where you need them with his eyes hooded and watching you closely, something snaps.

You push his hand away, only to feel him push back, holding you down with more force, gripping your tit tighter, sliding his fingers in before massaging the slit with a blatant moan on his lips. Then, you try again, shoving him back only to hear him chuckle and continue his antics until– you jump to your feet. It felt too good, too grounding to have him touching you like this. You nearly stumble back over the coffee table, but you manage to stand tall and firm despite the fact that even though your mind feels sober, your body is fucking wasted.

“Donghyuck.” You argue immediately, using his name the same way you did when he was a child. “Stop.” 

He throws his hands up in defense, raising his brows in surprise. 

“I–” He pauses, staring at you. “I thought you were enjoying it, my mistake.” 

It’s the fact that you were. You were enjoying it too much, and there would have been no defending your actions if you had given in to the feeling. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, fucking stupid. That’s what you are. 

Your ex husband was right all along. Out of everything you’ve accomplished since your heart was shattered, ripped to shreds, stomped on, you’d think it would take a lot more to break you. 

“You ask for too much.” Your ex husband had said once. “You can’t even stand to be alone for one day.” He had said a year or so later. Small digs on who you are and what you need sprinkled into small arguments, only to come more and more from the lips that you kissed and promised to kiss until you die. Until all of his words were to make you feel inadequate. Until everything he said to you stuck with you, forcing your confidence to bury itself six feet under. 

Are you to blame? As it stands, maybe. Why else would you be allowing yourself to consider it? Consider Donghyuck, you mean. Never in your life would you have considered him of all people to be the one that you need. 

Never in your life would you have thought he’d be interested in a woman like you, in a situation like yours, with a child. Why did that night with him stick in your head more than every single mean thing your ex husband said to you? Why did his words seem more believable? 

Because you were drunk at the time? Wet, neglected, and drunk? 

Then why is it that you’re sitting here on your day off with your beautiful, bright-eyed daughter rummaging through your purse for whatever catches her eye….and you’re thinking about him? About what he's doing right now, how he’s feeling, if he’s eaten. 

Why is it that you’ve gone the entire week ignoring his texts, asking if you need him to come resume his job as babysitter? Why the fuck do you want to accept after how he took advantage of your state of mind? After he came onto you and tried to manipulate you? 

Despite all of his words ringing true in the back of your head. That was a dirty tactic he pulled on you. Yet, still…you want him back, and god fucking dammit you could cry knowing your daughter called him “dad.” You hadn’t believed him at first, but after this week alone it slipped from her mouth several times. 

“He’s not your dad, baby, that’s just Donghyuck.” You remember correcting her more than once, and all she responded to you with was a confused expression. 

“Why not?” Is what her little voice gave back to you after her child-like brain decided it was fed up with you correcting her very right assumption of the guy who promised her the Barbie Dream House. 

Why not?

Why not?

Well, if you could have an adult conversation with a five year old it would be much easier to answer that. Because he sprayed cheese in your hair. Because you were seventeen and his babysitter when he was twelve years old. Because you ogled him without recognizing him as your pool boy. Because of a lot of things.

“Uncle Donghyuck.” You finally corrected her again. 

She shook her head, and continued doing and saying as her little mind pleased. It made you miss having a father around for her though. You think she needs it more than you do. 

And that fucking Barbie Dream house is what brings Haechan back. 

Right at your doorstep today, with a gentle knock to the door and a timid smile on his face. He doesn’t even look at you when you open the door, instead he crouches down in front of you with the big, flashy box. He ignores you, tilting himself to look past you and straight at your daughter. 

You hold your breath when she runs to Haechan, arms spread open and laughter shrieking in your ears. Your heart aches so much at this moment. 

Given your work schedule, you’d never gotten to see them interact much. He always came over as she was eating her breakfast, and you always came home after she was put to bed. You guess it’s fair that they have a bond now. She doesn’t even run at you like she does for Haechan. In fact, the only time she ever does is when she had a bad day at daycare or had a tummy ache. 

She runs to you when she needs you, but she runs to Haechan like she wants to. Like she genuinely is attached to him, and his kind smile, and his eyes, and probably that warm embrace that you’ve never let yourself experience.

You watch them, not allowing yourself to melt at the moment because you did not invite him over, nor did you give consent to bring that fucking doll house here. But you can’t say no now, as she clings to his leg when he stands up and looks at you with an almost irritated glint in his eye. 

His eyes trail all over you briefly too, as if checking for any new spots or marks that a man could have put on you. You feel seen, dipping your head to not meet his eye and scratching your neck as if to hide a spot there. There isn’t a mark, it’s just…fear? nervousness? anxiety? 

And then he hauls the box in for her without saying a word to you. You watch him hard now that his back is turned. His voice sounds so loving when he speaks to your child as if she’s an equal. Plopping down on your living room floor with her and opening the large box. 

He Ooo’s and Aahhh’s with her as he pulls each piece out, connecting the walls, the doors, handing her little things to help him with. And both of them are so focused on the task at hand to create a safe space for all of her abused barbie dolls that… you feel invisible.

For the first time ever in front of them both, you feel like you are nothing but a ghost. That he is the single parent. As if you’re forgotten, less loved, not wanted, not even needed. 

There’s a bubbling in your gut when you tear up, reminding yourself that what Haechan did that night was probably just, well, he’s a man. Men aim to fuck at all times usually, and you guess you should have expected it at one point from him because, again, you’re aware that he’s attracted to you. Even more aware now. 

But the way you feel right now outshines that. He’s ignoring you to keep your child happy. She is ignoring you because it seems Haechan does a better job at it than you do. 

And, well, he’s not holding you down, whispering things in your ear, letting out frustrated little sighs at your drunken or drowsy words now. So, you say nothing. All you can do is go to the kitchen and prepare a snack, trying to force the tears to stay inside of you with quiet sniffles, hoping you can join their little picture perfect moment so that you can be helpful too. 

Your heart swells when they both look at you as you present a plate of snacks. You have to hold back tears again at the way their eyes shine, thanking you for the snacks. Haechan’s eyes stay on you a bit longer though, as if saying “See? See what you’re making her go without?” 

You do see it. 

But…it can’t be him. As much as you wish it could be, you just can’t. There has to be another man out there just like him, one that doesn’t have a history with you that would cause whispers and questions. There has to be. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

That moment you witnessed seems to have solidified Haechan’s place in your home. Whether it be for babysitting or simply so your child can see him when she’s asking for him (which is often.) It’s kind of an issue, actually, because now the choice isn’t yours anymore and it appears Haechan knows that.

You hate that you’re forced to see him for what he is now. How he proves himself over and over again to be the man you need. The issue is that you still don’t want it to be him. The bigger issue is that he’s breaking down your walls, doing little things for you, looking at you with those dark eyes– your resolve cracks and reminds you every time he’s here that maybe it could work. Maybe you’ll give him a chance. Maybe you won’t have to go out anymore looking to fill a void that no one else fits into. 

It’s the way that now, you can’t help but to compare him to your ex husband. The man who you loved for so long, who you genuinely thought you’d spend your life with happily and safely. Now, compared to Haechan, your ex seems like…nothing. Like a little crack in your resolve. He was older than you by just two years, took care of you for so long, impregnated you, and slowly but surely throughout all that time grew to resent you too.

You still don’t know why, but perhaps it’s just because you were growing into your own. You were becoming more independent, though he never had the capability to realize just how much you depended on him during the very time he left you. 

“I just don’t want to do this anymore.” Your ex had said to you on that fateful morning. 

Your belly was big as you tried to waddle up to him when he said that. You can’t help but think back now and wonder how pathetic you must have seemed when he yanked his arm from your grip, especially due to the difficulty of your pregnancy already. You were sick through most of it, only having a few good days here or there where that pregnancy glow would make your ex husband second-guess himself. 

The slam of the door after that was more exhausting than the months of pregnancy you’d gone through. It felt loud, so loud you could hear it vibrate throughout your whole body. You recall falling to the floor and carefully holding your stomach. It’s like all of the heartbreak pooled there. The loss of your husband three weeks before he got to meet the child he was supposed to love. Her little heart must have been breaking inside of you too. 

Double the pain.

And then you were mending yourself on your own. Going into labor early from stress,  your family helped take care of you more than her. You were needier. You were broken. 

And never, fucking ever, did you think you’d find yourself sitting comfortable in your lavish home realizing that your ex-husband didn’t deserve all of that pain from you. He left you for that girl, and not two months later did she leave him. 

Never did you think you’d find yourself thinking about Haechan as a replacement either. Well, not a replacement, but like, maybe just…he’s the idea of a perfect dad if you pay attention to how your child talks about him. How they act together. How she cries for him before bed when he’s not there, asking you why you don’t read to her the way Haechan does. Why don't you sing to her the way he does? Why don't you use the same voices for her dolls? Why you don’t cut her food like he does, why you don’t do this or that.

That’s what makes it click the most you think. The fact that Haechan has given her something you never can. The love of a father. It doesn’t even feel like he’s babysitting at this point, he’s parenting, teaching her lessons, bandaging small boo-boos, fixing her hair,…cooking dinner, cleaning…existing here like he belongs.

Haechan has done more for your daughter than your ex husband ever could have, more than you could have done for her too, you think. 

Even now, as you come home night after night and see him, you struggle to see him as anyone that isn’t who your daughter needs. Maybe who you need. 

His summer semester is coming to an end too, and it’s hard to see him as a college student now. He really does coursework and everything that needs to be done at your home all within a single work day? With no complaints at all? Lately, you’ve noticed that he’s been more focused on studying when he babysits too, but still your daughter listens to him better than she listens to you. 

Yet, still, it’s like you’re avoiding each other as you go through the motions, but you notice him more. You feel more discomfort because of it, mostly because you know your resolve about this is breaking. There’s a fear inside of you that revolves around him.

What if you missed your chance? 

What if it does end up being a mistake if he still wants you?

You don’t know what to do, but you know you want him. 

Some nights, Haechan does sleep over due to exhaustion and you don’t even ask him to leave because you know he’s not doing it to try anything. The avoidance is loud. Lately, you come home from work and there he is, sitting up with his laptop on his lap but sound asleep, softly snoring. Each time, you remind yourself of how he’s sacrificing his study time to babysit. You know your child can be distracting and needy when she wants something too, but he doesn’t complain even a little bit. The least you could have done was bring him a blanket, which you did. And you woke the next morning to find him curled up on the same couch, laptop toppled over onto the floor.

Small, gentle acts of kindness towards each other but never face to face. You’ve woken to fresh coffee countless times, made exactly the way you like it because you know he’s watched you make it yourself. You’ve come home to re-stocked items, like milk and eggs, laundry detergent, and even toothpaste. It’s nice, and a small indication that he doesn’t resent you. Even through face-to-face avoidance on your part.

Tonight seemed different though, compared to all of the other nights when you can’t go out. You walked through the door to the smell of dinner and your child still awake, sing-songing at you the moment you walked in. 

“Dad said I can stay up late!” 

You quirk a brow, her calling him that now becoming a regular occurrence to the point it goes through one ear and out the other for you. You recall discussing her bed time though, with absolutely no exceptions.

“Did he now?” You hug her before taking off your cardigan, walking with her to the kitchen where you find Haechan, placing down a small plate on the table with cartoon characters on it, right in front of two bigger plates with bigger portions of delicious looking food placed neatly on it.

Your heart swells, but your anxiety grows twice as big alongside it. This. 

This is what you’ve wanted for so long. This is what you never thought you could find. So, why is it that you still have push-back in your mind? Despite knowing that Haechan has proven himself time and time again, you want to argue?! 

Perhaps it’s because you like the way he tries. Maybe you’re not ready to lose that feeling of being chased in some way, of being begged to let him stay. Maybe it’s because you begged your husband, desperate for him to keep you, but he left anyway. It feels like Haechan gives you power over yourself, over your love-life, over everything, really. 

And if you were to actually accept his advances, even just a dinner on your table, what if he stops? What if he gets bored once he gets what he wants? After all, he’s still young, you can’t truly imagine he wants to do this forever. 

Not with you, and not with your daughter either. 

“What’s all this? Isn’t it a bit late for her to have dinner?” You question him instantly, anxiety bubbling up out of assumption alone. 

“We had a small snack a few hours ago.” Haechan reassures you. “I finished my exams and had a burst of energy to celebrate, besides, it’s a Friday–” He goes to pull out a chair for you. “You don’t need to be up early either. A late dinner every now and then never hurt anybody.”

The way this is the first time the two of you have had a face-to-face conversation since…that night. His voice calms you, and that’s scary. 

You huff, happy because you could easily melt into this chair and pretend you’re having a family dinner, like you always wanted, like you never rejected a touch from him that you desperately wanted. You could just play along and pretend Haechan is everything you need. Except, it wouldn’t even be pretending at this point. The whole idea of him has changed. But, again, that anxiety. You still have that little voice holding you back, no matter what you want, or what you need, you fear it’ll be ripped from you again if you were to let yourself be weak for another person.

“I’m really tired, Donghyuck.” You explain, walking past the kitchen and towards your bedroom. “Thanks for dinner but I’m not too hungry and I just want to lay down.”

And with that, he watches you leave. No real appreciation, no congratulations on him finishing his exams, not even a kiss to your child’s forehead. Is he still expected to be the one to put her to sleep? 

Why is he even here? Why did he do all of this? 

His patience is running dry.

So, he eats with your child as your plate goes cold and he leaves it there. If you can’t even handle a dinner at the table with the person who cooked it, you can deal with your own fucking plate. Throw away your own fucking food, wash your own fucking dish. And if you can’t tuck your child into bed, he’ll do it, but you can shove that fake ass exhaustion right up your ass for all he cares. 

He knows you’re not exhausted. He’s seen you when you are. You’re just being an asshole to him at this point, trying to appear like you’re perfectly happy with the life you live when your drunken rants prove otherwise. You treat him like everything he does has an ulterior motive. Which, yeah, maybe it does, but he was genuinely excited to have someone celebrate the end of this semester with him. Maybe assuming you’d indulge him went too far. For the first time, he wasn’t doing it to impress you.

By the time Haechan gets your daughter to bed, all tucked in with a little tune to fall asleep to, he closes her door and just stands there in the silence on the other side of it. 

You must really enjoy being a single mother, huh? This is why too. He always questioned it. You’re so attractive, so well-adjusted. You work hard, your daughter is a sunshine in this world, and you’ve not managed to find anyone to love you yet? He thought he was lucky to be the one getting to spend time with you. 

Turns out, you refuse to let anyone in despite Haechan knowing, fucking seeing straight through you. You want something from someone. You need it, yearn for it, even. But it’s almost laughable at the way you refuse it. 

Excuses, excuses, excuses. 

It’s the fucking audacity you have taking advantage of him. You’ve practically led him on. You lend him everything he wants in life. That’s it. You lend it. From flaunting yourself before you go to bars, to exposing all the marks you allow other men to leave on you. Letting him stay in this house, father your child, cook, clean, mend, fix, heal. 

From being a faux-father to being minimized to a college student that you used to babysit. He’s offered you relief in so many ways including sexual, and all you fucking do is avoid, deny, fucking reject him. You still go out to bars, later and later you’ll come home with new swells against your skin, but always looking so empty and disappointed. Sometimes he thinks you try to make him jealous. Sometimes, he thinks you want him to try again. 

Sometimes, he thinks you get off on the fact that he keeps trying.

And he has tried. Albeit more gently lately, but he has. Small, lingering touches when he hands you your coat to help you get out the door and to work quicker. Starting your car for you before you leave. Fuck, he even opens the goddamn door for you. Anything to make you feel appreciated, respected, and fucking wanted.

The silence is loud in his ears due to the sheer irritation as he drops his head, staring at his feet and knowing it’ll only take a few strides to reach your bedroom. A room he still craves to be in.

He’s raided those drawers by now, because of course he has. Soiling your panties, your sheets, anything that still smells like you when you’re gone for the day, all so he can act normal upon seeing you when you come home. He’s laid in your bed by now too, wondering what it would feel like to have your weight beside him. He fantasized about anything and everything he possibly could in there.

And he’s always warmer. Always cums the hardest with weak, muffled moans as he stuffs your pillows into his mouth to keep quiet. All before cleaning every trace of himself there, closing the door, and wishing he was allowed to exist in there with you. 

Right now will be the first time Haechan enters your room to your knowledge, and it sucks for him because he has essentially trained himself to get hard every time he opens this fucking door. Still, he composes himself, and it’s a bit of a shock if you’re being honest.  You thought he’d go home after this, you were kind of hoping he would after you made it so awkward. 

You felt guilty the second you saw his expression fall to your rejection of eating dinner like a big fucking happy family. You want it so bad, you want him so bad.

When you left the kitchen, you immediately went to your room and hopped in the shower, well aware that he wouldn’t follow you. You thought hard while the hot water made attempts to wash away your feelings. Would it have been so bad to just eat with him? With your daughter? With both of them? The way his eyes fell, it burned your heart a little bit.

Still, no answers came to you because you know part of you just wants to see what else he will do for you. Despite the history with him, and despite knowing his entire family would question and scoff at you for it…Is it really so wrong? To want to give him a chance just to see if he’ll leave you too? 

Just to see if it’ll hurt when he does it too?

Inviting him to your home almost every day of the week isn’t wrong, right? Forgetting to pay him all those times before, hoping to see him again and get that confidence boost, that wasn’t wrong. Letting your daughter attach herself to him when you swore he wasn’t permanent, no longer having the energy to correct her use of “dad” towards him… none of that is wrong.

 It’s all Haechan. He’s the one in the wrong for willingly following along, not you. Right? 

And as you’re sitting on your bed in your towel, zoning out and staring at your floor, Haechan swings your bedroom door open without a single knock, mindfully closes it, and immediately goes off on you.

Somehow, you really expected him to accept your rejection but your heart swells that he didn’t. You don’t think he ever will, and you’re exhausting yourself hoping he’ll prove you wrong.

He’s shown you enough by now. This is what breaks down that wall inside of you, isn’t it?

“What am I doing wrong?” He shoots his first question out in a desperate whisper shout, eyes searing into you before continuing without a single breath. “Because I do everything for her, and i do everything  for you, does that really make you so fucking uncomfortable?”

“D–” You try to respond, feeling your skin prickle at the sheer irritation in his expression.

He’s fighting for you.

“Isn’t that what you want?!”

“After everything I do–” He throws his hands up now, running his fingers through his hair as if you make him feel like he wants to rip it out. “After trying to make your life easy while making mine harder, for what? You to not eat the fucking food I made? For you to go to the bar all the time just to come back disappointed like I’m not right here waiting for you to come back?” 

“What ar-”

“Don’t ask me any stupid fucking questions, Just answer me.” He drops his hands, stepping up to you, placing both hands on either side of your hips, doing his best not to react to your near-naked body. “Why?”

You lean back, trying to create more distance to try and give him an answer that you don’t even know yourself, but he just keeps closing in. Not letting you escape this time. You’ve never seen him so riled up before, it’s…

Well…

“Because I came onto you? Because I tried to do what no one else will do for you?” His voice shakes when he says it, and you can feel the heat radiating from him. Is he…about to cry?

Only now, seeing him so close with an entirely sober brain do you realize an answer. Maybe not to his question of why, but to the same question you’ve been asking yourself. It’s because of that look in his eye. You’ve never been able to put a word to it, but now with him demanding you explain yourself so closely, you see it.

He’s desperate. 

Arguably as desperate as you’ve felt to fill the void. Except, he’s trying to do that for you and you won’t let him out of what? Fucking fear? Hell, at this point the history means close to nothing when it comes to all the new memories he’s made in this home, even without you. The history of babysitting him, the history of your ex husband leaving you. It doesn’t matter.

You think hard, so hard that you feel your eyes burn as you stare up at him. Glancing without intention to his jaw when he clenches it, to his neck when he swallows his words, to his lips, his eyes, the hair falling in his face…and you just–

You reach up, running a soothing hand through his hair to get it out of his face. Then you see those same desperate eyes somehow grow more desperate as he lowers them, leaning into the touch, as if you’ve been starving him the same way you’ve been starved for years. He falls silent too, cutting himself off mid-question just to feel you touch him for the first time.

“I don’t know.” You say, which seems like a better answer than having an excuse. What can you say otherwise? That it’s because it shouldn’t  be him? That you’re afraid he’ll realize he’s not ready to settle? To be a dad? He’ll ask why, and it’ll be the same answer you gave on that drunken night. An answer that you no longer care about. 

You babysat him when he was a child, but you were still a child too. 

You were still a child, and time changes things.

Your ex husband left you, and you’re afraid he will too, especially because he’s so much younger? Who cares?

Your answer seems to fly right past his head though, because he’s still leaning to feel your fingers in his hair, and he’s looking at you as if nothing you say will matter unless you make it hold some weight to him. 

“Donghyuck–” You pause, scratching right at his nape, uncaring of how you can feel your towel loosening on your body. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Somehow, his name on your lips is what he needed to hear. The tone of it, the rasp in your voice, your fingers in his hair. Actions speak louder than anything the two of you could say right now, and he can’t help it. Nothing can stop him, not even you at this point. 

He hasn’t done anything wrong you say? It’s because he fucking knows what you need.

You inhale deeply, holding your breath when you feel your back hit your mattress, his warm hands instantly taking advantage of your freshly-showered state and tugging at the towel just slightly to let it fall open. You hear a slight breath from him at that moment, an inhale. There, he climbs onto the bed, nudging himself between your legs and trapping you there under him, both hands holding your arms down.

Like he’s afraid you’ll reject him again.

“You’re going to let me take care of you now.” He demands, though to him it sounds more like a plea solely due to the fact that he’s so fucking turned on it’s unreal. That feeling of when your fingers were in his hair? Seeing your naked body? Unshaved pussy? Being in this fucking room with you? It throws him into overdrive, especially with the way you just lay there blinking up at him in surprise. The anger melting away only amplifies it more. 

How could you do this to him? Genuinely, how could you have let him fucking suffer for you like this? 

Still, you blink up as if you’re a deer caught in headlights and it makes his heart thump against his ribcage. Your eyes are so bright, that glint of sadness he had seen so many times isn’t there right now. And there’s so much adrenaline inside of him, like he needs to move fast before you change your mind again. You’ve not let him do this for some fucking reason or another and now you’re just laying here for him.

 There, with your entire body on display, and you appear to be docile. Fucking obedient? Like he always knew you would be if you’d just drop the fucking act?! You were meant for him and him alone, and he’s going to show you why.

In all honesty, you’re tired of denying yourself by now. From the moment you saw him that day cleaning your pool for the first time, you’ve wanted him on some level. It wasn’t an emotional attachment, but a hope, a fantasy for you. And when you recognized him, you were more impressed with him than embarrassed. You tried not to let your eyes wander out of guilt, out of feeling like a pervert. 

And then, that day when he came onto you, he was just a man to you. Your faux guilt kept you from letting him, and your hope to be chased kept you from it too. As if you’ve never pleasured yourself to the thought of him, shamefully in this very bed. As if you’ve never called out his name with a silent breath. If you keep going at this point, you’ll lose him before ever knowing what he could really be for you. 

This is his last ditch effort to beat you at your own game, and you’re ready to lose.

  So, now, you let yourself get lost in him. In his eyes and the way he pleads and makes his demands. He probably doesn’t recognize his strength against you right now, or how much it’s turning you on. With the way he has both hands on your wrists, probably bruising them, and there’s nothing you could do even if you wanted to. His weight holding you down feels better than you imagined. 

After so long, with so many failed hookups where you’ve told them of your daughter and all they’ve done in return is get their orgasm then leave…Haechan. He wants to take care of you? 

He wants to…give you what you need?

Fuck, you know he can. That’s the fucked up part. He’s proved it so many times to you in so many ways. You’ve watched him, the way he moves and acts around you. He’s exactly what you need.You pushed him to this point, where his sanity is on the brink of crashing. Taking it away from him again feels wrong, because it’s exactly what you want.

And when he presses his leg between yours, he knows.

“Again?” He comments, now releasing your wrist from one hand and running it down, able to slip his fingers right into the slick of your bare pussy. “You’re wet.” 

You still just blink up at him with an intake of breath at the pleasure, thoughts running left and right on what to do, finally realizing you don’t want to do a damn thing. He’d do it all if you let him. Clean your house, be a father, fix all of the breaks, make you wet.

And you just feel him, the way his fingers play around with what he does to you. You can practically feel his confidence rise at the way you spread your legs a bit more, as if to give him more access. When you look at him, his expression remains harsh, but slowly he moves himself down, lips brushing over one of your nipples while keeping eye contact.

Still that irritated look, like he’s mad you haven’t let him do this before now.

“How many times are you going to pretend like I’m not the one who gets you wet?” He asks before rubbing circles around your clit, tongue flicking in the same way around your nipple. “Like I don’t have a right to take care of you?”

Your breath is still caught in your throat, trying to be careful about what you say right now despite knowing you can’t speak. You focus on what he’s doing instead, losing yourself to something you’ve not felt in far, far too long. 

He’s right. He’s gotten you wet more than once by now. More than he knows. 

