#letting him know if what he’s seeing & hearing is there or not )

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: The Fawn Instinct.

Pairing: Yandere!BatFam x Reader (DC).

Word Count: 5.0k.

TW: Implied Non/Con, Implied Dub/Con, Kidnapping, Prolonged Captivity, Social Isolation, Stalking, Obsessive Behavior, and No Actual Incest, But Boy If Those Freaks Aren't Trying. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

If it’d only been Bruce, you might’ve been able to live with it.

You didn’t love him, but you could imagine a world where you tried to. Most of it was circumstance; as upset as you were about the whole kidnapping thing, it wasn’t exactly a Herculean feat to endear yourself to the idea of being a handsome vigilante millionaire’s stay-at-home captive-spouse. You had no room in your heart for the stoic, reclusive, untouchable Bruce Wayne, but you could remember the adoration you’d once held for your masked hometown hero, the pride that’d once given you the force of will to all-but carry a half-conscious man in a torn cowl and a familiar suit into your apartment and lie to the cops when they came knocking. If the conditions had been different, if he’d spent a little more time as something more intimate than a stranger and a little less damning than a captor, then maybe, you could convince yourself to love him. Or, convince yourself to try, at least.

But, the conditions weren’t different, and you’d never quite had the time you would’ve needed to align Bruce Wayne with his more heroic alter ego. It’d been doomed from the start – Icarus jumping from his tower, already knowing his wings were destined to fall apart.

That aside, though, there was the more glaring issue: all his fucking kids.

Calling them kids might’ve been too generous, actually. Only Damian and Duke were younger than eighteen, and as far as you were concerned, they were your saving graces – Duke for meeting the bare minimum requirements for human decency and Damian for adamantly denying you were anything but an unwanted burden on his father. The rest were more-or-less adults, as little as you wanted to acknowledge the nonexistent age-gap between you and your gaggle of stepchildren. They were grown. They should’ve known better.

Tim, for example. He had to be… what? Nineteen? It wasn’t the pinnacle of maturity, sure, but he should’ve known you’d be able to hear your own sheets rustling through the bedroom door, should’ve assumed that you’d know he’d know Bruce would be out on patrol until sunrise. He should’ve known to wait until you were in another wing of the sprawling Wayne estate, somewhere far away from the master bedroom, or better yet, skipped rummaging through your things entirely. You knew better than to dream, though.

The door was still shut, but what was happening behind it and who was responsible were both foregone conclusions.  It was Tim, because of course it was Tim, and he going through your meager possessions, because what else would he wait until Bruce was gone to do? Cringing, you rested your shoulder against the steady wood and knocked gingerly. “…Drake? Are you in there?”

Immediately, the rustling stopped. You went on. “I think Bruce is out, if you need him. Is there something you’re trying to find?”

It was a good out. An easy out. Thankfully, he was smart enough to take the bait. A few seconds later, the door cracked, a disheveled Tim emerging with a dark blush spread over his pale cheeks and his hands shoved conspicuously deep into the pockets of his hoodie. It was a struggle not to roll your eyes. He couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d come out with his dick still in his hand.

Your cheeks ached as you put on your dozenth unstrained, unworried, everything’s-fine-because-why-wouldn’t-it-be smile of the day and moved aside to let him out. “I’ll let him know you were looking for him when he gets home,” you assured, like you couldn’t see the way his bright eyes were fixed to the carpeting. “I’m sorry I can’t be more help. You all are just so heroic – it’s still a little hard to believe I’m a part of this at all.”

“You’re perfect,” he muttered, and you pretended not to hear him, cocking your head to the side. When he corrected himself, his voice was a bit louder, a bit clearer. “Don’t worry, I… I found what I was looking for. You don’t have to bother Bruce.”

“Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. He’s so proud of you and your siblings, after all – it’s practically all he talks about.” A lie, but a fair one to tell. There was no reason Tim should have to know Bruce spent the majority of your time alone with his teeth buried somewhere in your neck, muttering paranoid fantasies about how many different ways you could be killed, mutilated, or otherwise indisposed by the members of his rouges gallery. “Honestly, sometimes, it’s hard not to feel like I’ve been here for years, rather than just a couple of months.”

You only realized your mistake when those bright eyes shot to you, suddenly wide and blown out with desperation. A hand darted towards you, and you stumbled out of the way, but not quickly enough to avoid Tim’s vice-grip on your forearm, to spare yourself the feeling of something cold and wet sinking into your sleeve. “You’re leaving?” The words seemed to slur together, spilling out too quickly to be restrained or refined. “You can’t leave. Bruce won’t be able to handle it, and Steph, she’ll—I mean, security-wise, we won’t be able to make sure you’re—”

Internally, you were keeping up a steady mantra of ‘Thisissogrossthisissogrossthisissogross.’

Externally, by some miracle, your smile never wavered, only growing sweeter as you cut him off with a chirping laugh. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, and then, after a slight lapse, “Would you mind letting go of me? It’s—uh, it’s kind of starting to hurt.”

As if on a switch, he let go of you entirely, pulling away as abruptly as he lashed out. There was a mumbled ‘I’m sorry’, and he made a swift retreat, disappearing around the next corner before you could so much as think about bringing up Bruce, again. You watched him go, only letting your expression fall once you were sure he was out of sight.

Without further caution, you slipped into your bedroom, glazing over the mess of pulled-out drawers, overturned clothes and scattered dirty laundry in favor of falling into bed, rolling onto your chest, and screaming into your pillow as loudly and for as long as your lungs would allow.

~

You tried your best never to be alone. It was a little draining, to be honest – having to keep a running chart in the back of your mind of who you could trust and who you couldn’t, constantly trying to guess whether it’d be safer to be alone with someone or if you were better off taking your chances on your own – but you’d learned your lesson the first time you’d fallen asleep in the Wayne’s at-home movie theater and woken up to Cassandra spread over you like a human weighted blanket, staring unblinkingly at your face and playing half-consciously with your hair. You tried not to leave yourself unguarded, after that.

Alfred was your first choice, Barbra your second, with Bruce as a distant third. Sometimes, you could get away with loitering near Damian (something you hated nearly as much as he did – you could only stand to be addressed as his father’s “jezebel lover” so many times), but Bruce was at one of Damian’s school events, leaving them both conveniently unavailable, and Alfred would be locked inside of his underground shooting range for another hour and a half, an activity you knew better than to interrupt. Meaning, you were on your own.

Meaning, you’d picked a very bad time to need something to drink.

The kitchen was deathly quiet, but you still made an effort to keep your head on a swivel as you made your way carefully to a corner cabinet, like stepping on the wrong tile would trigger a pit trap, or a flurry of arrows, or one of another million terrible things you hadn’t thought were possible before Bruce dedicated himself so entirely to proving you wrong. Mentally, you reviewed your haphazardly assembled schedule as you fumbled with the wood paneling and reached for a mug from the highest shelf. Tim was definitely out, touring local colleges on Bruce’s behest, Step was supposed to be in class, and Dick—

Your fingertips made contact with cool ceramic half a second before another, larger palm wrapped around yours, a broad chest pressing into your back as your mug was stolen out of your hand. You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

And Dick was on bed rest with three broken ribs. Right. Of course.

You really shouldn’t have bothered leaving your room at all. Suddenly, dehydration didn’t sound like such a bad way to go.

“Let me get that, baby bird.” You cringed at the petname, but nodded, letting Dick confiscate your mug and with it, your ability to make a swift exit from a conversation you’d rather not have. “Green tea, right? I know it’s your favorite.”

“On the mark as always, Dick.” There was just enough enthusiasm in your voice to overshadow the despair. You waited until you heard the muted click of an electric kettle before turning around and settling against the counter. “I wish you wouldn’t dote on me, though. I already feel useless enough as it is.”

“Don’t sweat it, I’ve been going stir-crazy all week.” He flashed you a quick smile – tooth and beaming – before pulling open the silverware drawer and rummaging through it, like Alfred would keep his teabags with his cutlery. He was topless, wearing the same pair of black sweatpants he must’ve slept in. He didn’t plan to go out, clearly, and it wasn’t like you had much of an alternative. “This is just the basics, too. For a while there, I had your breakfast, lunch, and midnight snack preferences memorized.”

You forced yourself to smile, albeit, not as brightly as him. “…did you, now?”

“Mhm. B had us running in-person surveillance before he finally bit the bullet and brought you home, and—” He cut himself off with a sudden laugh, shaking his head. “And, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that part. Oops.”

Mercifully, the kettle whistled before you could start to consider the implications, and you reached behind you, fishing two bags out of a teacup-shaped jar. It was easy enough to edge him out of the way, but not having to worry about pretending he’d ever made himself a cup of tea meant he could devote more of his energy to talking, so you still managed to lose, in the end. “He’s stingier with the surveillance footage, now. I’ve never seen him so jealous.”

“He can definitely be a little overprotective.”

You tried to keep your tone even, polite, but Dick was like his siblings – quick to action and slow to take a hint. A hand curled around the counter next to you, and you dumped an extra spoonful of sugar into the darkening water. “It’s just us in the manor, right?”

Another spoonful, just to be safe. “I think Alfred is—”

“Out for the day. Wayne Enterprise emergency – I let him know as soon as he finished down in the range.” In your peripheral, you watched his other hand come to rest on your opposite side, caging you in. “I wouldn’t mind the company, if you were starting to get lonely.”

Another spoonful. It’d be too sweet to drink, but anything not to have to look at him. “I’m afraid wouldn’t be a lot of fun, Grayson. Honestly, I was just planning on getting a little sle—”

“That’s perfect,” he cut in, too eager to wait his turn. “I’m a great cuddler.”

You curled your hand around your mug, hoping the warmth would be enough to ground you. Instead, it only burnt your palm, and for a second, you could imagine a world where your teeth weren’t buried in the plush of your cheek, where you didn’t have to remind yourself that turning around and splashing boiling-hot water on an all-but superhero’s face wasn’t a good idea. For a second, you genuinely considered it.

And then, a sound not totally dissimilar to thunder filled the kitchen; loud enough to leave your ears ringing and your adrenaline spiked. You flinched into yourself, but it only took a moment for fear to shift to relief as you noticed the bullet lodged into the wood less than an inch from your head. Your expression lit up just as Dick’s fell.

Without waiting for him to let you go, you slipped away – sprinting across the kitchen and throwing yourself into Jason’s – brave, bold, beautiful Jason – chest. He caught you one hand and finished re-holstering his handgun with the other, laughing as you hugged him as tightly as you could manage. Dick huffed, playful offense failing to mask real agitation, and you felt Jason brace against you. “Jerk off and shut the fuck up, Oedipus.”

Dick’s smile turned uneasy. “It’s good to see you too, man.”

“I didn’t come here for you,” he snapped, as short-tempered with his siblings as you wished you could be. He looked down, holding you that much tighter. “How’s my best girl holding up?”

“I’m just fine, Jason. I do think we have to have a talk about how you treat your brother, though.” You glanced over your shoulder to Dick. “A little privacy? You really ought to be staying off your feet, too.”

Reluctantly, Dick slinked out of the kitchen, hesitant to go but eager to nurse his wounds. You only went on once you were sure he was gone.

“It’s been awful. I found another hidden camera in my bedroom, and I think Tim’s tapping my—”

“I’ll do a sweep.”

He let you go, but you caught his arm. “Please, I know it’s important, but—” You cut yourself off, swallowing. It was irrational – the way you let your guard down so quickly around Jason. The mask never slipped around anyone else, whether you were afraid of them or they were one of your rare, precious exceptions. Jason existed outside of the Wayne family, though, outside of Bruce’s corrupting influence. He wasn’t going to hurt you. More importantly, he wasn’t going to let anyone else hurt you, either.

“But I really don’t want to think about that, right now,” you finished. “Just… just for a little while, alright? I don’t want to constantly feel like I’m walking on eggshells, at least not while you’re here.”

Jason stood strong for all of three seconds. With the fourth, he sighed, buckled, and shook his head, his exasperation brimming with affection. “How long until Bruce gets home?”

“Six more hours. He’s not due to check-in for another three.”

“I’ve got my bike out front. How do you think he’d feel about a joy ride?”

And just like that, you lit up. “It’d give him a heart attack.”

Jason pulled you close, kissing the top of your head.

“Perfect.”

~

Unfortunately, Jason’s visits were few and far between. You had to find ways of fending for yourself, in the downtime.

“I miss the city.”

Bruce glanced over his shoulder, gaze flickering over you before returning to the buttons of his dress-shirt. You sunk that much deeper into the mess of sheets and pillows, taking some small amount of solace in the way the cool silk felt against your warm skin.

(Sex wasn’t something Bruce came to you for often, but when he did, you gave it to him willingly, albeit with no more enthusiasm than was absolutely necessary. You rarely enjoyed it and always regretted everything you did or said during the act, but it was better than the alternative. Part of you trusted him, trusted Batman, enough to believe that he’d take your refusal for what it was, that you wouldn’t have to say anything more than ‘no’. The remaining overwhelming majority was able to look around you, to remember the way he’d held you down as he forced a needle stocked with medical-grade sedatives into your throat, and recognize that your opinion probably didn’t mean very much to him. Still, you couldn’t let things get that bad. Even if you had to surrender every other facet of your being, you couldn’t let things get that bad.)

“You hated the city. You said your landlord was a tyrant and that even the criminals were living paycheck-to-paycheck.” And then, after a second of thought, “And that there were more rats in Gotham than people.”

“Well, he was, they are, and you know I love animals.” You pushed yourself up, keeping a sheet bunched against your chest as you slumped against the headboard. “I was tired and overworked – you could see that. But, things would be different if I was staying with, say, my wealthy trillionaire boyfriend in one of the penthouse apartments that I know he has because his youngest son got in trouble for bragging about them in school last week?”

Bringing up his kids was a dirty tactic – the fastest way to get Bruce’s undivided attention. This time, when his eyes shifted in your direction, they stayed there, and he made his way back to your side of the bed. He collapsed next to you and, with no resistance on your end, pulled you into his lap. He didn’t seem to care whether or not his immaculately tailored, freshly pressed suit was creased in the process, but you did your best not to squirm. “You want to leave the manor?”

The first half of a frown tugged at the corner of your lips. “That’s not what I—”

“Elevated pulse, avoidant eye-contact,” he muttered. “Something’s bothering you.”

It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t wrong, either, but still. You would’ve preferred to be asked.

“…it’s your family,” you admitted, feigning guilt. “They’re all—” Horny, depressed, creepy little orphans. “—great kids, but it’s just been so much so quickly, and I think it… I think it might’ve been too much too quickly. For them and for me.”

“They adore you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Dick was close to moving back in when I decided it was too dangerous to leave you to your own devices.”

You melted into his chest, sighing. Reflexively, he curled around you – a good thing, if a bit claustrophobic. Bruce liked feeling like a shield between you and harm, between you and the world he couldn’t control. Hopefully, eventually, he’d realize he had more to shield you from than greedy landlords and villains who always seemed to be just out of sight. “It’s not that easy. It’s just been such a rocky adjustment period, and…” You curled your hand around his wrist and squeezed, hoping the force would be enough to communicate what you couldn’t put a word to. “I’m really afraid something bad might happen, Bruce.”

For a moment, he seemed to consider it. There was a kiss to your shoulder, solemn and lingering, then another to your cheek, more fleeting. “I’ll talk to them. They’ll give you space, if they’re told to.”

If he told them to. You doubted you held much authority, here. “And the apartment in the city? On the highest floor, tall enough to see from Gotham to New York?”

Bruce smiled, and your heart soared.

Then, he started talking, and it crashed back down, dying upon impact. “Once I know it’s safe for you, sweetheart.”

There was another kiss, this one to the nape of your neck, then another, lower down on your spine. A calloused hand slipped underneath the sheet still hugged against your chest, and you allowed it to.

Honestly, it would’ve been kinder if he’d cut you into pieces and fed you to the wolves himself.

~

You made a run for it as soon as the arguing started.

Arguing, not yelling – the distinction was minor, but significant. Yelling would’ve meant an injury, or a mission gone wrong, or something else that signaled a sudden complication that couldn’t be smoothed over with sugar-sweet sentimentality or orders issues with an ice-cold strictness. Yelling would’ve meant Bruce didn’t mind letting you overhear, which usually meant you didn’t need to be involved. Arguing, all hushed whispers and hissed explanations and vague warnings, was different. Arguing meant, more often than not, that they were arguing about you.

It was Tim’s fault, as far as you could tell. Barbara had been the one to find the conspicuously encrypted file on one of Dick’s civilian devices, the one to mention it to Stephanie as a point of concern who went to Tim within the hour, but it was still his fault. He’d gotten Bruce involved, let his need for approval tip the tenuously balanced scales that kept his family whole and you safe. He’d talked them all into waiting until Dick was close enough to confront in-person, stopping by for his weekly equipment pick-up and check-in. He was the reason you’d gotten close enough to hear something about ‘pictures’ and ‘inappropriate use of reconnaissance material’ before fleeing to the mansion’s foyer – the only part of the house you could be sure wasn’t occupied. If you were lucky, you’d only be there for half an hour or so, enough time for them to compromise on some non-solution and return to your carefully maintained status quo. If you weren’t, you’d spend the early hours of the morning—

Something small but forceful hit the nearest window, shortly followed by another projectile, then another. The glass was too thick and the world outside too dark to make anything out, but you didn’t need to see anything to know who’d come to your rescue.

Jason.

You rushed to the door, then hesitated. Jason would only get a slap on the wrist for luring you out of the estate, and Bruce could never bring himself to be that strict with you, but now might’ve been a bad time. Tensions were already running high. Your little disappearing act wouldn’t—

A sudden rush of footsteps clattering through the ceiling from the floor above you, hushed voices raised just to the point of audibility. None of it was entirely coherent, but Dick’s came the closest. You managed to make out a half-choked “If you’d just let me—” before someone cut him off.

With your better judgement reduced to buzzing static, you pried open the closer of a pair of huge, mahogany doors and slipped out of the estate entirely.

Of course, Jason was waiting outside, a small stock of pebbles still in his left hand and, of course, you threw yourself at him, letting him catch and spin you twice before setting you back onto your feet with an airy laugh. A pitch-black sports car was waiting at the end of the driveway, the engine purring loudly enough to drown the rest of the world out. “Rough night?”

“You have no fucking idea,” you muttered, breathless. “I don’t care where we go, just get me out of here.”

There was a reason Jason was your favorite. There was no argument, no prying, just his arm around your waist as he herded you into the passenger seat. Fifteen minutes and a little over fifty miles later, the mansion was little more than a dull glow on the horizon, and you could pretend you’d stopped thinking about Bruce entirely.

There was no effort to make conversation, as bad as you felt about pulling Jason into your prolonged tryst with self-pity. Instead, you sunk into the leather of his seat and fixed your gaze on the passing landscape, clinging to any detail you were able to latch onto as it flew by. It was possible, between the subways and boarded-over windows and perpetually overcast skies, to go days without seeing the sun in Gotham. Still, your life had felt brighter there than it ever did in Bruce’s estate.

Jason turned down a road you didn’t recognize, and you managed to find your voice. “Are we going into the city?”

“Even better.” He flashed you a smile, the engine purring as he accelerated. “You’ll like it, I promise. Just sit tight.”

As if you had much of a choice.

Road gave way to forest, forest to empty plains, and empty plains to the dilapidated remains of what you could only label as a long-abandoned amusement park – like Disney World if there’d been some terrible, possibly nuclear accident followed by twenty or so years of absolute neglect. Jason’s car glided past the rusted remains of an iron gate, past the corpses of rides buckled under their own weight, and came to a stop in front of a paint-stripped merry-go-round almost entirely sheeted be vines and weeds and overgrowth. You let out a low whistle as he threw the gear shift into park and, for the first time in any vehicle you’d ever shared with him, pulled his keys out of the ignition. He’d always left the engine running while visiting the mansion, but then again, you’d always been pretty eager to make a hasty escape, too.

“I love it, Jason. I’ve always wanted to get tetanus from a broken down carnival.”

“A fair, actually,” he corrected, slipping his keys into his jacket pocket. Like he expected you to try and steal them while his back was turned, or something. “My parents used to take me here, before I met B. There weren’t a lot of Ferris wheels after that.”

There was a short lapse, the sound of lips moving against teeth. You made the mistake of humming, of glancing over to him, of leaving yourself open for another question, and Jason, as nice as he was, was more than happy to take advantage of you. “So, when did you and B start…”

He trailed off, drumming his fingers against the wheel. You filled in the rest with a breathy chuckle. “When did I start sleeping with your dad?”

He jabbed an elbow into your side. “First of all, you can admit you’re fucking him or call him my dad, but you’ve gotta pick one.” You opened your mouth, already ready to spit out some dumb joke about what Bruce would’ve preferred to be called, but Jason cut in, sniping your stupid joke out of the air. “Secondly, answer the question. I get enough of your diversions back at home.”