And goddamn, he knew your tits could bounce, but the way they move without the support of a bra, the plush, soft feeling of your nipple growing erect in his mouth, all for him to bite and pull at. He does it too, listening to the little seething sound of pain from you when he pulls all the way back with your nipple between his teeth. Only to let it fall from his mouth and break eye contact with you to see the jiggle as it falls.

His cock twitches, at everything that you are right now, feeling more pleasure through seeing you like this alone compared to fucking his own fist on your bedroom floor. He notes how your legs squeeze him more at the nipple stimulation than his fingers too, memorizing the way your labia falls open between them. He smirks, flicking his tongue more, quicker. 

There. There it is.

A low rumble in your chest falls from your lips. Soft, a moan. A very small, delicate sound.

“You like this?” Haechan asks, looking up at you, letting his tongue fall from his mouth again and flicking the erect nub. “When I play with your tits?”

You nod, throwing an arm over your face in embarrassment that this is actually happening. You’re letting him. Already you feel yourself heat up more, even when he takes his fingers away from your clit and instead, uses them to flick your other nipple. 

And he does this for a few minutes. Paying special attention to your tits, going back and forth with his fingers and tongue to each bud, trying so hard to not stop just to shove his cock between them and use them the way he’s always wanted. He focuses on drawing out more and more little sounds from you instead, slurping his own saliva from your painfully erect nipples, pulling back, blowing cold air, then warming it up again with his lips. All while simultaneously groping, flicking, and pinching with his other hand. 

“Jesus, Haechan–” You moan quietly, chest rising and falling as he squeezes and licks against you. 

That’s right, say his name. Let him fucking know he’s doing what you like. Haechan thinks, feeling his cock weep in his pants as he does it. Wondering just how sensitive you are to be reacting like this to simple nipple stimulation. God, he’s wanted to suck on these for so long, and now you’re letting him. They’re so big, so plush. He wants to fucking cover them with his mouth, he wants to bury his face in them, kiss them all over them. 

And if they were to get bigger? He moans at the thought, remembering that conversation you had with your mom. You want another. He bets they’d swell up–Oh, fuck yeah. They’d probably hurt to rub against your shirt. God, fuck, he can’t control his thoughts right now.

 Finally. 

Fucking finally, he has you and he’s not going to let you run away again.

He doesn’t fucking care if it’s forward. He wants what he wants, you want what you want. That want just so happens to line up. Besides, he’s already proved himself to you, he knows it. If you’re letting him do this, maybe you’d let him stay like this. 

“Did they get bigger?” He moans briefly as he swaps to your other nipple again. “So full, so heavy, were they leaking all over you?”

You listen to him, trying not to feel the pit in your stomach bubble with even more arousal at his blatant and dirty words, feeling your clit throb at the stimulation your tits are getting right now. 

“Makes my dick fucking throb just thinking about it. Fuck–” 

“Let me give you another,” He mumbles now, almost mindlessly before looking up at you with an intense gaze as he bites down, indicating that he’s not mindless about it at all. 

“Swell you up, make you glow–”

Oh. 

Why is that– why are you dripping?

He hears that moan you let out. Different from the others, almost desperate.

“Mm, yeah.” He encourages it, now allowing his hand to travel back down to witness how much wetter you’ve gotten at those words. So messy, so perfect. “Knew you’d want it raw.”

You can’t help the nod, as it comes before you even process his words solely because you feel his fingers slip inside of you. You haven’t been this wet in so, so long. You want to feel it. To be full again, of anything. Of him.

“Ye-” You start, interrupting yourself with a bite of your lip and your eyes rolling back. 

“That’s right mama,” He coos, tilting his fingers up and amplifying the pressure inside of you. “Gonna let me take good care of this pussy, yeah?” He adds, lifting from your tits and ghosting his lips over yours. 

He watches you closely, that daze in your eye. God, you look so horny right now. There’s nothing more he wants than to see this time and time again. To let you wake up every morning with his warm cum inside of you, to see your belly swell with his child, to see your tits grow until they hurt. 

He’d take care of you. He’d take good fucking care of you. 

“Say something.” Haechan whispers against your lips, darting his tongue out against your lips, angling his fingers up and making you moan. “Say you want me to give it to you raw.”

You open your mouth, feeling his tongue lick and swallow up that moan you just gave him before you try to compose yourself. You can’t help it, you’re so, so sensitive right now and you can’t help but find it incredibly sexy to be here, laid bare, while he’s still fully clothed.

Like he really is doing this for you. He’s not trying to get his own orgasm and leave. You’re weak and those words of “let me give you another” shines in your head. Weak, you’re weak. You should be thinking about condoms, you should be thinking about the consequences of this. 

But you’re not. 

You do like it raw.

“Haechan–” You stutter as you try to grasp the reality of his words, feeling his fingers repeatedly hit right where you need it. “I’m…not protected.”

He moans. Loudly, before huffing out an irritated groan.

“You must really want it then.” He narrows his eyes at you. “Going out all the time trying to get fucked–” 

He plunges his fingers in again, deep, and holds them there as he pulls back to look at you. To really look at you, then he glares.

“You’d really let just some fucking dude give you a baby?” 

You repeatedly shake your head. 

“No!” You retort, thrusting your hips up. “I just–”

“Mhm,” He pulls his fingers out now, sliding himself down so fast that you can barely comprehend him sucking your clit into his mouth before pulling back in a moan at the taste of you. “If mama wants another, daddy will give her one.” He says now, as if to pacify you.

As if to give you everything. 

And you’d argue, really, you would.  You want another child so bad, but this is– it’s too soon. You haven’t even established a relationship with him yet. Boundaries haven’t been discussed. His college plan– but fuck it’s not entirely your fault that you’re like, super turned on by the idea of it. To the thought of being so filled with cum that there’s no possible way you couldn’t end up pregnant. An indication that, no matter what, no man at a club could fulfill the arousal for you even if they cared to do it. 

You’d never have let them actually fuck you raw. 

Haechan though…how can you keep telling him no?

How could you reject him again when you want it so badly? 

Fuck now, think later.

“Yeah–” You say against your better judgement, hands reaching down to his hair so you can grind up against his mouth, lost to the arousal as you mimic what he referred to himself as. “Daddy?”

You feel his mouth fall slack at that, as if you’re accepting him in full now. You feel your clit hit nothing in his open mouth, but it throbs harder. 

 He knew you were slightly into him for letting him do this at all, but now, you’re truly accepting it. Like you know he’ll fucking do it, like you want him to fucking do it.

“That’s right,” He moans against your clit as he licks at it, barely able to comprehend your voice calling him that but clinging to it all the same.  “Gonna let daddy do it all for you.”  

Yeah. You are. You’re gonna let him do it. All of it. 

And then, the room is enveloped in quiet moans, more from Haechan than from you due to your breath being stuck in your throat. His tongue, licking every part of your sensitive cunt, his hands reaching back up to your tits, fondling, pinching, painfully tugging at them as he moans louder, louder, louder for you to want him.

He presses his hips up and against your mattress as he tastes you, so deeply it hurts his cock to neglect it like this. Each rub feels raw, twitching and pulsing to be let out, to be inside of you, on you, against you. Filling you up with his cum, plugging it in as a promise that you can’t leave him even if you wanted to. 

He’s going to fucking do exactly what he said he would. 

And only when you feel his tongue lap against your hole do you finally release your breath, “Daddy” coming out in a choked back sob. It breaks him, his body going into overdrive as he pulls back and just– stares at you with wild eyes. 

You stare back up at him, knowing that calling him that means something more than a cringe little roleplay kink. It means something deeper to him. He wants to be a dad, a real one.

“Oh yeah?” He finally says, hands going straight to his button and zipper. 

You can’t help it, biting your lower lip as you blink up, watching his shoulders move, the veins on his arms protruding as he rushes to pull it out and– oh. You moan at it, the way his heavy, slicked up, cock falls out, dark, needy. 

“Daddy–” You urge him on, knowing that it’s driving him absolutely insane. 

“Mhm?” He shuffles himself off the bed, letting his pants drop as he lifts his shirt off of him and fucking glares at your tits. “You want daddy’s cock?”  He adds now, shooting his eyes up to you as both of his hands land on your legs.

Your mind goes blank when you feel him slide his hands around to the back of your thighs, pushing your legs forward, curling you in on yourself, forcing your pussy to be out and on display for him. 

And you watch him, the way he stares down at it. It’s embarrassing to be so seen right now, not having expected to get fucked open by anyone tonight, let alone him. You probably should have shaved or something, or like, not gotten out of the habit in the first place. But he moans at it, mouth falling open at the fact that you are entirely a fucking woman. 

A fucking mother.

The prettiest pussy he’s ever fucking seen let alone tasted.

And he moans, breaking the silence, forgetting only for a moment how long he’s been wanting this. It boosts your confidence more than you’ve ever felt. His reaction to this is more than your ex husband’s reaction to you when you were pristine and borderline pornstar quality. 

Haechan doesn’t see you as used and neglected, he just sees you. And this. This is the pussy he wants. This is what he wants to put his baby in. 

When he flicks his eyes back to you, with that same open mouthed expression, it knocks the breath out of you. There’s so much love in his eyes, or maybe lust, you don’t care. You think you’re matching that expression for him too, because it’s like he can’t hold back anymore. He can’t just sit and look at you anymore. 

He just can’t.

And you feel it, his thick head pushing past the tightened, pulsing hole and not stopping. He pushes in slowly, painfully slow, to the point you’re both looking at each other with a slack jaw. Finally. The pain of it, the pleasure, the fucking need you’ve been trying to fulfill. 

That look on your face drives him wild too, he knows he has you by now. You like it, you love the way he slides in and makes damn sure you feel it. Every second of the slide pries you open, and he wants to remember this moment forever. He wants you to fucking remember too. 

Wants you to know that no one will ever fit inside of you so perfectly, so deeply.

When he finally bottoms out, he leans forward to keep himself buried deep as he ghosts his lips over yours. He feels the way you try to kiss him, but he pulls back with a confident smirk. 

“When was the last time you’ve felt a cock so deep in you?” He whispers hotly, knowing you need not answer. Knowing you won’t answer, not with the way you’re instantly lifting your head and kissing him. 

Your pussy pulses around him when you lick into his mouth, the first real kiss sending his heart soaring. He twitches inside of you with each squeeze, and kisses you harder, deeper. And somehow, it brings tears to your eyes. 

The way he kisses, the way he makes you feel him. Fuck, the way he makes you feel whole, so wanted, like you’re amazing to him. In more ways than just a body to fuck, but he’s stuck around despite all of your avoidance and rejections. You hope you’re making it worth it. 

Fuck, you need to feel worth it to him.

“You’d better not fucking pull out.” You groan through a breath, his lips still kissing you through your words as he finally pulls his hips back, fucking in once. 

Hard.

Honestly, could you have said anything else at this moment? He’s trying to make this last, he needs it to last. If you keep fucking talking, saying everything he’s ever wanted to hear– 

“Fuck,”  He moans, his hands moving up to your cheeks as he licks into your mouth. “You can’t–”  He continues, fucking in again, moving your body up with each thrust do to the sheer force of him trying to plunge in as deep as he can. “You can’t fucking say that to me right now.”

You’re seeing stars though, unable to say anything else as your eyes roll back at the way the head of his cock practically kisses your cervix with each push into you. He’s so rough, so desperate for it. 

You don’t think he expected you to respond either, with the way he keeps his lips on yours, his body pressed so closely that having your legs to your chest means nothing to him now. Mating press be damned, he’s lost his mind to the feeling, not the aesthetic of being a fucking dad. 

Your legs wrap around him instead, and he’s all too happy to feel it. Your legs hug him the same way your arms do, the same way your pussy does, and he’s fucking in love with you. 

He braces one hand back against your leg, holding it against his hips as he continues to fuck forward, still at the same pace. Deep and with purpose. Every few seconds the bursts of pleasure run through him, making him shiver and moan into your mouth. Little grunts, near whimpers for you to let him give you the world. 

More than this. More than fucking, more than taking care of you, more than anything he could ever possibly give you. He’ll find a way. 

And then, you’re clenching hard, matching his near-whimpers except moaning in full pants, babbling and drooling cries against his mouth. 

“Mama–” Haechan soothes, continuing his pace as he tilts his head back to get a good look at that lost gaze in your eyes. “You’re crying?”

You nod with a laugh, tears rolling down the same way the wet of your cunt slips down your ass. You’ve never felt so good, so fucking full.  And for some reason, that does him in. Making it last be damned, he genuinely thinks he’s won you over. He can make it last next time, he can do more next time, he can–

He leans back all the way now, onto his knees as your legs try to hug him back to you, and his eyes go straight back to those tits. The way he made a promise. The way they bounce, slick with his sweat from pressing against you. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He grunts in a breath, now quickening his pace and snapping his hips. Pulling out all the way briefly to plunge into your again. “Can’t get any deeper–” He continues, flicking his eyes from your face, to your tits, to that beautiful pussy of yours swallowing him up. 

Now his eyes roll back, hands going back to your thighs to push you back into position. No way in hell can he last, not at a pace like this, inside of a woman like you. 

“Don’t pull out.” You repeat again in a breath, seeing his face and the way he focuses solely on you. You know he’s going to cum, and you want him to. You want to feel it, every single fucking drop of it. 

“Yeah?” He nods his head with laser-focus on your pussy now, staring down as he points tight, short thrusts inside of you. “Momma wants my cum? Hm?”

Oh, he’s fucking gone.

“She likes it?” He continues to talk himself up. “Likes being so fucking full of it? Yeah?” 

Goddamn, fuck, he’s insane. 

“Yes, daddy–” You whisper-shout, fingers shooting to your clit, other hand raising to your mouth to silence the moans as to not be too loud. 

“Fuck, yeah you do.”  He lets out a near growl, his voice low and rumbled as he slaps your hand away, pressing hard on your clit with his thumb as he buries himself in you once more and stiffening his abs. “That’s right.”

And instantly upon feeling him pulse, that first spurt of cum painting your insides, you lose yourself with him. Your fingers drop from your mouth and you release a pornographic moan for him, rutting yourself against him, as if to fuck it deeper into you. 

It only prolongs the orgasm though, for both of you. 

Haechan is silent, trying to keep his eyes open through the pleasure as you pulse and squirt around him, his thumb pressing so hard  into your clit, his cock cumming so deep, filling you up so well– He wants to see it. Wants to watch you fall apart for him. Wants to witness the way you let him do this. 

And he holds himself there, so hard and so full of pleasure for you. Keeping himself practically impaled against your cervix until your body falls slack. Still, he fucks it into you, holding you in place with a softer moan now. No longer guttural or deep from his chest. His breathing is rough, a soft, near feminine moan leaves his lips as he falls forward onto you. 

You wince along with him at the sensitivity, panting, a sweating tangle of a mess the two of you have become. And it’s the fact that it’s the first time you’ve ever gotten off at the same time as someone else. You feel…soft. 

Your hands find their way to his hair as his face squished against your tits while he regains breath, not daring to move his hips because your pussy is too warm to leave right now. You brush the sweat-slicked hair out of his eyes, running your fingers all the way back to his nap, and then slowly down his back to rub and scratch.

He shivers at the feeling, humming the same feminine-tone he had released previously. And all he can do is hear your heart thumping against your chest, even through these soft tits of a pillow he’s lying against.

Haechan never wants to move again, not from this spot, ever. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“You know I’m in love with you, right?” Haechan mentions briefly after a long moment of silence, looking up at you with his wet hair. 

Deep in the night, your food still cold and on the table, you’ve found yourself freshly showered and on your living room couch with Haechan’s head on your lap. He made sure to have stayed long enough inside of you to implant…something if it was going to happen. So he didn’t argue a shower, and you didn’t argue letting him join you either. 

He had washed you, gently running his hands between your legs with what you can only describe as the softest, most alluring face a man has ever given you. Like he won the lottery, or found the answer to eternal life or something. You repaid him by letting him admire your tits again while you jerked him off, but that’s besides the point. 

“Like, I’m not going to leave. I hope you know that.” He adds with a soft groan to your hands still in his hair. His new favorite thing. 

You look down at him, hand moving to his cheek as the words hit you in the chest.

There’s anxiety along with happiness, at all of the boundaries and serious conversations that will need to be had now, but still, you feel like you’re glowing when he looks at you.

He didn’t even have to say it, and arguably you probably don’t need to say it back either. You think he sees it in you. Even if he didn’t, you think he’d take anything you give to him and cling to it. After all, it only took one time for you to break entirely for him. 

“Are you now?” You smile with a chuckle, looking back to the tv and pretending to watch it. “Well, that’s good. Otherwise I’d be making you go get a plan B or something.” 

His eyes narrow at you.

“Like hell I’d let you, even if I didn’t love you.” He groans. “But I do, so don’t ever say that shit again.”

You chuckle, feeling the calm in your home that once felt so chaotic. It’s quiet now, both inside and outside of your head. 

“Congratulations, by the way.”

He looks at you with question, quirking a brow.

“For finishing your finals, I mean.” You smile, going back to petting through his hair and feeling like you’re on top of the world, despite what you assume to become half of your world lying his head on top of you. 

“Oh, right.” He smiles, now turning his head to watch the tv. “I probably failed them.”

You don’t believe that, but even if he did, you think you could be what he needs too. He wouldn’t have to work if he didn’t want to.

If he’s really in love with you, all he’d have to do is…not leave. 

“Are you sure you want to be having these conversations with me? You can just call it a hook-up.” You finally say, hoping he means it, knowing it breaks your heart a bit to give him an out. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m going to trap you here just because I’m a little smitten too.” 

Haechan glares, blinking up at you.

“I literally just tried to put a baby in you.” 

That’s fair. 

“And you’re not going to run off? Get cold feet?” 

“Can you stop doubting me and just let me do what I want for once?” He argues playfully. “Do you even know how much that barbie fucking dream house costed me? I couldn’t run even if, for some stupid ass reason, wanted to. I love her too.”

Silence for a moment.

“Maybe even more than I love you.” 

You really, really, want to believe him.

So, you do. 

[blueicequeen19]

The Nanny

Warnings: Rafe cheating on his wife with the nanny 🔥

I’d been a nanny for the Cameron’s since their oldest was a baby. They moved me into the guest house, paid for my college, and paid me more than I ever dreamed. I was extremely grateful for the opportunity even when I’d catch Mr Cameron staring at me for long periods of time.

I won’t lie by saying I didn’t enjoy the attention and living in OBX gave me the perfect opportunity to run around in bikini or crop tops or dresses. I’d feel his eyes on my skin like a warm caress, making me burn hotter and hotter until I had no choice but to leave the room.

I made sure to never catch myself in a room alone with him out of fear of what he’d do. What I’d let him do.

I wasn’t worried about his wife because more often than not, I’d spot a blonde, shaggy haired Pogue slipping out the back door on weekends that Mr Cameron was working despite her being pregnant with his fourth child. I wasn’t sure if Mr Cameron was entirely faithful either.

They fought so much that I was constantly trying to keep their children busy. Then when I’d check to make sure it was safe to come back inside, I’d find Mr Cameron taking his wife against the counter or on top of the kitchen table. On the stairs. In the middle of the floor.

She was always facing away from him and he’d always lock eyes with me while he pounded into her. Id ache between my thighs for days. No amount of touching myself would help. I’d seen his thick cock countless times in five years and I craved it. Something had to be wrong with me. I couldn’t risk losing everything.

I was deep in thought as I made my way back to the pool house where I lived that I didn’t even notice the door being unlocked as I stepped inside or the spicy scent of expensive cologne until it was too late.

“Mr Cameron.” I breathed, a lump forming in my throat as I watched him turn the side lamp on.

“It’s been five years, Y/N, I think we’re past the formalities.” His lips tip up into an arrogant smirk, “Plus you’ve seen my cock on more than one occasion so please, call me Rafe.” I couldn’t speak as his eyes raked over me, making me clench my thighs.

“W-what can I do for you?” I breathe. His wife and kids were asleep not far from here, just across the yard. He couldn’t be here. What if she came looking for him? Why was it suddenly so hot in here?

“I want you to fuck me. Whenever I want. However I want.” Mr Cameron said with confidence, lighting my blood on fire as my eyes widen.

“Your wife— your kids—what—.”

He suddenly stands, crossing the room quicker than I can back away.

“My wife is fucking a Pogue in my bed when I’m not here. I’m pretty sure one or two of my children aren’t even mine.” I gasp as my back hits the wall and his large hand finds the back of my neck. Our bodies are suddenly flush and I can’t breathe.

“Mr Cameron—.”

“It’s Rafe or sir, Y/N. Mr Cameron is my father and I won’t have you reminding me of him when I’m inside you.” Heat pools in my belly and I can’t stop from whimpering.

“I know you feel me watching you. I know you want me as much as I want you. It’s written all over your face.” His thumb swipes over my bottom lip, prying it free from my teeth.

“If your wife finds out I could lose everything.” I whisper, my hands fisted at my sides.

“You work for me. You belong to me.” My heart races in my chest, his possessiveness making my knees weak.

“You’ll take care of my kids during the day and you’ll take care of me at night. I’ll double your salary and fuck you so hard you’ll see stars. Do we understand each other?” I find myself nodding before I can fully grasp what he’s saying.

“Good. Show me to your room.” I blink a few times before realizing he’s stepped away from me, letting me pass. I can’t take in a full breath as I lead him up the stairs and to my bedroom. My knees are weak and when he locks the door behind him, they nearly give out.

“Face me.”

I do.

“Strip.”

I do that too.

I’m so wet between my thighs that they’re practically stuck together. I’d never been more turned on in my life. A stiff wind could make me cum right now. The ache only intensifies as he devours me with his eyes as he strips off his clothes, draping them over the chair before making his way towards me.

“This first time is going to be quick.” He pushes me down on the bed, the heat of his body making me gasp as he kneels between my legs.

“I’m so hard that it hurts.” He shoves my legs wider apart before taking the thick head of his cock and running it along my slit.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Making a fucking mess for me, baby.” He groans. I whimper, unable to form words as we both watch his movements.

“Next time I’m going to take my time with you and savor this.” The head slips in and I gasp, my nails biting into his biceps.

“I just can’t control myself right now. I need you too badly.” When he pushes in further, a deep sexy groan escapes him and I clench around the head, making him hiss between his teeth as he comes down on top of me. We’re both shaking as he sinks deeper and deeper until I’m so full that it hurts.

“Fuck, you feel good. Fucking made for me.” I resist the urge to kiss him as we come chest to chest and he rolls his hips, stealing another moan from me.

“So hold on. Because this time I’m going to fuck you within an inch of your life.”

[ahonice]

not my boyfriend

luke hughes x fem reader

word count: 9.6k (the google doc was forty pages long idk what happened i got carried away)

warnings: jokes about dying/being killed, drinking, mentions of harassment (none actually happens though, just a topic discussed.) cursing, party games, lots of fighting that could’ve been avoided, VERY unrealistic scenarios and timelines lol, reader is stubborn for no reason and pisses me off (sorry)

note: this takes place during luke’s first full season as a devil. also idk how season tickets work with the devils so... hope y’all enjoy, leave feedback and lmk what you think, love y’all babes <3!!!

+++

growing up in newark meant you were a devils fan by default. which wasn’t a bad thing, your father was a season ticket holder and often took you to games with him as you were the only one of your siblings who was still living at home.

you were the youngest of five, all others being boys, and the university you attended was only a five minute drive from your house so instead of moving into the dorms you continued to live at home. 

at each game you always wore unmarked jerseys, shirts, and hoodies. no number or last names on any of them, you weren’t a big enough fan to have a jersey that branded you so you stayed content with your blank ones. 

+++

it was the home opener for the devils and your father dragged you, along with all your brothers, out to attend the game with him. he managed to get tickets right behind the devils bench this year, you didn’t even want to know how much money he had to spend to get them. 

“dad isn’t this a bit much? the game is going to be the exact same if we were sitting in our normal seats, two levels above.” you asked him once everyone was situated and comfortable in their seats.

“oh shut up y/n, these seats are great and who knows maybe you’ll catch the eye of a cute hockey player and you can live out your trophy wife fantasies.” your brother, who was sitting two seats down from you, teased.

“shut up david.” you said reaching over your other brothers to hit him, which you did…three times.

“would you two cut it out, you’re attracting a crowd.” your father scolded.

he was right, not only were a few people sitting behind you watching, but so were a couple people on the bench in front of you.

you groaned in embarrassment and hid your face in your brother gavin’s shoulder. 

“kill me gav, kill me.” your voice was muffled.

“number forty three is staring pretty hard right now y/n.” gavin wiggled his eyebrows at you.

you shot your head up and made, brief, eye contact with a boy who looked around your age before he quickly looked away. another player, who looked just a little older than you, laughed at him before giving you a wink.

“i’m serious gavin, shoot me right here.” you said, pointing between your eyes. “like i’m a horse that just broke it’s leg.”

+++

after the game you went to dinner with your family before you parted ways. you had picked up your coworkers shift because he had a family emergency and wasn’t able to come in. during the summer between your senior year of high school and your freshman year of college you attended bartending school. you thought that working in the night life industry, especially as a young attractive woman, that you would be getting a lot of money in tips.

and you were correct.

your grandparents were covering your tuition, and since you were living at home there were no room and board charges, but you did have a car to pay for, books and school supplies, as well as an addiction to shopping that you had to support. so the job really was great.

it was a nice cocktail, lounge, styled bar. lots of business meetings took place, and overall upper class patrons were the ones who would visit. it wasn’t rare that local celebrities would stop by, or new yorkers wanting a lower tax on their tequila sunrise. so when a few people on the new jersey devils roster walked in, nobody was surprised. 

“y/n i’ll take bottle service for them tonight if you cover my side of the bar while i’m out? we can split their tip 70/30.” your coworker brian suggested after seeing them all make their way towards the private section, meaning they would not be ordering drinks themselves like all the other people in the establishment. 

“60/40, it’s a saturday night brian.” he rolled his eyes before agreeing, making his way over to the group as you began writing down tickets.

with brian gone you were now the only one behind the bar, it being a busy saturday night you didn’t really have any time to yourself. constantly getting new orders, or people confused why you needed their card to open a tab, you weren’t really planning on taking a break anytime soon. 

“what can i get you?” you asked whoever sat in the seat across from where you were currently fulfilling orders. you didn’t look up to properly acknowledge the customer, but you know they heard you because your question was quickly followed by a long “uhhhhh” before you placed the drinks you had been working on infront of their respective owners.

“while you uhhhh on that, i’m gonna go help customers that know what they want.” you didn’t really mean to be so rude, but you didn’t have time to provide good customer service.

“wait!” you had barely turned around before the customer stopped you. “i’m sorry, it’s just that i am not twenty one, so i don’t know what i can order here.”

“you’re not old enough to drink? how the hell did you get in? because if you used a fake i’m sorry but i’m gonna have to cut it.” you finally looked up from the glasses in front of you to see who exactly you were speaking with. he looked familiar, you couldn’t figure out where you knew him from. probably just a student you’ve seen around campus.

“no it’s nothing like that. i’m here with some of my teammates.” he nodded his head towards the private section where you could see brian making them drinks.

you looked back at his face again before the realization hit you.

“you were the player staring at me earlier.”

“you were the girl that slapped her brother in front of everyone earlier.”

you blushed at his recollection of you, he blushed at yours as well. 

“guilty.” you both said at the same time, causing some laughs to let out before the moment was interrupted by some people on the other side of the bar yelling that they wanted their drinks.

“i’ll be back in a little bit, sorry.” you apologized to the boy before turning to start making the drinks that the customers had ordered nearly five minutes ago, audibly groaning at the line that was forming all around the bar and the amount of people now entering.

+++

it ended up being nearly thirty minutes before the rush of orders you had gotten was cleared and you had time to go back to where that boy was sitting. you weren’t surprised that he was no longer there, but you were disappointed. 

you decided to take the rare break to your advantage and poured yourself a glass of apple juice, savoring the taste before you brought your attention towards the group in the back. brian must’ve really been working for those tips because you had never seen a group so entertained in your life. 

making eye contact with the boy, you smiled as he stood up from his seat, excusing himself from the group being met with a smirk from the guy he was sitting next to, who you recognized as the one who winked at you earlier.

“you know you guys are paying for bottle service, you don’t have to come up to the bar to order drinks. it’s kinda what it was made for.” you said once the boy had sat down in the seat he was in just an hour before.

“i know, but i don’t want the guys to make fun of me for ordering orange juice.”

“are you assuming that i wouldn’t make fun of you? because i would, and i will. i’m team apple juice.” you said, raising your glass filled with apple juice, into the air. 

“can’t drink on the job?” 

you laughed at how stupid of a question that was, just because you worked as a bartender doesn’t mean you have no decorum. “ couldn’t even if i wanted to, i’m nineteen.” 

“oh so you’re my age, well a year younger.” he smiled to himself. “i’m twenty.”

you nodded at his words, too busy closing out a tab to respond.

“how can you work here though? if you’re nineteen. don’t you have to be twenty one?” he asked.

“no, you need to be eighteen to serve alcohol in the states.” you responded, not even looking up.

“got it.” he trailed off, it quickly became awkward as you were too busy to give him the attention he was obviously looking for. “i’m luke by the way, don’t think i told you my name yet.”

“i’m y/n, but i’m pretty busy right now so maybe you could go back to your table. i don’t mean to be rude, but i can’t spend my whole shift talking to you and not working.” you told him, noticing the long line that was beginning to form again.

“oh yea of course, sorry. umm i’ll see you around.” luke said, getting up.

you didn’t respond and just walked over to the other side of the bar where the people who had been waiting the longest were.

luke sighed before walking back over to his group.

“what’s the matter lukey? couldn’t impress the hot girl by ordering an orange juice.”

“shut up jack.”

+++

it was only five days later that your father was bringing you along to another devils game and once again you got dressed in your unnamed jersey and a pair of leggings. you had work right after, having taken the closing shift tonight so you would be able to enjoy the game for at least an hour and a half before you would have to go.

“dad please tell me we aren’t in those seats again. you don’t need to be wasting your money like that, our usual seats are just fine.” you spoke as you followed your dad through the arena.

“sweetie, it is my money to spend and i wanted this. i never miss a home game, all of the money spent is being spent for good use.” you father responded, making his way down towards the glass. 

you had arrived after warm ups were finished so now you were just waiting for the game to actually start. playing a game on your phone, you were easily pulled into a trance and didn’t even realize that the players had made their way onto the ice until your father nudged you.

“y/n would you pay attention? the boy is looking at you again.” your head shot up at his words and you quickly made eye contact with the boy from last week, luke. 

he waved at you before turning around before you even had the chance to wave back.

“that was weird.” you said, not to anyone in particular, but you weren’t aware of your volume because that same guy that winked at you began laughing and pushed luke who was visibly blushing.

+++

“can i get an orange juice? on the rocks.” 

you turned around to see number forty three smiling at you, his hand behind his neck in an awkward stance.

“luke.”

“y/n.”

“is your group here today? we didn’t get any mentions of bottle service being needed tonight.”

“yeah, it was a last minute thing. i asked if we could come to this bar instead of the one we had planned on going to.”

“why? because the orange juice is that good?”

“without a doubt.” 

you laughed at his words before looking over at your coworker. 

“do you wanna do bottle service tonight? or should i?”

“i’ll do it. the general manager is here tonight and you know how she gets when it’s a group of men getting bottle service.” 

“got it, thank you brian.”

you looked back to see luke staring at you confused.

“why doesn’t she like men getting bottle service?”

“it’s not that, there have just been a few too many cases of us having to kick people out because of their behavior towards female bartenders.” 

“has that ever happened to you?” his voice suddenly angry, causing you to look at him funny.

“cool it casanova.” you laughed, ignoring his question because you have. that’s just what comes with a job in the night life industry though. “i have to get back to work, but i’ll see you around luke.” 

dejected, luke made his way to where his teammates were sitting.

“did you fuck up again?” 

“yes…? i honestly don’t know.”

+++

it had been two weeks since that night.

you hadn’t been able to make it to any of the devils games due to coming down with a bug, also causing you to miss school and work. it definitely wasn’t ideal considering it was nearly thanksgiving break, which meant it was nearly finals week. but you couldn’t complain, it was always nice to do nothing but binge watch investigation discovery and drink yellow gatorade all day.

“dad can i come with you to the game tonight? my fever is gone and i haven’t been sick in three days. i need to get out of the house badly.” you asked your father once he made it home from work.

“sure sweetie. i’m planning on leaving in half an hour, i want to make it to warm ups tonight.”  he replied, shuffling through the mail.

“got it dad, i’ll go get ready.”

+++

you quickly got ready for the game. deciding that you wouldn’t wear any makeup tonight, your eyelash extensions were enough to carry the rest of the face. tying your hair into a braid, you got dressed in an unmarked devils hoodie and leggings before throwing your shoes on.

“dad i’m ready if you wanna leave a little earlier.” you called out from upstairs, spraying your perfume on.

“sounds good hun, i’ll meet you in the car.” 

you were really excited for tonight's game, mainly because this was your first outing in civilization in nearly fourteen days, but a little part of you was excited to see luke again. 

a little part of you was afraid he had forgotten who you were, as you had only interacted a handful of times. 

a loud honk ripped you from your thoughts as you could hear your father yelling from outside.

“i’m about to leave without you y/n.”

+++

you sat in your seat playing on your phone as you anxiously waited for the game to start

“what’s got you so jittery?” your father asks, noticing your legs bouncing. “does it have anything to do with number forty three?”

your eyes widened at the second question that came from your father’s mouth.

“i have no idea what you’re talking about.” you spoke defensively.

“well i thought i might ask because he has been staring at you since he got onto the ice.”

you had been so caught up in your thoughts that you missed warmups beginning, and looking up you met luke’s eyes.

you gave him a smile and a small wave, which he returned before number eighty six rammed into his shoulders and luke went back to what he was supposed to be doing.

+++

after the game you decided to tackle the large load of school work that had been piling up from your sick days.

you managed to spend a good three hours uninterrupted before your phone began ringing. you picked it up to see your general manager's contact shown on the screen. groaning you answered the call, hoping she wasn’t going to call you in because there is nothing worse than a friday night shift.

“hey y/n, i’m sorry to bother you but this boy is currently asking about you at the bar and i need to know if you know him or if i need to ban him from the property.” she spoke.

your eyes widened, a little scared because this wouldn’t be the first time that you’ve had creepy men asking about you on your nights off.

“what is his name?” you ask, you doubted it but there was a chance you did know him.

“luke hughes.” you heard him yell in the background.

“yes darlene, i know him. he is harmless, please let him leave the jail cell.” you joked, knowing for a fact she had him held captive in the office. 

“he wants your number.” she whispered.

“just give it to him, and seriously let him go. him and his teammates tip a lot.”

+++

from: *** *** ****

y/n?

from: *** *** ****

this is luke. 

from: *** *** ****

i’m a little nervous that your boss gave me a fake number just so i would leave her alone, so if you could respond that would be greatly appreciated.

to: *** *** ****

i’m sorry, but you’ve reached the rejection hotline. the person who gave you this number is not interested.

from: *** *** ****

lovely.

to: *** *** ****

i’m totally kidding.

to: *** *** ****

this is y/n lmao.

from: luke hughes

that is not funny.

+++

over the course of the weekend you and luke texted a lot. 

mainly just basic information. favorite food, tv shows, some random questions.

from: luke hughes

why do you wear blank jerseys?

from: luke hughes

and blank everything else? you never have a name or number on you at games.

to: luke hughes

that’s just not something i’m into.

to: luke hughes

there isn’t a hockey player i like enough to wear their name or number.

that wasn’t entirely true. 

while you were a devils fan by default, you were a hurricanes fan and sebastian aho enthusiast by choice. 

you had multiple jerseys and shirts with his name and number all over them, but the devils only played the hurricanes on home ice a limited time each season so you weren’t able to break out your collection all that often. 

luckily for you, the hurricanes were playing the devils at the prudential center in five weeks and that was one of the only things you were truly looking forward to these days, as sad as that sounds.

+++

“the boy who keeps asking for you is here.” brian said to you as he entered the office. 

“what do you mean keeps? darlene just told me about the one time.” you responded, turning your attention off of the roblox game you were playing and towards your coworker.

“because i’ve only ever gotten darlene involved once. he kept asking for your schedule that night and i nearly called the cops.do you know how scared i was? not for you of course, just of the amount of paperwork and witness reports i’d have to deal with. did i ever tell you about the time that one psycho came in here with a butter knife and threatened–” 

“brian focus.” 

“right sorry. he has come in asking for you at least ten times now. if you want me to kick him out i will, i’ve been working out.” brian finished his rant by flexing his muscles, that weren’t even there.

“you’re 5’7 brian. no amount of muscle will make up for that.” you started, picking your phone up. “i’ve got it don’t worry, but thanks.”

to: luke hughes

are you stalking me?

to: luke hughes

because i will get a restraining order against you.

to: luke hughes

i don’t care how attractive you are.

from: luke hughes

so you think i’m attractive?

to: luke hughes

is that seriously all you got from that??

to: luke hughes

STOP BOTHERING MY COWORKERS !!!

from: luke hughes

will do.

from: luke hughes

as long as you agree to go out with me this week.

to: luke hughes

fine.

to: luke hughes

but only because i would like to go one night without my coworkers asking if they need to place your image on the blacklisted board.

from: luke hughes

yeah totally “only because”…

+++

“so you expect me to believe that after the game tonight you are going out with luke hughes. the rookie player for the new jersey devils?” your father asks.

“yes dad.” you deadpanned.

you had told him of your plans for after the game tonight forty minutes ago and he does not believe you in the slightest.

“what did you take for your migraine earlier?” he asks, chuckling. “oh no, did you get into my medicine cabinet? i’m pretty sure i bought those painkillers back in ‘eighty-nine.” 

“you’re hilarious. now can we leave please? warm ups are already almost over.” you said, unamused, while your father was bent over laughing at his stupid joke. “i’m going without you.”

“like hell you are.” he said, snapping up right and marching over to the front door. “if you are telling me the truth i have to meet this boy and talk to him…to ask him if you’re blackmailing him into this.”

he added that last part once he was already outside, you groaned as you heard him laughing from inside the car.

+++

to: luke hughes

i will be waiting in the car park after the game whenever you get out.

to: luke hughes

also my dad wants to meet you.

to: luke hughes

he says it’s because he needs to make sure i’m safe, but really he just thinks i’m lying to him about your existence in my life.

+++

“sweetie when is he coming? it is late and i’ve got work in the morning.” your father asks, for what feels like the hundredth time.

“dad, i’ve already told you that you can leave. i don’t need you here.” you replied, for what felt like the hundredth time.

“what if he kidnaps you? or kills you? he’s got money, he could cover it up in an instant.” he snaps his fingers when he said instant to emphasize his point.

“i would never do that sir.” a different voice cut in.

both you and your fathers heads whip around and you’re met with the sight of luke, looking very good in his suit.

“holy shit y/n you weren’t lying to me.” your dad says, walking up to where luke was standing to shake his hand. “let me tell you kid, i thought my daughter had lost her mind.” 

“dad. please stop.” you stated, annoyed at his behavior, finding a spot to stand next to luke. 

“right. sorry sweetie.” he said before turning his attention back towards luke. “have her home no later than midnight.” 

“yes sir.” luke stated, before your dad turned around and walked towards his car.

“so where are we going?” you ask. “you’re dressed like we’re going to a five star restaurant and i’m dressed like we’re going to a drive thru.” you explained, pointing to the major differences in your attire.

“i’ll meet you halfway.”

+++

“is it too late to tell you that i prefer qdoba?” you told luke as he pulled into the parking lot of a chipotle.

“i think i should take you home.” luke joked, before running around the car to open your door for you, slightly tripping in the process. 

“i should warn you though, i get queso and guac on my burritos.” you told him, knowing that he would be paying.

“what? that’s like an extra seven dollars.” he complains, holding the front door open for you to walk in.

“should’ve taken me to qdoba, it’s free there.” 

+++

the night went very well.

you and luke talked about anything and everything. 

it was fifteen minutes to midnight when luke pulled up in front of your house to say goodbye.

noticing that the lights were on, luke asked if your father really stayed up to see if he had brought you home on time.

“i can guarantee he is currently in his recliner and snoring.” you told luke before you both started walking up the porch steps.

“well i had lots of fun tonight. you should really send me a text whenever you’re bored at work, i can always use my celebrity status to get in while being underage.” luke said once you had made it to the front door.

“your C-list celebrity status?” you started.

“-oh come on, i’m a b-list at least.” he cut in.

“don’t you have better things to do than sit at a bar and drink orange juice?” you finished your thought.

“honestly no. i don’t have any friends in jersey that aren’t my teammates.”

“well if you ever want to go to a party or hang out with me and my friends you always can, just text me if you’re ever bored at home.” 

you said your proper goodbyes and once you stepped into your house you saw your father asleep in his recliner.

to: luke hughes

*image*

i told you he would be asleep. he would never know if we actually stayed out past curfew.

from: luke hughes

did you catch him mid snore in that photo? that’s honestly a violation.

+++

from: luke hughes

i’m bored.

to: luke hughes

what am i supposed to do about that?

from: luke hughes

😑😑😑

to: luke hughes

I’M KIDDING

to: luke hughes

do you not have a game tonight? because i’m planning on attending a frat party tonight if you would like to tag along.

to: luke hughes

unless you are now above frat parties after finishing school.

from: luke hughes

i’d love to join you.

to: luke hughes

great! i was planning on getting there at 10:30. do you just want to drive to my house? my friends are taking me btw and we could always just double buckle.

from: luke hughes

yea sure. what should i wear?

to: luke hughes

oh nothing too fancy just a tuxedo.

to: luke hughes

bowtie included.

from: luke hughes

i hate you.

+++

“will you all please promise to be nice to him and be on your best behavior? i think i actually like this one and i don’t him to be scared away.” you warned your friends who were currently in your room pregaming.

“hey don’t look at me, i’ll be nice as hell to your new boy toy.” your best friend, trinity, spoke. you rolled your eyes at her before looking at the boys who crowded on your floor.

“cal, bass, and tyler.” you spoke firmly, attempting to intimidate them. “i swear to god if any of you make him uncomfortable, all of my images and videos from syllabus week are getting posted on the main.”

“sir yes sir!” the three shouted in unison, only causing your eyes to roll back further into your head.

“just please be welcoming. talk to him, get to know him, do not force him to play rage cage if he does not want to.” you emphasized that last point at kade.

“if he doesn’t willingly play rage cage he isn’t the one for you y/n.”

you were about to make a snarky comment but were cut off by your phone going off.

from: luke hughes

hey i’m outside. should i knock or wait out here?

to: luke hughes

just come inside, front door is unlocked. 

to: luke hughes

we’re upstairs in my room, just follow the sound of shitty music. my friend bass has aux tonight.

you could feel the nerves bubbling up in your stomach. you hadn’t informed the group that your luke was luke hughes, they were all devils fans and were in the know about things so they definitely know who he is.

“he is coming upstairs right now, y’all i’m serious, best behavior.”

the sound of a knock made all five heads turn towards the door.

“no fucking way-”

“shut it!” you cut cal off. “hey luke, come in. there are shooters on my desk if you want something to pregame with. trinity is sober tonight so you don’t have to worry about driving.”

luke makes his way over to your dresser and grabs three shooters before making his way towards the spot next to you.

“everybody this is luke, luke this is everybody.” you motioned your hands back and forth. “tyler, cal, trinity, and bass.” 

you pointed to your friends, who were looking at the two of you with shock and disbelief on their faces, as you named them.

“let’s go to the party, i wanna play rage cage.” 

+++

“is bass your real name or is it just a nickname?” 

after arriving at the party you and your group established where trinity would be all night everyone started asking luke questions, the majority of them were about hockey and the nhl before you texted the groupchat and told them to shut their fucking mouths about his career.

“nickname. my name is sebastian, but this one-” bass grabs onto your shoulders and pulls you in front of him. “-says there is only one sebastian in her life and i am, unfortunately, not him so she started calling me bass and everybody else just latched onto it.”

you glared at him before speaking. “i was being sarcastic when i told you that, and you came up with the fucking nickname.”

“yeah, it’s not y/n’s fault you share a name with the love of her life and future husband.” tyler said, giggling after you hit his stomach.

“okay let’s go play rage cage, y’all need to shut up.” you said making your way outside, trinity informed everyone that she would stay in her spot and to text her if it is urgent. “luke do you play rage cage?”

it was an important question. 

sure most people favor cup pong or even flip up as a party game, but rage cage was what you and your friends dominated at every function.

“i have never played it before. haven’t even heard of it.” luke shrugged. 

everyone’s movements paused for a second before hell froze over.

“WHAT?”

“you’ve never heard of it?”

“what fucking school did you go to?”

“y/n get him out of my face.”

you weren’t even sure who said what, but luke had a slightly scared look on his face. 

“they’re joking luke, let me teach you how to play.”

+++

“so your future husband's name is sebastian? should i even continue pursuing you?” luke asked, jokingly, once you two were left alone in the backyard, tyler had drank one too many bitch cups and needed to be nursed back to health.

“i am most definitely not marrying him. he is six years older than me, lives hundreds of miles away, and also knows nothing of my existence.” you informed luke before finishing your drink. “you should definitely continue to pursue me.”

+++

from: luke hughes

are you coming to the game tonight?

from: luke hughes

i have a proposition for you, if you are.

to: luke hughes

i’m listening

from: luke hughes

you wear my jersey tonight, and in return i win the game.

from: luke hughes

it’s a win-win situation

to: luke hughes

yea for you. i get nothing out of it.

to: luke hughes

also i do not own a jersey with anyone’s name on it, let alone yours.

to: luke hughes

and you are NOT buying me one. if i want a jersey i will pay for it myself…or my father will.

from: luke hughes

fine.

from: luke hughes

but when you become my girlfriend you have to wear my jersey, no matter what.

to: luke hughes

okay, if i become your girlfriend i will wear your jersey.

from: luke hughes

not if, when.

to: luke hughes

i’ll see you tonight weirdo.

+++

“your boyfriend is waving at you.” 

“david shut up he isn’t my boyfriend.” you responded to your brother, shoving him.

you waved back at luke before his smile dropped and he pointed towards the jersey david was wearing. how you didn’t see the name and number on the back before? you didn’t know.

“are you seriously wearing luke’s jersey right now?” you placed your head in your hands knowing the conversation that would come of this. “he asks me to wear it before every home game and i never do, and now my own brother is wearing his jersey and not me.”

“why won’t you wear his jersey?” your brother asks, finishing off his beer. “-and don’t give me that bullshit answer of you never wear anyone’s jersey. you wear aho’s.”

“that’s because sebastian aho is sebastian aho.” you deadpanned. “there has never been a player, besides aho, that i have liked enough to wear their number. i’m not a fan of anyone…besides aho.”

“yeah, but luke’s your boyfriend.”

“oh my god he isn’t my boyfriend, do you ever listen to me? idiot.”

+++

“so your brother wears my jersey, but you don’t?” 

the sound of luke’s voice drew your attention away from the tab you were closing out at work. “i knew you were gonna show up tonight. remind me again why i decided to give you my schedule?”

“because i’m awesome.” luke answered, taking a seat in front of you. “-but of course not awesome enough for you to wear my jersey.”

“are we still on that?” you asked, handing luke a pop. 

“yes we are.” he stated blankly. “seriously i don’t understand why you won’t just wear my jersey. you said you didn’t want to pay for one, and that i couldn’t pay for one. but now that i know your brother has one i would very much appreciate it if you would wear it, to at least one game.”

“i’ll think about it.”

+++

your answer was no. that was three weeks ago and you still had yet to wear a jersey with the number forty three on the back.

tonight you were excited. 

the carolina hurricanes were playing the devils at the prudential center tonight and you and your friends all got seats behind the canes bench. none of them were canes fans, but this one the one game a year that you had the opportunity to sit near sebastian aho and you would be damned if you missed out on that opportunity. 

from: luke hughes

you coming tonight?

to: luke hughes

yeah.

to: luke hughes

so are trinity, bass, tyler, and cal.

from: luke hughes

oh great, i haven’t seen them in a bit.

from: luke hughes

are you guys going out after the game? it’s a friday night.

to: luke hughes

yes we are. cal’s frat is hosting this sport night thing if you wanna come with.

to: luke hughes

just bring a jersey to change into after the game.

from: luke hughes

oh crap i don’t own any jerseys.

to: luke hughes

you’re hilarious bud.

to: luke hughes

but just so you know i’m not sitting in my usual spot tonight. my brothers are sitting with my dad tonight.

+++

“no fucking way.”

that was the first thing you heard as you got in bass’ car.

“what?” you asked, everyone looked at you in disbelief.

“you are wearing aho’s jersey.” tyler replied, speaking for everyone in the car. “and you’re dating luke hughes.”

“i am not dating luke, you guys know that.” you deadpanned, you were getting sick and tired of people mistaking you for luke’s girlfriend. almost as much as you were sick and tired of not being luke’s girlfriend. “-and you also know that i am a loyal sebastian aho supporter before anything else.” you added the end in a lighter tone of voice. 

“alright, but when luke gets upset with you tonight you cannot be angry when we tell you we told you so.”

the rest of the car ride only one thing, a question, was on your mind, would he really get upset with you?

+++

“oh my god!”

“how many times are you gonna say oh my god tonight y/n?” trinity asked.

she had a point. it was like the only thing that was coming out of your mouth.

“never.” you deadpanned. “sebastian aho is right in front of me. my future husband is right in front of me.” you got more giddy by the end of your statement.

“oh wow y/n, you’re blushing.” cal poked your side. “that’s pathetic.”

“lover boy, two o’clock. does not look happy.”

you looked over to your right and saw luke looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read, but bass was right, he did not look happy.

+++

“GOAL!” you screamed, shooting up from your seat. “SUCK IT DEVILS!”

“alright calm down y/n.” tyler said, laughing at you.

“NO! sebastian aho just scored his second goal of the night, if he gets one more i’m gonna lose it.” you replied, sitting back down.