“Being a buzzkill must run in family,” you sighed, but gave in quickly enough. “It happened once before the whole kidnapping thing, when he was staying at my apartment and sleeping off a broken leg. I hadn’t even seen him without his mask on at that point, but I figured it was a sign – destiny, or something.” You did your best to smile, slumping against the door. “It was dumb. He gave me a couple weeks after bringing me to the estate, mostly because of the crying and stuff, but things started up again pretty quickly.”

“Do you… like it?”

“Do you like asking about your dad’s sex life?” He flinched back, and laughing, you went on. “I guess I don’t care. There’s not a lot else to do.” You swallowed. “Would it matter if I didn’t?”

For someone with so many questions, he didn’t leave a lot of time for yours, the hypocrite. Moving on swiftly, he asked, “And the others, have they…?”

“No.” And then, after a beat, “Not yet.”

He seemed to relax, at that. His back was still straight, his shoulders still squared, but his grip on the wheel loosened, his jaw unclenching ever so slightly. You tried the handle – locked. Obviously. As if you’d ever get that lucky.

His voice was soft, sweet. The kind of tone you’d use on a child, or an animal, or a doll. “This would probably be easier in the backseat, right?”

“Let me out.”

“So you can go where,baby? It’s just us out here.” He laughed, resting a hand on your thigh. You slammed your shoulder into the door. It didn’t budge. “Hey, hey, this doesn’t need to get rough. I’m not going to be like Dick. The others – they’ll do it wrong, treat you like a cut of meat they have to get to before anybody else. I just need to make sure you get out of this in one piece.”

Nails embedded in leather, body crammed as far from him as you could force it be. You weren’t hyperventilating, but only because you’d stopped breathing entirely. “Let me out, Jason.”

“I love the way you say my name. It’s pretty, and delicate – just like you.” He sighed, shook his head. “I know you don’t get it, but I’m just trying to take care of you, like you’ve been taking care of me for the past few—”

“Stop acting like I’m your mom.” A sob fractured the final syllable, another bubbling up from deep in your chest a moment later. Your body was beyond the point of rationality, but the soft, preservational part of your mind wasn’t so beyond the point of seeking refuge. There was a way out of this, as ghoulish as it seemed. You couldn’t stop it from happening, but you could make it better. You’d regret it in an hour, when it came time to explain yourself to Bruce, but what happened in an hour didn’t matter, not if you couldn’t survive the next few minutes.

You might’ve done it, too – or, you might’ve tried, at least. You wanted to. You planned to. And yet, when you opened your mouth, there was only one thing you could seem to say. “I don’t want to do this, Jason.”

His nails bit into your thigh, his smile easing at the corners. For a second, you almost thought he’d pull away. For a second, you almost thought he’d sigh, straighten back up, and admit this was all part of some cruel, unfunny joke that the two of you would remember fondly, later on.

Then, he laughed and leaned forward, lips brushing against the top of your head. You felt him speak before you heard his voice, but the cloying reverberation alone was enough to tell you that you would’ve been better off never saying anything at all.

“Welcome to the family, sweetheart.”

[moody-alcoholic]

Literally obsessed with poly 141 x reader. Part 2

141 are called to the hospital after you’re picked up by paramedics after a drunken work party. 

Heed the warnings.

CW: dead dove don't eat, alleged assault, alleged sexual assault, alleged non-con drugging, hurt/comfort, medial stuff, description of injuries.

---

John is your emergency contact. He’s the captain, the leader, he can take charge and make sure everyone does their job. You were still confused, heaving into a bag as the paramedic was asking about who to call.

It was a work party, you only had a few drinks. You’re not sure what happened, you were talking with a coworker. The next thing you know there are strangers around, you’re outside down an alley, the cold London air making you shiver. 

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” The female paramedic asks. Your head is swimming, your body is sore. You have no idea where you are or what happened. Panic rises in your chest, you look up at her. She has kind eyes. 

“I don’t know.” You slur. Your body feels heavy. The adrenaline that was pumping through your system is wearing off. 

You don’t remember what happens next, all you hear is the screeching noise of sirens. 

—-----------------

John’s heart is racing in his chest. Johnny and Kyle are sitting in silence in the back seats of the car they all rushed into after the call. John looks over at Simon, his knuckles turning white as he grips the steering wheel. 

“Park up, we’ll meet you inside.” John says as Simon pulls into the parking garage. He stops the car and everyone but Simon gets out heading into the hospital’s A&E entrance. Price makes a b-line for the front desk. Johnny and Kyle follow as he asks for you and what room you’re in.

The nurse has barely finished telling him when he’s nodding and making his way through the doors to the main ward. It doesn’t take him long to find your bay. He pulls the curtain back looking at you curled up in the bed. 

Your face is raw, your left eye is red and swollen, your neck bruised. The stunning red dress you left the house in torn, exposing your skin littered with marks. His stomach turns, he can see in your eyes you’re out of it. Reaching out for Johnny as he comes over to you.  

You hardly register them coming in, your head still swimming as you turn to look at them. Familiar hands touch your skin. Johnny’s fingers coming to your face, brushing hair behind your ears.

“Hi.” You say smiling up at him.  

“Hey lass, what’ve you been up to then?” He asks as Kyle comes over to the other side of the bed lacing his fingers with yours. 

Silent glances are shared around the room. John’s presence is unavoidable, he stands at the end of the bed, his arms crossed as Johnny and Kyle fuss over you. 

A nurse comes into the room. John turns to talk to her, she explains what they’ve done so far. Your injuries are consistent with sexual assault, date rape. The police will be here soon. 

The words from the nurse's mouth seem to change the energy in the room. It’s like a rehearsed dance they’ve been practicing for. Maybe it’s the fact they're military and used to working under pressure, or maybe it’s just the fact it’s you, laid in a hospital bed. 

John immediately takes up the role of leader-captain-in an instant. Johnny stays by your side holding your hand caressing your face, telling you not to worry. His kind eyes and warm smile distracts you from the commotion going on in your room. 

John’s voice is low as he gives out orders. Kyle is incharge of intel gathering coming over to talk to you, rubbing your arm letting Johnny comfort you as he asks you simple questions. You don’t remember much but you enjoy his touch.

When Simon comes in the mood shifts. 

You watch as he comes over to you. Johnny steps back letting him cup your cheek, his eyes scan your face, pulling your chin up to look at him. His eyes are hard, his lips pressed together. He kisses your forehead before moving back to the end of the bed. 

Johnny is back with his smile and soft touches as he brushes your face careful to avoid the sensitive areas. You’re sleepy, your eyes drooping as you relax into bed. 

“Tired?” Johnny asks, pulling the sheets over you. You nod before turning your head to look over the end of the bed. Simon's eyes are still on you as John talks. You’re not listening to what they’re saying. Kyle moves over, his attention turns to John. 

“What are they doing?” You ask, your words still slurred.

“Don’t worry ‘bout them love. They’ve got work to do.” You watch as Simon pulls a mask up over his nose before he and Kyle leave the room. 

You look over at Johnny smiling. John walks over resting his hand on your leg. 

“You’re okay lass, we’re here now.” He says his thumb brushing your cheek as your eyes fall closed.

----

Someone stop me...

Part 2

[reilemon]

🌹Surrender❄️

♡︎ synopsis: Sylus and Zayne show you that you can't get away with lying.

♡︎ pairing: Sylus x fem!reader x Zayne

♡︎ tags: barely any plot, mfm dynamic, oral (both male and female receiving), orgasm denial, dvp

♡︎ word count: 5.5k

♡︎ a/n: this fic is part of the Secret Santa Fic Exchange event made by @nanamiscocksleeve and I wrote for @laddelulu30 . It was challenging ngl, but I had fun and I hope you'll like it!

♡︎ Thank you to my dearest friend and my beta reader♡︎@its-de♡︎ for helping. divider by @anitalenia

The car hums softly, the tension inside it palpable. Zayne’s hands grip the wheel, his hazel green eyes fixed on the road ahead, occasionally glancing into the rearview mirror. In the back seat, Sylus sits with his arms crossed over his broad chest. You sit beside him, looking out the window, twisting the damp hem of your shirt as you can feel Sylus’ glare on you.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Zayne’s calm voice breaks the silence.

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to your lap. “It wasn’t planned,” you mumble. “My friend called last minute... I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.”

Sylus shifts beside you, leaning closer. “You didn’t think lying about being at a coffee shop might be a big deal? Or leaving your location on so I’d find out anyway?”

You stiffen, guilt tightening your throat. “I thought both of you were busy and it was just easier that way.”

Sylus scoffs. “Easier? For who? You, sneaking out? Or us, finding out you’re not in your apartment like we thought?”

“Sylus,” Zayne interjects, his eyes flick to the mirror, catching yours. “This isn’t about the coffee shop, or even going out. It’s about trust. We can’t keep you safe if we don’t know where you are.”

The word trust stings more than Sylus’ sharper tone. Your fingers clench tighter around your sleeve, twisting the fabric until it wrinkles under your grip. “I wasn’t trying to hide anything,” you say with a lump in your throat. “My friend needed me tonight. She just got out of a bad relationship, and wanted to go out.”

Sylus presses further. “And when it got dangerous? What then? You knew enough to text me—why not just tell me the truth from the start?”

Zayne’s grip on the wheel tightens. “Do you know what went through my head when Sylus told me you weren’t home?” he asks, his voice quieter now. “When I saw where you were? You’re lucky we got there in time.”

Your throat tightens, and you glance out the window as you mumble, “I didn’t think it’d turn into such a mess.”

Zayne exhales slowly, and you can see Sylus in the corner of your eye shaking his head. You know you’re in the wrong and that you made a few stupid decisions tonight, but your pride is not letting you admit it.

The car slows to a stop at a drive-thru, and you hear Sylus grumbling under his breath.

“This place again?”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips when you catch Zayne roll his eyes before answering. “Yes, it’s the only nearby place that works at this hour.”

Sylus sighs dramatically but complies, rattling off an order as though it’s beneath him.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

The apartment greets you with its familiar scent and warmth. What also greets you is pieces of clothing and makeup scattered around the living room. You’re sure your boyfriends noticed the mess, but you’re surprised no one made a single comment as they made their way to the kitchen. You take off your shoes and join them. 

Sylus places the bag of food onto the table, his gaze flicking toward you. “Are those the new jeans?” he asks. 

Caught off guard, you glance down at yourself, smoothing your hands over the denim. “Uh, yeah.” 

“Told you they’d look good,” he says, leaning back against the table, his arms crossing over his chest. The way he says it makes your cheeks warm. 

Before you can respond, Zayne’s voice cuts in, giving you the same compliment. He steps closer, his eyes softening as they glance over you. Tonight, their attention makes you more flustered than usual, so you thank them, your cheeks burning, and you busy yourself with helping Zayne unpack the food.

The three of you engage in small talk as you eat the late-night meal, the earlier tension from the car ride dissipating with each bite. Despite his complaints, Sylus cleans his plate with the efficiency of someone who secretly enjoyed it.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Remnants of the day washed away after the shower, the three of you settle on the sofa to watch a movie. Zayne and you slipped into pajamas while Sylus put on a shirt and sweatpants he kept in your apartment. As you sink into the sofa, the warmth of their presence surrounds you. You cover yourself with a blanket, nestling into the space between them. Sylus leans in to press a gentle kiss to your temple, his lips lingering just long enough to send a small shiver through you. “Comfortable?” he murmurs, his voice low and warm.

You nod, your cheeks warming as Zayne reaches for your hand. His touch is light as he lifts it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “It’s been a long night,” he says quietly, his gaze meeting yours. “You should try to relax.”

The tenderness of each gesture dissolves a little more of the tension lingering from the car ride. For a moment, it feels like the night’s events have been smoothed over.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

The blanket draped across your legs is warm, wrapping you in comfort as the faint scent of soap and shampoo lingers from the showers. You stretch out slowly, eyes still on the tv as you move to rest your head on Sylus’ lap. His hand rests on your head, the light touch of his fingers soothing. Your legs find their place on Zayne’s lap, his strong hands moving to cradle your feet. When his fingers press gently into your arches, eliciting a soft sigh from your lips. The way his thumbs knead into your soles sends tiny ripples of relief through your body. Sylus’ fingers gently massage your temple, while Zayne’s hands work slowly over your calves. For a moment, you’re content to lie there, letting their attention wash over you.

But your hand starts to wander.

It traces along the fabric of his sweatpants as you brush over the firm muscle of his thigh before your palm settles over his crotch. Sylus chuckles, and you feel his body tense slightly under your touch. His hand stills as he glances down at you. “You sure you’re not tired?”

You nuzzle against his thigh, “I’m sure,” you say softly.

Sylus’ gaze flicks past you, meeting Zayne’s over your head, the exchange passing in an instant.

You shift onto your back, blissfully clueless, the warmth of the blanket replaced by the cool air of the room as Zayne slides it away, folding it neatly onto the backrest. His hands move to the waistband of your shorts, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin, sending faint shivers along your body as he pulls off the piece of clothing. You draw a sharp breath as Zayne’s long fingers trace the sensitive spot between your legs, the barrier of your underwear doing little to dull the sensation. His thumb presses gently, testing your reaction.

Above you, Sylus watches your face as you’re still resting your head on his lap. His hand threads through yours, his grip steady as he lifts your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles.

Zayne’s eyes flicker down, his full attention locked on the slow movements of his fingers. The pads of his ring and middle finger press firmly against the soaked fabric of your panties, sliding back and forth at a slow pace. The pressure builds as he alternates his rhythm—pushing his fingers harder against you, dragging them in slow strokes, then pulling back just enough to make you whimper. The dampness of your arousal soaks through the thin barrier, your panties clinging to your folds.

“Fuck,” Zayne murmurs. “You’re so wet, my sweet girl. You like this that much? Being teased like the needy little brat you are?”

Heat floods your cheeks at his words, but before you can respond—his thumb circles your clit, pressing firmly enough to draw a gasp from your pretty lips. Your hips shift against his touch instinctively, desperate for more, but his movements remain infuriatingly measured.

Zayne shifts, his hands pressing against your thighs, keeping you open as his head hovers just between your legs. Your legs tremble in his hold when you feel it - the slow swipe of his tongue over the fabric. A quiet moan escapes your lips as he does it again, his tongue dragging across the sensitive spot, his saliva mixed with your slick making the fabric cling to you. Your free hand moves instinctively, fingers sliding into Zayne’s dark hair, urging him closer, urging him to give you more. His eyes flick up briefly, and then you hear Sylus’ sharp tut from above.

“Tsk, tsk. You’re not in charge here, sweetie.” Sylus’ voice is rich with mock disapproval. He reaches down, his fingers wrapping around your wrist as he pulls your hand away from Zayne’s head with. He presses your hand above your head, holding both of your wrists in place with one hand, while Zayne’s grip on your hips tightens, making it impossible to move. His fingers press into your skin, holding you down as his tongue flicks out again, swirling slow, maddening circles over your clit. Your head tilts back against Sylus’ thigh, a frustrated sound escaping your lips as you try to shift against Zayne’s hold.

“Look at her,” Sylus muses as he watches you squirm. “So fucking needy. Isn’t that cute?”

Zayne chuckles against you, the vibrations making your toes curl. But, after a few more frustratingly dragged out swipes, he finally relents. His hold on your hips loosening just enough to slide your soaked panties to the side, the cool air kissing your exposed skin, spreading goosebumps all over your skin. His thumb brushes lightly along your folds, spreading the slickness, before his tongue is finally on you, dragging slow swipes from your entrance to your clit. Relief courses through you, your thighs trembling as the ache that’s been building finally begins to ease. His tongue moves with precision, parting your folds and swirling around your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

Above you, Sylus’ ruby gaze flickers down, his fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt. The fabric bunches in his hand as he lifts it higher, revealing the soft curves of your breasts, the cool air making your nipples pebble instantly. His free hand traces slow circles around one hardened peak, his thumb brushing lightly over it, teasing, before he pinches just enough to make your back arch off the sofa. Then, slowly, his hand trails up, over the side of your neck, before settling on your bottom lip. The gentle pressure makes your lips part instinctively, your tongue swirling around his finger. Sylus adds another finger, the digits sliding deeper as your lips tighten around them, coating them in saliva. Then he pulls them free and drags them down, swirling over the hardened peaks, the added slickness making you moan.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Sylus asks, his smirk widening as his fingers press harder, rolling your nipples between them.

Zayne’s lips seal around your clit with just enough suction to make you cry out. Each stroke and suck builds the pressure inside you to a breaking point, your toes curling as the pleasure coils tight in your core, threatening to snap. You’re so close—so close you can feel yourself teetering on the edge—

And then Zayne pulls back.

The loss of contact draws a frustrated, broken whimper from your lips, your hips jerking against nothing.

Zayne looks up at you, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Don’t look so surprised,” his voice calm and infuriatingly composed. “Brats don’t get to finish so easily.” His hands stay firm on your hips, keeping you still as you try to move.

Your lips part in protest, but Sylus cuts you off with a smug tut. “Ah, ah,” he smirks. “You’ll have to earn it first.” His fingers slide down, gliding over your soaked folds before delivering a sharp tap to your swollen pussy, the sudden jolt making you flinch with a yelp.

“Look at this mess,” he mutters, his voice dripping with mockery as he taps again, watching you flinch. “Needy little thing.”

His fingers glide through, your body arching into his touch in desperate need of more. But then he pulls away, leaving you trembling in frustration. His glistening fingers rise to his lips, his eyes locking onto yours as his tongue flicks out, savoring the blend of your juices and Zayne’s lingering taste. He chuckles, “You know we don’t let bad behavior slide.”

Before you can protest, Zayne’s hand slides along your jaw, tilting your face toward him. His hazel eyes meet yours, “You know we’re not angry,” Zayne says softly, as his thumb brushes over your bottom lip. “But we will take our time making sure you understand.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, your body trembling under the weight of their attention. Frustration wells up, but so does the thrill of knowing exactly what they’re doing. Of course, they wouldn’t let you off so easily—it’s Sylus and Zayne.

Sylus releases your wrists, and before you can process the absence of his touch, Zayne reaches for your hands, pulling you upward with ease until you’re sitting on the sofa. Sylus stands up, stepping beside you as his hands hook into the waistband of his sweatpants. He tugs them down just enough to free his cock - thick, flushed with a bead of precum at the tip. Your breath catches as he strokes himself lazily, his eyes glinting when he notices your gaze drop to his length.

“Come here,” Sylus commands as he plants one foot on the floor, the other on the sofa, your mouth watering at the sight. He strokes one last time before dragging the head of his cock toward your parted lips. The salty bead of precum hits your tongue, and you can’t stop the whimper that escapes as you take him in. Sylus growls, his hand resting on the back of your head, holding you steady.

Beside you, Zayne stands up, mirroring Sylus’ stance, as he slides his pajama pants down and frees himself. He wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls your hand to him, curling it around his cock. He’s hot and heavy in your palm, twitching as his hand envelopes yours, his grip firm as he helps you stroke him. “Slow,” he murmurs softly. “Feel how hard you’ve made me.”

Sylus’ hips begin to move, his thrusts shallow at first, as the thick head of his cock pushes deeper past your parted lips. You hollow your cheeks, your tongue flattening beneath him, and the sharp hiss that escapes his lips goes straight to your core.

“Deeper,” Sylus growls, “I know you can take it.”

He doesn’t wait for you to adjust—his grip keeps you firmly in place as his hips roll forward, forcing his cock further down your throat. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you struggle to keep up, swallowing around the thick length stretching your throat. Spit drips from the corners of your mouth as he moves, hitting the back of your throat, making you choke with each thrust. Sylus’ movements falter for a moment, his thrusts growing erratic and then, abruptly, he pulls back. The sudden loss leaves you breathless and you look up to see his jaw clenched, his hand squeezing the flushed tip.

“Fuck,” he mutters in a shaky voice. “Almost made me finish down your throat.”

Before you can catch your breath, Zayne’s hand tilts your chin, guiding your mouth toward him, your lips parting instinctively as the head of his cock brushes against them. He presses forward, filling your mouth, his eyes locking onto yours as your tongue swirls around the tip, savoring the salty taste. A low groan escapes him, his hand resting on the back of your head as he sets a languid pace. Your jaw aches from the stretch, but the weight of him—hot and heavy against your tongue—makes you moan softly, the sound vibrating against him. Your hand finds Sylus, wrapping around his slick length as you stroke him in rhythm with Zayne’s thrusts. Sylus hisses through his teeth, his cock twitching in your grasp as he watches.

The ache between your legs becomes unbearable, your thighs pressing together in the desperate need for release. Unfortunately for you, Zayne’s sharp eyes catch the motion. Abruptly, he pulls back, his cock slipping free with a wet pop.

“No,” he says firmly, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. His grip on your chin forces your gaze upward. “Spread your legs.”

You almost whimper at the tone. “But—”

“Spread them,” Zayne repeats. The authority in his voice makes your thighs part, the frustration growing as Sylus chuckles above you.