“oh god you haven’t lost it yet?”

+++

to: luke hughes

hey! sorry about the game, you played great :)

to: luke hughes

if you do want to come to the party we’ll be at this is the address.

to: luke hughes

12345 house street

to: luke hughes

i hope to see you there.

“so is your boyfriend coming tonight?” cal asked. 

“not my boyfriend.” you started. “and i don’t know. i just texted him the address for him to meet us there if he wants.”

“ok. real talk,” trinity started. “do you want him to be your boyfriend?” 

“i do-”

you were cut off by the screaming of your four friends.

“shut it.” you snapped, effectively shutting them up. “i do want him to be my boyfriend, but i have no idea if he wants me to be his girlfriend. i mean we’ve known each other for three months and he has talked about us dating in the past but he hasn’t asked me out yet and i don’t know if he ever will.” 

“y/n don’t be like that. i can tell by the way he looks at you and acts around you that he likes you, a lot, and also he looked jealous as hell when he saw whose jersey you were wearing tonight.” bass said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. 

“okay enough with the pity party, lets go to the party. i need a drink.” 

+++

from: luke hughes

not really in the mood for a party tonight. 

to: luke hughes

oh ok. 

to: luke hughes

well i’ll see you soon, yeah?

“luke isn’t coming tonight.” you told the group, an upset look rested on your face.

“oh…well it’s probably nothing. i wouldn’t want to go out and celebrate a loss.” trinity said, giving you a reassuring smile. 

“ok i seriously need a drink now.” 

+++

it has been over a week since the game and luke hasn’t spoken to you once. 

all texts have been left unanswered, he hasn’t come to visit you at work, and when you were at the game two days ago he didn’t look at you once.

you were working the closing shift tonight, and it was a monday so it was not very busy. in the past you would text luke and he would arrive as soon as he could, but you stopped attempting to communicate with luke two days ago, after the game. he made it clear he no longer wanted anything to do with you.

“y/n, someone is at the bar asking for you.” you looked up from the wall you were staring at in the office to see brian. “not the usual one though. did you and your boyfriend break up?” 

you had a little bit of hope that it was luke for just a moment, before brian told you it wasn’t him. “he’s not my boyfriend. never was.”

you stepped out of the back room to see the other hughes brother sitting at your bar.

“hello jack. what do i owe the pleasure?” you ask, planting yourself across from him.

“we need to talk about you and luke.” he replied curtly.

“there is no me and luke, he has made it very clear that he is no longer interested in being my friend anymore.” you said, pouring a drink for no one, you just needed something to do.

“that’s the thing. he does want to be your friend, more than that. this past week he has not shut up about you and how you guys weren’t talking anymore. what happened?” jack asked, grabbing the now finished drink and bringing it to his lips.

“i don’t even know. we were planning on going to this party at my friends frat together and then after your guys’ game against the hurricanes he flaked out and hasn’t spoken to me since. i’ve reached out and haven’t gotten anything back, i was at the game on saturday and he didn’t even look at me, so if he is upset that we aren’t talking then he is just upset with himself.” you took a moment to catch your breath before looking at jack.

“whose jersey did you wear to our game against the hurricanes?” 

“sebastian aho’s. why?”

jack let out a chuckle and shook his head. “makes sense. he was muttering stupid sebastian aho and fucking homewrecker the whole way home and bunkered himself in his room for days.” 

“i always refused to wear his jersey to games, or his anything, and now i’m realizing i probably pissed him off by wearing someone else’s name and number when i’ve been telling him the whole time i’ve known him that the reason i won’t wear his stuff is because i don’t wear anyones.” you told jack, pouring another drink.

“i wouldn’t say he is pissed off. he is definitely upset though.” jack starts, standing up. “i think you should come to our game this thursday-”

“i always go to your games.” you cut him off. “well come to our game this thursday wearing his jersey. i think that is all he wants…well that and you being his girlfriend.” jack finished, not giving you a chance to respond before walking out the front doors.

+++

“david please, just let me borrow your jersey for one night.” you begged your brother over the phone.

“no can do little sis. just go buy your own, i mean it might be beneficial to own your own luke hughes jersey when luke hughes is your boyfriend.”

“david i’m not even gonna say it, but seriously? where am i gonna find a jersey on such short notice?” “at literally any store in newark. walk down mainstreet and you’ll probably find five in the front window of shops.” david answers, the sarcastic tone in his voice pissing you off further.

“goodbye. i’m gonna go walk around looking for a jersey in the freezing cold now.”

+++

to: luke hughes

hey. i know we haven’t talked in a little bit but i spoke with your brother the other day. 

to: luke hughes

i’m going to the game tonight, if you would be willing to let me see you after i would really appreciate it.

to: luke hughes

i would like to talk to you.

+++

you weren’t able to find a jersey with luke’s number on it so you wore a blank jersey tonight, which kind of crushed your original plan for the evening, but you still had to try.

“are you sure sweetie? because i have no issue waiting until he shows up.” 

“yes dad, i’m sure. i’ll be fine, please go.” you assured your dad, pushing him towards his car.

it wasn’t until forty minutes later that you heard footsteps approaching you. you turned your head around and frowned at the sight of jack hughes walking your way.

“sorry i’m not the brother you wanted to see, but luke left as soon as he could and ubered back to our apartment.” 

you nodded in defeat. “thank you for telling me. i’ll just order myself an uber home then…tell luke i said good game and if he ever wants to talk he can message me.”

“why don’t you tell him yourself.”

+++

trinity would literally die if you told her whose car you were currently sitting shotgun in. 

“luke made it pretty clear he doesn’t want to talk to me, or even see me. i don’t think this is a good idea jack.”

jack had convinced you that the best thing to do in this situation was to confront luke directly. not as much convinced you, but rather offered you a ride home and said he had to make a stop on the way, that stop being his and luke’s place. 

“y/n luke is miserable not talking to you, and that is making me miserable.”

“well he wouldn’t be so miserable if he would just text me back, he is the one choosing to not speak to me. can we just get this over with? drive faster.”

+++

“luke’s room is down that hall, second door to the right.” jack informed you, you thanked him quietly before making your way to luke’s room. 

you knocked gently and got no response so you knocked again, a little harder.

“jack i’m not in the mood right now. go away.” 

you tried to speak up but nothing came out, so you just knocked again.

“jack i’m serious. this whole y/n situation is messing with my head, i played awful tonight and i just want to go to sleep.”

“well if it’s messing with you so much and making you as upset as jack says it is then maybe you should just text me back and we can figure out how to fix this.” you spoke, frustration clear in your tone. 

you didn’t give him the chance to respond before you made your way out of their apartment and towards the stairwell, ordering an uber as you ran down the steps.

once outside you saw that your uber was about five minutes away so you were forced to just stand there and wait. from: luke hughes

i’m sorry.

from: luke hughes

please come back up. 

to: luke hughes

no.

from: luke hughes

please. let's talk about this.

to: luke hughes

i’ve given you many chances in the past week for us to talk and you’ve ignored me each time.

to: luke hughes

it’s my turn to be upset now.

+++

that was two weeks ago and you haven’t seen or spoken to luke since.

you went to your mothers house is oregon for christmas and came back to new jersey today. 

the second you ended your gift exchange with your father you went up to your room and opened your texts with luke.

from: luke hughes

y/n i’m sorry.

from: luke hughes

please talk to me.

from: luke hughes

merry christmas, i got you a gift. i asked your coworker brian where you’ve been, he said it that you were spending christmas at your moms this year so i’ll give it to you when you get back.

from: luke hughes

please text me when you get back.

from: luke hughes

i need to see you.

you spent a few moments contemplating whether to send a text or to continue ignoring him, even if the later was driving you crazy.

before you could stop yourself you sent a message, and got one back immediately.

to: luke hughes

i’m back in newark.

from: luke hughes

on my way

you slightly panicked when you realized that after nearly a month of silence between the two of you, luke was now going to be in front of you and in your presence again. you didn’t know what you were going to say, worry filled you thinking about the many outcomes that could happen.

“sweetie, luke is at the door for you.”

you timidly stood up and took a deep breath or two before making your way downstairs. 

“hey luke, let’s go up to my room to talk.” 

luke nodded before stepping inside, giving your father a proper greeting before heading up the stairs.

“ok, so can you start off by telling me why you ghosted me for a full week?” you asked him once he had sat down on your hammock chair, you across from him on your bed.

“you wore someone else’s jersey.” luke started, letting out a deep breath afterwards. “after you told me for months that you never wear anyone’s jersey, so you wouldn’t wear mine.”

the sound of your friends yelling “i told you so” played in your head, but you pushed it aside to focus on what was happening in front of you.

luke was now in your closet, where he would find your many, many, aho items.

“luke please get out of my closet.” you were angry, he had no reason to be searching your things.

“how many things do you own of him. jesus.” luke said once he finally walked back into your bedroom. 

“luke i’m sorry that i lied to you about never wearing anyone else’s jersey, but is that seriously why you ignored me?” you were a little skeptical of his reasoning.

“why did you ignore me for multiple weeks?” luke ignored your question.

“because you were the one leaving me on read and skipping out on our plans, but then you went around telling people you were miserable not talking to me as if i was the one who failed to reach out and that made me angry. i gave you so many opportunities luke…and you didn’t take up any of them. so i got mad and i knew i was about to leave town for two weeks and i didn’t really wanna communicate with you during my vacation.”

“why did you lie to me?” luke asked, now taking a seat next to you on your bed.

“i honestly don’t know. i’ve only ever worn aho’s number, just feels weird wearing someone else’s. and i was being honest, other than aho, there has never been a player i like enough to wear their jersey until now.” you sat up from your spot and walked over to one of the gift boxes sitting on your floor, during your gift exchange with your dad you received a devils jersey with the number forty-three and hughes on the back as well as some shirts and hoodies with the same thing. “these were all gifted to me for christmas. i asked for them. i wanted to wear your jersey, i have for a while now, but i was just unsure of what it would mean. can you tell me why you got so angry?” you asked the question that had been on your mind for weeks.

“y/n i like you and i want you to be my girlfriend, i never asked you though because you wouldn’t even wear my fucking jersey no matter how much i begged you to so why would you say yes to being my girlfriend.”

“god luke again with the fucking jersey, i don’t get the big deal it’s just a piece of fabric.” you yelled, getting frustrated. 

“it means something! ok y/n, it means something.” he starts. “there is a difference between wearing a jersey as a fan and wearing a jersey as a girlfriend, something personal and intimate, and you won’t even wear my jersey as a fucking fan.”

it felt like you were talking in circles and it was driving you crazy. 

“that is what i’m saying luke. i didn’t ever wear your jersey because i didn’t know what it would mean. i didn’t know if we were friends or something more, and wearing your jersey could’ve given us both the wrong ideas.”

“what idea would it have given you?” luke asked, taking a step towards you.

“that i’m something more to you than a friend, and i didn’t want to think that because it isn’t true” you admitted the truth, it wasn’t that you didn’t want him getting the wrong idea, but rather yourself. “-and i don’t like to get my hopes up.” 

luke didn’t respond, he just sat there in silence for what felt like an hour, but was probably closer to three minutes.

“luke if you want to leave, just go. i’m sorry i ruined our friendship, i wish you the best in the rest of your career and life-” 

your words were cut off by lips touching yours, luke’s lips.

after a few moments you broke the kiss, not liking how fast it was progressing.

“luke what was that-”

“i like you, y/n. as more than a friend, that is why i wanted you to wear my jersey so badly. i wanted to feel special, because you have this rule about never wearing anybody’s jersey, but you wore mine and you wore mine because i mean something to you whether that be a friend or something more, i just wanted to feel like i meant something to you.” luke practically yelled, interrupting you.

“i feel like we are both making the same points, but just phrasing them differently each time.” you spoke, trying to choose your next words carefully. “what do we do now? how do we move past this?” 

“well, you could agree to go on a date with me and wear my jersey to the next home game. that would be a start.” luke offered, grabbing both of your hands. “-you could also let me kiss you again, i’d really like that.”

“deal.”

+++

“sweetie are you almost ready? we’re gonna miss warmups.”

“coming dad.” 

you quickly made your way downstairs, checking your appearance in the multiple mirrors you passed by on the way towards the car.

“wearing your boyfriend's jersey i see?” your father quipped once you got into the driver’s seat, he demanded you drive because you had just gotten a new car.

“not my boyfriend.” was all you said in response.

“still? that boy needs to grow a pair.”

from: luke hughes

are we still on for after the game? 

to: luke hughes

yup! meet me in the car park when you’re done?

from: luke hughes

👍

+++

after the game you parted ways with your father, him taking an uber home and leaving you with your car to drive you and luke around tonight. which isn’t traditional, especially for a first date, but you loved betty, your new car, and you wanted to drive her.

“wow the new car is dope y/n.” 

you turned around and saw jack and luke walking towards you, the older hughes speaking.

“-and nice jersey, next time wear an eighty six for me, yeah?” 

“never gonna happen jack.” luke started, before turning his attention to you. “you ready to go?” 

“yes i am, you can put your bag in the trunk.” i opened up the trunk with my keys before getting in the driver's seat. “where are we going?” 

“i’ll give you directions as you drive.” luke said, plugging his phone into the aux.

+++

a few minutes later you pulled into a qdoba. 

“wow you know me so well hughes.”

“i just didn’t feel like paying extra for your queso and guac.” luke deadpanned.

“yeah right, i know i’m turning you into a qdoba enjoyer.” you teased as you entered the restaurant.

after getting our food luke gave me an address of where to drive for our late night picnic. it was a lookout place that luke had found when he first moved here, you had been here multiple times as well and knew of a good place to sit.

“follow me” you hopped over the barbed wire fence and waited until luke made it over to start walking again.

“are you sure this is allowed?” luke whispered.

“i know for a fact that it is not, but it’s fine no one is here right now it’s after dark.” you said back at full volume, earning a loud shhhh from luke in the process.

you walked a little bit more before you made it to your favorite ledge, you could see all of newark from here and a little bit of new york, but when you looked up there was a perfect view of the stars.

“how did you find this place?” luke asked, digging into his food.

“i was hiding from the cops one night and me and tyler ended up here.” luke’s eyes widened at your story. “i’ll tell you more about that later, but ever since i’ve been coming here.” 

we continued to eat and talk about random things until it was time to go.

“we should probably go, it’s nearly midnight.” 

+++

once you finished the drive back to luke’s apartment you got out of the car to say your goodbyes.

“well i had a lot of fun tonight, we should do it-” luke cut you off by kissing you. “you have to stop doing that.” you teased.

“sorry, it’s just that you look really good in my jersey, like really good. i was struggling not to jump over the glass when i saw you during warmups.” luke admitted, going in for another kiss. “look y/n, i was wondering if you maybe wanted to be my girlfriend?” a blush crept up luke’s neck as he spoke.

“i would love that.” you replied, a blush spread across your cheeks.

we said our goodbyes and you drove home, not expecting your father to be awake on the couch.

“oh you’re awake?” you asked, taking your shoes off.

“yeah just wanted to make sure you were safe.” your dad replied. “how is your boyfriend?”

“he is great.” you replied smiling, not correcting him for once because now he really was your boyfriend.

+++

note: BOOOO HAPPINESS no but this literally took me a month to finish because i had absolutely no energy and no inspo to write anything. idk if i like this yet…but ANYWAYS hope y’all enjoyed, leave feedback, have a great day, love y’all babes. 

[pt2change]

my only one — park jihyo

pairing: mom!jihyo x mom!reader

genre: parents au, fluff, jihyo gets jealous, and it’s ceo!jihyo, she’s a hardworking woman, but always makes time for her family: ’))

word count: 1,060

↣ jihyo masterlist

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

it’s honestly not jihyo’s fault that she has to work on jay’s first day of kindergarten……

she was supposed to have the day off but things happened at the office and now she HAS to go in

but she put on a brave face and acted like it didn’t matter

……

but it did!!!!!

in fact she even cried out of frustration while she showered

she was missing her son’s first ever day of school

jihyo saw him in the morning before leaving and she just couldn’t bare the thought of missing him when he gets out in the afternoon :(

you and jihyo lived a few streets down from the school, so you ended up walking jay to school in the morning

you told jihyo that you were able to pick him up again when he gets out

which was fine but jihyo hoped she would make it out early

it’s 3pm when jihyo finds herself parked in front of the school waiting for you and jay so you could all ride home together

she leans on outside of her car after receiving your text about being at the entrance of the school waiting for the bell to ring

and minutes later the bell rings and jihyo spots jay walking out with his large backpack on

jihyo just can’t help but smile to herself when she sees the backpack bouncing up and down on his shoulders

or how his hair is ruffled compared to how nice and sleek it was this morning

or how he’s talking and laughing with another boy who jihyo assumes must be is a classmate

as jihyo looks past her son, shortly behind him is you, and her heart begins to flutter

you and jihyo met during a college class you both shared, and it took you both a while to come to terms with your feelings for each other and begin dating

3 years later and jihyo decided to propose, and that’s where you both are now; happily married with a little boy

and jihyo couldn’t be happier with how her future turned out

you were glowing, having your eyes set on your son as you talked with a man…

a man who jihyo can only assume was the father of the other boy jay was playing with

jihyo leans off her car and crosses her arms

and when you bend over slightly to hear what jay is trying to you amongst all the commotion of the other kids yelling and laughing

that’s when jihyo notices the man eyeing you up and down….

jihyo feels a hint of jealousy and anger because he totally just checked you out…..

and you turn back to the man to speak to him quickly, jay looks around and sees jihyo standing by her car

jay’s entire face lights up, “mommy!”

and jihyo pouts and feels her heart flutter again at the sight of her son running towards her

she squats down, opening her arms in time for jay to cling onto her, “hi baby”

she wraps her arms around jay and his tiny hands latched onto the back of jihyo’s shoulders

you smile to yourself as you watch from a distance

as you watch your wife and son hug, you notice jihyo staring at you

so you say goodbye to the man you had been making small conversation with and begin walking towards jihyo and jay

jihyo glares over to the tall man who’s holding his child’s hand

….. and he is checking out your ass as your walking towards her

jihyo’s focus changes when she hears your voice, “i thought it was just gonna be me picking him up”

and jihyo hikes jay on her hip, “i couldn’t miss the chance of picking him up on his first day”

she tickles his side making him giggle uncontrollably

right when you get closer to jihyo, she uses her spare hand to pull you in and gives you a hard, deep kiss

you laugh against her lips and and tap her on the shoulder, pushing her away slightly

your cheeks heat up, “hey, there’s people watching!”

jihyo lowers her hand to your waist, and grins “good”

and that’s when you put 2 and 2 together

“oh my god,” you cover your mouth as you let out a laugh, “you’re jealous”

jihyo shakes her head no, but you raise your eyebrows at her

she smacks her lips together, “he was staring at your ass!”

there’s a small gasp from jay’s mouth, “ooo, mommy said a bad word”

you open your lips and look back and forth between your wife and son

you furrowed your eyebrows, “yeah, mommy’s gonna be in trouble for saying a bad word”

jihyo faces jay, “oh you’re gonna snitch on me, huh?”

she tickles him again, and he squirms out of her grip and runs over to you holding your hand

you walk with jay to the back of the car and open the door, buckling him in

jihyo closes the car door, and right before she walks over to the drivers side you grab her by the hips

you kiss her softly, wrapping one hand around her waist and the other around her shoulders

you pull away from her soft lips and smile at her, “don’t be so jealous, babe. no one can ever make me feel the way you do.”

jihyo pecks your cheek, “you’re gonna make it up to me later.”

you nodded getting into the passenger seat, and jihyo makes her way around to the drivers side

and just before she gets in, she waves at the other parent who you had been speaking to.

……..

………

when it’s 11 pm and you and jihyo are laying next to each other in bed, she presses your side

“so what did you two talk about?”

you jokingly roll your eyes, “oh my god, you’re so jealous, it’s not even funny anymore.”

jihyo lays her arm over your abdomen, “but i just want to kn-”

she stops talking when you’ve turned to face her

“you know what?” you reach over to her give her a peck on the cheek

you move down to her neck and start kissing it slowly, “i’m pretty sure i have to make it up to now, huh?”

and you place kisses all over her neck and shoulders

“mmhm, you do”

[justevelynnnn]

My domestic poolverine hcs

warnings: logan stabs wade (ofc) and a sprinkle of profanity

A/N: i wanna do a part 2 to this but i have no ideas😭 if yall have any ideas lmk 💔 also this is barely proofread and my excuse is that i’m a busy college student

- It took a month for Logan to get used to his new home. It was Althea, Wade ofc, Mary puppins and himself. Full house.

- Logan stayed on the couch that whole first month because Wade and Althea had taken both the rooms already. Some nights he had Mary puppins lay on the couch with him.

- Eventually, Wade and Logan started sharing his bed after Wade begged logan for weeks and days

-Both of them would unconsciously fight over the sheets and bed space over night

- They also would deal with each other’s nightmares :(

- Also Logan snores….LOUD.

- Logan didn’t admit it but it was nice to sleep next to someone that wasn’t a dog or some random person he was fucking. Just someone he could really trust for once. Who had his back and best interest in mind.

- Wade was the cook until Logan showed up

- The first day Logan tried Wade’s cooking he was just like “Nope nope nope” and got up and showed Wade how to really cook

- Another wolverine secret, He was damn good cook

- Ofc, due to the 200 years of living blah blah blah

- So now Logan cooks just about everything for everyone

- Althea was happy she didn’t have to deal with Wade’s horrible food anymore and Wade was happy he had a little house wife that would cook for him when he got off work

- Just kidding…okay maybe…..

- Mary puppins also took some getting used to too

- She would bark and bark and whine for nicepool sometimes

- Wade did his best to comfort her but it wasn’t the same and nothing worked. Not the bones or new toys or silly outfits he bought her.. just nothing

- Logan, however, was okish with dogs so he knew to just let her and make little cooing noises to soothe her

- Wade damn near melted at the sight…it was sooooooo cute! He got Althea to take a picture one day for him while he was at work

- “If you hear Logan calming Mary puppins down again take a picture for me, okay? Very important! Are you listening?”

- Althea was half awake since it was morning before Wade went to work but was just like, okay whatever bye

- The picture was crooked and logan and the dog were barely in the frame.

- It still went on the fridge though!

- And many more pictures on the fridge like…

- Logan sleeping with a permanent marker mustache on his face!

- Andddd Family game night !

- And a crayon picture of Wade, Althea, Logan and Mary puppins

- There we’re also polaroids all over the house of little moments like this and also Laura when she came over

- Wade was really digging this new family thing and so was Logan he just was never gonna say it

- Pranks were also frequent

- Logan Howlett did not do pranks. Not before the x-men, during or after. So his reactions of course were way funnier.

- One was the use of random airhorns by Wade and Althea in the middle of the night, one by each of Logan’s ears as he slept. Logan jumped out of bed slashing the air angrily with his claws, swearing like they were the only words he knew. Althea was a bit more scared than Wade but still found it funny.

- Logan stabbed Wade multiple times after that.

- Another prank was Wade pulling one of those “fake news of the end of the world announcements on tv” things where he got a fake video of a government announcement saying the world was ending and because Logan barely understood technology he fully believed it and was wide eyed and quiet

- Once he started pacing with his arms on his hips Wade could barely keep a straight face

- Finally a super serious and stressed Logan goes, “You think this is fucking funny, mouth?!”

- Wade died.

- He never laughed this hard in his life. He almost ran out of air and his sides actually hurt a bit but of course healed quickly.

- Logan still didn’t get it just crossed his arms in confusion. When Althea told him Wade pranked him yet again, he threw Wade through the wall and Wade fell to the bottom floor. Ouch. But so worth it.

- When Wade came back upstairs Logan cussed him out but Canadian style because he was that mad which killed him again and he just fell back down somehow

- Random tickle fights would happen but not a lot because when Wade got to Logan he would get stabbed as Logan laughed uncontrollably

- Althea would also hate it but would laugh at least in the beginning and then start hitting wade in the face when she had enough

- Only mary puppins liked it and that’s cause she thought she was getting pets

- Laundry day was also interesting

- Wade barely did laundry on the account of working and “fighting crime” and also because he hated doing chores

- Althea couldn’t see so even when she tried to fold clothes they’d be sloppy and put in the wrong places and just no

- So logan had to step up for that too

- And surprise surprise things would be folded so neat and clean

- Sometimes though when laundry day approached but clothes were running low the two men would just share clothes

- Never boxers even if Wade insisted over and over and over

- But shirts most of the time

- So sometimes Logan’s just in a ridiculous shirt of Wade’s

- Sometimes it’s the one with the words “two seater” with the arrows pointing up and down

- Sometimes it’s a pink shirt that is like too tight?

- They also share pants, socks and pajama pants but though they each only have like 5 pair of each cause yknow…men..

- But all of the silliness and randomness that is moving in with Wade Wilson aside, Logan adjusted nicely, loving his new home and family ❤️

[c0la-queen]

Hellooo! I just found your page and saw that you write eddsworld stuff! (It’s hard to find fics like yours) and I was reading some of it and I just had a request I wanted to ask (if you don’t mind :D) okay so imagine tords father being actually affectionate with his wife (in private of course) but not just like kisses and stuff he’s LITERALLY all over his wife and is literally not afraid to drag her into the bedroom and tries to tell tord to be like that with his future wife! Btw I love all your fics I’m still reading them now lol

Okay this is a little funny to me because I'm just imagining my version of Tord except he has zero to minimal amounts of daddy issues compared to what he has in my usual timeline. So for this ask, we're delving into Tord: Healthy Family Edition. (Also I am so sorry for being dead. I'm a freshman going to college for the first time and have been adapting to everything!! You guys' support and patience means everything to me!)

--

So we're running off the scenario I gave in my Red Leader dating headcanons. If you haven't read that, see my General Dating Headcanons post.

If you're not interesting in reading that, which I totally understand, here's a brief summary of how Red Leader and Reader met:

Reader starts out as Red Leader's personal secretary. He's notorious for having such a horrible temper that he runs through secretaries like Sarah Boone ran through lawyers (true crime joke, sorry). However, Reader handled his temper and returned it to him tenfold, earning his respect and eventually his love.

Now, in this world, Tord actually had a healthy family life. As the ask said, his father was very openly affectionate and in love with Tord's mother when in private. With Tord and his younger sister, it was what you'd see from parents in media that were happy and in love. Open PDA, frequent dates, and compliments galore. Tord's father, as the Red Leader, would shower Tord's mother in gifts - the finest jewelry in whichever metal she preferred, luxury chocolates, trips to different countries, etc. But it wasn't always money. He spoiled her in other ways, too. Filling the house with vases of her favorite flowers. Giving her massages in the privacy of their bedroom if she was sore. Doing everything in the house on days when she's especially tired. When his mother was pregnant with Tord's younger sister, his father's already heavy spoiling was increased tenfold. Tord was old enough to perceive the world at that point, so his father made sure to hammer into his brain that when his future wife is pregnant, he needs to treat her like a goddess incarnate. Tord took that to heart.

When Tord got older - about his teenage years, maybe around when his father had "the talk" with him (he had no idea Tord didn't need "the talk" and that he had been exposed to copious amounts of hentai when he was 15) - his father started to teach Tord how he expected him to treat his future wife all the time. Of course, Tord had grown up seeing how his father lavished on his mother. But there were some parts that he didn't quite understand as a child that his father clarified. Like his mother's periods! His father taught Tord that while all periods were experienced differently, there were a few different things that generally all period-havers enjoyed. I recently saw a TikTok where a woman said "however much you're spoiling your girlfriend during her period, I want you to triple it." This is something that Tord's father would say to him.

As for bedroom happenings, Tord's parents would do what good parents should do and make sure that the kids are never exposed to that part of their lives. When they're old enough to know what sex even is, Tord wants NOTHING to do with even thinking about his parents having sex. It sends shivers down his spine. For your pleasure as the dear readers on the other side of the screen, I will just say - Tord definitely got his father's genetics <3. Tord's mother was a very content woman.

Back to present day Red Leader (Tord, not his father), there are two stages to his relationship with Reader. The first stage is when they're still dating. Well,, dating in Reader's eyes. As I said in the general headcanons, Red Leader sees dating Reader as an unneeded formality. But Reader, being sensible, still wanted to take it slow instead of jumping straight into marriage. She would continue to work as his personal secretary - its his fucking army, whose going to stop him? The HR department isn't going to say anything since they're both consenting adults and any soldier who is stupid enough to try to accuse Reader of being a gold-digger is going to be cleaning every bathroom on base for a month.

Where it differs in this timeline is that Red Leader wouldn't try to keep a professional air around you in public. He'll come up behind you and wrap his arms around your torso, resting his chin on your shoulder. It doesn't matter if you're talking to another soldier about some paperwork or some other red tape nonsense. If the soldier you're talking to has any objections, they're quickly silenced by Red Leader's piercing stare. They're not risking putting their ass on the line. If you berate him for it afterwards, Red Leader will just pout and whine like a petulant child. He was getting bored doing paperwork and just wanted to hold you, how is that a problem :( He's so protective of you and is even more open about it now. He'll give you at least one body guard if you're going somewhere without him. Makes sure that you're exempt from normal soldier duties because HIS darling should only be tending to him and that's it. He openly shows so much favoritism toward you that even if you two were trying to keep your relationship a secret, every soldier was able to see it within like a week.

Once you two are married, you don't have the option of still getting to be a soldier. Red Leader will let you have whatever hobby you want - no matter how strange, niche, or complex it is, he'll fund it just to make you happy - but you're not going to be doing ANY kind of work if he has anything to say about it. Even if you just end up sleeping through most of the day, he's perfectly content to let you nap the day away all safe and cuddled up in his luxury satin bedsheets. Shows so much PDA all the time. Doesn't matter where you are or who is there. If you're in the base and some soldiers come into Red's office for something, he'll talk to them with a straight face while you lounge on his lap doing something or other. Discussion over drinks with an ally world leader of his? He'll still have you pulled flush to his side with his arm around your waist. Out in public with cameras on you? You bet your ass he'll still pull you in for a sweet, chaste kiss or press his lips to your temple as a silent reminder that he loves you.

Took all his father's advice to heart. You are the most spoiled person on the entire planet, you think. Cleopatra would be so envious with the way that you had Red Leader falling to his knees at your feet just to make you happy. Anything you want, anything at all, he'll get it for you. There has been multiple times where you were craving something specific from a certain country and Red Leader made it his mission to fly out to that country just to get you your craving. All the same kinds of presents that he watched his father shower on his mother - he would get for you, too. Jewelry in your favorite gemstones or ones that matched your eyes. Diamonds in every form, shape, and size. Clothing made of the finest imported materials. Desserts from around the world that were made for queens. Hundreds of dollars of perfumes in your favorite scents. Anything and everything just for you.

Takes your periods very seriously. He somehow knows your cycle better than you do. Tracks it like his life depends on it. He knows that your period is coming days before you're even aware that its time. The morning it starts, he's already got everything on hand. Whatever things work best for your period. A heating pad or ice packs, a bottle of Midol, and every snack and drink that you crave. He'll have the base kitchens make bulk desserts just to have on hand for you. Ice cream is already in the freezer. You're aching or bloated? The bath is already full and has your favorite bath oils added. That metal arm does wonders to massage your aching muscles. If you need something weighted for your cramps, what better than a buff soldier to lie on top of you! (If you need any kind of release, Red Leader isn't afraid of a little blood ;3)

If you ever get pregnant? Forget ever getting up for any reason other than daily exercise that's healthy for you and the baby. Even then, you're only allowed to walk around you and Red Leader's living quarters or out in the grassy training grounds with Red Leader by your side the entire time. Other than that, you are confined to bed or couch rest at all times. You are literally growing his child every hour of the day for the next nine months. Red Leader doesn't want you even thinking of doing anything other than resting and being the amazing person that you are. He'll do everything that the base doctors said would be good for you and the baby. He makes vitamin and herbal drinks for you, gets you every craving, and makes sure you're at top health. He deals with your shifting hormones without ever making a fuss. The affection is cranked to maximum - with the gift-giving having the added bonus of baby oriented items. He was never happier than when he sat on the floor of the nursery, putting together your new IKEA crib while you researched nursery themes on Pinterest in the plush chair against the wall. Not to mention, he increased base security more than ever during those nine months. He didn't want any of his enemies even sneezing within 1,000 miles of the base without him knowing about it. Not when the love of his life was more vulnerable and fragile than ever.

Tord's father in this timeline would be proud of the man he raised. Women are a gift to this world and deserve to be treated as such. Reader is Tord's entire world and he wants her to feel like it.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - A House Is Not A Home Part 1/8

It's finally here! So excited for this new fic!😊😊

Ruben's wife dies during childbirth along with their son. Ruben hasn't been in a relationship since. Y/N is a single mother to a four year old boy. She buys a house in the small town that Ruben lives in. The house needs alot of fixing which Ruben helps with, resulting in him slowly falling in love with Y/N. However, falling in love with Y/N makes Ruben feel like he is betraying his dead wife.

Enjoy!

You were stringing along an old country road on your way to your knew house. The gravel made the tires swerve beneath you but your grandpa's old Chevrolet was up for the challenge. It would be dark soon and light rain already tapped the car windows. By the time you arrived at the adress that you had been given, the breathtaking landscape was already swallowed by the night, preventing you from seeing anything beyond a two kilometer ratio. From the driveway of the house you could see a shed rising in the fields. Must be the barn, you thought. You had been informed that there would be a barn. You didn't own any animals but you could do other things with it, like turn it into an atelier to hold your art.

"Shit!"

You rushed towards the house as the rain was pouring now. Upon turning the key in the lock you were welcomed into a dark house with silhouettes of overcast furnitures.

"Shit."

You were told that the house was left furnished for the next owner, however you had not been informed about the absence of electricity. Seeing as there was a storm, you suspected a power outage. Despite this knowledge you kept flipping the switch, with nothing happening. The house remained in darkness.

"Come on." You sighed. It had already been long journey and all you longed for was a hot shower before bed. Getting started on the house would have to wait until tomorrow.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for a Ruben Dias?"

In case of any emergency, you had been informed to call the number of a local bar, perhaps the only bar in what appered to be a very small town. Despite the storm it only took you a couple of minutes to arrive. Since there was no power you hadn't been able to call. You had entered the semi full bar, asking for the name that was written next to the number you had been given.

"How can I help you sweetheart?" Said the man tending the bar. It was a Saturday night and the bartender found a way to take the next man's drink order, at the same time give you his full attention.

"A...are you Mr Dias?"

"Dias?" The man snorted. He looked to be in his late fifties, but it was hard to tell because of his vibrant personality and youthful smile. "As in Ruben Dias?"

"Yes. Are you him?"

The man laughed. "I'm afraid not. You won't get a hold of him tonight, I promise you that."

"B...but I was given his number to call in case of an emergency. I just moved into the house down the road but because of the storm I have no power."

"No?" The man looked genuinely concerned. "I'll see what I can do." He took a step back from the bar, grabbing the home line that hung on the wall behind him. As a call was made you took a seat in one of the stools before the counter, curiously turning your head. The people here looked different from the ones in your hometown. People back home looked more diversed, and younger some how. On a Saturday night like this one the bars back home would be swirling with loud college grads and well dressed people from the city. The people in this town looked old, you observed. At least the majority of them appered to be over forty years of age. There was a young man though, sitting on a stool not too far from you. Sitting was the wrong word to explain his posture. The man lay passed out drunk, his limb body collapsed upon the bar counter. He appeared to be asleep, snoring peaceful despite the noise around him. He wore flannel, typical attire for the majority of the men in the bar. It seemed to be the typical attire for all men of small towns in the English country. That and heavy boots that came in handy during their hard labor. To your surprise the drunk man wore black sneakers, Converse, for those who are interested in knowing the brand. As you focused more on the man's facial features you could tell that he was handsome. Beyond his thick beard and untamed hair, lay a young man with fair skin.

"Alright..." Said the bartender as he hung up the phone. He had noted your fixation of the man laying passed out on his bar table, causing you to feel embarrassed for staring. "My wife is on her way. She can help you." He said.

"Is she an electrician?"

Again the man's face flared up along his marvelous laughter. "No she is not, but I dare see her try. She is truly stubborn like that."

"Why is she coming then? How could she possibly help me?"

"Well, you are in a need of a place to stay, are you not?"

Because of the power outage you had no place to stay for the night. At least not if you wanted somewhere dry and warm to sleep.

"I would've taken you to her myself, but as you can see..." The man gestured at the sea of people before him. "....I am a little busy."

"Aren't there any hotels in town?"

Not to be rude, but the thought of being taken in by strangers automatically raised a red flag within you.

"Hotel?" The man frowned. "Aren't those for tourists, thought you were a local now?" There was a twinkle in his eyes, one that instantly made you feel at ease.

"What are you drinking sweetheart?" He asked, grabbing a glass from a trey.

"Um...somthing hot." You were shivering in your seat, your hair still wet from the rain.

"Tequila shot?"

"Not that kind of hot." You laughed.

"Hot chocolate it is." He winked, disappearing into the kitchen in the back. He would return with the tastiest hot chocolate that you had ever had.

"Oh poor girl..."

The bartenders wife arrived a few minutes later. She was a short and plump woman with platinum white hair.

"David, get her a towel." She said, ushering her husband back into the kitchen. Whilst he was gone you two made acquaintance. You told her your name and she told you hers, which was Katarina. You told her about moving into town and the power outage at your house, most likely caused by the storm.

"Not the warmest welcome huh?" She chuckled as she tried to warm you up with a blanket that had been draped over your shoulders. Her husband, David, returned with a towel, actually a table cloth, for your hair.

"Make sure to tell Ruben to come by early tomorrow." Katarina told her husband. "He might have to help Y/N clear up her yard after the storm."

At least they didn't lack hospitality in this town, you thought.

"Alright Y/N, I'm taking you home with me so you can take a hot shower and get yourself cleaned up."

"That's so kind of you, thank you."

You stood, your body shivering with cold. Katarina held you close, ready to escort you out of the bar. She turned to her husband. "You make sure he gets home too." She said, reffering to the man passed out drunk by the bar.

"Always. " David winked.

They were so kind and thoughtful here, you thought. You already felt at home.

[spicyllewyn]

Kinktober 4. - Almost getting caught.

Abel Morales x F!Reader.

Tags & warnings. Almost getting caught + cheating. (+18)

Word count. 2k

Summary. But he was so stressed, what were you supposed to do?

Kinktober masterlist.

The title you'd give yourself in Abel's life was complicated.

His friend, maybe? You had grown up in the same neighborhood; during college, you crossed paths and greeted each other as if you'd been best friends for life.

His co-worker? Well, it was that same friendship that led him to do you a personal favor by giving you a job a few years later, without even asking how much experience you had in the field.

His lover? Perhaps that would be the most appropriate, as it was your shared history that had led you down this irreversible path.

It wasn't fair to any of the three of you, but you were so in love.

The business hadn't been doing well lately; robberies and the city's corruption were slowly consuming it, and for a while, you didn't know how to console him each time you saw him suppress his urge to go crazy in order to stay on what he called "the right path."

Abel's morals were questionable in bed, but in his work, no one doubted him.

"You know I can lend you money if you need it, right?" His living room was incredibly uncomfortable, but at least his wife bought good wine. You drank from your glass, staining it with lipstick once more.

"I told you I don't need it, amor." He sighed heavily as his hands massaged one of your feet. It tickled.

The truth was, over time, both of you had become more brazen about your affair. You could assure with your eyes closed that Anna knew very well what was going on. You could feel it when you greeted her, and she squeezed her fingers around your hand as if she wanted to break it.

"This is too much for you." You said softly, finishing your wine in one gulp as your other foot rubbed against his thigh.

He didn't say anything. You weren't exaggerating; he felt tired. The kind of exhaustion that wouldn't go away even if he slept for two months straight.

You forced him to release your ankle so you could stand up, and he groaned in response, making you laugh. You placed your empty glass on the coffee table in front of the couch and knelt delicately in front of him on that lovely carpet his wife had surely chosen.

He spread his legs wider and leaned enough to face you, him looking down, you looking up.

His features were beautiful from any angle. You couldn't resist your urge to smile at him as he placed one of his hands on your neck, his thumb slowly caressing your jawline.

"I'll help you with whatever you need," your voice was soft, sultry. You gently held his wrist, guiding his hand across your face until his thumb left your jaw and began tracing your lower lip. "Always."

You couldn't say anything more before his thumb slipped between your lips, and you welcomed it cheerfully. You let him explore your tongue before sucking on it a bit; had you known that's what he needed to feel better, you would have dropped to your knees as soon as you got to his home.

"You are going to be the death of me," he whispered, not taking his eyes off the vulgar and dirty way your mouth played with his thumb. "You know it, don't you, preciosa?"

You nodded slowly with the threat of a smile. It wasn't until he pulled his finger out of your mouth with a small pop and a strand of your saliva connected to your lips that he could see you smile.

Abel could swear that your eyes sparkled in a special way when you were with him, and he always wondered if that was one of the many reasons he couldn't stay away from you.

"I'll take care of it," you said, placing a hand on his chest to give him a very gentle push, just a way to ask him to lean back on the sofa; he did. "It's been tough days, hasn't it, baby?" You pouted slightly as your fingers loosened his tie.

A smile formed on his lips; you knew exactly how to play your cards when it came to him. He nodded.

"Always working so hard." Your hands slid slowly over his abdomen, the fabric of his shirt outlining the muscles beneath. Did you ever tell him that his morning runs were doing their job? You continued your path until you reached the waistband of his pants. "Without ever getting a reward." A tug, and the button of his expensive pants was on the floor.

Abel had his lower lip between his teeth as he watched you, a rebellious curl falling on his forehead that he brushed away with one hand.

"Tú eres mi recompensa."

You wished his words didn't stir your heart the way they did, you wished he gave you a reason to end this once and for all, but it was impossible not to love Abel Morales. In fact, "impossible" fell short.

He helped you by lifting his hips so you could lower his clothes to the middle of his thighs. His erection was released instantly, it wasn't a surprise that it was already hard enough for it to hit his abdomen as if begging for you attention.

“Such a sweet talker, huh?” You spit into your hand so you could take it in it. He groaned almost immediately. Your fingers couldn't go around him completely but he had told you a thousand times that he loved how delicate they were.

At this point, you were already aware of the things that drove him crazy, you confirmed it when you gave him a light squeeze and he grunted again, before setting a slow pace up and down.

"Stop playing around, hermosa." It sounded like an order but the way he licked his lips and the air got caught in his throat seemed anything but intimidating.

He hissed as your thumb traced the head of his member, smearing his precum on it.

“But you love it when I do this.” You pouted a little, putting more pressure on your fingers, holding them still at the top of his length.

He knew well what to do. His hips began to move slowly, pretending to fuck your hand.

You could see how it slid into the poor excuse of a hole that you were simulating with your fingers. It would be a lie to say that you couldn't look at it for hours, the way the tip turned red announcing that it was more sensitive now and the way it suffered little spasms of pleasure every now and then.

“Hermosa, por favor.” His huge brown eyes fixed on you, desperate. "Por favor."

He was so pretty when he pleaded. It made you feel a strange kind of power, like he was completely yours.

Very often you questioned if he also begged Anna that way.

You repeated the path of your thumb with your tongue, tracing small circles around the head, collecting in it the small pearls of pre-cum that a long time ago seemed to not stop coming out.

Abel's body was begging for a way to de-stress and you were doing the job perfectly.

You placed small wet kisses on the area before finally settling on your knees at a more comfortable angle, you closed your lips so you could use the tip of his cock to force them open.

He moaned, loudly.

"Mierda." He babbled with his eyes closed, his back comfortably leaning against the couch as you worked between his legs. “That's it, preciosa, just like that.”

You were halfway there when you took a deep breath through your nose. It was funny to remember how it choked you the first few times, how you had to hide your gagging or immediately wipe the tears from your eyes because it was too much for you.

His fingers tangled in your hair and he pushed you down, making you take him whole. Fortunately, you already had experience. You pretended to swallow, knowing full well that your throat muscles would contract around him.

"No, no, no." He growled. He didn't want to finish quickly and you were pushing him to the limit. He had his eyes closed as he held you down, practically cockwarming him by obeying his requests and not moving.

The tip of your nose was pressing against his lower abdomen, and you only held out a little longer before you gave him a couple of smacks on his thigh to get him to let you go.

The sight of your face always seemed to be almost enough to make him finish. The saliva pooling in your mouth ran down the side of your it, a trickle of it connected to his member before you broke it apart by licking your lips.

"Vas a matarme." He repeated almost sounding desperate as you licked, kissed and sucked one of his balls to your liking,

You also hit your tongue with it. Anything to prolong his pleasure.

You slid your tongue from the base to the tip before taking him back into your mouth in one motion. Your eyes were watering as his hands forced you to stay down for a longer period of time.

The main gate that led to the house opened. The sound of metal alerting you both.

You were about to get up but his fingers wouldn't let you and you understood what he wanted.

You didn't waste time and you started to bob your head up and down swallowing him whole each time. You didn't care about the way the tears ran down your cheeks from the strain of your throat.

He thrust his hips at the perfect rhythm, when you went down he went up and when he went down you went up, he was fucking your mouth without mercy even when the lights of the blonde's car illuminated the living room, waiting for the garage door to finish opening.

“We can’t make a, a-ah, carajo, mess.” He babbled quietly, barely enough for you to hear. “Swallow it all, preciosa.”

The muscles of your throat once again gave him that death grip that drove him crazy, making him cum. His warm spend was swallowed by you instantly since you had no choice, it was being shot straight down your throat.

You stayed still as his erection stopped twitching inside your mouth, constantly taking in air through your nose. You didn't have time for anything, you could swear it was the blink of an eye as he pushed himself out of your mouth and helped you to your feet.

He closed his pants only with the zipper and you adjusted your clothes still licking your lips.

“Hey, what are we celebrating?” Anna said when the door finally opened, her gaze on both of you with that fake smile that you already recognized perfectly.

You slowly turned to face her, wiping the edge of your mouth with your thumb. You smiled back.

Abel couldn't hide his after sex glow even if he ripped his face off with his fingers. That dopey smile, his cheeks flushed with messy hair.

“I thought you would be at your mother's house until tomorrow.”

"Well." The blonde dropped her keys on the nearest piece of furniture, her gaze never leaving you. "Clearly that's what you thought, Abel."

“We were just chatting.” He answered for you as you picked your heels off the floor, trying not to be part of the chatter going on next to you. “They hijacked another of our trucks.”

You had to swallow your smile when the excuse of work became an excellent distraction for your nights together. You bit your bottom lip before nodding your head.

“Well I…” You took a few steps along the carpet, surrounding them both as if you wanted to avoid them, with your shoes in your hand. “I… I'll see you Monday at work.” You tried to smile as your hand awkwardly opened the door. “Good night, Anna.”

You disappeared from both of their gazes in a matter of seconds. Both pairs of eyes on you.

For different reasons, of course.

Tag list. @ninebluehearts @shousha133 @unear7hly @onefinnedwonder-fm @automnepoet @lokisremainingsanity @uncle-eggy @just-a-nightdreamer @spktrgantenk @chinglewingledingledong @queerponcho @faretheeoscar

Remember to comment if you want to be on the kinktober tag list!! <3

[ddesfleurs]

It hurts to love you, but I still love you.

chapter 5

summary: He could never truly be hers, she could never live a full and happy life with him and it caused her so much pain as she thought about the life and happiness that was denied to them.

warnings: cheat, angst, anger, melancholy, light smut, mention of sex, fluff

notes: Hey guys. I know it's been a loooong time. I don't even know where to start, so many things happened during the time I spent away from here that I simply couldn't write but I never stopped thinking about this story fondly. I recently logged into my Ao3 and Tumblr accounts, where I publish this story, and I came across several messages, comments and expressions of encouragement and affection coming from those of you who followed and read this story. And this flooded my heart with love and gratitude for you in such a way that I made it my goal to write and publish another chapter of this story after submitting and defending my college graduation thesis. And yes, I basically finished college, I'm going to have my official ceremony in December. So here we are, another chapter of this story that I started a long time ago and that thanks to your encouragement I am resuming it. This is the first time in years that I've written something that isn't academic, so I don't know if you'll like it as much as before, but here it is. Thank you for all the affection. As previously mentioned, English is not my first language. Good reading!!

Grace was sitting on a park bench, she watched people passing by, children running, life happening while taking in some late afternoon sun. The leaves fell slowly from the trees and the wind moved her hair in a very contemplative way, Grace felt life reaching her.

It was the first time she had returned to New York since leaving Michael and it would be a lie to say that she wasn't worried about one of her employees discovering her, but it had been a considerable amount of time since she had left him and honestly she thought that he wouldn't still be after her after all this time, considering he had a wife and now, possibly, three beautiful children.

She missed Michael. Missed his presence, his touches, the hugs, kisses, moments and vows exchanged. She missed everything and everything reminded her of him. Grace looked back and didn't quite know where everything had gone wrong in her life, she assumed that things had started to spiral into disaster after she agreed to be the lover of a married man who is part of the mafia. God knows how much she regretted it, how guilty she felt, how much she wished things weren't like this. But it couldn't have been any different. She loved Michael with all her heart and from the first moment they were together she knew she would be his until the end of her days.

Now that truth had a bitter taste in her mouth. She wished she didn't love him, she wished she hadn't gotten involved with him, she wished she had done everything differently. But, God, how she misses him. There wasn't a day that went by where she didn't think about just going back to him or at least making a call and hearing his voice again.

But Grace couldn't do that. She could never have the man she loves because he was a married man. And that was why she had left him, he could never truly be hers, she could never live a full and happy life with him and it caused her so much pain as she thought about the life and happiness that was denied to them.

When Kay knocked on her door that day it was as if her little fairy tale had come to an end. The woman brought Grace back to reality in the harshest way possible. Breaking the spell of her love story.