Zayne’s hand shifts, guiding your mouth back to him. His cock slides past your lips again, and this time his thrusts are faster, each movement pushing deeper until the tip hits the back of your throat. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes again, the sound of your gagging pulling a guttural growl from him.

“Just like that,” Zayne murmurs, his voice rough. “Take all of it.”

Beside him, Sylus’ breaths become rough and uneven as his hand tightens over yours, his hips snapping forward, drawing Zayne’s attention.

Zayne’s hand slides to the back of Sylus’ neck, pulling him forward until their faces are almost touching. His voice drops low, quiet enough that you can’t make out the words. Their whispers drip with intent, and the thought of them planning your undoing makes your pussy clench desperately, slick spilling over as your body begs to be used exactly the way they want.

Sylus’ eyes flick to Zayne’s, hazy with arousal, with a faint smirk on his lips. Zayne’s lips press to the sharp line of Sylus’ jaw, followed by teeth dragging over his skin before he bites down, rough enough to leave a mark. The sharp sting rips a guttural, feral sound from Sylus’ throat, his cock twitching in your hand, precum spilling along your fingers.

“Good,” Zayne mutters against Sylus’ jaw before he pulls back, releasing Sylus’ neck. Their eyes meet for a moment, before their full attention is back on you.

Zayne’s thrusts grow erratic, his cock hitting the back of your throat one last time before he pulls out, leaving you gasping. You barely have time to recover before Sylus’ hand grips your jaw, tilting your face toward him, but his other hand grabs at the hem of your pajama top, tugging it upward in one swift motion, leaving you bare before him.

“Open,” Sylus commands, and your mouth falls open instantly, tongue slipping out. The flushed tip of his cock presses against it, dragging across it as he smears the salty slick, before his release spills suddenly, the first hot spurt hitting your tongue. The rest paints your cheeks, dripping down your chest, and clings to your skin in messy streaks. Zayne watches, his hand gripping your wrist as you stroke him. His cock twitches violently in your grasp, and when your fingers tighten, slick with his precum, it pushes him over the edge. A sharp, choked groan escapes his lips as his hips snap forward, his release spilling over your face and breasts, mingling with Sylus’ mess.

You’re trembling, every inch of your body aching with unfulfilled need. Sylus tilts your face up with two fingers under your jaw, making you to meet his gaze.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “Fucking perfect.”

Zayne’s fingers brush the corners of your tear-streaked eyes. “She is,” he agrees with a smirk.

You bite your lip as your gaze flicks between them - they’re both still hard, their cocks twitching and glistening.

Zayne moves first – he sits back on the sofa and grabs a large pillow and positions it behind him. Reclining slightly, he leans back against the cushion, his legs spreading as his cock juts upward. His hands reach for you, pulling you toward him, guiding you onto his lap and helping you recline against him. Your back presses against his chest, his warmth melting some of the tension from your muscles. His arms wrap around your waist, anchoring you to him.

“Just relax,” His voice is calm and soothing as his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

Sylus steps closer, his sharp gaze raking over your trembling form, smirk widening as his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties. He drags the soaked fabric down your thighs, exposing your dripping pussy to the cool air.

“Fuck,” Sylus mutters, his eyes burning as he spreads your legs, his grip firm.

Zayne’s hands glide upward, smearing the mess of their release over your chest before his fingers close around your nipples, pinching just enough to make you gasp. Then, his fingers trail downward, leaving a sticky path until they stop just above your needy core. You grab onto his veiny forearms at the first stroke of his fingers over your clit, before his fingers dip lower, gathering your slick before gripping his cock. He presses the tip to your entrance, dragging the length of his shaft through your folds, catching your clit in the motion, making your pussy flutter.

Zayne shifts beneath you, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance before nudging inside. The stretch is immediate, the delicious ache making your breath hitch as he pushes deeper, steadying your hips with firm hands. A raw, breathless moan escapes as he fills you, your head tilting back against his shoulder.

“That’s it.” Zayne whispers in your ear, his grip tightening as he holds you in place.

Every slow thrust presses against your most sensitive spots, each movement tightening the coil in your belly. Sylus watches as his hand wraps around his cock, stroking slowly to match the roll of Zayne’s hips.

“Fuck,” Sylus mutters. “Look at her—dripping down to the base, and you’ve barely started.”

Zayne chuckles softly, his lips brushing your ear as his thrusts grow deeper, each one sinking to the hilt. The intensity builds with each roll of his hips, his cock filling you completely. Your moans grow louder, more desperate, the sound making Sylus’ hand quicken as he strokes himself.

“Are you ready to take me too?” Sylus asks, his voice low and teasing.

Your body freezes momentarily at the question, your pussy clenching around Zayne’s length.

“You… both?” your voice trembles. The idea intrigues you, but you’re hesitant. “I don’t know if I can - I mean – I’m not sure it’ll fit -”

Sylus’ smirk widens. “Oh, it’ll fit,” his voice is almost mocking, “You’ve been so needy tonight. This is what you’ve been begging for, isn’t it?”

Zayne nuzzles against your ear, his lips brushing your skin. “But only if you want it.”

You fall silent, your breath shallow as you process their words.  Sylus’ expression softens, his hand smoothing over your thigh as his gaze meets yours. “You can say no, darling.” he says softly.

Zayne presses a kiss just below your ear. “It’s fine if you don’t want to. You don’t have to take this any further.”

The sudden shift in their demeanor makes your chest tighten and their patience reassures you. You take a second to think. They’d never tried this before—never pushed to see if you could take them both at once. With how thick and long they both are, the idea had always seemed impossible. But tonight, the need is unbearable. You need to feel them—both of them—stretching you, breaking you, until there’s nothing left but the overwhelming sensation of them taking you completely.

You take in a shaky breath, “I want to. I’m ready.”

Zayne’s hands tighten gently around your waist, his lips brushing against your temple. “We’ll take care of you.”

Sylus’ teasing smirk returns. His hand grips his cock, the flushed head pressing against your stuffed entrance. Sylus’ cock nudges forward, catching your clit one, two times as he struggles to push inside. “Relax, sweetheart.” he whispers. Your legs tremble as Sylus presses forward again, the thick head of his cock pushing at your entrance again. A high-pitched whimper escapes you, as Sylus’ cock slips over your clit once more before the head finally begins to ease inside. Sylus moves slowly each inch forcing your body to adjust to the impossible fullness. The tip finally slips fully inside, your walls clamping down tightly around both of them. The sensation is almost too much, your gasps and desperate moans filling the air as your body struggles to adjust to the impossible fullness.

“Shh,” Zayne soothes, as he presses a kiss to your temple. “You’re doing perfectly. Just breathe, my darling.”

Sylus growls, his hand gripping your thighs as he stills. “So tight. Goddamn, Zayne, you’re not leaving much room.”

Zayne chuckles softly, his voice calm but you can feel his muscles tensing. Sylus shifts his hips, his tip stretching you impossibly as he inches deeper. The new fullness is overwhelming, every nerve inside you screaming for more.

“So fucking sensitive,” Zayne teases. “I bet she’ll cum before you’re even halfway there.”

The words make you whimper, your cheeks burning as Sylus pushes further. His hands tighten on your thighs as he finally bottoms out, holding still to let you feel every throbbing inch buried inside you. The maddening stretch of having both of them makes your pussy fluttering around them, pain and pleasure blurring together. Your breath comes in ragged, broken gasps as the tension in your belly coils tighter and tighter, impossibly close to snapping. You try to roll your hips, desperate to chase the climax that is right there, but their strong hands hold you still, denying you the friction you need

“I’m so close - !” you whimper, the desperation spilling from your lips as your head tilts back against Zayne’s shoulder. “I’m gonna—please, I need to—”

Sylus smirks down at you, “Close already?” he taunts. “I haven’t even fucking started yet.”

His hips shift slightly and that is all you need to fall apart, your orgasm crashing over you with devastating force. The tightness of your walls pulls guttural groans from both men, Zayne’s breath hitching against your neck as Sylus growls above you. They hold you steady while your body trembles in the aftermath, shallow gasps leaving your lips.

Sylus’ hand digs into your thigh, the grip bruising as his other hand braces on the backrest. His cock moves with shallow thrusts, the friction making your eyes roll back.

“You’re so sensitive,” Zayne murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “I can feel you clenching every time he moves.” Sylus’ pace quickens slightly, your moans growing louder as the coil in your belly tightens impossibly fast.

“Already?” Sylus teases, as he watches you writhe.

You don’t even register the question as your orgasm crashes over you. Your walls clench tightly around them both, the overwhelming tightness pulling a groan from Sylus, his hips stuttering briefly, while Zayne sucks in a sharp breath, his fingers tightening on your waist.

But Sylus doesn’t stop. His thrusts deepen, slamming into you, the drag along your oversensitive walls pulling pathetic whimpers as your pussy tightens around him. The slick, maddening friction of their cocks sliding together, every thrust dragging a raw moan from your lips as the stretch pushes you closer to the edge. Your breath catches, your back arching as the coil snaps. Pleasure rips through you, blinding and raw, tears streaking your face. You clench around them tighter, milking them both as the aftershocks crash through you.

Zayne’s breath is hot against your ear, his chest heaving against your back as his cock throbs inside you. The tight clamp of your walls around him has him on the brink, but he holds on as his hand moves downwards from your waist.

“You’ve got one more in you, I can feel it.” he rasps.

His fingers find your swollen clit, the first touch sending a shock through your body, making your hips jerk involuntarily. “Easy,” Zayne soothes, as he presses his fingers firmly against the sensitive spot.

Sylus’ grip on your thigh is bruising as he rams deeper, his eyes locked on yours – watery and heavy-lidded. “You’re milking me—gonna pull me apart.”

Zayne’s breath is hot against your ear, his fingers merciless on your clit, rubbing slick circles that make your hips jerk wildly. “Cum,” he rasps. “Now. Let us feel you, my love.”

Your body obeys - your walls clamp down hard, as you completely lose your voice from the overstimulation. Sylus curses, as your fluttering walls drag him deeper. His cock throbs hard before he cums, his release, hot and thick, floods you as his hips stammer. “Fuck, that’s it,” he growls, his voice breaking. In your fucked out daze you hear Zayne moan in the crook of your neck, as his hips still, burying himself to the hilt, his release hitting in heavy hot waves, mixing with Sylus’, leaving you completely full, dripping, and ruined.

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, your head lolling back against Zayne’s shoulder. His lips press softly against your temple, his hands stroking your waist gently as Sylus leans over, his breaths heavy and uneven. Every inch of you feels hypersensitive, your skin slick with sweat and cum. You’re pulsing in rhythm with your heartbeat, the fullness lingering even as the men stay still, both of them still buried deep inside you.

Sylus’ hand moves from your thigh, his gaze scanning your face. “Breathe for me.” he says, still breathless. His thumb brushes over your cheek, wiping away the stray tears that streaked down your face. You nod weakly, your throat too dry to speak, and you focus on steadying your breath. Sylus smiles softly. “You did so good.”

Zayne’s lips press against your temple again, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “She handled it perfectly. Didn’t you, darling?”

The praise makes your cheeks flush, though you’re still too dazed to say anything. Sylus shifts first, pulling out slowly, the movement making you wince. His hand stays steady on your thigh, stroking softly for a moment before he walks away. Zayne follows a moment later, his withdrawal careful and deliberate. The sudden emptiness pulls a small whimper from your lips before Zayne’s arms tighten around you, holding you firmly against his chest.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers. His hands rub soothing circles over your sides, grounding you as he shifts to sit upright, cradling you in his lap.

Sylus returns quickly with two warm damp cloths. Zayne takes one to clean your face, while Sylus kneels in front of you as he gently wipes away the mess from your thighs and belly.

Zayne murmurs against your temple. “Do you need water? Anything else?”

Your voice is faint, barely above a whisper, as you manage to say, “Just stay… both of you.”

Sylus chuckles softly. “Like we’d go anywhere,” He tosses the cloth aside and sits down on the sofa beside you, while Zayne adjusts his hold, setting you gently to sit in between them and covers your lap with the blanket. The warmth of their bodies, every soothing stroke of their hands, their quiet breaths, soothe you. Though, you can’t relax.

Their care, their unwavering attention, makes the guilt bubble up. Your lips part, but the words catch in your throat. You swallow hard, your fingers clutching the blanket as you glance between them.

You take a shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “For lying to you. For sneaking out.”

Zayne presses a kiss to your shoulder, his voice calm as he replies. “I’m glad you admit your mistake. We need to know where you are to keep you safe.”

Sylus’ nods as he caresses your cheek with the back of his hand. “Exactly. We weren’t mad because you went out. We were upset because you didn’t tell us.”

Tears prick your eyes again, but this time they’re from relief. “I won’t do it again… I promise.”

Zayne smiles softly. “We’ll hold you to that promise.”

You nod, the exhaustion catching up to you as your body sinks further into the sofa, your eyelids heavy. But Sylus doesn’t let you rest – he stands up and takes you hand in his. “We need to wash up.”

You whine. “I don’t want too - I’m too tired.”

Sylus grumbles something before he leans down, grips your waist, and hoists you up over his shoulder. You yelp as you’re suddenly upside down, your protests turning into a mix of laughter and annoyance as you squirm in his hold.

“Sylus!” you laugh, your fists half-heartedly thudding against his back. “Put me down!”

“Not happening,” he replies smugly, his palm landing a playful smack against your bare ass.

Behind you, Zayne shakes his head, a fond smile tugging at his lips as he stands up, going around you two and towards the bathroom. “Take it easy, Sylus. She’s had enough for tonight.”

By the time you’re back in bed, wrapped snugly in fresh blankets, sleep takes you almost instantly, nestled between Sylus and Zayne, with your heart light.

[stoopidpigeonxx]

To the anon that suggested Curly Manhandling..

here bookie <3

NSFW MINORS GO AWAY

Curly’s quite the big fellow. He knows it, too. He’s always flexing his arms in front of you to show off his gym gain and taking every opportunity to show off his impressive build. You don’t mind it. It’s a bit of a turn-on, knowing all that is all yours. But the best part is when he uses that muscle he worked so hard on to fuck you dumb. He knew you liked to be manhandled and took that to heart, scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder whenever you suggested taking things to the bedroom. He adored the squeals and giggles from you when he did. Filled his heart with a sense of pride… or maybe he just adored his sweet girl. His favorite method was pushing your legs up to your head while he pounded into you, seeing the very slight bulge of his cock outlined in your stomach when he thrusts. You’re soaked and gripping him like a vice and he could die happily right now, buried 9 inches inside you. He’d hunch over to quicken his pace, hands pinning your wrists up by your head. He’d love looking at your fucked-out face, the slight drool pooling at the corner of your lips, your slightly crossed eyes, mouth parted in an O shape. You looked so pretty like this. He wanted to take a picture and frame it, hang it above his bed so he could see it every day. Your face was amazing, but it came in second only to your moans. Your beautiful, sweet little noises. Whines of his name, pleas, whimpers, all of it spurred him on. Hearing his name from your mouth was music to his ears. “Yeah, baby? Wan’ me to go faster? Harder? You got it, lemme take care of you.. Sweet thing.” “Fuck, you’re takin’ me good… g’na make me come quick..” And you took it like a champ. When he did pump you full of his kids, you took every drop. He’d let you fall back and observe his come leaking out your poor cunt. But he’s not finished, ladies and gents. Oh no. He doesn’t normally do this out of fear of hurting you, but when he’s particularly stressed and you’re just offering yourself.. Full Nelson time!! Yup, he’s got your back pressed flush against his chest, ass against his pelvis, cock thrusting in and out of you. He has an arm locked around you to hold you in place, and his other’s holding up one of your thighs for a better angle. You find this position the hottest because he finally gets to be rough with you.he begs to differ, but as long as it makes you happy, and it really does. “Fu-uck, baby, keep movin’ like that, i gotcha.. Mhmmm. Feels so good..” He’s babbling praise into your ear while he destroys you, the gentleman that he is, and making sure to kiss you everywhere he can. Soft little ‘sorry’s on your skin. He feels bad for being so rough with you, but he can't help it when it feels so good. Even he’s moaning like a girl now just from the euphoric bliss of being inside your sweet little cunt. And he’ll keep going, until he’s filled you up with at least 5 loads of his come. He wants to pump you full of his babies in hopes he’ll start a family with you. But, more likely, he’s just obsessed with seeing you leak his seed out of your abused hole. Either way, you’re full of him, a reminder of what he does to you. You’ll certainly find it difficult to walk tomorrow, but it’s worth it. He’ll take care of you, since it’s his fault you’re in that state, poor thing. And he’ll do it all over again when you want him to! <3

[rafesbangs]

𝜗𝜚 mean!rafe loves cockwarming but you're not such a huge fan

c!w; mdni !! mean!rafe, desperate reader, cockwarming obviously tehe, bit of degradation ig?, use of the nickname bunny, dumbification sorta, overstimulation?, creampie, writer doesnt know what they're doing lol. an; first work !! um i apologise in advance bcs i used to write wattpad fics but i've just been a tumblr lurker... until now lol. pls leave me feedback!

rafe had been fucking you rough for what felt like hours. you were basically seated on his lap, backup against his chest with his cock deep in your sore wet hole. he was always pretty merciless when you had sex but this? this was just cruel.

after rapidly pounding you with his strong arms holding you up slightly by your ass as you yelped and tried to claw at his flexed bicep, he had let you fall hard onto his lap again, but didn't move.

you could feel his piercing smirk adorning his lips even without facing him. the way you wriggled, trying to gain whatever friction you could again, as you sat there begging to cum made him sooo smug.

you tried to move again, dragging your legs up from being splayed out in front of you to gain some height and fuck yourself on his dick, but he stopped you. grabbing at your hips with a bruising grip, "ah ah, you need to be patient baby..."

you whined at his scolding, the feeling of being so full of cock wasn't enough, you needed to move. your lips were red and swollen from pouting and nipping at them all this time, you grabbed one of his hands that was still on your hip, hoping the desperate touch would convince him to let you have your way.

"sooo needy aren't we bunny? god, dick's got you acting all dumb, huh? just want to be fucked soo bad, don't we?" he teased, his words syrupy. he was torturing you on purpose, having fun with it. he could handle the lack of friction, the way you were desperately clenching around him, your cunt fluttering everytime his chest rose and fell because that was basically the only movement you were getting now.

"rafeee" you whined, eyes closed and eyebrows cinched together as if you were in pain, "please... pleaseplease. i need you to move." he loved the way you whined his name, the way you begged, there was almost nothing you could do to get what you want at this point.

you looked down, a creamy line of arousal gathered around the base of rafe's cock. your breathing going all ragged as rafe ignored you and the sight of his cock so deep in your pussy only made you more wet and desperate.

you tilted your head back, getting all dizzy from the pressure of waiting and the way you were breathing too heavily. "aww, 's my bunny getting flustered and dizzy? this cock got you so good all thoughts are gone baby?" rafe chuckled, his hot breath on your neck making you twitch.

"please rafey it's so deep i need you to fuck me so bad..." you said all breathy, his weakness. you figured you might as well pull out all the stops now. with your head leaning back on his shoulder, you could sort of see his face, his jaw ticking in contemplation as you could feel his dick perk up at your words before. you grinned and continued, "rafeee... it's all i want."

he rolled his head to the side before finally moving his hands, one slid from your hip to the heat fresh and pooling in your lower tummy, finding itself on your clit. you gasped at the touch while his other hand slid under your ass, gesturing you to rise up a little again.

as soon as you did, you could hear a little scoff at the back of your neck before he began thrusting into you again, hard and fast. your loud pornagraphic moans bounced off the walls as he groaned into your neck, both of you really winning in the end when you came simultaniously, rafe then fucking the creampie back into you slowly.

"mmh, such a needy dumb bunny" he'd mumbled, still playing with your clit as he watched your pussy swallow the white liquid.

[deusfoundry]

18+ only mdni pls thank u!

also big BIIG thanks to ree @tbaluver for helping me w this ILY MWAAH!

zayne would never be opposed to letting you have your way with him.

one half-lidded gaze from you, one graze of your manicured nails at his clothed length, one drag of your wet tongue against the shell of his ear as you tell him how badly you want him inside you, and he's a goner. already, he's letting you drag him to the bedroom. sometimes neither of you even have the patience to go there, and zayne ends up pinning you against the wall just outside his office, his palms desperately clinging to the back of your thigh in a way that burns. sometimes he settles on having you bent over his desk, his chest pressed against your back, the same nails clawing at the heavy mahogany, papers hastily pushed to the side.

but this report is important. it's due first thing in the morning, and as much as he wants to be in bed with you, right now he has to finish this.

when you first approached him tonight with the pure and genuine intention of getting him to sleep early, he dismisses you apologetically. he places a hand on your cheek, swiping his thumb right below your eyes as if he's wiping your tears and tells you he's sorry. he'll be there soon, and you should go to sleep if you're feeling tired (which he knows you are, if the yawn you struggle to push down is anything to go by).

he watches your figure retreat from his office, shoulders hunched and footsteps unnervingly silent. the guilt starts to simmer within him, slowly, steadily eating at him until he's filled with thoughts of abandoning his work to put that smile he adores back on your face. he wills his focus back on the screen in front of him instead, dead set on making it up to you after his shift tomorrow. perhaps he can even afford to clock out a little earlier, just in time to pick up two boxes of the strawberry macarons you two love so much from a cafe at the other side of town right before they close.

except, you come back to his office a half hour later, and this time, zayne knows you're up to no good.

it's in the little things. you're sauntering towards him with a sway to your hips. the first two buttons of his shirt you're wearing is undone, one side of the collar pulled to the edge of your shoulder, exposing to him a dangerous amount of smooth skin. the cherry on top is the noticeable absence of the shorts you were wearing earlier.

zayne wonders if you'd forgo wearing your underwear as well.

"zayne..." it's there, too. in the way you say his name, drawled out and a little breathless. if he listens closely, he can hear the undertone of a whine.

he feels the all familiar strain in his pants.

zayne watches, a mix of amusement and intrigue, as you rub a palm up and down the length of his arm before nudging it away and sliding yourself onto his lap. you encase his neck between your arms, using it to anchor yourself closer until you're right on top of his increasingly aching cock.

you make no comment about the bulge in his pants poking your thighs, but he knows you're aware of the effect you have on him. a smug grin makes it way to your lips. just a flicker, a brief moment where you acknowledge what you're doing to him, and it's gone the next second.

"i'm not feeling too well, doctor. i think i need a check-up."

you begin feigning distress, making a show out of curling into yourself and leaning against his chest. the movement you make causes the fabric on your shoulder to slip off. slowly, like each added inch of skin baring itself to him is taunting him. it stops, resting right in the middle of your arm, low enough that he can see the better part of your left breast.

his face runs hot, but he decides to humor you. just for the few seconds he could afford to spare if he wanted to finish this report before midnight.

the back of zayne's hand finds your neck. he moves it around a little, shifting from one side to another as if he's checking for your temperature.

"there's nothing particularly off about your temperature." he hums, sliding you further down his lap, intent on pouring all his attention to his work. he'll just have to deal with his ... problem later.

zayne almost misses the way your face falls in disappointment once you realize what he's doing. there's that guilt again.

he plants a kiss on your temple, his lips lingering on the side of your head much longer than it should've had. he's hoping it's enough to convey his words unsaid.

"perhaps you're just missing a few hours of sleep. shall i accompany the patient back to her bedroom?"

you stay quiet, lips pursed in deep thought. the silence stretches on until zayne gathers it's time for him to speak.

only, you beat him to it, moving to straddle his thighs so quickly that zayne can only react by wrapping an arm around your waist to make sure you don't fall. you land right back over his cock with enough force that it pulls an involuntary groan out of his lips and a whimper from yours.

"i think-" you breathe in, a sharp inhale through your nose before you breathe out through your mouth. the searing heat of your breath on zayne's ear makes him shiver beneath you, low vibrations sending a jolt to your clit through the damp fabric of your panties.

"i think this requires a more..." you take his hand in yours, shakily drawing it closer to hover over your breast. "hands-on approach, doctor."

zayne's head is spinning. your cunt over his painfully hard cock. the odd warmth radiating from your chest, the faint shadow of your pert nipples through his shirt. this look you're giving him, eyes hazy and half-closed like you're already lost in the pleasure when you've barely gotten enough. it's too much.

it's all too much.

"dear-"

he's cut off by the drag of your hips, pressing down on him with enough pressure that his head is thrown back from the friction of the inner fabric of his pants rubbing against his length, but just shy of the speed you both need to chase your high.

zayne finally puts his foot down when your pace starts to get more frantic. he pries his hand off of yours, using the combined strength of his arm around your waist and his hand on your hips to steady you.

he hears a quiet whine slipping past your lips at the loss of pleasure.

"stop. t- that's enough." he means to add more conviction to his words, but he finds that his voice comes out as less polite pleading and more pathetic begging. "i'll make it up to you later, just- just let me finish this."

a mix of whimpers and whines fall off your lips. you try to move despite his restraints, rolling your hips with as much fervor as you can muster. and it works. zayne moans, his arms going limp over that momentary burst of pleasure. you take advantage of his weakened state to full on ride his clothed cock.

zayne begins to lose himself. the thought of his report sits there, idly in the back of his mind, but it's almost completely replaced by you. you, and the delicious roll of your hips into his, filling his vision with the sight of stars and the whole universe. you, and the blissed out look on your face as you use his body to chase your pleasure. you, your eyes shut in concentration, your messed up hair, your nails clawing at his shoulders.

you.

you.

you.

you've almost consumed him whole.

almost.

zayne regains his bearings just in time to stop you from going over the edge. your eyes are pried open, jaw slacking as his hand finds your waist once more. you're about to complain, beg him to allow you to keep going. but his fingers dig into your flesh. his grip, firm yet delicate, sends an odd blend of pain and pleasure through your senses.

"i said that's enough."

zayne says—no, commands with a certain finality in his voice that makes you think he wants to stop altogether. but you find his actions contradicting his words when he pushes his chair back, providing him enough space to turn you around with ease.

your mind is having trouble keeping up with him. you can make out the sound of his zipper being pulled, the rustling of his pants as he yanks it down just enough for his length to spring free, the light slapping of skin on skin when his cock makes brief contact with your back. but you only come face to face with what's happening when zayne hoists you up by the waist, dragging your panties to the side. your juices from earlier acts as a lubricant for him to sheathe his cock into you with little resistance.

you're so full so suddenly, gummy walls gripping him like a vice. the tip brushes against that spot inside you that zayne knows sends your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"zayne-!"

"shh, be quiet." he slides the chair back towards the desk, his arm unmoving around your waist. every slight twitch of his cock has you clenching down on him, but zayne makes no move to react. your only indication of how riled up he truly is are his hand latching on to your skin and the minute quiver of his voice, breath hot and shaky over your ear.

you're reminded of how it was him in this position a moment ago. how it was seemingly your victory.

"now, why don't you be a good girl and stay still."

something tells you you're in for a long night.

a/n: smut is surprisingly fun to write lmfao HKASHFD

dividers by @cafekitsune

[lovhrin]

𝜗𝜚   ॱ˖ 𝐴 𝐵𝑜𝑦 𝑊ℎ𝑜’𝑠 𝐽𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐾𝑖𝑛𝑑

──ॱ˖ ❀ sunghoon being your jacked and kind bf . genre fluff. warnings nothing just cuteness, based on the tiktok trend header made by @plutism| park sunghoon x fem!reader.

you couldn’t help but smile as you scrolled through videos of couples on slim pickins’ sound. one after another, boyfriends effortlessly hoisted their girlfriends onto their shoulders, some successful and some… not. the laughter and joy in each clip filled you with a warm feeling.

lowering your phone, your gaze drifted to your boyfriend, who was focused on the tv. he had come back from the gym about an hour ago. the thought reminded you to glance at his arms, the idea of him trying the challenge travels through your mind, bringing a small grin to your lips.

you were almost certain that he could do it, the only problem was convincing him.

you and probably anyone who knew sunghoon wasn’t one to set up a camera and film a dumb trend for the whole world to see, still, it couldn’t hurt to try, right?

“hoon,” you scooted closer to him on the couch, leaning into his side. without missing a beat, he wrapped his arm around you, his eyes still fixed on the tv.

“hm?” he hummed.

you held up your phone. “look at this.”

he glanced down at the screen, watching the video play for a moment before lifting his eyes to you. “what about it?”

you gave him a smile, “wanna try something?”

he let out a deep sigh. “yn…”

you quickly sat up, cutting him off. “just hear me out for a second! wouldn’t it be fun to see if you could lift me up?”

he squinted at you. “I lift you up all the ti—”

“but not like that!” you whined, leaning closer. “come on, bro.”

his expression twisted in disbelief. “did you just call me bro? what the fu—”

“you know what? never mind.” you cut him off, opening your phone and slouching back into the couch. “you probably couldn’t even do it anyway,” you added casually, a secret smile tugging at your lips. you knew that one sentence would be all it took to set him off.

before you knew it, sunghoon was off the couch, standing in front of you and patting your thigh. “come on,” he sighed, extending his hand toward you..

“really?” you asked with a grin, slipping your hand into his as he nodded and pulled you up.

now standing in front of his taller frame, you watched as he took your phone from your hand. “this is it? I just pick you up? that’s the thing you think I can’t do?”

“yep,” you replied, your bright smile practically glowing. it was the kind of smile that made sunghoon want to strangle you and kiss you at the same time.

he let out a soft scoff and handed the phone back to you. “go set it up,” he said, motioning toward the corner of the room.

with a grin, you moved to set up the video and start the timer, while sunghoon stood there, you turned back to him, biting back a laugh as you started teasing. “are your muscles gonna hurt? don’t strain yourself, okay? we don’t need you pulling anything just to prove me wrong.”

he gave you a flat look, but you could see the challenge in his eyes. “you done yet?”

“just trying to look out for you,” you replied sweetly walking over to stand in front of him, making him roll his eyes.

as soon as the timer beeped, sunghoon effortlessly placed his two large hands around your waist, his long fingers nearly meeting at the small of your back.

“wait—” you started, but before you could finish, he smoothly lifted you up and perched you on his single shoulder like you weighed nothing.

you squealed, clinging to him instinctively as the room spun for a moment. “sunghoon!”

he chuckled, holding you steady for a moment before gently lowering you back to the ground. he crossed his arms, a smug smirk on his face as he looked down at you.

“you were saying?”

he was indeed jacked and kind.

[h4nj1sunggg]

𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘'𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 - ( h. jisung. )

pairing: dilf!Han Jisung x fem!reader genre: smut, fluff, angst, strangers to lovers

words: 26.8k. summary: jisung is a father, y/n is desperate for a job and Seyeon likes her too much.

ᯓᡣ𐭩　  ( masterlist )  . Spotify playlist .

warnings: dirty talks, soft!dom jisung, unprotected sex (be mindful), breeding, oral (fem receiving.)

Seyeon it's a papa's girl. She took the Jisung's cheeks, and her mother's eyes, the kindness of her father but the attitude of her mom. She always tell when she doesn't want something.

"I don't like the zoo!" Jisung sigh, at the yet another attempt to take her daughter to the big gate of the zoo, the colours of the funny animals all over the signs, making every kids gasp in happiness. On the other hand, Seyeon hates the zoo.

"why sweet cheeks? you were so happy to come here with daddy," Jisung knee down in front of her little girl, both of them pouting softly, both of them don't want to hurt the other. "it reminds me of mommy, I wanna go with mommy!”

After the separation of the two parents the situation always been really hard, Seyeon never wanted to stay with Jisung for more than two days, she doesn’t like the small bit luxurious apartment that jisung as in Seoul, she loves Mom’s house right in front of the ocean Incheon. She doesn’t like the fact that her father as a cat, the mother as a dog. She doesn’t like going around with her daddy in his studio because she can’t play, she loves passing time with her mom in her painting room. They are just in two different worlds.

That’s why it never worked out. Jisung been always busy with his career as the most successful kpop artist in his group, when he met the mother in Japan, he thought right the way that she was the one. For years they kept the relationship private, for the amount of fanbase that Jisung was having, was making the girl uncomfortable. But they end up married. A beautiful marriage that everyone was loving, the parents accepted and the fans not totally supportive. As soon as Seyeon born, he knows something between him and her wife was breaking apart.

They started with a separation, living in two different places, and then the divorce was imminent. Seyeon at the age of five years old saw her father just twice a month, but after jisung retired from the band to start his career as a producer, he wanted to pass more time with her daughter.

That’s why they are at the zoo, because jisung remember that when she was three the zoo was her favourite place ever. “sweet cheeks, it’s.. just me and you today. a seyeonnie and daddy day!” He try to cheers up the little girl, making her pout just growing, but she start to walk. At the end, she’s still a papa’s girl. And she doesn't want him to report her bad attitude to her mother.

"what do you wanna see first, princess?" Seyeon mumble an answer, that jisung doesn't understand but her little hand guide his to the big spot for the lions. The man get lost in the moment, the beautiful creatures are playing around and he grabs his phone to take some pictures of it, just as a memory.

He let his daughter's hand for a second, "do you want to take a picture for mommy babygirl?"

Jisung turns to look at his side and he can't see his little girl, he's panicking at this point. He's shouting her name, trying to find her in every spot that the little girl could hide, he's so close to grab the phone and call the police when she hear her little laugh.

Her adorable laugh. He turns so quickly to get the dizziness from it, but he doesn't care, he totally lost his daughter in the zoo. When he lands his eyes on the girl she see her playing some hand-game with another woman, Seyeon it's laughing and giggling for the mistakes that they are making and you are holding her on your lap.

"Seyeon!" He calls her out as he start to get closer to them, with a speedy walk, he almost trip as you look up at him with a surprised look. "baby, I am so sorry." Copious tears dropping from his eyes, making his puffy cheeks turning red, he lift his daughter from your lap, hugging her tight. "daddy is so sorry sweet cheeks."

"don't worry daddy! I was with y/n! she's sooo nice!" The little girl squeak in a giggle, making jisung turn his head to you, an awkward smile on your face. "hi?"

You smile softly at Jisung's awkward greeting, your eyes meeting his as the moment hangs in the air. Seyeon clings to Jisung tightly, her arms wrapping around his neck while she keeps giggling, completely unfazed by the earlier scare.

“It’s okay, Daddy,” Seyeon murmurs, her small voice soothing him. “y/nie is nice. I had fun with her.”

Jisung’s breath hitches as he holds her close. “I shouldn’t have let go of your hand. I was so scared, baby.” His voice cracks slightly, the weight of the moment settling heavily on his chest.

You shift uncomfortably, unsure of how to navigate the situation. "She’s a really special little girl," you say softly, trying to keep the mood light. "And it’s not every day you get to see lions this close." Your words are genuine, but there’s an unspoken tension between you and Jisung.

Seyeon glances between you both, her small fingers twirling a lock of Jisung’s hair absentmindedly. “Daddy, I like y/n,” she says matter-of-factly, her bright eyes shining with innocence. “She paints really pretty pictures like mommy.”

Oh great, another artist, jisung thinks.

Jisung chuckles lightly, a soft smile pulling at his lips despite his earlier panic. “You’re quite the little artist yourself, princess.” He presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head before turning to you again. “Thank you for keeping her safe... and for being kind to her.”

You nod, feeling a bit more at ease despite the weight of the situation. “It’s nothing, really. She’s a sweet kid.”

Seyeon leans back, resting her head on Jisung’s shoulder, her little hand still firmly entwined with his. The moment feels fleeting, like something precious they don’t want to let go of too soon.

“Well, I should let you two get back to your day,” you say, stepping back slightly. “She clearly enjoys her time with you..?”

"Jisung, I'm Han Jisung," he watches you carefully, his gaze softening. “Would you... like to join us for lunch? a little reward to kept safe my little girl.”

You hesitate for a second, the offer catching you off guard, but Seyeon’s excited nod makes the decision easier. “Okay. Just for lunch.”

Seyeon claps her hands together, excited once more. “Yay! I love lunch with Daddy and y/nie!”

The three of you settle at a cozy corner table in a quiet café inside the zoo. The warm glow of the late afternoon sun filters through the large windows, casting a peaceful ambiance over the scene. Seyeon sits between you and Jisung, her small hands clutching a juice box as she eagerly looks between you both.

Jisung takes a deep breath, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of the table. “I never wanted to scare you, y/n,” he says softly. His voice is quieter now, more introspective. “You didn’t have to come with us, but… I’m glad you did.”

You smile softly, watching Seyeon as she drinks her juice, her little hands messy with excitement. “She’s a bright little girl. It was hard to say no.”

Jisung chuckles quietly, his eyes lingering on his daughter. “She gets that from her mother,” he says with a bittersweet smile. “And from me… the stubborn part.”

Seyeon giggles, her head tilting as she looks up at him. “Daddy, can we go to the park later?”

“We’ll see how you’re feeling,” Jisung replies with a wink. “You’ve had quite the adventure today already.”

Seyeon pout a little looking at you like you're in charge for this kind of things, "can you come too? please?" Jisung's eyes wide open, looking at you two before gasping a laugh, "baby I think y/n has her own things to do, don't you think?"

"What things daddy?" Her big doe eyes staring at his soul, he's always been bad at saying no to his daughter.

You watch them interact, their bond so natural, yet it’s clear there’s a depth to Jisung’s love for Seyeon that runs deeper than mere words. It’s the kind of love that only a parent can understand—protective, tender, and sometimes fragile.

“You don’t have to explain,” you say softly. “I understand what you’re trying to do. Being there for her. You’re doing your best, even if it’s hard.”

Jisung’s gaze flickers to yours, holding for a moment longer than necessary. “It’s not just about being her dad. It’s about being someone she can rely on, someone who won’t let go, even when things get messy. I’ve failed her before—too often, honestly. But I want to get it right now.”

Seyeon reaches out, her tiny hand resting on his arm. “You’re the best daddy, though.”

He laughs softly, brushing his fingers through her hair. “You’re the best daughter.”

You take a sip of your drink, the atmosphere soft and unburdened. Seyeon seems to sense the moment, her energy mellowing as she quietly munches on a pastry.

Jisung finally shifts his gaze back to you, his smile fading slightly as he leans in a little closer. “I wanted to apologize for everything—how things ended between me and her mother, the times I wasn’t there for Seyeon the way I should have been. It’s been a journey.”

You nod gently, your expression compassionate. “No need to apologize. Life happens, and we all do the best we can with what we have. You’ve clearly tried.”

There’s a long pause, the quiet hum of the café filling the space between your words. Seyeon’s light laughter bubbles up again as she tries to balance her juice box on her nose, her playful antics bringing a refreshing lift to the moment.

Seyeon suddenly pipes up, cutting through the quiet moment. “Can we get ice cream now?”

Jisung’s eyes sparkle as he glances at you. “Ice cream sounds good, doesn’t it?”

You laugh softly, nodding. “Ice cream is always a good idea.”

The ice cream stand is a lively hub of chatter and sweet aromas. Seyeon giggles as she holds her cone tightly, a swirl of pastel colors already melting down the sides and onto her small hands. Jisung grabs a handful of napkins, gently wiping her sticky fingers with a chuckle. You watch the scene with a warm smile, enjoying how natural and effortless their bond is despite the challenges Jisung hinted at earlier.

As the sun begins to set, casting a golden glow over the streets, Jisung glances over at you. “Y/n, can I talk to you for a minute?” he asks softly, nodding toward a quieter corner near a park bench.

Seyeon is too engrossed in her ice cream to notice as you nod, following Jisung to the side. His expression is serious yet gentle, the kind of look that tells you he’s been mulling over something important.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier,” he starts, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “About struggling to find work and trying to figure things out.”

You nod, slightly apprehensive about where this is going. “It’s been tough, yeah. But I’ll figure something out eventually.”

He looks down briefly, then back up at you, his dark eyes steady. “What if you didn’t have to figure it out alone? What if you gave being Seyeon’s nanny a try? Just for a day to start. See how it feels.”

The suggestion catches you off guard. “Me? Her nanny?”

Jisung nods, his expression hopeful but measured. “She adores you already, also she basically asked you. I mean, it’s not like I’ve got a huge list of options, but even if I did… I trust you. And clearly, Seyeon does too.”

You hesitate, unsure of how to respond. “Jisung, I don’t know… I’ve never worked as a nanny before.”

He smiles softly, leaning back against the bench. “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to care, and you already do. Plus, I’d be close by if you needed anything. My studio’s right in the area – also I would never leave you alone the first time with her only, she can be pretty pissed off the first time.”

You glance back at Seyeon, who’s sitting on a nearby bench, happily licking her ice cream and humming a tune to herself. The sight of her carefree joy tugs at your heartstrings.

“She does seem pretty attached already,” you admit with a small laugh. “But are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to step into something that’s too personal—”

“It’s not like that,” Jisung interrupts gently. “This isn’t just about convenience. I see how you are with her. She lights up around you in a way that makes me think... maybe this could work.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, weighing the idea. It’s unconventional, sure, but the sincerity in Jisung’s voice is undeniable. And the truth is, you could use the job, even if it’s temporary.

“I guess I could try it for a day,” you finally say, your voice cautious but open. “See how it goes.”

A relieved smile spreads across Jisung’s face. “That’s all I’m asking. If it doesn’t work out, no hard feelings. But…thank you, y/n. Really.”

Before you can reply, Seyeon bounces over, her ice cream cone now just a sticky napkin and a smile. “What are you guys talking about?” she asks, her big eyes darting between the two of you.

Jisung crouches down to her level, a playful grin on his face. “y/n might spend more time with us soon. Would you like that, princess?”

Seyeon gasps, her face lighting up like fireworks. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Please, y/nie!”

You laugh, her enthusiasm infectious. “Okay, okay, calm down. Let’s try it out first and see if you don’t get tired of me.”