Grace knew she was wrong to get involved with Michael, and she knew Kay had every right to be angry with her. But it was still hard to hear her words, the news that she was pregnant with their third child while Grace was denied any possible romantic future and suffered from the knowledge that she would never be the first in Michael's life, that she could never have his children. She would always be his little mistress. His diversion, something to pass the time when he was bored with the routine at home. And what future would she have if she continued in that relationship? She would only hurt herself even more.

It was for these reasons that she decided to leave. Grace decided to move away from Michael, putting an end to their relationship and, consequently, doing the right thing for all those involved in this story.

However, even though it was the right thing, this decision hurt she every day. Every day she thought about Michael and the times they spent together. She remembered in particular a day that remained in her memory, a special memory.

They had gone to the cinema, somehow Michael had managed to get a session for just the two of them. He knew that Grace loved doing any kind of thing with him and he knew that she loved it when he surprised her with romantic gestures and he, in love as he was, made a point of always winning her over every day.

So, he found a way for them to have a real romantic night, all according to the script. Cinema and dinner. And for her it was one of the happiest days of her life.

The film chosen was Rebecca (1940) by Hitchcock, one of her favorites, a little old, but she liked it because she identified a little with the character. For your sweet and naive but at the same time kind way. Identified mainly with the way the protagonist fell madly in love with an older man who had countless secrets that she felt she would never know in their entirety.

Grace watched the film with pleasure, eyes shining with satisfaction not only for the film but also for Michael's romantic gesture, he knew how to please her and these small moments fueled her love for him, creating deep roots in her heart.

As they left the movie theater, Michael said they were going to walk a few blocks to the Italian restaurant for dinner.

"How did you get a movie theater just for us?" She asked as she lightly squeezed his arm, giving him a bright smile.

"You know, I have my tricks." He replied with satisfaction and gave her a wink. "Did you like it?"

"So much, Michael! You don't know how happy I am with you, how much I love all the hours we share. I love you." She finished with a sigh, as if the last statement was a confession.

He stopped walking and turned her to face him, looking deep into her beautiful eyes. Michael passed his hand over Grace's face, a gentle caress that sent the feeling of love and tenderness straight to her heart.

"Gosh, I really adore you, Grace. You are the light of my life." He said softly as he looked at her as if Grace was the most precious thing in the world, and somewhat of a coward for not having the courage to tell her he loved her.

She responded by pulling him for a shy kiss there, in the middle of the street, but nothing mattered to her, just her love and how she felt when she was with Michael.

He returned the kiss eagerly, holding her waist and neck. The two separated smiling, they didn't want to cause a scene on the street. They continued the short path towards the restaurant like two young people in love, as if there was no consequences behind their actions, as if they were free to love each other as they wanted to be.

Grace smiled as she recalled this memory. How she missed Michael, his kisses, his words, his smell, just everything about him. Another memory invaded her mind as she looked at her friends sitting on the picnic blanket while playing with little John.

They were in their apartment having a calm and slow day as they cuddled each other and played games like chess. Grace wasn't very interested in it but Michael liked it and for him she tried to be a good opponent. Obviously she always ended up losing the matches, but that didn't matter to her, she liked doing anything with him.

After losing another game, Grace stood up in a huff and said, half jokingly, as if she were angry:

"This is the last time we play chess. It's impossible to beat you! I'm already upset from losing so much." She said with a huff as she rolled her eyes and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

"You just need to pay more attention, honey. It's not that hard." Michael said as he got up and went to meet her, finding it very funny the childish way she got angry and rolled her eyes when she lost.

"Mike, could you let me win for once." She said pouting.

"That's not fair." He said laughing, "You're such a bad loser, honey."

"Just like you!" Grace stuck her tongue out at Michael, making a face that he found particularly adorable.

He approached her as she leaned back against the counter.

"I love your way, you know? I love the way you make me feel lighter and happier. I love the way you make me smile. I love the way you act with me, our jokes, our moments we share. " He said and pulled her into an eager hug, tightening his arms around her. "I don't want to lose you. Grace, you are the light of my life."

Michael nuzzled his nose around Grace's neck and then kissed her eagerly, as if he was afraid she would disappear in the blink of an eye when she was right there in front of him.

Grace woke up from her memories with the voices of Nancy and Carolyn calling her. She looked at her friends and that very cute little baby and gave a beautiful smile, trying to sweep the memories out of her mind and focus on the present while not knowing what was in store for her future.

She got up from the bench and went to sit with her friends on the towel where they played with John. Grace approached the baby who gave her a cute smile, still without teeth. Picking him up, she rocked him close to her, thinking about how children are innocent and very cute little human beings.

"He adores me." She said to her friends as she gave a smile and bounced John lightly in her arms. 

"Of course he does, he already knows who will spoil him for the rest of his life." Nancy said, taking the toy dinosaur from John and placing it in front of the baby.

"He's really adorable." Carolyn stated looking at Nancy with a smile on her lips and then observing Grace with the baby in her lap.

From afar, still in the park, Michael watched them without believing that he was just a few steps away from Grace and his son in her arms. The son he didn't even know existed until recently.

Michael was frozen watching the scene: you with the baby on your lap, laughing while talking to your friends, the wind gently hitting you resulting in your hair being a little disheveled. He felt so many things when he saw Grace, even from afar, that he couldn't take action. Soon he, who had always been a man of actions, was paralyzed in front of the scene he was watching.

Seeing her after so long apart reignited the pain of his loss. Seeing her there with her baby broke his heart, the prospect that she didn't feel confident telling him she was pregnant. It was all his fault. He who had been weak in not having had the courage to face reality. For not admitting to himself that his marriage had ended a long time ago, for not getting divorced, for not staying with Grace, the woman he loved.

But now, looking at her and the baby, he was determined to win back her love. And not only that: he wanted a family with her, his son, Mary and Anthony. He wanted to prove to Grace that he was capable of fixing everything and giving her the life she deserved, a happy family.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my brother his wife is using him?

This may be long but I want to make sure there is enough info for you to give an accurate judgment. TLDR at the end but I encourage reading the full post

I (25f) have an older brother, J (28m). I also have a younger brother (22m), L. J and I were always close when we were younger then grew apart as we got older, the boys always were close. The year J graduated high school we became close again.

J met his gf A (29-31f, I dont even know how old she is but she's older then J) during college. I remember the first time A came home with him, and she was very sweet but very nervous. We clicked and had a good conversation that lasted hours (we all were at our parents house and us girls had to share a room and the boys did too). Anytime there were holidays we stayed at our parents and did this (big holidays that colleges had off like Christmas and Thanksgiving)

We met up a couple of times and all was fine. It was hard as they lived far away from where we grew up (2-4 hours depending on traffic and routes). Then I moved to the country, about 20 minutes away from them. We met up more often, but only maybe about once every 3 months. No big deal, I was busy working. Then J and A got engaged and it felt like everything changed.

I would invite them to hang out or get dinner, but J and A would make excuses. J would be like "A can't come so we won't make it" even when I said "okay but what if only you came? You're my brother?" He would make excuses. The days they agreed to meet up, suddenly day of couldn't go. He was tired after work, she wasn't feeling good, the car wasn't working. Anything and everything you could think of. I did notice whenever L came to visit me and stay, J and A would always be available to meet up, even if it was last minute.

So I figured...it somehow must be me? And then they got married. And it was beautiful.

Or so im told as it was a private ceremony and I wasn't invited :) I actually was originally told the date, which I asked off of work for, but then I got a text a week prior saying "guess what happened tonight" and then was told they got married. L was there. Our parents and myself were not. A did tell me she didn't feel right inviting our parents if her parents weren't there...but why not me? I was told it was a private ceremony and only L was there as a witness, but one of their friend's posted pictures and it had over 5 different people in them

I tried to let it go but honestly it hurt me and pissed me off and everything kept adding onto it. I have zero clue what the hell i did. I have texted J and asked him point blank if he is mad at me, he would deny. I asked for A's number cause he mentioned she was lonely and had lost friends, I said we could go get our nails done since that's something she likes (I dont but I figured I'd extend an olive branch) he refused to give it to me. It seems its me but again I have zero clue why.

It worsened after me and J got into an argument. They canceled again, and I do know A was having a bought of depression at this time. I understood, as someone diagnosed with depression and anxiety. But J told me I never would understand (A was still going out to places and hanging out with friends, meanwhile there were days I couldn't get out of bed and called into work sick. I know we shouldn't compare mental illness but it seemed like an excuse to me. A also would do things that she has said makes her mental health worse, like reading and watching things that triggers her). The whole reason I wanted to hang out is because I had Christmas gifts from our parents and a few of our childhood friends for them (L was out of the country at this time and had mailed a gift to them). They kept bailing and I tried for TWO MONTHS, I finally delivered the items the week after Valentines.

One of our friends was a baker and TOLD THEM she baked them a cake, special for them because A has dietary restrictions due to a chronic disease. They knew this and it spoiled. So I was upset for my friend, and I lied and said they got it to save her the hurt.

But when J finally told me to drop off the items I blew up at him. We stood outside his house and yelled at each other. He flat out told me to stop being so emotional and that I was letting hormones get in the way of thinking, and that I should understand A being depressed. I did! I yelled at him he should get his head out of his ass and that he is letting down not just me but our friends, especially the baker who has a waitlist and made stuff SPECIAL for them. He didn't thank me for my gift, but texted each individual person for theirs.

That was in 2022. A month after I apologized and he said he forgave me. But nothing has changed. Since then they didn't wish me happy birthday (they called L on his, he is now living with me temporarily, but when I pointed out I didn't get a happy birthday from anyone *literally only one friend wished me a happy birthday and L, even my own parents forgot* A told me I needed to get over myself and that birthdays weren't that important to them so I shouldn't take any offense. I didnt expect them to wish me a happy birthday this year because of that, but my true friends and my parents did remember this year),. They didn't come to my college graduation. I stopped texting J and I hadn't heard a response since. We did see each other this past Christmas coincidentally, not planned as they didn't come to our parents. J was pleasant, A said nothing but watched me the whole time, and I made excuses to leave this Christmas party as I didnt even know they knew the person throwing the party.

I came home early from work this past week and J was visiting L (something J claims he can't do during weekdays cause he works 9-5 during the week...allegedly). J gave me a hug and we all chatted for about an hour, it felt like old times, but then his wife called. It was a smooth conversation then I got brought up, and suddenly A needed J back home immediately. He bailed on dinner plans he and L had (L had spent all day cooking a roast, it was delicious btw and yes L was upset J didn't stay).

I had enough. I called J during his "work hours" on his cell. J answered and I chewed him out. I said our brother was hurt and whatever the issue with me is HAS to stop. If he doesn't tell me whats wrong, I CANT fix it. J told me there was nothing wrong with me and I was reading too into it. I pointed out some of the same instances I listed and he told me I was reading into it. He then accidentally let slip that A didn't want us talking. Which I figured. I blew up and told him A was using him. A was turning him against me and our parents *i am too lazy to go back but he stopped talking to our parents the same time he stopped talking to me but he always talked to L*. I mentioned how she is an adult and if she has an issue with me she needs to tell me, but instead she's a fucking coward. J yelled at me that she has anxiety and I yelled back "bitch I do too! I'm on fucking meds for it" which i know she isnt. J hung up on me.

Not only is everything above an issue, A also: doesn't have a job and only J has the income. Claims its because of her illness, the one that causes dietary restrictions, yet EATS said things even though she knows makes her sick. She won't let J meet up with our childhood friends. A also has stsrted getting J to take edibles with her. If J is tested, it will get him fired from his job. But then she complains he's being a loser if he doesn't do edibles with her.

The kicker is this: A solely used to date women. J is NOT a woman, nor does he want to identify as one. J knows A used to date women, and again tells me I should be more considerate seeing as how I am openly bisexual. However, and I havent told J this, one of the conversations I did have with A after they got married, she told me TO MY FACE "yeah, I never imagined marrying a guy yet here I am." Laughed and I kind of was like oh haha, isnt it crazy how things work out, to which she said "I dont even like men!" Slapped my thigh laughing and continued laughing. I was bewildered and when J had returned and asked what we were talking about we both changed the subject.

I did tell L when that happened and he thought it was weird but we couldn't change anything as they were married. I dont know if I should tell J.

But really I do feel as though A is using J, but now im wondering if I should lay it out more clearly WHY. Or if I should stay out of it. They already seem to hate me, so part of me is like why not go for it. But L is talking me off that bridge (my therapist is also testing me for something that isnt solely anxiety and depression) . I know J is hurt as he told L such, and part of me feels bad I yelled, but also the rest of me wants to key his fucking car and tell him to shove it up his ass and ban him from seeing L at my house as it is MY house even though L is living there

AITA?

TLDR: I yelled at my brother his wife is using him as she doesn't have a job, always falls back on her mental and physical illness yet does things to make them worse, and has also told me she doesn't like men (she used to exclusively date women prior to my brother).

What are these acronyms?

[littleoneamanda]

GF: Fiddleford Hadron Mcgucket

Alright, I think I'll just continue drawing in the original style. It's actually pretty fun xD The only difference is colored lines and maybe background. Hope you like it!

And here we go again to my thoughts on the book of bill, thisisnotawebsitedotcom and my thoughts on Fiddleford as a character. Or in this one is more like a summary of what information we have about him. Welcome to my second essay on 2D characters xD (SPOILERS)

Oh boy, where do I begin with this one? xD

Fiddleford, probably (imo) one of the most tragic character in this show. Going from once a brilliant inventor to a deranged hillbilly living at the dump. His life ruined by trauma, his fear of bad memories, and by his own invention.

College

Fidds is the first Mcgucket in the family to go to college. His first day starts off pretty rocky. The school's mascot "THE BMU B-", shoved him into a locker, got his mustache caught in a pencil sharperner (???) and getting laughed out by a whole class for trying to prove the universe was a giant hologram. While sitting in his room in tears, his room mate barge in the room. Confidently declared that his theory was plausible and was ready to not sleep until they have proved it accurate. Not only did they cracked it, but Fidds did something else that he thought was impossible: He made a friend, Stanford Pines.

This is pretty much (currently) the information we have about them in college. I really wish there were more. It seems both of them became friends very fast. Both being nerdy and outcasts for different things. Ford with his sixth finger and Fidds coming from a hog farm ( I relate so hard with Fidds on the farm background you have no idea I love it) However, while Ford is more of a socially awkward introvert, Fidds seems to be a little bit more extroverted.

After college

Fiddleford moved to Palo Alto, California. Around this time he met his wife Emma-May and they had their son Tate.  He starts up his own computer buisness "Fiddleford Computermajigs". It's unclear how the relationship between Fidds and his wife were, but the fact that he doesn't seem to hesitate to leave them behind to help an old college friend he haven't talked to in 6 years is a little weird. Six years is how long Ford had been in Gravity Falls before he contacted Fidds. (Source: Journal 3). Sure, if the whole project was a positive thing, it could be have been their big break in science and fame. But Fiddleford had a life in California. He had a family, but how good was the marriage? Maybe Fidds didn't get any other friends after college. So when Ford called for help, he didn't seem to hesitate to say yes and join him.

"Success! He has agreed to join me! With his assistance, I am confident we can complete the machine. He has already made several suggestions over the phone that I intend to incorporate into my revised designs."

-Stanford, Journal 3

Gravity Falls, Fiddleford is now Stanfords assistant/partner.

Some things Fiddleford brought with him: A vase/pot when he chews tobacco, a photo of his family, the banjo, floppy disks , two laptops which one of them is special designed for Fords extra finger. The other one is Fidds which has Fords name as password. And a Cubic's Cube that Ford scrambles when Fidds is not looking. Fidds solves it without a problem tho.

When seeing the blueprints for the portal for the first time, he asked Ford if he had any help with these plans because of complex they are. Ford describes Fidds as a suspicious man (pretty ironic knowing how Ford will become later).

During his time in Gravity falls we learn early that Fidds seems to have some trouble handeling his anxiety. Especially after some of the things they encountered. His knee starts bouncing when he's agitated or he starts pulling out his hair. Being Fords assistant turned out to be adventurous and scary at the same time. Reading Journal 3 you kinda wonder why he even stayed for so long with Ford. There was times he really got traumatized. It is now where the we get into the speculations and the hints of Fidds having a bit of stronger feelings for Ford than just a friend.

The gifts. Already in Journal 3, he gives Ford a special designed laptop with extra keys for his extra finger. He buys a pumpkin at the fair because it reminded him of Ford.

"He pulled it out of a barrel of "reject gourds" because he said it reminded him of me! (Suppose I did inherit my dad's nose.)

-Stanford, Journal 3

From the thisisnotawebsitedotcom, if you type in Oroborous, you will get two pages of when Fidds gave Ford an axolotl that Ford named it Frilliam.

"F said it's frills reminded him of my sideburns and he thought it could keep me company the next time he's out."

-Stanford, thisisnotawebsitedotcom, Code: Oroborous

I'm still pretty traumatized after Frilliam...that damn dorito asshole demon. Also...Ford drew a heart over the "i" in friend instead of the dot??

In the TBOB, Fiddleford gives Stanford a snow globe that HE MADE. And not only that! He gives Ford knitted a pair of six-fingered gloves that HE has KNITTED.

Fiddleford flies back home to visit his family for the holidays, but the reunion have not been exactly happy. Fidds and his wife had got in a massive fight when she realized he'd forgotten to buy her a Christmas Present...man. Look. I mean...I honestly do not know what to say to that. My guy gave gifts that he had made to his bestfriend that he might have some certain feelings for and just happen to forget he had a wife...that's normal right? xD

Let's talk a little bit about Ford cause I forgot to mention some other things as well. In journal 3, Ford talks in a certain way. It's more sterile and stiff. Keeping distance from emotions pretty much. Especially before the 30 years on the other side of the portal. In TBOB+ the pages from the website, these pages are more personal. Which is a whole new view of Ford that we didn't see before. This time we get to see what Fidds and Ford did when they weren't focused on the project. When they had a winter break from it. When Fidds tells Ford he's leaving to visit his family, you can kinda read between the lines that Ford seems very sad about that. His fear of being alone again. On that page, there are some blue stains which some believe are tears... :(

"Sixer was a lot better at science than he was at making friends, and he tended to rip out journal pages that had anything to do with his issues with others..."

-Bill, TBOB

After the massive fight between Fidds and his wife, he decides to return to Gravity Falls as soon as possible. When he reurns, he sees Ford being in trouble and saves him from the Krampus by hitting him with his banjo. They embraced. Fidds explains why he's back and Ford asks him if there is anything he could do to cheer him up. But Fidds feel pretty defeated by everything that has happen.

That night, Ford calls Fidds to come down to the lab for a portal update.

"I'll admit that it wasn't the most efficient use of our electricity, but the smile on his face proved I'd made the right choice."

-Stanford, TBOB

Ford later tells that it was time to drink nog until they didn't remember what a Krampus was. And they spent the rest of the night building snowmen and reminiscing about old times.

This is wholesome asf. Also, Ford said himself he's not really a drinker, but after that kareoke drunk thing, I wonder if he kinda wanted have a similar experience? Perhaps a stretch, but interesting in my opinion.

But all good things comes to an end. In Fiddlefords case, in a very tragic way. After some traumatic encounters (especially after the  Gremloblin), he invents the memory gun. He uses the gun multiple times on himself during his time with Ford. He have even used it on Ford at one point when Ford tries to talk him out of ever using it.

The night before the testing of the portal, Fiddleford expresses his concerns to Ford about the portal. He tries to talk him into publish his research as a thesis instead of the portal. Ford who has been ver manipulated at this point to believe Fiddleford has ill intentions, refused. And the next day...the portal incident that makes Fidds mental state go so south. Seeing the Nightmare realm and  predicting apocalyptic catastrophe that was about to be the consequences of the portal.

Now here is a interesting thing about the portal scene (this could be a stretch once again). Something i did notice while rewatching s2. When Ford tells the story about the portal, it seems pretty cut and clear of what happen. Fidds get dragged into the portal, traumatized, warns Ford, stands up and leaves. And Ford calls Stan. Which makes it look like everything happened in a very short time period. But when Ford talks about the portal incident again with Dipper, Ford has different clothes, sitting down and have Fidds in his lap. Now this could just be a mistake or something they choose for more dramatic effect. But seeing the difference how Ford talks in Journal 3 and TBOB, it is a interesting choice for that scene. Like, when he has the white shirt and black tie, there is a more serious tone and stiffnes. When he has his blue shirt and brown sweater vest he is more personal. In TBOB, it takes like around 2 days before he finally decides to contact Stan. He decides to do that after he found the 5 failed knitted prototypes for the perfect 6-fingered gloves and the ripped photo. When he realized he had lost Fiddleford.

Fiddleford's mental health keept getting worse. After quitting the project, he found himself still very haunted by everything he has seen. He started to use the memory gun even more and created an organization, The Blind Eye Society. Hoping this would help other people in the town to forget bad memories. Ford found this out and suspected Fidds to be behind it. Unfortunaly, Fidds started to use it as soon as he had seen something scary. The more he used it, the more he started to lose his mind and forgetting words. 618 days. It took around 1 year, 8 months, 1 week and 6 days. That is not really a long time. He used it so frequently, and knowing he had some trouble handling his anxiety from the start…this hurts. His body aged so fast during this time as well. And he's suppose to be around the same age as Ford, around or in his 30s.

Fiddleford before the portal: a very smart, brilliant inventor, sensitive and a very kind person.

After the portal: An old deranged hillbilly who lived at the dump with no memory of his past, but still haunted by what he saw in the portal.

He does starts to regain his memories in S2: Society of the Blind Eye. Finding out after 30 years who he really was.

"After all these years I finally know who I am. Maybe I messed up in the past, but now that I've seen what happened, I can begin to put myself together again."

-Fiddleford, S2, "Society of the Blind Eye"

When Ford and Fidds reunite in Weirdmaggedon, he forgives Ford for everything that led up to this. After Weirdmaggedon, Ford visits Fiddleford. Fidds was overjoyed to see Ford and they spent hours talking. Ford is feeling guilty for the things leading to Fidds causing losing his memories, but Fidds dismisses his attempts to apologize.

"Not only is this man's mind superior to mine, but he has one of the biggest hearts I've ever seen."

"Before I left, Fiddleford insisted that I listen to him play the banjo. I could have sworn that as he joyfully played, i could see the age lift off his face, and see the the Fiddleford who had been my friend so many years ago."

-Stanford. Journal 3

I swear a tear dropped from my eye while writing this quote. And I have an idea for a drawing for just that one.

And that's where I wanna leave this. A happy ending after all :)

I'm very sorry again if there are any grammar errors in this one. I have to go back and forth on the sources a lot here. The show, books, website and the wiki just to try understand the timeline and if there were any details missed. I did not intend for this one to be as long (maybe even longer) about Stanford. But I kinda wanted to put Fiddlefords story together and give some of my thoughts on it as well. Fiddlefords story is so sad in so many ways. He and Ford, Best friends and room mates in college. Both of them having no other friends than each other. He sacrifices a lot when he leaves his family to help Ford in Gravity Falls, Returns to Ford when the family reunion goes south. The fact that he could have done anything else, but he decides to go back to Ford. Maybe because he felt he didn't feel welcome there anymore and only has Ford left. Tate is probably the one I mostly feel sorry for in this situation. His father coming home for the Holidays and then leaves again to not come back. Fidds trying and wanting to help Ford, but get his concerns about a real danger ignored. Then Fidds trauma and fear of remembering bad things takes over so much he invents a memory gun that becomes his addiction. Ruined by his own invention.

Now, I'm someone who has NEVER done shipping art or not really expressing any thoughts about it. I'm pretty careful with that honestly and I have been with Ford and Fidds as well. But this time feel so different from the other times of speculations of what happend between them. It feels like it's right there. Especially with Fiddleford reading TBOB what he did for Stanford. Or maybe I'm just another person hoping a little bit too much xD It's just...the possibility of them having some kind of stronger feelings is there. Again, Especially when it's from Fiddleford. Stanford is kinda bit harder to read when it comes to his feelings. Kinda what I said before, he talks in two different tones. Probably depends on who he trusts to talk to.

Alright, That's all folks! I promise I won't do a essay like this for the other drawings xD But I just needed it to get out of my system. And I haven't really seen a post like this that sums up the information we have atm. So I wanted to contribute xD

Thanks for reading!

Next up is actually going to be a GF video🍃

[arcane-vagabond]

trick or treat 👻

Send in a trick or treat!

You know, I like to think that Jake always kind of knew about Skipper. I think the mermaid magic has some interesting twists to it, and I think one of them is dreaming about your true mate.

Jake is a about a year older than Skipper, so when he had his first dream about her, he was around five. He dreamed of a chubby faced little girl with large eyes and a toothy grin whose laugh he found infectious. He told his mom all about it the next morning, but Madeline Seresin knew that true mates were hard to come by, and so she placated her son as best she could at that age.

Jake would dream about the girl off and on for years, longing to actually meet and talk with her. He often wondered whether or not she dreamt of him too, and the thought that maybe the pretty girl whose face consumed his thoughts from time to time filled him with a sense of glee. He mentioned this to one a family friend one day, an older sea person by the name of Wade, and the old man had smiled at the young blond.