“Never!” Seyeon exclaims, throwing her arms around your legs in a tight hug.

Jisung straightens up, his smile softening. “Guess we’ll figure out the details tomorrow? Her mother is out for a couple days and I have her in my apartment.”

“Yeah,” you reply, ruffling Seyeon’s hair as she clings to you. “Tomorrow.”

The three of you start walking again, the sun dipping below the horizon as the city lights flicker on. It’s not the future you imagined for yourself, but maybe—just maybe—it’s a step toward something brighter.

The next morning arrives faster than expected, and you find yourself standing outside Jisung’s apartment, clutching your bag nervously. The sleek, modern building looms above you, its pristine facade reflecting the pale morning light. You take a deep breath, adjusting your jacket as you summon the courage to ring the doorbell.

Within seconds, the door swings open, revealing Jisung, who’s already dressed in casual yet stylish clothes—a hoodie layered under a lightweight jacket, paired with black joggers – you would never tell that he’s in his 30s. His signature round glasses sit on his nose, giving him a surprisingly approachable look despite his celebrity status.

“Morning,” he greets with a warm smile. “Right on time.”

“Yeah,” you reply, forcing a small laugh. “Didn’t want to be late for my… trial run.”

Jisung chuckles, stepping aside to let you in. “Come on in. Seyeon’s been asking about you since she woke up.”

The apartment is as modern and stylish as you’d expect—minimalist furniture, neutral tones, and an impressive wall of windows that offer a panoramic view of Seoul. But despite the sleek design, there are signs of Seyeon’s presence everywhere, even if she doesn’t go there that often. A small table in the corner is covered in crayons and paper, her drawings pinned to the wall above it. A stuffed bunny sits on the couch, one of its ears slightly chewed on, and a trail of tiny sneakers leads toward her bedroom.

“She’s in her room getting dressed,” Jisung explains, closing the door behind you. “It’s her version of a fashion show, so… good luck getting her out anytime soon.”

You laugh, already feeling some of your nerves dissipate. “Sounds like a diva in the making.”

“She gets it from her mom,” Jisung says with a fond smile, though there’s a hint of sadness in his tone. Even if they are not together anymore he really loved her, things moved really slow in their relationship and after her he just had some casual hook ups around – nothing too deep. He’s scared of getting too into a relationship with someone. He clears his throat quickly, motioning toward the kitchen. “Want some coffee? I was just making a pot.”

“Sure, thanks,” you reply, following him into the open kitchen. The smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the air as Jisung pours two cups, sliding one across the counter to you.

As you sip your coffee, you decide to broach the subject that’s been on your mind. “So… how do you want this to go today? Any specific rules or routines I should know about?”

Jisung leans against the counter, his hands wrapped around his mug. “Honestly, just be yourself. Seyeon’s pretty easygoing once she warms up to someone, and she already seems to adore you. She loves arts and crafts, playing dress-up, and reading, so you’ll probably spend a lot of time doing those things.”

You nod, making mental notes. “Got it. Anything I should avoid?”

He hesitates for a moment, his expression softening. “She might bring up her mom. It’s still a sensitive topic for her, so just… be patient if she does. I try not to push her too much, but sometimes she needs to talk about it.”

“Of course,” you say, your tone reassuring. “I’ll be careful.”

Before Jisung can respond, a loud “Tada!” echoes from the hallway, and Seyeon bursts into the room, twirling in a bright pink tutu over her striped pajamas. Her hair is an adorable mess, with a sparkly headband perched crookedly on top, a grey cat following behind her. The cat’s meowing toward them and it jump on top of the iland of the kitchen, you pass the fingers through the furr.

“What do you think, y/n?” she asks, striking a dramatic pose. “Am I a princess?”

“You’re the most fabulous princess I’ve ever seen,” you reply with a grin, the little girl’s laugh fill the room, at the excited sound the cat runs away making jisung lightly giggle – his pet friend still getting used by the presence of the loud daughter.

Seyeon beams, running over to grab your hand. “Come on! Let’s play dress-up!”

Jisung laughs as she drags you toward her room, her enthusiasm infectious. “I’ll leave you two to it,” he says, shaking his head with amusement. “I’ll be in the studio if you need me, just down the hallway.”

You’re barely able to wave goodbye before Seyeon pulls you into her room—a whirlwind of color and chaos. The walls are painted a soft lavender, and every surface is covered in toys, books, and more clothes than any five-year-old could possibly wear. She immediately begins pulling out tiaras, feather boas, and glittery shoes, chattering excitedly as she explains the “rules” of dress-up.

The morning passes in a blur of laughter and imagination. You and Seyeon transform into royalty, superheroes, and even pirates, complete with cardboard swords and eye patches. Her giggles are contagious, and for a while, you forget all about your nerves or the fact that this is technically a trial job.

When lunchtime rolls around, you head back to the kitchen, where Jisung is already preparing a simple meal of sandwiches and fruit. He glances up as you enter, his face lighting up at the sight of Seyeon riding on your back like a knight on a trusty steed.

“Looks like you two are having fun,” he says, setting the plates on the table.

“The best fun ever!” Seyeon declares, sliding off your back and plopping into a chair.

You smile, taking a seat across from her. “She’s got quite the imagination.”

Jisung watches the two of you with a thoughtful expression, his gaze lingering on how naturally you interact with his daughter. As you help Seyeon with her sandwich, he leans back in his chair, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Thanks for today,” he says quietly, meeting your eyes. “I know it’s just one day, but… I think this could really work.”

You glance at Seyeon, who’s happily munching away, then back at Jisung. A sense of warmth fills your chest as you realize you’re starting to feel at home in this little corner of their world.

“Yeah,” you reply softly. “I think it could too.”

After lunch, Seyeon insists on showing you her favorite books. She pulls you into the living room, climbing onto the plush couch with a stack of brightly colored storybooks in her arms. You settle in beside her as she excitedly flips through the pages, pointing out her favorite characters and scenes.

“This one’s about a bunny who gets lost but finds his way home,” she says, holding up a book with a soft pastel cover. “Mommy reads it to me all the time.”

Her mention of her mother comes so naturally that it catches you off guard, but you remember Jisung’s advice to let Seyeon talk about it if she wants to. “It sounds like a beautiful story,” you say gently. “Would you like me to read it to you?”

Seyeon nods enthusiastically, scooting closer to you. As you read, she leans against your side, her small hand clutching your arm. By the time you finish the book, she’s curled up next to you, her eyes drooping with sleep.

Jisung steps out of his studio, his footsteps soft on the hardwood floor. He pauses when he sees the two of you on the couch, a smile spreading across his face. “She’s out, huh?”

“Almost,” you whisper, glancing down at her. “She had a big morning.”

He nods, walking over to lift her gently into his arms. She stirs slightly, mumbling something incoherent before settling against his shoulder. Jisung looks at you with a mix of gratitude and something else—something warmer, deeper.

“You’re a natural,” he says quietly as he carries Seyeon to her room.

You follow him to the hallway, leaning against the doorframe as he tucks her into bed. He moves with such care, brushing a strand of hair from her face and placing her stuffed bunny next to her. Watching him, you realize just how deeply he loves his daughter, how much he’s trying to give her the stability she needs.

When he steps back into the hallway, he closes Seyeon’s door with a soft click and turns to you. “Thanks for being so patient with her,” he says. “She’s… well, she’s been through a lot. More than a five-year-old should.”

“She’s a wonderful kid,” you reply honestly. “And she clearly adores you.”

Jisung leans against the wall, running a hand through his hair. “I just want to do right by her, you know? After the divorce… I don’t want her to feel like she’s missing out on anything.”

You nod, understanding the weight of his words. “You’re doing your best, Jisung. And it shows. She’s happy, and that’s what matters.”

He looks at you, his gaze steady. “I meant what I said earlier. I think this could work. You and Seyeon—it’s like you’ve known each other forever.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “She’s easy to love.”

Jisung’s eyes soften. “She thinks the same about you.”

There’s a pause, a quiet moment where the weight of the conversation hangs in the air. Jisung seems to be considering something, his expression thoughtful.

“If you’re willing,” he says after a moment, “I’d like to make this more than just a trial run. I know it’s only been a day, but… I feel like this is the right fit. For her, and for you.”

Your heart skips a beat at his sincerity. “Are you sure? I mean, it’s a big responsibility.”

“I know,” he replies, his voice firm yet kind. “And I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you could handle it. But more than that… I trust you. And so does Seyeon.”

You take a deep breath, the weight of his words settling in your chest. It’s not just a job—it’s a chance to be part of something meaningful, to help this little family heal and grow.

“Okay,” you say finally, a small smile forming. “I’ll do it.”

Jisung’s face lights up with relief and gratitude. “Thank you, y/n. Really.”

Just then, Seyeon’s soft voice calls out from her room, breaking the moment. “Daddy? Y/n?”

Jisung chuckles, pushing off the wall. “Looks like someone’s not quite asleep yet.”

You laugh, following him back to Seyeon’s room. As you step inside, you see her sitting up in bed, her bunny clutched tightly to her chest.

“Did you say yes, y/n?” she asks, her voice laced with sleepiness and hope.

You walk over to her, crouching down so you’re at eye level. “I did. Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

Seyeon’s face lights up, and she throws her arms around your neck. “Yay! I love you, y/n.”

Your heart swells at her words, and you glance up at Jisung, who’s watching with a soft smile. In that moment, you realize you’ve found something you didn’t even know you were looking for—a place where you truly belong.

The days quickly settle into a new rhythm. The mornings when Seyeon is at his apartment, you arrive at Jisung’s apartment to find Seyeon waiting for you with excitement bubbling in her tiny frame. Her favorite game is to guess what you’re wearing before you come in—a little ritual she made up—and she squeals with delight when she’s right.

“Pink sweater today! I knew it!” she announces one morning, hopping from foot to foot as you step inside.

“You’re getting too good at this,” you reply, laughing as you hang your bag by the door.

Jisung, already sipping his coffee at the kitchen counter, greets you with a relaxed smile. “She’s been talking about you since she woke up.”

“It’s mutual,” you tease, giving him a mock-serious look. “She’s got me wrapped around her little finger.”

Seyeon beams, running off to grab her crayons and sketchbook. While she sets up at the living room table, Jisung leans against the counter, his gaze warm but thoughtful.

“She really does adore you,” he says softly. “I’ve never seen her take to someone like this before.”

You shrug, a little flustered by his sincerity. “She’s easy to love.”

“So are you,” he replies without thinking, and the words hang in the air for a moment. His eyes widen slightly, as if he hadn’t meant to say it aloud, and he quickly turns back to his coffee. “I mean—uh—you’re great with her. That’s all I meant.”

You chuckle, letting him off the hook. “Relax, Jisung. I’ll take the compliment.”

As the weeks pass, your bond with Seyeon grows stronger. You spend hours doing crafts, reading stories, and exploring the nearby parks. She introduces you to her favorite playground and insists on teaching you how to climb the jungle gym, which ends with her laughing hysterically as you awkwardly navigate the narrow bars.

One evening, as you’re helping Seyeon clean up her paints after an afternoon of finger painting, she pauses and looks up at you with her big, expressive eyes.

“Y/n,” she says, her voice small and serious. “Do you think Mommy would like you?”

The question catches you off guard, and you glance over at Jisung, who’s working at the kitchen table. He’s heard her too, his posture stiffening slightly as he waits for your response.

You crouch down to Seyeon’s level, meeting her gaze. “I don’t know, sweetie,” you say honestly. “But I hope so.”

Seyeon seems to think about this for a moment, then nods as if she’s made up her mind. “I think she would. You’re nice. And you make Daddy smile.”

Your breath catches at her words, and you glance at Jisung again. He’s looking at you now, his expression unreadable but soft. There’s something unspoken in the way his gaze lingers, something that makes your heart race.

“Thank you, Seyeon,” you whisper, giving her a gentle hug. “That means a lot.”

It’s a stormy afternoon, the kind where the rain drums against the windows in a steady rhythm, casting a gray haze over the city. You’re busy tidying up Seyeon’s play area when you notice she’s unusually quiet. Normally, she’d be coloring or arranging her toys into elaborate scenes, but today, she’s sitting on the couch, hugging her stuffed bunny with a somber expression.

“Hey, sweetie,” you say gently, walking over to her. “What’s wrong? You’ve been so quiet today.”

Seyeon doesn’t answer right away. She shifts slightly, burying her face in her bunny. After a moment, she mumbles, “I want Mommy.”

The words hit you like a cold splash of water. Seyeon has mentioned missing her mom before is not a new, in these cases you would play a song for making her feel better or just asking her to do something to keep her mind away from the hard times when she is away from her mother - even for just a couple days like their divorce's papers mention. But this time, there’s a weight to her voice that makes your chest ache.

“Of course you do,” you say, crouching down to her level. “It’s okay to miss her, Seyeon.”

She finally looks up at you, her big eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Mommy and Daddy were yelling,” she says, her voice trembling. “I heard them on the phone. Mommy was crying. I don’t want to be here. I want to go home.”

You pause, your heart breaking for the little girl. It doesn’t take much to piece together what must have happened—Jisung and his ex-wife must have had an argument, and Seyeon overheard it. You don’t know the details, but it’s clear it’s left her feeling hurt and confused.

“I’m so sorry you heard that, sweetie,” you say softly. “That must have been really hard.”

Seyeon nods, her lip trembling. “It was scary. I don’t want Daddy to be mad at Mommy.”

You sit down beside her, giving her space but staying close enough that she knows you’re there. “Sometimes grown-ups get upset with each other, and they say things they don’t mean,” you explain. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t love you. Your mommy and daddy both love you so much, Seyeon. That’s the most important thing.”

“I still want Mommy,” she whispers, clutching her bunny tighter.

You’re about to respond when Jisung walks in from the hallway. He must have heard part of the conversation because his expression is filled with a mix of guilt and concern. He kneels beside you and reaches out for Seyeon, but she shrinks away, clutching her bunny even tighter.

“Seyeonnie, baby,” Jisung says softly, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m so sorry you heard that. Daddy didn’t mean to make you upset.”

Seyeon shakes her head, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. “You were mean to Mommy! I don’t want to stay here! I want her!”

The words hit Jisung hard, and you can see the pain in his eyes. He glances at you, silently asking for help.

“Seyeon,” you say gently, shifting closer to her. “It’s okay to feel upset. But maybe we can talk about it together. Would you like to tell Daddy how you’re feeling?”

She sniffles, her tiny body trembling with emotion. “I don’t want to talk to Daddy,” she says quietly. Then, looking at you, she adds, “And I don’t want to talk to you either. I just want Mommy.”

The rejection stings, but you remind yourself that this isn’t about you. It’s about Seyeon needing to process her feelings in her own way. It's a part of your current job: being able to tell when their feelings are real or just overwhelming by things around her.

Jisung sits back on his heels, running a hand through his hair. “Sweetheart, I’ll call Mommy, and we can figure out a time for you to see her soon, okay? But right now, we’re here for you. Me and y/n both.”

Seyeon doesn’t respond, turning away and curling up on the couch. Jisung looks at you again, his expression helpless.

You stand up and gently place a hand on his arm. “Let’s give her a little space,” you whisper.

He nods reluctantly, and the two of you step into the kitchen. Once you’re out of earshot, Jisung leans against the counter, his shoulders slumping. “I messed up,” he mutters. “I never should have let her hear that.”

“It’s not your fault, Jisung,” you say quietly. “These things happen. She’s just overwhelmed right now.”

He looks at you, his eyes filled with worry. “What do I do? She doesn’t even want to look at me.”

“Give her time,” you suggest. “Let her know you’re here when she’s ready to talk. And maybe call her mom—just hearing her voice might help Seyeon feel better. She will swing around jisung don't worry.”

He nods, pulling out his phone. As he dials, you glance back at the living room. Seyeon is still curled up on the couch, her bunny held close, but something tells you she’s listening.

A little later, after Jisung has arranged a call between Seyeon and her mom, you bring over a small plate of cookies and a glass of milk. You don’t say anything, just set it on the table near her and sit down in a chair a few feet away. Slowly, Seyeon uncurls, reaching for a cookie.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers after a few moments, her voice barely audible.

You smile softly, your heart aching with tenderness. “You don’t have to be sorry, sweetie. It’s okay to feel sad or mad. We all feel that way sometimes.”

Seyeon nods, nibbling on the cookie. Then, tentatively, she scoots closer to you. “Will you stay with me?”

“Of course,” you say, your voice steady and reassuring. “I’m not going anywhere.”

For now, that’s enough. And as Seyeon leans her head against your arm, you glance over at Jisung, who gives you a small, grateful smile. Together, you’ll help Seyeon through this—one step at a time.

It’s late evening when your phone buzzes with a message from Jisung. You’re already home, curled up on your couch, replaying the events of the day in your mind. You studied all day for the upcoming exams, all day in that for walls of your apartment.

Jisung: Hey, are you free tonight? Could you come over? Seyeon’s not here, but… I’d really like to talk.

You stare at the message for a moment, your heart skipping a beat. It’s unusual for him to ask for your company when Seyeon isn’t around. That makes you slightly nervous but after a moment of hesitation, you reply.

You: Sure. I’ll be there in 20. You: should I be worried?

You chew your nail lightly, three dots moving on the screen as you start to get really agitated about what could actually mean. Does he want to end up things? does he think it's not necessary for him to have a nanny?

Jisung: silly, no, just wanna talk :)

When you arrive at Jisung’s apartment, he greets you at the door, his expression a mix of relief and exhaustion. He’s dressed casually in a hoodie and sweatpants, his hair slightly disheveled, and you can tell immediately that he’s been overthinking.

“Thanks for coming,” he says softly, stepping aside to let you in.

“Of course,” you reply, setting your bag down by the door. “How’s Seyeon?”

“She’s with her mom this week, as usual,” he explains, leading you to the couch. “I thought it might be better for her to spend some time there, especially after what happened last Sunday. But she's coming tomorrow morning so, you come to work like always.”

You nod, sitting down beside him. “That makes sense. How are you holding up?”

He exhales heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly? Not great. I feel like I let her down. She heard things she shouldn’t have, and now she doesn’t even want to be around me.”

“She’s a little girl, Jisung,” you say gently. “She’s still figuring out how to handle her emotions. It's not easy to be a parent and it doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you.”

He looks at you, his eyes filled with vulnerability. “I know you’re right, but it’s hard not to feel like I’m failing her. I just… I don’t know what I’m doing half the time.”

You place a reassuring hand on his arm. “No parent has it all figured out. The fact that you care so much about her shows what a great dad you are. And she knows that, even if she’s upset right now.”

Jisung leans back against the couch, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “I’ve been thinking about that day—about how you handled everything. You were so patient with her, even when she pushed you away. You’re amazing with her, y/n.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at his words. “I just want what’s best for her. She’s a wonderful kid.”

He turns his head to look at you, his expression soft. “You’re wonderful too. I don’t know what I would’ve done today without you. Since the day we met at the zoo, everything with you seems to.. find the right place.”

There’s a long pause, the weight of his words settling between you. Finally, he sits up straighter, his brow furrowed in thought.

“Y/n, I didn’t ask you over just to vent,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “I’ve been thinking… Seyeon’s been through so much with the divorce, and I know I can’t fix everything for her. But having you around—it’s made such a difference. For her and for me.”

You blink, caught off guard by the intensity in his gaze. “Jisung…”

“I don’t just mean as her nanny,” he continues quickly, his words tumbling out. “I mean… as someone I can rely on. Someone who’s already become such an important part of our lives. I don’t want to cross any boundaries or make things weird, but—”

“You’re not,” you interrupt gently, placing a hand on his knee to calm his rambling. “I understand what you’re trying to say.”

His shoulders relax slightly, but his eyes remain fixed on yours. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that you’re more than just Seyeon’s nanny to me. And I don’t know where this could go, but I’d like to find out. If you’re willing.”

The room feels suddenly smaller, the air charged with unspoken possibilities. You take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest, his eyes so big and soft makes you shivers.

“I care about you too, Jisung,” you admit softly. “And I care about Seyeon. I want to be here for both of you, but… we need to be careful. For her sake.”

He nods, his expression thoughtful. “I agree. She comes first, always. But I don’t want to let this—whatever this is—slip away.”

“Let’s take it one step at a time,” you say gently.

Jisung nods, relief and hope flickering in his eyes. “One step at a time,” he agrees.

The next morning, you arrive at Jisung’s apartment right on time, ready to start your day with Seyeon. As you step inside, you’re greeted by the familiar hum of activity—the soft sound of music playing from the speakers, the faint smell of coffee wafting from the kitchen, and Seyeon’s little voice drifting from her play area.

She’s sitting on the floor in her pajamas, surrounded by an army of stuffed animals. When she spots you, her face lights up in a way that makes your heart swell.

“y/n!” she exclaims, running over to you with her bunny clutched in one hand. “Look! I made a picnic for my friends!”