"She does," he murmured, eyes twinkling as he gazed over at his wife who was gathered with a group of other older woman across the room. "She feels you too, just like you feel her. But, you know, if you feel her this strongly, that usually means you're destined to meet her. Take it from an old sea dog who's found his, son."

Jake had felt excitement at the old man's words, and a few weeks later during the height of the summer festival, fourteen year old Jake had experienced his first frenzy. He had sequestered himself away in his room, waiting out the worst of it. In the years that followed, his green eyes would scan the tourist filled crowds, desperate to catch any sight of you.

But you never came, and Jake had slowly begun to lose hope. He wanted you, but as the years passed, he grew resigned to living a life by Mandy's side, much to the joy of his mother.

"Did you see the news from Bob?" Javy had asked him one day, scrolling through his phone. Jake pried an eye open, basking in the light of the sun as they lounged on some rocks along the shore.

"What did he say?" He asked, humming as he shifted to find a better spot.

"Looks like he finally managed to convince his college friend to come and visit this summer. You know, the one he's been trying to convince to come and stay for years now?"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, guess they're driving down this weekend once exams are over."

"Oh," Jake hummed, a smirk on his face. "Who would have thought our little Bobby actually had a friend besides the ones in this god forsaken place?"

"Don't be an ass, Seresin," Javy sighed, setting his phone down. "She's supposed to be really nice."

"She?" Jake asked, eyebrow quirking as he looked up at his friend. "Bob's got a girlfriend?"

"More like a friend who happens to be a girl," Javy retorted with an eyeroll. "He would have said something if it were like that, you know him."

It was true. Bob had texted them throughout his months away at college when he wasn't home for holidays or breaks, and he was always quick to tell the group about a girl he was interested in.

Jake frowned at the way his stomach alighted with butterflies at the idea of Bob bringing a friend home. It wasn't like he knew this girl, and he had long since given up the idea of running into his true mate. At least, that's what he told himself.

"Could be interesting to have another girl around," Javy continued. "I'm sure Nat's thrilled at the idea."

"I'm sure she is," Jake muttered, closing his eyes once more, feeling the sun beat down on him. He sighed, trying to ignore the feeling of giddiness that threatened to envelope him. This year would be his third frenzy, and he had resigned himself to having to choose Mandy as his mate. He couldn't go another five years without serious consequences, but still the the thought filled him with dread.

He hoped and prayed to whoever was listening that his life wouldn't turn out that way.

[lionlena]

We don’t love each other (PedroPascalxreader) angst! Part V

Summary:  You and Pedro are: friends with benefits, for many years. Your layout is simple and clear. You don’t love each other. You’re friends on a daily basis, you take care of each other… Sometimes you sleep together. You go on dates with other men and Pedro doesn’t mind. Everything is simple until you accidentally hear Oscar say that Pedro loves you. Then you decide to tell him the truth and you ruin everything.

Warnings: angst!!! smut, mentions of sex, friends with benefits, sad, broken hearts, age difference (reader is 15 years younger than Pedro)

*

Part V

He rested his forehead against the tiles and sighed as he felt the streams of warm water hit his hard muscles. God... He was so tense. It's all through pretending. He smiled when he saw the fans and when he signed autographs. He laughed during interviews. But it was all a lie, and he was working hard to make the world believe him.

He had no cause for joy, and going out into the outside world was a torment.

Maybe, only the interviews with Bella, did him feel better, but that was only because she reminded him of his little sister in some way, and he felt the need to take care of her. He was wondering, if you would like her? Probably yes.

You and Bella would probably tease him about taking naps on set, and he'd allow it.

He felt the pain in his heart again. God, he was so tired, so sad... Yes, he'd screwed up and he had no excuse for it. You had every right to hate him, and yet... Part of him wanted to tell you that it wasn't all his fault that he tried... He tried so hard, but he failed.

When he got out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and walked over to the medicine cabinet. He reached for sleeping pills and immediately took two, washing them down with tap water. He doubted it would help anyway. He couldn't sleep since you left. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw your tears and the horror on your face. What did he expect? He's never yelled at you before. Yes, in play or while you were helping him with role. But he never shouted in anger. Though honestly, he wasn't angry at the time, he was terrified. Terrified that he ruined everything. That he spoiled everything for years.

He entered his bedroom and put on a t-shirt and sleeping shorts. He glanced at his phone and winced at the two missed calls from Oscar. He didn't want to talk to his friend and had been ignoring him for several days. It's not like he blamed him for the current situation, and yet... Oscar had tried for years to help him, in a way to put it mildly: useless. First, he urged him to break off the deal with you. Then he thought Pedro should confess his love to you. Then he said him that since you two been stuck in a suspension for so many years, it's better for you if your paths diverge.

However, when you parted ways, Oscar saw how wrong he was. Pedro was tired of listening to his advice. There was nothing to fix. Everything broke down.

And even though he knew it, he stared at the phone screen for a while longer, hoping that your name would be displayed on it. But nothing happened, so he decided to fetch a bottle of water from the kitchen and at least try to sleep.

As he entered the living room, the blonde sitting on the couch smiled at him. She put down the tablet she was holding in her hands.

"I already checked everything. I have a flight tomorrow morning. So, I won't bother you any longer."

Pedro shook his head.

"No problem, June. You don't remember, when I living with you and Ann for two weeks in college."

"Yes, but... I feel so stupid."

"Anyone can miss a plane. Don't worry."

June looked at him carefully.

"You look tired."

Pedro smiled sadly. If she only knew how exhausted he was.

"Yes, fame is tiring. That's why I'm going to sleep right now, but you stay as long as you want."

June immediately replied:

"Oh no, no. I'm going to bed too. If I miss my flight again tomorrow, my wife will kill me."

Pedro laughed and suddenly remembered something.

"While I was taking a shower, I thought I heard a bell ring."

"Ah yes, your neighbor was looking for her kitten."

"Hmm, strange. I didn't know they had a cat. Well, I hope she finds this kitty."

"Me too. She looked very nervous."

Pedro nodded, wished her good night, and went back to the bedroom . He laid down on his stomach and drew to himself the pillow that you always slept on. He stuck his nose in it, though he knew it was useless. You hadn't been in his bed in months, and yet he felt like he could smell you. Well, maybe because he used your shampoo in the shower. He whined as he realized how pathetic he was. But he needed so much a minimum of comfort. Just your smell.

He couldn't stop the tears escaping from his eyes. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, hoping the pills would finally take effect. Maybe his brain will show him mercy and see you in his sleep?

*

All I want is nothing more

To hear you knocking at my door

'Cause if i could see your face once more

I could die a happy man i'm sure

 When you said your last goodbye

I died a little bit inside

I lay in tears in bed all night

Alone, without you by my side Kodaline - All I Want

*

Part IV 

Part VI

Storm is coming....

There will probably be 2 more parts to this series, but I am slowly approaching the end of this series (which was never meant to be a series).

[gumballavocadoharry]

A white house with a picket fence:

*MerylStone is a made up town in Vermont, Woodstock*

The sky skirted itself on the horizon of nightfall, emitting glints of stars; beaming like mood lights wrapped around the headboard of a teenage bedroom. Even the mellowness of nature, couldn't halt the clamorous roars of the incessant debate over your son, Lincoln's curfew. "Lincoln, for the last time! You're only 18 years old! You don't need a midnight curfew." Harry shouted from across the couch. Lincoln huffed and stormed to his bedroom without saying another declaration. Harry plopped down, hands smacking into his face, his breath huffy and shaky.

The faded ghosts of your husband's slipper marks bored a loud tense firmament throughout the living room.

"Why do kids think once they're 18, they're adults?" He sighed, "Don't they know how hard it is out there?" You swallowed gasps of breaths that you always held inside like gas in a balloon during tense engagements; something that you've learned in your youth. You squished next to Harry on the couch; almost on cue, started rubbing his shoulders and back. "He'll come around honey....it just takes time." 

"Yeah, well too much," A gulp escaped Harry's throat, "What's out there that we can't give here? I mean....we gave him so much freedom...what is it that he wants?" Even you had to shrug to that. "I don't know. Maybe he sees his friends with their own apartments, going to college, being away from their parents and...." You stopped yourself. "What, you think he's tired of us?" Harry's voice sprung more hostility than he wanted. "I think he just needs some space." A correction to your first thought is what Harry wanted to hear in this moment.

You didn't want the thought to echo in your head for too long; Lincoln has his own job, money, he just saved up and bought a car and not to mention the legal status of his age had given him a birthright advantage.

It petrified you and you knew it did Harry as well; just the inkling of Lincoln's moving away from home, your only child stuck something unpleasant in you. All the time, energy, emotion and love that you invested into your best investment would now crave something more than the walls of his juvenile home; something better, better relationships, ones he would devote endless time to. Not even batting an eyelash to his parents, but to the friends who could only show him desire vs the worldly wisdom from his parents. The realization was gut wrenching in itself but the duplicitous fantasy that this was all stemmed for parental love ate away at the truth. 

You knew deep down, what haunted your thoughts, what made your blood run cold was the idea of Lincoln forgetting you and Harry; other relationships would cloud his mind, leaving nothing but hollow postcards of updates from his life. Picturing the unruffled but customarily greeting written in black cursive ink, with only a memo of his life so far with a picture flipped to the back of an older version of your son, black sweater, coffee cup, kids curling on his lap, wife positioned only slightly above his shoulders, would highlight a missing piece of his life; once forgotten and discarded like old news clippings with no purpose.

Little did you know, Lincoln had been listening to the conversation you were having with Harry. The boy's blood boiled, mind caviling at the thought of being chained here the rest of his life. Like a house arrest without an official seal of proof. Chafing at the lack of support for his own liberty, but aiding to their own selfish whims gritted Lincoln's teeth. Years of protesting to this very moment, to these years....were finally coming to an end. Tonight, Lincoln would self free from his sentence and he would finally grapple things differently. His foot moved patiently across the hallway, like he was in no hurry to challenge his stone locked mind. He had a car, money and the night to guide him through this plan.

Sitting at his desk was the first things his eyes scanned to. The desk lamp illuminated the circling dust particles that would land invisibly onto the grainy dark maple desk top. Lincoln's eyes stood for a long time at the the second drawer; neighboured bellow the first tall skinny one. It carried his notebooks, packs of pencils and unopened highlighters, varying in every color of yellow, pink, blue, green, orange and purple. He took shy steps towards his chair, carefully pulling on the fringes of it and sitting down in it, adjusting himself to a comfortable writing stature. Lincoln's fingers gripped around a pen, snagging a notebook from a drawer and inched only a few centimeters away from the page. Holding the pen in his thumb and pointer strictly, he wrote out a small introduction.

The sound of his heart beating echoed like a drum throughout the bedroom. Ballpoint making its way across the paper, scattering out years worth of pent up angst. The sudden open of Lincoln's bedroom door reflexed him to crumbling up the paper and shoving it into bin under his desk. An easy investment against walking across the room or slingshotting a paper only to miss and have to pick it up in the first place. "Lincoln.." Harry stuttered on his words, "It's time for bed." His voice, guttural and his eyes scanning the dark room for anything that could spark an argument. But nothing: the bed was made perfectly, the floors were spotless, desk was clear and so was Lincoln's face; calm, relaxed and deadpan. Lincoln gave a simple nod, settling himself up from the desk and walking out in the middle of his bedroom.

He waited till the door closed and Harry's footsteps grew father and father away. Lincoln grabbed his robe, pulling the strings and using it as a clasp for the door by tying one end to the leg of the desk and the other to the doorknob. He tore another piece of paper from his most used orange notebook. It was a study one he had picked out himself, wanting to make the most of its use for his notes on binary and coding. The ballpoint of the pen positioned itself onto the paper before writing a carefully crafted goodbye. The once diluted blossom sky mixed in a orange powder now was a somber cloak of dark maroon blue. Looking out the window were only half appearing house silhouettes and the faded glow of the end corner streetlights. Something Lincoln would rely on once it came to moving fastly out of the driveway.

Sealing the letter on the desk, lying lifelessly, Lincoln now turned his attention to his closet. Grabbing his duffel bag and shoving shirt after shirt, jeans after joggers, sneakers after loafers and even the small accessories; watches, wristbands and rings were all sealed into sandwich bags. The closet was empty. Only a few hangers swayed silently in the shadow on a vacant little rack that held dress shirts, t-shirts with crazy designs of cats and lightning bolts and pants of all types shoved into the little drawers above. 

Next, the hidden piggy bank. It was really a jewelry box his mother gifted him as a purpose of hiding all his action figures. But now filled in it was hundreds of dollars. Maybe even more than that. Lincoln didn't hesitate to shove the rolls of hundreds into little sandwich bags and stuffing his wallet with 500 dollars, sliding it in perfectly as if the wallet had carved out spaces for the thick stacks of paper to be slickly slid in without hesitation. The dust particles zig zagged around as the body of Lincoln was all over his bedroom, gathering every possible and necessary thing to show with him on his journey. His backpack, filled with textbooks and his notebooks from his desk. 

The desk lamp, nick nacks, scissors, pencils, pens, markers, whiteout....everything that had a resemblance to Lincoln being on that desk was now gone. His whole bedroom with exception of his bed, comforters, and the desk and chair itself was empty and hollow. Like Lincoln was never there at all. The cell phone that had a tracker on it- installed by his parents- was now dead. Shoved into the same box where his action figures lied. He had gifted himself a new cell phone, new laptop, new tablet....nothing could make his parents find his empty tracks. There would be none. Only the lingering scent of his presence that now had vanished into the simple mist of air that his fan blew lightly into the mucky humid bedroom.

Lincoln turned off the desk lamp, closed the blinds, untied the door and hung the note in full view on the front door of his former bedroom. As he sighed, Lincoln glanced one last time at the childhood home he once knew and loved before closing his bedroom door quietly and tiptoeing down the stairs. He disarmed the alarm of the house and walked out without so much as a goodbye. The street was tranquil, only the sounds of crickets were heard. As Lincoln's eyes adjusted to the dark, the houses then appeared. The aromatic husky smell of the night sent waves of calm through Lincoln. He kept his feet solid on the pavement, taking quiet yet shattered steps from the walkway of the house, down to the garage where he kept his used dark gray chevy. The keys jingled slightly from opening the car door and then being plugged into the emission.

The sound of the car starting made Lincoln flinch. But nothing. No one woke, nothing but the sound of sleep and hollowness. Slamming the car door, Lincoln pulled from the driveway, swerving his tires to the main road and stepping on the gas, breaking free from the neighborhood. One last look to the house that sat so perfectly, so white, so big and sheek with its flowered bushes and fancy exterior that matched its neighboring houses styles. The hue that once glowed there had now burned out. Exhausted itself into just another house on a fancy road. Mom and Dad's house. Lincoln had already left mentally, but it was his physical appearance that would have to relinquish.

The morning was quiet. Peaceful. Like any other morning for a picket fence home. You were quiet, having already seen Lincoln's 'surprise' on his bedroom door and then opening it to see emptiness broke inside of you. You just didn't show it. You kept it hidden; festering it inside until it could explode at the right time. You let Harry sleep in as you did with keeping the note on the door for him to discover himself. Instead, you busied yourself with the morning dishes, cooking an English breakfast. The voice of the alarm blaring and the creak of the bed grew into a warm patch on the back of your neck that slugged down to your legs and back. It was numbing and heating in a juxtaposition way. You carefully listened to Harry's footsteps trail over to the right: Lincoln's room. The footsteps stopped for a few moments.

"He's reading the note." you thought. The jiggle of Lincoln's doorknob opening and the pattering of Harry's footsteps trailing into his room like a cave with hidden treasures. There was silence. The same one that smothered the clattery of Lincoln's midnight departure. Your face went cold. Eyes dazed and body in a stillness, not knowing the next step of your husband's reaction.

"Looks like the boy held to his promise." Harry thought. You, turning off the stove, setting the pans aside, goose stomped upstairs in jointace with your husband. But his face was just as casual as yours. No matter how hard you tried, the ringing of Lincoln still hung dry in the room. His bed, just perfect the way he left it. Except it was cold, straight...not one wrinkle in between the sheets of covers.

The desk lamp was still bended in its crooked position. Hunched over the desk counter, sitting alongside with the empty cubbies and dead pictures. Pictures that represented milestones in Lincoln's life. The sailboat Harry helped hang up for 3 year old Lincoln, newspaper clippings framed as a decor for his mystery phase of 12 year old Lincoln, 17 year old Lincoln- just a year ago- hung a lion picture. The only picture that was taken along with Lincoln but not the rest. They all stared at the broken pair of you. Like they grew eyes and taunted you like a buzzing fly that wouldn't leave the room no matter what.

The closet was empty. Any signs of Lincoln were dead. Like he never existed in this room. A sudden grown dread ran though you, leaping you from Harry's side and opening the bottom dresser drawer and snatching out the jewelry box. Opening it was the dead cellphone you had gifted him for his 16th birthday. You and Harry- like all the other cellphones you gave your son- had decided that the rule would be no different. It was never discussed with Lincoln, but always just there. Like it was attached to the cellphone when you bought it fresh from the apple store. He never questioned it, but somehow you knew he hated it. But there it was. Dead. Like Lincoln's bedroom. The life that was in it had dissipated with him. It was like a slap in the face. A reality check warning you were you were headed. Now its too late.

Lincoln was gone and god knows where he could be. What could you do? Call the police? Force them to bring a legal adult back home to his Mommy and Daddy? A gap of air went down with your tears. You swallowed them, ate at them and ignored them. But they still came out anyway. Your mascara smudging, traveling down your cheeks like a riverbank. You couldn't turn and face Harry. It would only make him mask more of his pain. A feeling you both hated to admit to yourselves. 

"Well, I'm hungry." Harry walked past you, swishing a rampant of coolness past him. He was so nonchalant and aloof like he had just saw any old car scamper down the street. His son, his child was gone, nowhere to be seen, and this was his reaction. Broad fury infatuated you before dying down at the command of your mind. It just didn't seem like a battle worth fighting for. Walking down the hall now felt ominous and cleft. Like someone had ripped out a chunk of the house and planted a graveyard, burying Lincoln's body in it. Your stomach felt queasy yet empty. The wooden floors were cold and creaky, the stairs felt uneven and crooked like you were walking on floating rocks. The whole house felt dead. Cold, sterile and lifeless. The presence that once filled this house with chroma; giving complexion to the interior of it had bleed itself onto wherever Lincoln was.

Your feet stopped at the door frame of the kitchen. Harry was munching away on the toast that was set in front of him, sipping his coffee, catching up with the lastest on google news. Half of you wanted to slap him so hard that it would ricochet the sense of the matter into him. While the other half wanted to bungle up into his arms and cry copiously, choking on every breathe, gasping on every tear and squeezing some more out while he kissed the tiny stalks of hair on your scalp so deeply that you could feel his pointed lips puckering tightly, pressuring into your skin, whistling into a husky smooch once suctioned off.

But instead, you almost tripped on your own feet walking into the kitchen while Harry barely bat an eye. If he even cared enough to notice at all. 

You turned your concentration towards the sink; eyes focusing on the single drips from the faucet, pulsing a beat on the sink floor with water beads lying all around it. It was the rolling sound your stomach made that made you grab a plate and plop the work of your family breakfast onto it. You sat directly across from Harry, staring down at your plate; bacon, two sunny side up eggs staring back at you, baked beans, fried tomatoes and toast just laying there lifeless onto your plate. Meanwhile, with the slithering glimpses of Harry just munching away at his breakfast like it was just any old morning. Like he had never ever known Lincoln, like he didn't exist was unpalatable in itself. You made it through breakfast barely, but upon stuffing your dishes into the sink, one of them slammed down harder then intended and broke a half of itself off.

Tears flooded your eyes; dropping the broken piece of stoneware into the sink and rushing to the phone. Your fingers, mucky, damp, thick with a bludgeoning adrenaline and fingertips dipped with humidity slowly dialed the numbers of Lincoln's number almost with the same carefulness a prisoner makes in calling the number of his lawyer or attorney. But it was just a hum of static on the other end. You dialed it again, static. Again, static.

No mistakes and no active number. Maybe more carefully. 

"Hello? This is Parestake house, can I get a phone number for your order?" The lady's voice, dry and polite, but rather tired from the same busy rumination of answering with the same motto. But there was no response; hanging up without any apology for the wasting the time of someone completely oblivious to the situation. 

Slamming the phone into its hook and sitting down on the couch to collect thoughts of what would eject Lincoln from this house so quickly, so quietly, yet so prepared. Like this wasn't a random thought....this was something that had been slithering through the depths of this house for a long time. Creeping through the brain of Lincoln for longer than you and Harry were led to believe. You and him both knew where you stood on Lincoln's heavily monitored independence. The words "I'm moving out" would've knocked a bitter drip into you. Like poison medicine in an IV drip. Springs of arguments would've poured out into the house, booming into threats, a fury of words that would have spilled from Harry's mouth and slapping Lincoln in the face with them. He knew that.

So he left quietly and quickly like a mouse of the night just like he wanted. No regrets and no returns.

Lincoln had settled himself nicely into his apartment. The space had been sitting empty for a solid month. The landlord didn't argue with the young and less experienced tenant upon realizing the boy was a lot smarter and prepared than his prejudiced mind had allowed him to comprehend. Lincoln being one of the youngest residents in the building was one of the mildest. Never throwing loud parties, no loud music, complaints didn't exist and above all, just a forgettable neighbor. Accompanying inside his new home was a calm iguana, Orb. Despite not having a couch, dining table or bed yet, Lincoln still made the small space a home; old bedroom pictures hung the walls of his bedroom, and the desk nick nacks were the new decor of the living area.

Taking his money and setting the groups of hundreds down on the table, organizing them into rent, electronics, food, lighting, furniture, and heating for those colds winters. Gas was complimentary of the landlord. Using a blow up mattress, Lincoln still made it up like it was the real thing. After all, he took pride in the freedom he now had. Despite being materially poor.

But that would soon change once Lincoln got his footing. A lot could happen in a years worth of time. 

The blustery blossoms were rattled by the gusts of spring air that circled through the block. The white house sat empty, and you had sat emptier on the bed in your bedroom, watching Harry walk back and forth by you, straightening his tie for work. A voice in you broke; not knowing where it was coming from. "I tried calling Lincoln yesterday..." Your voice drifted to the fireplace, your glance finally turning your head there. Harry stopped for a moment before returning his attention to his tie. "And?" His voice, rasp with that albion accent, but still enriched with some sternness. "He didn't respond," You looked towards the fireplace again, "I think he changed his number in fact."

"He didn't call or text at all? No response from him whatsoever?" Harry questioned. His voice beckoned slight alarm. You shook your head. "Nothing." Harry bit the side of his lip. "Maybe...." Harry looked up to you. You took a deep breath and sighed, swallowing any rising fear because you knew what your husband's reaction would be to such a notion.

"Lincoln is 18...he's almost an adult. Kids leave for college around this age. If he did move somewhere, it was most likely with a friend or someone he trusts?" Even you and Harry couldn't deny that Lincoln was very trustworthy. A good kid, something you both took for granted. Lincoln cared just enough about pleasing his parents. That was it at the the end of the day....pleasing..not worshipping.

You could see Harry's anger through the collar of his shirt. His vein bulged out from his neck, throat pushing down a hard scoop of vile. "Maybe...but we're still calling the police if he doesn't want to respond." You couldn't deny the way Harry said it. He meant it to assert control. Something that he would never get in this situation. "We could...." Your husband turned to you. But you just sent him a shrug. Harry pierced his eyes into you like needles, before shaking his head collecting his suitcase. You swallowed your ideas and watched from the window as Harry's dark cherry red Honda left the garage and drove down the street.

You stumbled back over to the bed, plopping down and fiddled with the silver diamond studded band that held a decent sized diamond on your left hand, ring finger. How embedded it had been into your hand for the past 28 years. How hard it was for you to get it. Woodstock, Vermont. Your hometown, raised by your father in the sleepytown of MerylStone. The rich blanket of green grass that sprouted stalks upon stalks of it over the hills of the countryside, shining and echoing its sunny glow in the inaugural of summer. You remembered it there with some fond memories.

The big brick house on Swiva Street; its white window panes and shutters, the creaky swingset in the backyard, the arenaceous walkway -that was covered over in concrete that one summer- that led right up to the house and the shrubby bushes on either side of the house that your late mother's roses would spring out of every spring. Pa called it "heaven's little gift for taking your Ma." Your father worked as a workshop teacher at the local high school you attended. You had this allure towards books, science, biology. Potential to be something of your own credit. But Pa had his own idea of you; living in the house, baking cookies, feeding the children, catering to a husband freshly picked from the rounds of other 'good country boys' in the town. 

"I'm not sure if biology is a major you can keep up with baby girl," Your causal sideway look eyerolls were a ritual whenever Pa's old fashioned aims vexed you. "Home Ec is more your speed, other girls would love to take this class! What's wrong honey? Don't you wanna learn how to sow a proper dress?" You would learn: by books, demonstrations or something else besides a dainty old class meant for girls. Only girls.