You crouch down to her level, admiring the intricate arrangement of plates, cups, and plastic food. “This looks amazing, Seyeon! Did you set this all up by yourself?”

She nods proudly, her curls bouncing. “Uh-huh! But you’re late, so we already ate the sandwiches.”

You gasp playfully. “Oh no! I missed the sandwiches? What am I going to eat now?”

Seyeon giggles, pulling you by the hand to sit down with her. “You can have dessert! We have cake and cookies.”

Jisung walks in at that moment, a mug of coffee in his hand. He leans against the doorway, watching the two of you with a soft smile. “Looks like you’ve been invited to the fanciest picnic in town,” he teases.

A blush spread on your face, remembering about the conversation that you had with Jisung the night before, “Only the best for me,” you reply with a grin, pretending to nibble on an invisible cookie. Seyeon bursts into another fit of giggles, clearly delighted by the attention.

The morning passes in a blur of laughter and playtime. You and Seyeon build a towering castle out of blocks, only for her to gleefully knock it down moments later. She insists on showing you her latest drawings, and you listen intently as she explains the story behind each one.

But it’s during her naptime that the moment when jisung is casually off work on his productions session.. After reading her favourite bedtime story, you tuck her in, smoothing the blanket over her small frame. Her eyes are heavy with sleep, but just as you’re about to leave, she reaches out and grabs your hand.

“y/n?” she whispers, her voice small and drowsy.

“Yes, sweetie?”

She hesitates for a moment before speaking. “Do you think Daddy loves Mommy still?”

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re at a loss for words. You kneel down beside her bed, meeting her wide, searching eyes.

“I think your daddy loves you more than anything in the whole world,” you say gently. “And sometimes, grown-ups love each other in different ways. But no matter what, he and your mommy will always work together to make sure you’re happy and loved.”

She seems to mull over your words, her eyelids fluttering as sleep begins to take over. “Do you love Daddy?” she mumbles, her words slurring slightly.

Your breath catches in your throat. “I think your daddy is a very special person,” you say carefully. “And I’m really happy I get to spend time with you and him.”

Seyeon hums in acknowledgment, her grip on your hand loosening as she finally drifts off. You sit there for a moment longer, brushing a stray curl from her forehead before quietly slipping out of the room. The realisation hits hard, she asked you a question that really makes you in difficulty, your hands are lightly sweaty after the careful words that you let hanging in her room.

You walk out closing the door behind you, as you’re cleaning up in the living room, Jisung comes in from his studio. He’s wearing his headphones around his neck and looks a little more relaxed than he did yesterday.

“She’s asleep?” he asks, leaning against the couch.

“Out like a light,” you reply with a smile. “She was so busy today, she didn’t stand a chance.”

Jisung chuckles, his eyes softening. “Thank you for being so patient with her. I know she can be a handful sometimes.”

“She’s a sweetheart,” you say, brushing off his praise. “And she adores you, Jisung. You’re doing a great job, even if it doesn’t always feel like it.”

There’s a pause, the air between you warm and comfortable. Jisung sits down beside you, his gaze flickering to the kitchen before settling back on you.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday,” he starts, his voice quieter now. “About taking things one step at a time. I just want you to know how much it means to me that you’re here. Not just for Seyeon, but for me too.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and you feel a blush creeping up your neck. “I’m happy to be here,” you admit softly.

The days pass, and your bond with Seyeon—and with Jisung—deepens. Seyeon grows more comfortable around you, often seeking you out for everything from help with her drawings to impromptu dance performances in the living room. Jisung, in turn, seems to relax more in your presence, his usual walls lowering bit by bit.

One afternoon, after a particularly lively dance session with Seyeon that left you both giggling on the carpet, Jisung calls you into the kitchen. He’s preparing a snack for Seyeon, but the way he keeps glancing at you suggests he has something on his mind.

“y/n, can we talk for a second?” he asks, his voice cautious but kind.

“Of course,” you reply, leaning against the counter. “What’s up?”

He sets down the knife he’s been using to slice fruit and turns to face you fully. “I’ve been thinking about how much things have changed since you started working with us. You’ve brought so much stability into Seyeon’s life. And mine.”

You feel a mix of pride and nervousness at his words. “I’m glad I’ve been able to help,” you say sincerely. “She’s such a special little girl. And you’re doing an amazing job as her dad.”

“I know we agreed to take things slow,” he continues, his gaze steady but vulnerable. “But I can’t ignore how much you mean to both of us. I care about you, y/n. A lot. And I want to know if you feel the same.”

For a moment, the room feels impossibly still. Then, you nod, a small, shy smile spreading across your face.

“I do, Jisung,” you admit. “But I’ve been trying to be careful—for Seyeon’s sake.”

He nods, his expression softening. “I know. And I appreciate that more than you know. I just… I don’t want to let this slip away. I want us to figure this out—together.”

Before you can respond, a small voice interrupts from the doorway.

“Daddy?”

Both of you turn to see Seyeon standing there, her bunny clutched to her chest. Her hair is a little messy from her earlier playtime, and her wide eyes dart between the two of you.

“Hey, sweet cheeks,” Jisung says gently, crouching down to her level. “What’s wrong?”

Seyeon hesitates, then shuffles over to him. “Can y/n stay for dinner? And maybe… can we all watch a movie after?" The innocence of her request tugs at your heart, and Jisung glances up at you with a smile.

“What do you say?” he asks.

You kneel down beside them, matching Seyeon’s level. “I’d love to stay. But only if I get to pick the movie,” you tease, earning a giggle from the little girl.

As Seyeon throws her arms around both of you, pulling you into a spontaneous group hug, you realize how much this little family means to you—and how much you’re starting to mean to them.

Dinner that evening feels warm and lively, the kind of atmosphere that wraps around you like a cozy blanket. Jisung insists on cooking, and though the meal is simple—grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup—it feels perfect. Seyeon sits at the table, swinging her legs beneath her chair as she chatters about her favorite animals and what movie she thinks you should all watch.

“I think we should watch Moana!” Seyeon declares, her cheeks puffing as she takes a bite of her sandwich.

Jisung raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t we just watch that last weekend?”

“But y/n hasn’t watched it with us!” Seyeon protests, her pout making you chuckle.

“I’d love to watch Moana,” you say, playfully nudging her. “But only if you promise to sing the songs with me.”

Her face lights up, and she practically bounces in her seat. “Okay! I’ll sing the Maui parts, and you can be Moana!”

Jisung laughs, shaking his head. “Guess I’m stuck being the chicken, huh?”

Seyeon giggles, and the sound fills the room, light and contagious. You catch Jisung’s eye across the table, and for a moment, the two of you share a look—one that feels like a silent agreement, a shared understanding that this little moment is something special.

After dinner, you all settle into the living room. Seyeon grabs her favorite blanket and curls up between you and Jisung on the couch. The lights are dimmed, the opening scene of Moana playing on the TV.

Seyeon sings along enthusiastically, her little voice bright and unrestrained. You join in at her insistence, your laughter mingling with hers as you both belt out the lyrics. Jisung, true to his word, adds exaggerated squawks whenever Hei Hei, the chicken, is on screen, earning peals of laughter from his daughter.

At one point, Seyeon leans her head against your arm, her tiny hand resting on your lap. The gesture is small but significant, and you feel a lump forming in your throat. When you glance over at Jisung, you notice he’s watching the two of you with a soft expression, his smile tinged with something deeper. His hand moves over your shoulder behind the couch, tracing pattern on your skin; shivers running down your spine.

As the movie progresses, Seyeon’s energy begins to wane. By the time Moana reaches Te Fiti, she’s fast asleep, her head now resting on your shoulder. You glance down at her peaceful face, her bunny tucked securely in her arms.

“She’s out,” you whisper, careful not to wake her.

Jisung nods, a fond smile on his lips. “She had a big day. And I think all that singing wore her out.”

You laugh softly, shifting slightly to make sure Seyeon is comfortable. “Do you want me to move her to her bed?”

Jisung shakes his head. “No, let her stay for a bit. She looks comfortable.”

For a while, the two of you sit in companionable silence, the credits of the movie rolling on the screen. Seyeon’s gentle breathing fills the room, a steady rhythm that feels grounding.

“Thank you for staying tonight,” Jisung says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You look over at him, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the TV. “I’m happy to be here,” you reply honestly.

Jisung hesitates for a moment before reaching out, his hand brushing against yours on the couch. The touch is light, tentative, but it sends a wave of warmth through you. When you don’t pull away, he intertwines his fingers with yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

You smile at him, your heart full as you glance down at Seyeon. In this moment, surrounded by quiet warmth and the soft hum of contentment, you feel like you’ve found a place where you truly belong.

Jisung carefully scoops Seyeon into his arms, her bunny still clutched tightly to her chest. She stirs slightly but doesn’t wake, her little face peaceful as she nestles closer to her father. He glances at you with a small smile before carrying her to her room.

You stay on the couch, tidying up the throw blankets and pillows, unsure if you should take your leave or wait for him to return. The quiet hum of the apartment makes you feel strangely calm, and yet, there’s a nervous energy lingering in the air.

A few minutes later, Jisung emerges from Seyeon’s room, shutting the door softly behind him. He looks tired but content, his hands resting on his hips as he walks back toward you.

“Is she okay?” you ask softly.

“Out like a light,” he replies with a chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “She didn’t even let go of that bunny.”

You smile, standing up and grabbing your bag. “Well, I should probably get going. It’s getting late.”

Jisung’s expression shifts slightly, a mix of hesitation and something deeper flashing across his face. “Wait,” he says, his voice quiet but urgent. “Can you… stay a little longer? Just me and you?”

His request catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re unsure how to respond. But the trill of being alone with him keeps you rooted in place.

“Okay,” you say softly, setting your bag back down. “I can stay.”

The room feels quieter, the hum of conversation and laughter from earlier fading into a gentle stillness. Jisung steps closer, his gaze searching yours, as if trying to find the words that have been building between you both. His hand brushes against yours lightly, a soft touch that lingers a moment too long to be innocent.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice a whisper against the space between you. There’s a hesitation in his eyes, a vulnerability that pulls at your heart. You feel an electric spark, a tender moment that feels like it belongs only to you both.

“You didn’t have to ask,” you respond quietly, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within you. “I wanted to stay.”

He smiles faintly, his lips parting just slightly as if savoring the words you’ve given him. The air shifts, thick with unspoken desires and a quiet understanding that needs no elaboration. Your heart beats faster, anticipation making every breath feel heavier.

“Good,” he says simply, his voice smooth and low, a melody in itself. His hand slides fully into yours, fingers intertwining in a way that feels natural, almost inevitable. “Just you and me.”

Jisung move even closer, the space between you vanishing as his confidence grows. His gaze doesn’t waver, his eyes holding yours with a quiet intensity that sends shivers down your spine. Without a word, he lifts a hand, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch lingering just a little longer than necessary.

“Are you sure?” he asks softly, his voice a low, husky whisper that sends a thrill through you. His breath brushes against your skin, warm and inviting. “Because I don’t want to rush this.”

You nod gently, heart fluttering as your fingers tighten around his. The world around you feels distant, every sense focused solely on him—on the way he looks at you, the way his presence consumes the room. His smile deepens, a playful glint lighting up his expression as he leans in just a bit more, the space between you almost nonexistent.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he murmurs, his lips a breath away from yours. “I don’t want to waste another second.”

Your breath catches, the heat in the room intensifying. His gaze is captivating, his touch electric, and the way he holds you makes every moment feel like something sacred. You tilt your head slightly, allowing him to close the distance. His lips press softly against yours, a tender kiss that speaks of patience and desire—a perfect balance of softness and passion. His lips barely brushing against yours. He can feel you gasp slightly at the sudden action, but he holds your chin with one hand and keeps you close, prolonging the kiss for a few more seconds before pulling away, a smirk on his face. "Not so talkative now, are we?"

You giggles, blushing in face as you cover your mouth a little, "you just kissed me! what you wanted me to say? kiss me more?"

His smirk grows bigger, "that doesn't sounds so bad-" you grabs lightly the sides of his hoodie, clenching your fingers as you is breathless. Pulling him for another kiss, he lets out a small gasp of surprise, but then melts into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. His arms wrapping around your waist, bringing you flush against his body. This time the kiss is more intense, deeper, hungrier.

You ends up on his lap, straddling it and his hands vanishing on your curves, the arch of your back to groping your ass gently, his hands makes you shivers.

A little gasp leaving your lips when his fingers digs on your rear, "u-uhm jisung.." you mumble, your lips for how badly you want to move away to stop the passionate moments, they keeps asking for more from jisung.

“Hm?” He hums as his tongue brushes against your bottom lip, his so needy, so messy, and you’re loving every second of it, even if you cannot stop thinking about his daughter being just in the room down the hallway. 

You move your lips apart letting his tongue meeting his in need, his hands pressing down your hips against his lap, you can feel his hardness through his clothes and it’s so damn sexy that your pussy start to pulse. “Seyeon.. she might.. wake up..”

Gasps between kisses, your lips are locked with him as he suck gently your tongue making you moan under your breath, he’s such a good kisser.

Before either of you can say more, the sound of a tiny voice cuts through the moment.

“Daddy! I need you!”

Seyeon’s voice, muffled but unmistakable, drifts out from her bedroom down the hall.

Both of you freeze in place, eyes wide and suddenly aware of the situation, you’re still on his lap, he’s still hard as hell and his hands are holding your ass.

“Oh no,” Jisung mutters, glancing toward her room. “Not now.”

You giggle softly, a nervous laugh that’s quickly overtaken by a chuckle. “You have to go,” you whisper, trying to hold back the laughter bubbling up. “She’s calling for you.”

Jisung groans dramatically, squeezing his eyes shut for a second before shaking his head. “She couldn’t have waited just five more minutes?”

“I think those five minutes would’ve take us in another situation,” you respond with a smirk, you move from his lap, standing up and fixing your clothes at the best. “Duty calls.”

He sighs, turning toward her room. “I’ll be right there, sweet cheeks!”

You make a beeline for the front door, grabbing your bag in a hurry, trying to stifle your laughter as you hear Seyeon giggling softly through the wall.

You poke your head back into the living room just as Jisung kneels beside her bed, trying his best to soothe her back to sleep. His expression is slightly flustered, and you can’t help but laugh one last time at the sheer comical timing.

“Goodnight, Jisung!” you call out with a wink. “Good luck!”

“Thanks,” he replies with a sheepish grin, though his voice carries a touch of relief when you finally step out the door.

As the door clicks shut behind you, the sound of Seyeon’s laughter and Jisung’s soothing voice floats into the night, and you can’t stop the grin that spreads across your face.

Maybe next time, there will be fewer interruptions. But for tonight, the memory of that unexpected moment will stay with you.

It’s been almost seven months that you work for Jisung, since that day at the zoo you’re life almost switched. You passed almost every day waiting for the Saturday morning to see that little girl and her, very hot, daddy. Dawns with a quiet stillness in Jisung’s apartment. You arrive early to find Seyeon still curled up in bed, her little face flushed with fever and her bunny clutched tightly in her arms. Her soft coughs echo through the room, and it’s clear she’s not feeling her usual energetic self.

He told you by text that she was not feeling very well but the mother had to go on a business trip and she had to crash at his place for the rest of the weekend. Jisung is already in the kitchen, his own expression worn with worry, a damp towel pressed to his forehead. His hair is slightly messy, and his usually sharp eyes are dulled with fatigue. He turns when he hears your footsteps, his smile tired but appreciative.

“Good morning,” he greets you softly. “Sorry you had to see me like this.”

You step into the kitchen and take the towel from his hand, gently replacing it with a fresh one. “You look worse than Seyeon,” you tease lightly, though your concern is genuine. “Are you okay?”

He chuckles weakly, leaning against the counter. “Not exactly the most glamorous morning, huh?”

“No, but someone has to be the adult,” you say with a grin, though you glance over at Seyeon with a frown. “Let me handle her. You rest.”

“I would kiss you if I could,” He pout lightly toward you, almost playfully trying to steal a breif kiss from your lips.

Your giggles making him feel lightly better, “Don’t even try.”

Jisung sighs, grateful for your presence, and moves toward the couch. He collapses onto it with a sigh, his breathing steady but slow, clearly feeling the effects of whatever sickness has taken hold of both him and his daughter.

You walk softly into Seyeon’s room, pulling back the curtains to let the morning light in gently. She blinks up at you, her little face pale but her bright eyes still wide with curiosity.

“Hi, sweet cheeks,” you murmur, sitting down beside her bed. “How are you feeling?”

She sniffles, hugging her bunny tighter. “Daddy’s not feeling good either.”

You glance toward the living room, where Jisung lies sprawled out, looking almost worse than she does. “Yeah, well, Daddy might need some extra care too.” You ruffle her hair gently, trying to lift her spirits. “Let’s get you some breakfast, okay?”

Seyeon nods softly, her tiny hand wrapping around yours as you help her sit up. Her fever is still high, but her energy, though subdued, is still there. You prepare a light breakfast—warm soup, soft toast, and water—and sit with her at the dining table.

Meanwhile, Jisung has managed to find the strength to make his way to the kitchen, his movements slow but determined. He leans against the doorway, watching you with a quiet admiration, a small smile touching his lips as you care for his daughter.

“You don’t have to do all this,” he says softly, his voice hoarse from his own illness.

You glance up, offering him a reassuring smile. “You’re not alone in this, Jisung. She needs both of you right now.”

He breathes out a sigh, his shoulders relaxing at your words. “Thank you, y/n. For everything.”

“It’s what friends do,” you reply, though your heart aches a little at how fragile the moment feels. Taking care of them both—so sick and vulnerable—is more than just a task. It feels personal. It feels like family.

Also the fact that you called him ‘friend’ makes a fool out of you.

As the day stretches on, you find yourself handling both Jisung and Seyeon with gentle care, managing meals, administering medicine, and even tucking them into bed for naps. They may be ill, but there’s a quiet warmth that fills the apartment, a sense of support and togetherness that feels like a foundation for something more.

When the evening arrives, Seyeon is finally asleep in her room, and Jisung, though still weak, sits upright on the couch. You’re back in the kitchen, making tea for the both of you, the space calming and steady amidst the chaos of the day.

Jisung watches you from the doorway again, his eyes filled with gratitude and something softer—something you recognize as something deeper.

“y/n,” he starts softly, “You didn’t have to stay this long.”

You glance over your shoulder with a small smile. “I wanted to. And I’ll stay as long as you both need me.”

He nods, his expression thoughtful, and then softly says, “You’re incredible.”

You shake your head, pouring the tea. “Not really. Just doing what anyone would.”

But deep down, you know that’s not true. What you’re doing is more than just helping. It’s being there, fully present in a way that neither Jisung nor Seyeon seem to take for granted. And as you set the tea in front of him, watching him take a slow sip, you realize that even amidst sickness, something beautiful is quietly blooming between the three of you.

The evening has settled in a quiet calm after the whirlwind of the day. Seyeon is tucked into her bed, her fever finally lowering thanks to the care and attention she received. You sit beside Jisung on the couch, his body still warm, though not as feverish as earlier.

“I should probably get going soon,” you say softly, your voice gentle as you glance toward him. “You need rest too.”

Jisung leans back against the couch cushions, his eyes closing for a moment. “Just... a little longer,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. “Please?”

You hesitate, he looks so exhausted, so desperately in need of comfort, that you can’t bring yourself to leave just yet. “Okay,” you whisper, settling beside him on his bed again. “Just for a bit.”

His room is quite big for the apartment that he has, he has a beautiful window that gives the view to the city, a walk-in wardrobe that you can bet filled with crazy outfits that he used for his idol’s life, so many guitars on the wall. And a picture of him, his little girl and probably the ex-wife under a cottage, he’s playing the guitar looking lovely at the mother of Seyeon with her on her lap – they look so.. happy to you.

He lets out a breath, visibly relaxing as you stay close. The warmth of your presence is grounding for him, a welcome relief from the chaos of the past few days.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, his voice softer than before. “For everything.”

You reach out instinctively, brushing a hand against his forehead to check his temperature again. “Still a bit warm,” you note, though it’s not dangerously high anymore. “But at least your fever’s coming down.”

Jisung hums in agreement, his hand instinctively finding yours. His fingers lace with yours, squeezing gently as if grounding himself in your touch. He doesn’t let go this time, his grip tightening ever so slightly as he leans into you, his head resting on your shoulder.

“It’s nice,” he murmurs softly. “Having you here.”

The simple admission surprises you, but it doesn’t feel awkward or forced. Instead, it feels natural, like two people seeking comfort in each other’s presence without the need for words.

You smile softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The silence stretches for a few moments, the world outside fading into the background. You run your fingers through his hair absentmindedly, soothing him in a way that feels effortless. His breathing slows, the warmth of his body against yours steadying with each passing second.

“Stay with me tonight?” His voice is barely above a whisper, but the request is clear.

Your heart skips a beat, and though you’d considered leaving earlier, now the thought feels impossible. The tender moment shared between you, his vulnerability, the way he clings to you… it creates a sense of intimacy that feels more profound than anything you’ve experienced before.