Stuffing the advice, you took the Home Ec classes to save face of your father's job. But college was different. You had your life set in stone; independent from you father's plans. "Yn, you don't need no college education. It's just a waste of money. You just settle yourself down with a nice boy, like Landon Pines only a few blocks up the street. You'll make a lovely housewife and mother...I'm sure of it." The thought of settling in this town is what thrusted your hands faster in packing away your clothes and everything else in between into two large suitcases, two duffle bags and a backpack. "Yn I-"

"Pa....look. I just don't want that for myself right now. Maybe someday in the future, but not now. I wanna be something more than that." And lord knew the backwards town would support a notion like that. How scuffling it was just to learn to drive. Pa lightened up when his heart started weighing him down. Driving him to the hospital quieted him just a little about keeping your 'little fingers' off the wheel. Pa looked into your soft eyes. His hands touching your cheeks, realizing this meant goodbye. Goodbye for good.

You'd much rather prefer the busy nightlife of New York or Boston, California or London. No old dirt or grassy fields. Instead, being replaced with thick walls of buildings that would tower a shadow over the city. From there, it was London. The college you had accepted on first invite. Your last year was when you had met Harry. His adze emerald orbs, Clark Kent curls, deep crater dimples and bunny smile. A financial planning student, locked eyes with you in study hall. Harry's deep reasoning of the world drew you in like bee to a flower. Harry, would invite you into his dorm to 'study'; painting the walls of his first apartment, a honeybee yellow before curling up into his satin navy blue sheets. And even after graduation, Harry saw a future with you.

His company of boomed, exploding within the first couple months of his investment and savings. But Harry didn't need riches, he had them already planted into his family seed. Gemma, his sister inherited her share before taking off to her journalism passion. "Now don't you two get into any trouble." Harry's mother, Anne, would state. Although, delivered in a playful manner, the pair both knew exactly what she meant. The Styles family were of an aristocrat sort, priding their name with glory and perfection, to the best they could deliver. It was something codeded into Harry's blood. Into Gemma's blood, Anne's....and soon, Yn's. You had taken the family name at the tender age of 25. Harry scraping by only a year her senior.

Your acceptance into the Styles family uprooted uproar. Not from Anne, no. But Pa. "You're engaged! To him!" Was his reaction upon hearing of his daughter wanting to marry a one of the supercilious type. But Harry's cavaliering ways were non-existent. He showed Pa the upmost respect, even when the normally mellowed man would patronize him with the most derogatory and yokel allegations. "Yn, what's wrong with Bruce Candem or Holt Jackner?" You shrugged those suggestions off, "They're not my type."

"But this macaroni is? He's no strapping treasure. Is that how you are? Some little macaroni?" Your face grew hot and sweat dripped from your temples. The blazing sun was no way to discuss this manner. "I guarantee...he'll leave ya! Just you wait Yn...he'll find someone who will satisfy him and then it'll be over!" But you had already ran from the hill and into a taxi cab, shooting you straight back to Boston, where a new home was waiting for you and your new husband. The last you saw of Pa was when he made a debut at the wedding, dragging along country folk that you had outgrown years ago. Their bleak minded views were no longer holding reign to your now freed polished and worldly ones. It had fizzled inside of you since birth and being born in the wrong place was just a simple mistake.

Your face grew tomato colored, glancing over to see your rustic souvenirs from the past, give harsh glares to the modern world of Harry's family. You tried to pay no attention; settling your eyes on Harry's green ones before sealing your vows with a kiss. 

The twinkle of the wind chimes from Mrs. Laundbary's front porch sent a cooling sensation through you. It was like you could smell from the glass of the pine from the trees, the dew of the grass and the tickle of the wind. The house; tranquil, capacious...silent. No one home. You were alone in the midst of a blank home. Paintings hung with shiny timber or aureate frames, vases sculpted from scarce stones and decor hanging over the white walls, shadowing their singular designs over the home. Your footsteps into the hallway echoed like those of an empty museum. Cold, tense, fragile; everything too expensive to touch. They all represented Harry's taste: the derelict of stabling a proper piece of sentimentalism.

Even in your morning gown, your body still couldn't tug the wrap of such lavish silk. Like a stranger's body had morphed itself into this home, the surreal life. A home you knew well from physical travel. The ins and outs of the kitchen, the walk-in closet you and Harry shared, the master bedroom; a lounge to you and Harry and the well sunlit backyard patio; barbeque roasts, pool parties and simple sunbathing while Lincoln cavorted away in the backyard. But all this, the white mansion, the sumptuous neighborhood...nothing felt like your own. Just Harry's. It could've been yours. Maybe better.

You still had your degrees; hung somewhere in the basement with nothing for it to live under. Harry was the CEO of, Styles Inc. The multi million dollar corporation that catered to cars, planes, buses, trains, lavish transportations. Once that had happened, why bother working? Stay home, tend to the house, care for the plants, cook the meals, maybe even bake a cake just for the sake of it...at least that's what Harry said. He didn't mean it to be a step down for you; putting dollar bill after dollar bill into your hard earned education, to prove to yourself and your lout old town that a woman could be something more than their society of bumpkins. But...it was a waste. Escaping the prison of MerylStone, only to land yourself back into what your father had envisioned from the start halted you.

It wasn't until a week after Pa's funeral; the testator had assigned for you to clear out the home of your father, which meant a plane ride from Boston to Vermont. The old brick house hadn't changed a bit. The dusty tan welcome mat had eerily saved its writing still in its bought condition. The old windchime had pieces missing like those of broken teeth. The country hillside, the lush blanket of grass was now just grass. An empty home sitting below the little hill wasn't so cute anymore. Now..abandoned. You'll never forget the chill of your spine that slithered itself inside of you, as you cleared away everything that coincided your father ever being here. 

Your old bedroom, still had its shadows from your old posters. Being in the ghosttown of the house gave you the same feeling walking into Lincoln's dead bedroom. The moving men packed your father's old things into boxes, moving the heavy things like couches, beds, and heavy dresses into moving trucks with your instructions. But before taking the old grainy nightstand by Pa's bed, you opened it to find his old bible with the red page sides pressed together into this bulky red velvet line. Just the feel of the soft leather brought you back into your senses. Memories of college, woodshop class in highschool, Home Ec....they all marked you into this person of who you wanted to be. So caught in day to day life of being a housewife, that you had slowly sunken into this mold of a lie. Pa was right....despite marrying rich, despite all your biology studies, London college......you still became nothing more but just a housewife.

Slamming the bible down into the drawer, you husked yourself out of the house, over the hill and into the rental car, speeding off to the nearest airport. You foot heavily pressed to the pedal, mind flashing in different directions all afraid to go to the one that haunted you the most. Pa was dead...there was nothing more to prove. The ring somehow tightened around your finger. Maybe to yourself? Harry was the one you loved happily ever after right?

He was at the office, as usual. It was just business...it was always business. Signing checks, business meetings in Colorado, Canada, Ohio and whatever you could think of. But he was home before you; coming back in the evening, settling your sunflower hat down on the rack, ripping the heels from your feet, unbuttoning the first two buttons of your light pink dress shirt and running your fingers through your thick strands. "He's really gone Harry. Pa's dead," You looked toward the window, "If you could get hedges in the morning, that would be nice." Harry just stood there, washing his dinner dishes. That was all to be said about Pa ever again.

Harry typed away at his computer, the usual smell of lavender hitting the edges of the office. There sat a tilted slightly mahogany framed picture of you and Lincoln. No sight of himself, but on purpose, as this was just something to remind him of those long work hours. The sight was a refreshing reminder to "not get into any trouble." The grayish colored room was nothing new to the CEO. Harry had been in and out of these rooms for as long as he could remember. There was nothing special of it as he knew this is where he would be. There was nothing else. His only partner that filled him day to day was empty hidden bottle of vodka under the desk. It helped him focus on some days when his hours just didn't numb the world out enough. Something he justified with layering the evening drink with his usual morning cup of joe.

He picked himself better than to be just another ritzy boy to snag off his parents loot without earning his name, his keep. Anne and Desmond boasted to him and Gemma to always make a name for themselves. Of course, they were entitled to as much money as their desires could carry, but nevertheless, it always thumped within the siblings to be their own Mr. or Mrs. Styles. The depths of their castle like mansion spoke volumes of its own. The posh interior of the house matched the cultivated taste of the family. The light gray walls were accented with light tealish blues and silver powdered with white. Those summers where the branched tickled the windows of the terrace and the lush poofy bushes looked like a painting hanging in a museum. The light gray house with a curve on the tip of the roof; racking its color in blush dark peach held the proper expectation to the public as did the inside.

Toying with the silver band on his finger, Harry finally racked up some numbers and matched them a check before clicking out for lunch. His breath was thick, eyes lumpy like they had been glued to a bright screen for days. They side eyed the picture, focusing closely on Lincoln. His preppy boy smile with his father's dimples and his mother's chin.

Those eyes, green and wide like his, but his nose and cheeks were rosey tinted like his mother's. Harry had underestimated the innocent little 8 year old he had known all his life. Those games of catch in the backyard, mushy bedtime stories and well calculated tactics of getting little Lincoln to eat half of his vegetables. The day Lincoln learned to crawl was when Harry's back was turned to the stove, heating up water in the boiling pot. He turned to see the giggling baby take rickety steps to his dad, before falling back down on the tiles to his little hands and knees. "Oooh!" Harry squealed, taking him in his arms and looking into his big eyes. "Did my little boy take his first steps?" Harry cooed, puckering his lips and kissing Lincoln's chubby cheek. Looking deep into his sugary eyes, not wondering what his little eyes were grasping, but more of what he was hiding from his father behind those cuddly looks.

It was shortly after you had lost Pa, the funeral had been now a solid 4 months behind you. Harry had been in his home office, figuring out the latest code for an account. The traction in the house was cabled. It was this thin wire of pondering looks and gagged words between the pair of you. Those stomach aches and backaches were nothing more than stress pins from what you were carrying in between. It wasn't until those 3 missed periods that you wheeled yourself to the doctors.

Sitting the cold unblemished waiting room of the obstetrician's office sent shudders through your gut. Goosebumps and raised hairs sprouted despite it being the dead of fall which prompted a sweater with slide on blue jeans and ugg boots. You tried to focus on the chipped white paint of your fingernails that had been wearing the color for almost a week and a half, instead of the fancy lab coats that swung by in the harmony with the nurses. Dr. Katz, your doctor swung by in her white lab coat, currant red blouse that was neatly tucked into the gray dress pants she donned and the clickety black high heels that clicked with every sophisticated movement. Grabbing files- your files- handing them off to nurses in their varying scrub designs with loose stethoscopes dangling around their necks, silver watches around their wrists, rolled up undershirts....the aesthetic was dreamlike. This was what you wanted....you remembered shadowing Dr. Hawke around the hospital before you had married Harry. The dream of being an established individual with a husband to side part you, not him just to show for your success.  

Those sacrifices....were not something easy to let go of. Harry had promised to provide for you....but it wasn't enough. No, you needed the thrill of working, the smell of sterile hospital rooms was a second home for you, possibly a first one. 

"Yn Styles?"

The name is what brought you back down to earth. A name that wasn't yours, only a jagged extension of something you had realized long ago. Those seven letter words flashed through your mind like a strike a lightning. Was it too late? Those years had become dull, hardened and pinching when understanding this was not what was expected from the vows of a man and woman. You kicked yourself for thinking of such an easy way out. 

Pa was dead and the townsfolk were not completely eradicated from your memory. Word back home would be of a wiseacre from everyone who watched you walk away from their illiterate sleepytown and ram into this big city with better opportunities. Coming back to it, would confirm a thought you had shoved yourself to distance from. You had only yourself to prove to at this point.

 But, on the call of the name, you still rose from the chair and walked to the exam room, taking a seat on the table.  

"Well, Mrs. Styles..the reason for your missed periods is," Dr. Katz turned to her clipboard, grabbing a long paper and handing it to you, "You're pregnant." A pin dropped. "What?" You wanted to hear those words again. "You are 5 weeks pregnant." She pointed to the little indefinite fetus that had formed in your uterus. A smile transpired and you found yourself more animated. Once leaving the building, in the car, you took one last look at the hospital before throwing the ultrasound pictures to the passenger seat.

"No use for that now."  You thought before turning the key and starting the engine. The light of the cloudy afternoon sky shined a glimpse of light onto the black and white picture of you and Harry's 18 year long project. Maybe...just maybe....it could spark something in between the pair of you again. You hoped.

Harry upon getting the news he would become a father delighted him. He questioned the wait of it, wanting to impose another name into the Styles inheritance. The nursery was all set, pictures of balloons, a bouncy yet firm crib, styled in the corner was large teddy bear, tied with a blue bow around his neck. The little detailed decor had come only after discovering that your baby was a boy. Lincoln Styles, was to be his name. Harry insisted it, the social plucking of someone with such an adjustable yet polished name suited someone of his variety. 

The countless hours sitting at his desk, windling away at his computer, matching up number after number for accounts, upgrades for his machines and meetings discussing the latest car or train or bus. Following in Desmond's footsteps of being a businessman, Harry knew the unpalatable hours and the sharp work ethic he would have to acquire himself to. But he didn't mind. Seeing his company expand; rapid with his unsalable ideas and adroitness of the workplace. Fumbling over his pen, he caught a swift smell of Luna's, his secretary's perfume.

Luna herself was married with 4 children. Her husband, Hugh, a president of Sincomet, a rubber company, knew the ins and outs of CEO world, as he was tightly under one himself. But even more so, Luna understood the tough reign his job would contribute to the household. It was one Christmas party, an office one that was held at the Parkstor Community Center, she had revealed her upbringing was one of the same polished ave as her boss's. "My mother had old money, but my father ran this clothing design company. It was passed down to him from decades of other relatives." Her mention of this was brought up when Harry had shared his very much indistinguishable childhood himself. Hugh was of the same material; sharing knowing glances with his wife of how aware they were of each other.

Luna and Hugh connected like lego blocks of a puzzle. Both of the same refined culture they cherished near to their hearts..but it was the understanding of a certain way of life that fully brought perspective to them.

You stood by the punch bowl, glancing towards you husband, taking casual sips of punch. Harry looked down at his loosely laced shoe lace on his black loafer. Eyes squirming to you bleakly before gunning down to the floor again. Your beach style white dress was nothing compared to Luna's burgundy Ralph Lauren dress that hung elegantly above the knees that were covered by black sheer pantyhose. It was her apparel that made Harry question himself why she would be working such a banausic secretarial job, when she could be home enjoying the generosity of her riches. She had a strong work ethic. Busying herself with the day to day tasks of answering phone calls, scheduling meetings and lunches, rather than sitting in a dusky house all day.

The contrast effect of the two housewives was risible. Taking shattered looks to you and then Luna, sparked a quivering thought into Harry's mind. If it wasn't for your siren call in college; painting that old apartment, the effusive intimacy in those silk sheets, the way Harry traced those curves, remembering them like a map of a hidden path in the brazilian forest and those tender winter blue kisses on his lips and cheeks. If all that didn't' exist, then.....would he have married a Luna type?

Someone of the same social class, same upbringing- knowing the tight views of acceptable - or having a refined definition public. Never having to keep watchful eye of his spouses history in a hick town with her hillbilly of a community. She would fit right in with the Styles clan; having a well rounded view of society and money. Really, your own merit of sophistication is what united the two of you in the first place. Harry took a risk at 26 as did you; sealing in vows that wouldn't make sense only a year from when they first came about. It was the then, that he dragged you out of the party, mouth ajar like he wanted to speak, but suckled in his the last of his energy for the night. "Did Preston sign the account?" Harry, eyes steeled on the road, knuckles white and solid on the wheel, still managed to shake out a: "Yes darling, yes he did."

Putting his hand on your thigh, forcing a rush through his body like heroin. He pinched this tight smile together, showcasing enough of his little boy dimples, but his eyes were nuanced and dingy. It would remain that way until you both arrived home with different states of mind.

The hope didn't return until those faded black and white images of a fetus came into view. Finally, a son to show for the Styles family business. Harry still remembered that partially flowy cream sweater with stone washed jeans that bidded a flourish of appreciation in him. The way the sweater flowed over your bump but still hugged it enough to show how protruding it was lit his eyes like a child in toy store. Lincoln's birth was the best thing in the world for you both. Adapting your attention to your new addition wasn't at all a difficult. Glady devoting time to bottle feedings, late night diaper changes and playdates. Teddy bears filled his bed and toys filled his bedroom. You and Harry had developed your own relationship with Lincoln with an unspoken agreement. This was the heart of your marriage. A piece that brought it together.

But it didn't. Once the diaper days were long gone, and those preschool and kindergarten dreams fizzled, you were left with a newly independent pre-teen. One who finally saw all the cracks of his seemingly perfect life and was now on a countdown to escape. This parental involvement wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Just two parents of any only child that put them more on the overprotect radar. Didn't matter though; like all the other parents in the world who were well informed of the risks that came with children were not to been given an excuse for such lackluster discernment on their kids. But yours and Harry's was different of course, like always. Working hard to convince Lincoln that his cocoon was nothing mere than a close relationship with his parents and this was the requirement.

But....who were you kidding. The kid saw like glass on how proprietorial his parents were. The reasoning became clearer to him, seeing other kids and their parents affectionate relationship. You knew he would. One incident of Lincoln meeting Susan Blakely. The coffee color of her long hair that hung so effortlessly to her waist with perfect curls that bounced at the end. Lincoln had been invited to her party, seeing him as eye candy was a mutual feeling they shared. The quiff Lincoln styled his brown curls into, the leather jacket that studded sophistication into it and his dark blue jeans, not too snug or loose, but hung just right above his black sneakers.

"You look so handsome!" Lincoln, trollied down the stairs; eyes abstracted on the front door. Harry's car was nowhere to be found in the driveway or garage, the only way Lincoln could make such a hasty escape with a settled acceptance from you. Shortly after Lincoln made a route from the house to Sam's car- a friend who had a license compared to the rest of the group- Harry's honda pulled into the garage. The house, dim, throttled like the air had been sucked dry. The slow but base footsteps followed the shadow of light into the kitchen. It made you stomach burn into this knot, poking at it like jilted feeling of not being able to do something that had to be done. It wasn't until Harry spotted your figure standing over the sink, washing dishes, daring not to make eye contact afraid of the first words being garotted out.

"Where's Lincoln?" You gave a side eye back glance, not fully looking into those stiff green eyes, but only his shadow that stood peering only over the stovetop. "At a party," It was like a gun being held to your head, forcing you to spill a dirty secret of a close friend. "But, I told him it was okay. I knew Susan's mother so, it's fine." You bit your tongue, punishing it for speaking out of term. "Susan? A girl?" You finally faced Harry, dropping the cup into the sink. "You know how much trouble they could get into! Yn how could-" Harry jolted himself to the coat rack, grabbing the keys from his coat pocket. "Harry, stop! It's not a big deal! Isn't my word enough? You'll embarrass him." Harry only glanced at you before buttoning up his long black trench coat. "You know we both have to verify things Yn." He coldly stated before zipping out the door and into his car.

The waiting was the worst part. Fingers tapping against the arm of the chair, drumming up its own melody of anticipation. The same one you had sitting in the bathroom that one night to confirm what you had already knew from Dr. Katz. Those two lines appeared like magic across the test, still shuddering this surrealness into you like it was the first time. Like the ultrasound had somehow made a mistake in diagnosing your pregnancy. The booming of the front door opening rocked your attention towards a furious Lincoln and a concerned Harry. Lincoln glanced at you as if to say: "Why did you tell him? Did he really have to know?" Before storming up to his room, cold shouldering Harry on his way up.

"I offered to take him to laser tag tomorrow afternoon." You shook your head, "He's a teenager Harry, he wants to spend time with his friends." "I'm his friend? Right?" Harry looked for any signs of agreement on your face. But your eyes, were just tired. Tired of the same broken record that played out not to poles apart from this. "What happened?" A deep sigh finally eradicated from your mouth, blowing out the wind from your lungs like you were too scared to even ponder the outcome of what you knew to be an explosive event.

Lincoln sat bitterly on his bed. His used up sneakers curled up on the floor by his closet, his leather jacket shot over to the back of his swivel chair and his glare still edging throughout the room. His father; downstairs telling his mother a stagnant version of the event, curveting over the little details that complete the puzzle.

Lincoln, making his move over to Susan, laughing, chatting and then kissing. Kissing her with passion, not daring to take a step in the wrong direction, but just savoring the touch of her strawberry lips. Pulling away, he spots this thick black coat walking towards him, mix matched with all the other shambles of kids circling around the party making this figure stand amongst them. Harry didn't yell, or scream or riot. But he simply looped his arm around his son's and dragged him out without a word. The flashes of faces staring out at this eccentric scene became spotted. Heat filled Lincoln's face: part with infused fury and the other with disregarded shame. The car ride was rigid; Lincoln faced the window, not speaking what ran so rapidly through his mind. Swallowing back any grimaces that could trace any more rebellion to him. Instead, Harry suggested laser tag which sent Lincoln shooting from the car and into the house.

He noticed how dry his lips were, recalling those last moments of innocence. The 16 year old would now realize just how twisted things would get and how this was just a mere act. An act of rebellion from his father as well. The wheels turned like car tires, rolling through a freshly paved road in the country in Lincoln's brain. His suspicions of his parents were just much more than to be brushed off with basic teenage angst....it was more sinister than that. The picket fence became discolored, chipped, cracked, broken....the lie couldn't be covered. Harry's fatherly concern was just a big six wheel game. His reputation, was a part of him. And with it, his lies. They're precious angel was just a fine line between the couple. A broken chance of coming together. They needed Lincoln. He understood. They needed him way more than he did. He was their last hope, without him, the marriage would just be a slash to the Styles clan, and hickey on your neck for MerylStone to be blasted long and wide for everyone to realize, you and Harry were just not the match made in heaven you both thought yourselves to be.

"I thought he'd be at work," Lincoln said aloud to himself, "I thought he was working late. He always does when it's Friday." 

Harry and Lincoln wrestled on it the most, but you had this understanding. This knowledge of the whole view. You and Pa, working against his efforts to mold this housewife out of you and now Harry and Lincoln. Pacifying him, molding him to full dependence on you both. Making everything into a fool's paradise. Pa's only good reasoning was ignorance, but this was a well calculated, instituted masterplan. Lincoln became another life to you. He possessed this barrier between you and Harry; working together to keep the one lifeline of this family incased to his parents. Such a selfish plan was sure to face a humiliating defeat, but you didn't care. Neither did Harry. Plastering the name of good parents onto his reputation when he couldn't even get his own son to stay.

Willing to offer his son's life for his own was pure repulsive. You had realized that, the night Lincoln turned 18; a stabbing coolness in your back and sharp pinging kick told you this was it. Things were going to end and fast. And now, he's gone. Just like that into the night. No goodbye, no I love you....nothing. Because in the end, that's what you gave him. You and Harry....nothing. Those nights, hearing your panging yelling and Harry's screeching temper, seeped Lincoln under the dining room table. You knew the boy was smart, you knew he was fighting to survive, you knew he wasn't just this ungrateful brat who whisked himself away over some petty curfew hustle.

No. You and Harry were the problem. The toxic wasteland that threatened to rip the sanity from the only sane person in this house. Lincoln did what you and your husband could never....walk away.

He knew the truth, he didn't cheat or cover it. But simply left it out in the open and accepted it for what it was worth. 

You grabbed the family portrait, looking it dreadfully in the eyes before slamming it down to the ground while a scream left your voice. Harry arrived back to see the broken glass and the disgruntled look on your face. Tears finally broke free, slashing their way down your cheeks. "You did this!" You yelled, practically spitting the words into Harry's face. "You drove our baby away! He was fine, he was happy! But you couldn't stand to let go! Now he's gone and you don't even care! You didn't cry or feel sorry, nothing! You're never letting go!" Catching your breath, "You know I didn't want this! I know what you think everyday going to work everyday! You know what I think and wonder!"

"Yes I do!" Slamming his suitcase down the the floor, papers scattering everywhere in the living room. "I am sad yn! I know why he left, I know all of that! He's my son! I love him! And you know that!" 

"You couldn't stop being selfish! I wanted to let go! I wanted to take the parental controls off his phone, I wanted to let him drive at 16, I wanted to let him go to his friend's party! But you said no! Because he's your little safety net! You couldn't think about him as a person! For once, you couldn't see him as more than a boy! Now he's gone and I can't see him! He ran away from us! HE LEFT US BECAUSE OF OUR PROBLEMS!" Grabbing the stone washed vase, smashing to pieces on the floor. "I want my baby back!"

Harry silently grabbed your arm silently. Tears, falling like rain drops on a car window, wettend Harry's face. He went to the wet bar, poured himself a scotch before speaking. "I'm sorry." His voice, so quiet and collected, yet so broken and shattered. You didn't waste time running into Harry's arms, sobbing quietly into each other. He took your chin to his eyes. "We'll fix this. We have to try, no more beating around the bush if this is gonna be fixed." You nodded. "Of course."

"And maybe one day....he'll come back....and we'll be better." You added. You could feel Harry smiling into your scalp, kissing it gently.

And you prayed you and Harry could. And that you could be that happy little family in a white house with a picket fence.

This took me a week to work on!!! Hope you liked it!!!