“What if Seyeon finds out that I am here? I don’t want to hurt her,” you answer softly.

His arms moves around your waist, pulling you to sit on his lap, your hands still between his curls as his sick eyes find yours, “she doesn’t have to know, we will tell her that you came earlier than usual.”

His grip tightens just a little more. You lay back with him, your arm draped around his waist, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

It’s quiet again, except for the occasional sound of his breathing slowing into a peaceful rhythm. You stay like that, cradling him in your care, the weight of the moment grounding and beautiful.

Jisung shifts slightly, his body instinctively seeking more comfort in the warmth of your presence. His head dips, and before you realize it, he’s nestled against your chest, his cheek pressed to the soft fabric of your shirt. His breathing is steady but heavy with exhaustion, the fever leaving him unusually vulnerable.

You stiffen for a moment, caught off guard by the intimacy of the gesture. But when you glance down and see his peaceful expression—eyes closed, lips slightly parted, his lashes casting delicate shadows against his flushed cheeks—you feel your heart soften.

“Jisung,” you whisper gently, brushing your fingers through his hair to see if his fever has spiked again. His temperature is still warm but manageable, the worst of it seemingly passed for now.

Instead of waking, he hums softly, his hand gripping the fabric of your shirt as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. The gesture tugs at your heartstrings, his vulnerability clear in the way he clings to you, seeking solace even in his sleep.

You sigh softly, wrapping your arms around him with a tenderness you didn’t know you could offer so easily. “You’re really something else,” you murmur, your lips curving into a gentle smile as you stroke his hair rhythmically.

His breathing evens out further, and the weight of his body against yours becomes a grounding comfort. As the moments pass, you lean your head back against the pillow, letting the quiet intimacy of the situation settle over you.

It’s not what you expected when you agreed to stay, but now, with Jisung pressed close, his warmth radiating against you, it feels like exactly where you’re meant to be. You close your eyes, resting your chin lightly on the top of his head, and let the stillness carry you both into a rare and cherished peace.

The first rays of sunlight seep through the curtains, casting a soft golden glow over the room. You stir slightly, the ache in your back and the unfamiliar weight on your chest bringing you back to consciousness. Blinking a few times, you glance down and freeze.

Jisung is still draped over you, his head nestled against your chest, his arms loosely wrapped around your waist. His soft, even breaths tickle your skin, and his tousled hair brushes against your chin. It’s a startlingly intimate position, and your cheeks flush as the reality of the situation sets in.

You try to move subtly, hoping not to wake him, but the slight shift causes him to stir. He groans softly, his face nuzzling against you like a contented cat seeking more warmth.

“Jisung,” you whisper, your voice a mix of exasperation and embarrassment. “You’re… still on top of me.”

He hums in response, clearly not fully awake. “Hmm… comfy,” he mutters, his voice muffled against you.

You suppress a laugh, shaking your head as you gently pat his shoulder. “Come on, sleepyhead. You’re crushing me.”

His eyes flutter open slowly, his gaze hazy and unfocused as he registers where he is—and more importantly, where you are. His face turns crimson in an instant, and he bolts upright, his disheveled hair only adding to the hilarity of the moment.

“Oh my God,” he blurts out, his voice hoarse with lingering sleep. “I—I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

You sit up too, waving a hand to stop him before he spirals into full-blown panic. “It’s fine, Jisung. You were sick, and we must’ve fallen asleep like that.”

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, his ears still red. “Still… I should’ve been more aware. That’s so—”

“Unexpected? Sure. But it’s not the end of the world,” you interrupt, giving him a teasing grin. “Besides, you were pretty cute all snuggled up like that.”

His jaw drops slightly, and he stares at you, completely flustered. “Cute?! I—no—I mean—”

You laugh, the sound breaking through the awkward tension. “Relax, Jisung. It’s not a big deal.”

Just then, a small voice calls out from down the hall.

“Daddy? Where are you?”

The two of you exchange wide-eyed looks before scrambling off the bed. Jisung fumbles to fix his hair and grab his hoodie while you quickly smooth down your clothes, both of you rushing to look presentable.

“I’ll get her,” Jisung says, his voice still tinged with embarrassment, as he heads out of the room.

As you follow him, you can’t help but smile at the ridiculousness of the situation. Despite the awkwardness, there’s an undeniable warmth that lingers between you—a connection that feels stronger than before. And as Seyeon’s giggles echo through the apartment, you realize that, awkward or not, this is exactly where you want to be.

As Jisung steps into the hallway, he quickly motions for you to follow him into the living room. His expression is one of barely concealed panic.

"Okay but," he whispers, running a hand through his messy hair. "We need a story. Seyeon can’t know we both slept in my room. She’ll definitely tell her mom, and... yeah, let’s avoid that."

You stifle a laugh, appreciating the sheer absurdity of the situation. “Alright, what’s the plan?”

Jisung glances toward Seyeon’s room, where her little voice is calling out again, a clear mix of curiosity and impatience. He thinks for a moment before his eyes light up. “We’ll say you arrived really early to check on her, and I was still half-asleep when you got here.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Half-asleep and on top of me?”

He groans, his ears turning red. “Details she doesn’t need to know!” He waves his hands, flustered. “Just... sit on the couch and act like you just got here. I’ll handle the rest.”

Rolling your eyes but unable to resist the humor of the moment, you grab your bag from where it had been discarded the night before and plop yourself on the couch. You pull out your phone to make it look like you’ve been sitting there for a while.

“Daddy?” Seyeon’s voice is louder now as she pads into the living room in her pajamas, her bunny clutched in her arms. Her sleepy eyes widen slightly when she spots you. “y/nie! You’re here!”

You give her a warm smile, waving as if this is the most normal morning ever. “Morning, sweet cheeks. I came early to check on you and Daddy. How are you feeling?”

Seyeon blinks at you, her expression curious. “But I didn’t hear the doorbell…”

Jisung swoops in at that exact moment, his hoodie slightly askew and his hair still a mess. “That’s because Daddy let y/n in while you were still asleep, princess,” he says smoothly, crouching down to give her a hug. “She wanted to make sure you were feeling better.”

Seyeon narrows her eyes at him suspiciously, her tiny hands on her hips. “Why is your hair so messy, Daddy?”

Jisung freezes for a split second before letting out an overly dramatic yawn. “Oh, that’s because I just woke up too! I was soooo tired after yesterday, remember?” He ruffles her hair playfully, distracting her as he stands. “But look at you—still the cutest little bean even when you’re sick.”

Seyeon giggles, her suspicions forgotten for the moment as she climbs onto the couch beside you. “Are you gonna stay with us today, y/n?”

You glance at Jisung, who gives you a grateful look over Seyeon’s head. “Of course,” you reply with a smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You and Daddy need someone to take care of you, don’t you?”

Seyeon nods eagerly, her little hands clutching yours. “Yes! Daddy is really bad at making soup.”

“Hey!” Jisung protests, but his playful tone makes you laugh.

As the three of you settle into the morning routine, the chaos of the earlier situation melts away. Jisung catches your eye every now and then, a mix of gratitude and amusement in his expression. And though the morning started with a flurry of awkwardness and quick thinking, it’s clear that neither of you would trade this for anything.

“y/n,” she says after a moment, her little voice breaking the quiet. “Do you know how to make pancakes?”

You glance over your shoulder with a smile. “I do, but I think soup is better for you today, sweet cheeks. Pancakes can wait until you’re all better.”

Seyeon pouts, but it’s short-lived as Jisung shuffles in, still looking half-asleep despite his attempt to pull himself together. He leans against the counter, his hoodie slightly crooked, and watches you with a soft, almost shy smile.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he murmurs as you stir the soup.

You wave him off. “I told you, you’re both sick. Somebody has to take care of you.”

Seyeon pipes up from the table. “y/n is the best at taking care of people, Daddy. You should hire her forever!”

Jisung chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ll see, princess. For now, I think we’re lucky she’s here at all.”

You finish the soup and serve it up, sitting beside Seyeon to make sure she eats slowly. She chatters between spoonfuls, her energy already bouncing back, though she still has a telltale flush on her cheeks from the fever.

After breakfast, Jisung retreats to the couch, looking utterly exhausted but refusing to admit it. You catch him trying to sit up and work on his laptop, which you promptly take away from him.

“Absolutely not,” you scold, folding your arms. “Back to bed, Mr. Producer. You’re supposed to be resting, not working.”

“But—”

“No buts.” You place your hands on your hips, glaring down at him. “You’re lucky I don’t confiscate your phone too.”

Seyeon comes from behind her legs with a smirk and a playful voice, “ohoh, Daddy’s in trouble.”

Jisung gives you a sheepish smile, holding his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. You win.”

He stands, but his movements are sluggish, his fever still lingering. You guide him back to his bedroom, where he collapses onto the bed with a dramatic groan.

“This feels like a punishment,” he grumbles, though there’s no real bite in his tone.

“It’s for your own good,” you reply, pulling the blanket over him. “Now stay put.”

As you turn to leave, he reaches out, his fingers lightly catching your wrist. “y/n,” he says softly, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “Thank you. Really.”

You smile down at him, your heart softening at the sight of his tired but grateful expression. “Get some rest, Jisung. That’s all the thanks I need.”

When you leave the room, you find Seyeon curled up on the couch, already half-asleep with her bunny tucked under her chin. You drape a blanket over her and settle into the armchair nearby, the apartment finally quiet and peaceful.

The rest of the day passes quietly, with Seyeon resting on the couch and Jisung finally succumbing to sleep in his room. You tidy up the kitchen, check on both of them periodically, and eventually find a moment to sit and relax yourself. As you scroll absentmindedly on your phone, a text notification pops up.

Jisung: Hey. Are you still here, or did you head out while I was knocked out?

You smile, shaking your head as you type back.

You: Still here. Seyeon’s asleep on the couch. I’ll head out soon.

A minute later, another text buzzes in.

Jisung: You’ve been amazing today. Seriously, I don’t even know how to thank you.

You: I told you, no thanks needed. Just get better, both of you.

There’s a longer pause this time, and you wonder if he’s fallen asleep again. But then your phone buzzes once more.

Jisung: What if I wanted to thank you by taking you out? Like... on a date.

Your heart skips a beat, your thumb hovering over the keyboard as you reread the message. Is he serious? Judging by the second text that quickly follows, he’s just as nervous as you are.

Jisung: Unless that’s weird. Is that weird? I feel like I’m making this weird. Forget I said anything.

You can’t help but laugh, imagining his flustered expression.

You: It’s not weird. I’d like that.

The three dots indicating his reply appear almost immediately.

Jisung: Really? Okay. Great. When?

You glance toward the couch where Seyeon is still snoozing and back at your phone.

You: Let’s wait until you’re fully recovered, okay? I don’t want to be on a date with a guy who can’t keep his head up.

Jisung: Fair point. But it’s a deal. As soon as I’m better.

A week later, Jisung texts you with a time and location. He insists on keeping it a surprise, though he assures you it won’t be anything too fancy. When the evening arrives, you find yourself standing outside a cozy, tucked-away bistro in Seoul. The warm glow of fairy lights strung above the outdoor seating area adds a touch of magic to the atmosphere.

Jisung is already waiting for you, looking much healthier—and much more nervous. He’s dressed casually but thoughtfully, his hoodie swapped for a well-fitted sweater and jeans. His smile when he spots you is enough to make your heart skip.

“You look amazing,” he says, his eyes softening as he takes you in.

“Thanks,” you reply, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “You look pretty great yourself.”

He opens the door for you, leading you inside where the smell of freshly baked bread and herbs fills the air. The restaurant is intimate, with only a handful of tables and soft jazz playing in the background.

As you and Jisung settle at your table, the restaurant's warm ambiance makes you feel at ease. A candle flickers between you, its soft glow casting gentle shadows across his face. He looks relaxed, his posture leaning slightly forward as he glances at the menu.

“This place is beautiful,” you remark, taking in the quaint decor—exposed brick walls, wooden beams, and vintage artwork.

Jisung smiles, his eyes flickering up to meet yours. “I thought you’d like it. It’s one of my favorite spots, but I haven’t had a reason to come here in a while.”

A waiter arrives, pouring water into delicate glasses and handing you menus. Jisung grins as he watches you scan the options. “What are you thinking of getting?”

“Hm, probably the pasta,” you say, biting your lip as you deliberate. “What about you?”

“The steak,” he says without hesitation, then chuckles. “Seyeon would roll her eyes if she saw me order it. She keeps trying to convince me to go vegetarian.”

You laugh at the thought. “She’s quite the little advocate. How’s that going for you?”

“Let’s just say I’ve perfected the art of sneaking bacon into my meals when she’s not looking,” he admits with a mischievous grin.

You’re both laughing when the waiter returns to take your orders, and as the night unfolds, the conversation deepens.

Jisung leans on his hand, watching you with a softness that makes your cheeks warm. “So, what made you want to work with kids?”

You shrug, swirling your water glass idly. “I’ve always liked working with kids. They’re honest in a way adults sometimes aren’t, you know? And they remind me to find joy in little things.”

His gaze doesn’t waver, and for a moment, you feel a little self-conscious under his attention. “That’s exactly what Seyeon needed,” he says. “She’s been through so much for someone her age, and I’ve worried about her losing that joy. You’ve brought it back.”

You smile softly. “She’s a great kid, Jisung. You’ve done an amazing job with her.”

He shakes his head, his expression a mix of humility and gratitude. “I’ve tried, but there’s always this part of me that worries I’m not enough for her. Especially with everything between her mom and me.”

The vulnerability in his voice tugs at your heart. “You’re more than enough. Seyeon adores you. And the fact that you care so much says everything.”

He looks at you for a long moment, then smiles, a quiet kind of relief in his eyes.

The dishes arrive, breaking the tender atmosphere, and you both dive into your meals. The food is incredible, and the easy banter resumes. Jisung insists you try a bite of his steak, holding a piece out on his fork with an exaggerated flourish.

“Fine,” you say, laughing as you lean forward to take it. The steak practically melts in your mouth. “Okay, that’s ridiculously good.”

“Told you,” he says with a wink, taking a triumphant bite.

You share stories from your past, from embarrassing childhood moments to your favorite memories, and Jisung counters with tales from his idol days.

“Wait, you seriously tripped on stage during a live broadcast?” you ask, trying and failing to hold back your laughter.

“Oh, not just tripped,” he says, groaning dramatically. “I wiped out. Full face-plant. The members wouldn’t let me live it down for months.”

By the time dessert rolls around—an indulgent chocolate lava cake you decide to split—you feel like you’ve known him forever.

“Okay, honest question,” Jisung says, wiping a bit of chocolate from the corner of his mouth. “If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?”

You think for a moment before answering. “Somewhere quiet, with a lot of nature. Maybe near the ocean. What about you?”

He pauses, his gaze thoughtful. “Honestly? Wherever Seyeon is. She’s my world.” Then, after a beat, he adds, “But having someone like you there wouldn’t hurt either.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and you feel your cheeks heat again.

The conversation lingers even after the plates are cleared, neither of you in a hurry to end the night. When the check arrives, Jisung snatches it before you can protest, giving you a playful glare.

“Don’t even try,” he says. “This is my treat.”

By the time dinner is over, the warmth between you feels almost tangible. Jisung insists on walking you home, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you stroll side by side.

When you reach your door, he hesitates, his hands tucked into his pockets. “I had a really great time tonight,” he says, his voice soft.

“Me too,” you reply, smiling up at him.

There’s a brief pause, and then he steps closer, his gaze flicking to your lips.  “Is it okay if I—”

Before he can finish the question, you lean in, closing the distance. His lips are warm and soft against yours, the kiss sweet and unhurried, a perfect culmination of the night.

When you pull back, his cheeks are pink, but the smile on his face is radiant.

“Goodnight, y/n,” he murmurs, his voice full of promise.

“Goodnight, Jisung,” you reply, already looking forward to what’s to come.

A few days after your magical date with Jisung, your phone buzzes while you’re at home. It’s a text from him.

Jisung: Hey, no pressure, but the guys are getting together for dinner this weekend. I’d love for you to come along.

You read the message a couple of times, your heart fluttering.

You: Are you sure? I mean, isn’t that like…a big deal?

Jisung: It’s not a big deal! Well, okay, maybe it is a little, but only because I want them to meet you. They’re like family to me.

You: And you’re sure they won’t think it’s weird?

Jisung: baby, they’re going to love you. Trust me. Besides, it’ll be fun. Casual. No pressure.

You: Okay. Let’s do it.

The evening of the dinner, Jisung picks you up, visibly excited. “You look amazing,” he says, grinning as you slide into his car. “You’re going to fit right in.”

The dinner is at a trendy Korean BBQ restaurant, and the private room is already lively when you arrive. The other members of Jisung’s former group greet you warmly, their energy filling the space.

“Guys, this is y/n,” Jisung says, his arm resting lightly on your back. Then, with a small but unmistakable smile, he adds, “My girlfriend.”

You feel a collective shift in the room as all eyes turn to you, surprise quickly morphing into grins and playful teasing.

“Girlfriend?” Chan, the leader, says, raising an eyebrow at Jisung. “Since when?”

“Since recently,” Jisung replies, his tone casual but his expression soft as he looks at you.

“Wow, finally! I thought this day would never come,” Changbin teases, earning a laugh from everyone, including you.

“Okay, okay, don’t scare her off,” Jisung says, laughing as he guides you to a seat beside him.

As the night goes on, the atmosphere grows more relaxed. The members share hilarious stories from their time as a group, complete with impressions and exaggerated reenactments.

“Did he tell you about the time he lost his pants on stage?” Hyunjin asks, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Hyunjin!” Jisung protests, his face turning bright red.

“Oh, please, you have to tell me now,” you say, laughing.

Jisung groans dramatically, covering his face as Hyunjin dives into the story, complete with theatrical flair.

When it’s your turn to share something about yourself, they listen intently, occasionally throwing in jokes that make everyone laugh. You can tell how much they care for Jisung, and their approval feels like a warm embrace.

“You’re really good for him,” Chan says quietly as the others are distracted grilling meat. His kind smile reassures you. “He’s been happier lately. Thank you for that.”

You glance at Jisung, who’s laughing at something Seungmin just said, and feel a wave of affection. “He makes me happy too,” you reply honestly.

The teasing began almost as soon as Changbin noticed how attentive Jisung was being to you throughout the dinner. Whether it was making sure you had enough food or leaning in to whisper something funny in your ear, it was clear Jisung was smitten—and Changbin wasn’t going to let that slide unnoticed.

As the group grilled meat and exchanged banter, Changbin raised an eyebrow at Jisung, smirking. “You know, Jisung, it’s funny…” he began, drawing the attention of everyone at the table.

Jisung immediately tensed, a cautious look flashing across his face. “What’s funny?” he asked warily.

Changbin gestured toward you with his chopsticks. “Just how different y/n is from your ex. I mean, not to stir the pot or anything—”

“Then don’t,” Jisung interjected, though his tone lacked bite.

But Changbin wasn’t stopping. “—but seriously! Like night and day. y/n’s relaxed, fun, down-to-earth…” He trailed off with a playful shrug, his grin growing.

The table erupted in laughter, though you felt a little heat creep into your cheeks. You glanced at Jisung, who was glaring at Changbin with mock annoyance, his ears turning red.

“Yah, Changbin-hyung,” Jisung said, pointing his chopsticks at him. “You don’t have to point it out like that.”

“Oh, come on, it’s a compliment,” Changbin said with a laugh, raising his hands in mock defense. “I’m just saying you clearly upgraded. Don’t act like you don’t know it.”

“Hyung’s glowing,” Felix chimed in with a cheeky grin, piling on the teasing.

“Don’t make me regret inviting you all,” Jisung muttered, though the corners of his lips twitched in amusement.

You decided to jump in, hoping to lighten the moment. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or slightly concerned about how much you’re comparing me to her,” you joked, earning more laughter from the group.

Changbin laughed the hardest. “No, no, you should definitely be flattered. He’s happier than I’ve seen him in years.”

Jisung sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m never hearing the end of this, am I?”

“Not a chance,” Seungmin replied with his trademark deadpan humor, making everyone laugh again.

Despite the teasing, you could feel the warmth in the room, the genuine affection Jisung’s friends had for him—and, by extension, for you. As Jisung reached under the table to squeeze your hand, his shy smile told you he didn’t mind the jokes as much as he let on.

Later, as you were leaving, Jisung shook his head, muttering, “Changbin’s never going to let me live that down.”

The car ride back to Jisung’s apartment was quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space between you. The earlier teasing and laughter had dimmed, replaced by a thoughtful silence that neither of you rushed to break.

Finally, you glanced over at him. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” you started softly, your voice gentle. “But… how did things end with your ex?”

Jisung’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly. He looked straight ahead, his expression unreadable for a moment before speaking. “It wasn’t easy,” he said quietly. “Nothing about it was.”

You gave him a moment, waiting patiently. “We were young when we met. Fell in love quickly. For a while, it was perfect. We supported each other through everything—the good and the bad. But… the more I focused on my career, the more she felt like she was losing herself.”

You could see the pain flicker in his eyes as he said it, the weight of those words hanging between you.

“It’s hard, when two people are going in different directions,” he continued, his voice a little hoarse. “The distance, the misunderstandings—it felt like the walls were closing in. Eventually, we stopped talking as much. Stopped seeing each other the way we once did.”

You reached out, lightly placing a hand on his knee. “That must’ve been really painful,” you said softly. “To watch something you both built fall apart.”

Jisung let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing under your touch. “It was. Still is, sometimes. But… we weren’t right for each other. And Seyeon deserved more stability, more love than we could give her when we were barely holding on ourselves.”

The honesty in his voice cut through the tension in the car, and you felt a deep sympathy for the man who had carried so much weight for so long. “You’re doing your best,” you said gently. “For both of them.”

He glanced at you, offering a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I try.”

You gave his knee a squeeze, the touch offering comfort, though the quiet that followed was heavier now. It wasn’t an easy conversation, but you felt like you understood a little more of Jisung—the man behind the laughter, behind the fame.

After a while, he spoke again, softer this time. “I don’t talk about her often. Seyeon means everything to me. She’s my world now. And I don’t regret how things turned out, even if it hurt.”

“I know,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “But it’s okay to talk about it. You don’t have to carry it all alone.”

He nodded slightly, his fingers drumming softly against the steering wheel. “It’s just… hard sometimes. Seeing how happy Seyeon is now, and knowing that the woman who helped create her is still part of the equation. It’s not simple.”

“No, it’s not,” you agreed. “But you’re doing better than you think.”

The rest of the drive was quieter, the words exchanged grounding but still heavy with emotion. You didn’t need to fill the silence. Just being there was enough.

When you arrived at his apartment, Jisung reached for your hand, holding it tightly as you both stepped out of the car. The weight of the conversation lingered, but there was something tender in the way he looked at you.

The door to Jisung’s apartment creaked open slowly, and your heart immediately sank when you stepped inside. The tension in the air was thick, palpable even before you saw them. Voices—raised, angry—echoed from down the hall.

“No, Jisung! You can’t just bring her into our lives like this!”

It was her, you could’ve tell by the long thick brown hair and her slim body. Seyeon’s mother. Her voice sharp, filled with frustration, and a trace of betrayal.

Jisung’s voice followed, equally firm and unyielding. “She’s part of Seyeon’s life. She’s part of mine now too. You don’t get to control that anymore.”

You froze by the entrance, uncertainty washing over you. You could hear Seyeon’s soft cries from her room, the sound barely audible through the tense exchange. She must’ve heard everything.

This isn’t how I wanted it to start, you thought, your grip tightening on your bag.

The apartment felt suffocating. Every word was a blow, a crack in something fragile. They had been separated for years, and yet the wounds still ran deep.

“You’re being selfish!” her voice snapped. “You didn’t even consult me! She’s a nanny, Jisung! A stranger! You’re bringing her into her life without thinking—without even telling me!”

“I did think about it!” Jisung shouted back, his voice raising with every word. “I thought about what’s best for Seyeon. And if that means bringing y/n into our world, then so be it. I’m not going to hide who she is anymore.”

The tension in the room crackled, a storm brewing that neither of them seemed ready to weather.

You felt like an intruder, standing there in the doorway, unable to move, unable to escape the weight of it all. This wasn’t supposed to be your role—caught between two parents who were struggling to put their differences aside.

Finally, Jisung’s voice lowered, softer but no less fierce. “This isn’t about me or you anymore. It’s about her. About Seyeon. And she deserves to be happy, to feel safe—whether that’s with me or with you.”

A heavy silence fell over the apartment, the kind that left no room for words. You could hear the trembling breaths of both Jisung and Seyeon’s mother, neither one backing down, neither one willing to compromise.

“I’m not here to take her place,” you said softly, stepping forward into the hallway. “I’m here for Seyeon. She needs stability, and I want to be a part of that. But I’m not here to replace anyone.”

Both their eyes snapped to you, the weight of your words landing between them.

Jisung’s mother softened slightly at your presence, though her gaze was still sharp. “And what happens when this… arrangement falls apart? You’ll leave too? Like everyone else?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you replied, holding her gaze steadily. “I’m here as long as Seyeon needs me. And if that’s what Jisung and I decide, then I’ll be here. It’s not about me; it’s about her.”

Another beat of silence followed. Jisung stepped closer to you, his hand briefly finding yours in a gesture of quiet support.

Seyeon’s mother exhaled slowly, her anger subdued but not gone. “You have no idea how complicated this is,” she finally said, her voice low and weary. “And maybe… maybe you’re right. Maybe Seyeon does need more than just a father or a mother. But this isn’t what I imagined for her. Not this.”

Jisung nodded solemnly, his jaw tight. “I know. But we don’t always get to choose how life turns out. The only thing I want is for her to be happy. That’s all.”

Seyeon’s soft sniffles turned into quiet whimpers from her room, and Jisung’s mother’s face softened slightly at the sound. “She’s scared,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “She’s hearing all of this. She doesn’t understand.”

Jisung’s eyes closed for a moment, his breath hitching slightly. “I know. I know. And I hate this more than anything. But she’ll get through it. We’ll get through it.”

A final, heavy pause hung in the air before Seyeon’s mother spoke again. “You’d better hope this works, Jisung. Because if it doesn’t…”

“I know,” he interrupted, voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. “I know.”

She turned, walking toward Seyeon’s room, knocking softly on the door. “Seyeon, it’s mommy,” she said gently, her voice wavering. “Can I come in?”

The little girl’s hesitant voice responded from behind the door, but it was barely audible. “No, mommy. I wanna stay with daddy…”

Jisung’s face tightened, the raw pain evident as he looked toward the door. Without another word, Seyeon’s mother left the apartment, closing the door softly behind her. The silence that followed was deafening.

Jisung leaned against the wall, his breath shaky, and you approached him carefully. “She didn’t mean what she said,” you said softly, your hand resting on his arm. “She’s just scared.”

“I know,” Jisung murmured, pressing his forehead against the cool wall, his voice hoarse. “But it hurts. More than I ever thought it would.”

You wrapped your arms around him tightly, holding him close, letting him feel the comfort you could give, even if it wasn’t enough. “You’re doing everything you can. For both of them.”

Together, you stood there, the weight of the moment pressing down on you both. Seyeon’s cries continued softly from her room, and you knew that healing would be a long, painful journey—one neither of you could rush.

The night was long and heavy. Jisung sat by Seyeon’s room, occasionally knocking softly to check on her, but she never answered. The pain of her confusion and fear was palpable, even from the other side of the door.

You stood quietly in the living room, watching him from a distance. The man who had always seemed so composed, so in control, was unraveling. His shoulders sagged, his head hanging low as he struggled with the weight of the situation. You knew how much Seyeon meant to him, and seeing him like this, broken yet determined, tugged at your heart.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he broke the silence. “She doesn’t want me to go in,” Jisung said, his voice low and strained. “She doesn’t want to see me.”

You walked over to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You can’t force her, Jisung. She needs time.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. “I know. I just—” His voice cracked, and for a moment, he couldn’t finish his thought. “I feel helpless.”

“You’re not,” you assured him quietly. “You’re doing everything right. She knows you love her.”

Jisung let out a breath, leaning back against the wall. “I keep thinking about what I could’ve done differently—what I should’ve done. Maybe if we hadn’t fought like that, she wouldn’t be so scared.”

You knelt down in front of him, forcing him to look at you. “No one’s perfect, Jisung. You’re doing everything you can. And that’s enough.”

A small smile broke through his pain, though it was bittersweet. “You’re too good to me.”

You squeezed his hand softly, a comforting gesture that spoke volumes without words. “Because you deserve it.”

His hands moves on your cheeks gently, cupping your face and bring it close to his, his lips ghosting yours for a moment before his mouth collide against you gently - but fill with passion. He's in a pure need of attention and gentle touches. You kiss him back with the same feeling because you are slowly realising how much you are in love with this man.

As the kiss continue, as your lips keeps going for his, his hands slips on the back pocket of your jeans making you squirm a little against his lips, "J-jisung.."

"Please."

"Not now okay?" you coo as your thumb brush against his bottom lip gently, for how badly you want his hands on you, the moment is not the best. He press his lips together before pressing them gently against your thumb. "Okay, you're right."

The night dragged on, the quiet moments shared between you filled with unspoken understanding. You sat together in the dim glow of the living room lamp, sharing stories and reminiscing about simpler times, anything to ease the tension between you.

As the sky began to lighten with the first rays of dawn, Jisung finally spoke again. “She still doesn’t want to see me. But maybe… if she sees you here with me, she’ll feel safe enough to come out.”

You squeezed his hand gently. “I’ll be here. For both of you.”

He nodded slowly, a sense of peace washing over him at your words. Even in the quiet of the morning, the weight of the previous night hadn’t completely lifted, but it was a step forward—however small.

Just as the sun started to rise, a soft shuffle came from Seyeon’s room. Her small voice called out quietly, unsure yet hopeful. “Daddy?”

Jisung’s breath hitched, and without thinking, he moved toward the door. “Sweetcheeks?”

Slowly, the door creaked open, revealing a timid, tear-streaked face. Her mother’s protective instincts were evident, but her little eyes searched for something familiar—something safe.

“Come here, sweet girl,” Jisung whispered, his voice gentle and full of love. He knelt down, opening his arms wide, and Seyeon stepped into them hesitantly. He wrapped her up in a tight embrace, her tiny arms clinging to him like a lifeline.

“I was scared,” she murmured against his shoulder, her voice barely audible.

“I know, baby,” Jisung said softly, rocking her gently. “But you’re safe now. You’re with me.”

You watched from a distance, your heart swelling with emotion. Watching Jisung finally connect with his daughter after the turmoil gave you a sense of purpose that was hard to explain. He deserved to be her rock, just as she deserved to lean on him.

After a few moments, Seyeon lifted her head, her tear-streaked face searching for yours. “y/n,” she said softly, her small voice tinged with curiosity. “You stayed?”

You smiled warmly, crouching down to her level. “Of course I did, sweetie. I told you, I’m here for both of you.”

It’s almost midnight of a random Wednesday when your phone buzz with a jisung’s text asking you to come to his apartment for a small stay in date, you’re over the edge. You missed him, you missed your boyfriend because the last week you couldn’t see him – he was too busy working, Seyeon stayed with her mother an addictional weekend and your essays were one on top of the other in your desk. So when he asked you to be there in 10 minutes, you were already taking the bus to his house. You didn’t dressed up, you just casually put a comfortable sweater on and a skirt just how he seems to like you.

When you knock at the door his happy smile makes you feel immidiately at home. “Hey, beautiful,” Jisung greets, leaning against the doorframe with a playful smirk. His messy hair and soft hoodie make him look effortlessly perfect, and the way his eyes rake over you sends a shiver down your spine. “You didn’t make me wait long, did you?”

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the grin spreading across your face. “Not everyone has the luxury of teleporting, Sungie. The bus takes time.”

He chuckles, stepping aside to let you in. “You could’ve run here. I would’ve been worth it.”

His teasing tone is matched with a flirtatious glance, and before you can come up with a witty reply, his hands find your waist as soon as the door closes. He pulls you in, the familiar warmth of his touch melting away the stress of your week. His lips brush your temple, then your cheek, lingering just enough to make your heartbeat quicken.

“You smell like heaven,” he murmurs, his voice low and velvety. His lips find your ear, and you swear you can feel his smile. “And you look even better than I imagined.”

Your face heats up as you lightly shove his chest. “you’re saying this knowing damn well how I loove.”

He catches your hands and holds them against his chest, his grin widening. “maybe yes, maybe no. That’s up to you.”

The warmth in his eyes makes your knees weak, but before you can drown in his gaze, he tugs you further inside. The living room is dimly lit, fairy lights draped across the walls casting a soft glow over the space. A cozy blanket is spread across the couch, and the coffee table holds a bottle of soda – because he knows you don’t like to drink and he secretly appreciate that, two glasses, and a bowl of popcorn.

Jisung notices your eyes scanning the setup and tugs at your hand to pull you closer. “Nothing fancy,” he says, feigning nonchalance, “but I figured you deserve a little break. Just us, we didn’t had that many dates due my schedules and your exams.”

Your heart swells as he leads you to the couch. The air between you is thick with anticipation, his hand lingering on yours as you sit. He leans in close, his knee brushing against yours. “So,” he starts, his voice dropping an octave, “how much did you miss me?”

You try to stay composed, but his proximity and the mischievous glint in his eye make it impossible. “Enough to take the bus at almost midnight,” you reply, meeting his gaze.

His smile turns sly as he shifts even closer, his lips mere inches from yours. “Only enough for that?” he teases, his voice a breathy whisper. “Guess I’ll have to work harder to make you miss me more.”

Before you can answer, his hand cups your cheek, and he closes the distance between you. His lips are soft and warm, moving against yours with a tenderness that quickly turns intoxicating. The world outside fades away as you lose yourself in him—his touch, his scent, the way he tastes like home.

When he finally pulls back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his voice is husky. “You’re mine tonight. No essays, no kids, no stress—just us. Deal?”

You nod, breathless, already sinking into the haven he’s created. “Deal.”

Jisung smiles against your lips as you kiss him again, his hands still cradling your face like you’re the most delicate thing in the world. He pulls back just far enough to see your flushed cheeks and dazed expression, his own grin soft and full of affection.

“Come on,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

He leads you to the couch, settling you into the corner where the blankets are piled. He sits down beside you and pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as if he’s trying to shield you from the rest of the world. The faint hum of the fairy lights fills the air, along with the soft rustle of the blanket as he tucks it over both of you.

You relax against him, your head naturally finding its place on his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, and the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with his own warmth makes you sigh in contentment. He leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

The two of you stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the outside world a distant memory. Jisung shifts slightly, adjusting the blanket and pulling you closer, his fingers now absentmindedly running through your hair.

“What are we watching?” you ask eventually, your voice muffled against his chest.

He chuckles softly, his chest vibrating against you. “Nothing yet. I got too distracted by you.”

You playfully swat his side, but he only laughs, pulling you even closer. “Alright, alright,” he relents, reaching for the remote. “Let’s pick something cozy. You’re the boss tonight.”

You glance at the screen as he scrolls through the options, his free hand never leaving your waist. After some debate, you settle on a rom-com, one of your favorites that he insists he’s never seen but secretly knows by heart.

As the movie plays, Jisung’s commentary is both endearing and hilarious, his whispered quips earning giggles from you that he seems determined to keep coming. When you laugh too hard, he presses a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering as he whispers, “I love that sound.”

His lips find your neck, leaving soft pecks long the way, your hands instinctively clutch at his hoodie as his lips find your neck, pressing soft, deliberate kisses that make your heart race. He takes his time, his touch unhurried, as if savoring every second. When he reaches the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, he lingers, his lips brushing over your skin with maddening gentleness.

“You smell so good,” he murmurs against your neck, his voice a low rasp that sends a thrill down your spine. His teeth graze your skin lightly, and your grip on his hoodie tightens.

“Jisung,” you say again, your voice a mix of a plea and a warning. He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your neck.

“What?” he asks, feigning innocence as his lips press another kiss just below your collarbone. “I’m just making up for lost time.”

You tilt your head slightly, giving him more access despite yourself. His hands slide to your waist, steadying you as he continues to kiss and nuzzle your neck. Each press of his lips feels like fire and electricity, sending sparks through your entire body.

“Missed you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. The tenderness in his words is enough to make your heart clench, and you can’t help but pull him closer.

“I missed you too,” you admit, your fingers tangling in his hair. He lifts his head just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and filled with affection—and something more.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he leans in to kiss you again, this time on your lips. It’s slow and deliberate, a kiss that feels like a promise. 

Your hands slips on the elm of his hoodie, removing it from his body and you canno’t stop looking. The tattoos on his torso are incredibly attractive, broad shoulders, thin waist adorned with prominent abdominal muscles, before reaching a v-line that leads into his boxers. You’re wide eyed, you’re fingers are itching to touch his toned skin, “damn.”

He shrugs nonchalantly, crossing his arms over his chest. “are you that surprised?”

“well yeah for your age-“ You smirk causing him to pout. “hey!”

His arms moves around your waist, lifting you from the ground and placing your stomach against his shoulder, you kicks lightly your legs in the air, “Jisung you better put me down!”

Giggles fills the apartment as he hold you with an arm around your waist and the other patting playfully your ass, “nah, I can carry you easily like this.”

“But—“

“No buts, you’re not a kid and tonight you’re my girl to pleasure.” His words are warm and they make you blush when you step into his room, a smile growing in your lips and another laugh left your lungs when he kindly let you lay on the bed, your back against the sheets that smells like him.

“You are—“ he swallow lightly, his fingers tracing the elm of your shorts, “beautiful. Breathtaking.” 

Your clothes end up quickly on the floor, his hands roaming all over your body, tracing your skin and trying to get every single part touched by him, he wants you to forget about the past partners and remember only him. Him and his smile, him and his giggles, his soft and kind voice. 

The arch of your back makes him shiver, it’s a scene of a movie, his index trace from between your breasts to the sweet roll of your tummy, making you chuckle, “are you having fun?”

“Very. And you?” His eyes looks for confirm, your nods is enough for his finger to run over your belly button. He’s teasing you, you can tell. It tickles you. “Jisung don’t tease me.”

“What they say? waiting increases desire,” You roll his eyes at your boyfriend’s smirk.

“You say that to your kid,” he squeeze his eyes a little, shaking his head quickly almost to remove a thought from his mind, “don’t.. don’t say that!”

A small noise of surprise falls from your lips, just as he lean to kiss you softly to shut you up — he need more. The hand on your waist pulls you closer and at the same time, he presses his lips harder against yours. His lips mold into yours, spit gathering in his mouth from hunger. 

His hands spread apart your legs wide, making you squeak at the sudden action, his hands grips your hips raising them enough for his dick to rub against your folds, “you’re teasing me again.”

Your purrs makes his skin shivers, “do you want me that bad?” he bend over you, his nose nudge against yours gently as you smile, the intimacy of the moment makes your pussy get wetter.  

His hands grip your waist tightly as he feels your wet heat taking him inch by inch, “Fuuuuck, how many times have I dreamt about this?” He hiss, you’re absolutely enjoying this. 

Jisung is stretching you out so good, as his cock is rubbing over that sweet spot inside you. He’s enjoying the view, you’re hidden eyes, the way your tits are bouncing when he push deeper in you. It’s been a while since he fucked someone and it felt this good, it’s really hard for him to not come yet.

“I’m so close.. jisung.” You’re moans filled his room, your head moved backward making him grunt under his breath, he pulls out stroking his shaft in a rough manner, “no.. no cum inside.”

“A-are you sure?” Your hand reach for his tip gently, brushing the tip with his thumb making his hips moving forward for his touch, you guide his cock back inside you, your walls squeezing him again as he start to thrust into you faster than before, rougher, raw. It’s a feeling that makes your feel full, the light bulge in your low stomach makes him with a cocky smirk, “oh look how deep I am.”

He brushes his fingers over your skin, making you whimper, your legs tight around his waist, “o-oh God— Jisung..” Your legs shakes in pleasure as he cums deep in you, his forehead resting against your shoulder.

He slowly moves to lay beside you, trying to catch some breath after the intensity of your love making. The room is bathed in a warm, golden glow from the bedside lamp as you and Jisung lay tangled together beneath the covers. His arm is draped lazily around your waist, his fingers drawing absentminded circles on your skin. You feel utterly at peace, your head resting on his chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm against your ear.

But then, he breaks the silence with a dramatic sigh.

“Y/n,” he says, his voice filled with mock seriousness. “I need to tell you something. Something big.”

You tilt your head to look up at him, his expression so over-the-top that you can’t help but giggle. “What is it, Sungie? Did you run out of snacks again?”

“No,” he groans, throwing his free hand over his forehead like a tragic hero in a melodrama. “It’s worse. Much worse.”

You raise an eyebrow, biting back another laugh. “Worse than running out of snacks? Now I’m worried.”

He shifts, propping himself up on one elbow and staring down at you with wide, comically serious eyes. “I’m not ready to be a dad again,” he declares, his voice filled with mock despair. “I barely survived the first time.”

It takes you a second to process his words, and then you burst into laughter. “What are you even talking about? You’re an amazing dad to Seyeon!”

“That’s not the point!” he retorts, wagging a finger at you like a professor giving a lecture. “Seyeon’s a literal angel. She eats her vegetables, brushes her teeth without a fight, and even says please and thank you. Do you know how rare that is?”

You nod, still laughing. “So what’s the problem?”

He flops back down onto the pillows, groaning dramatically. “The problem is, I’ve been spoiled! What if the next kid is a little gremlin? What if they refuse to eat anything except chicken nuggets and demand a bedtime story and a TED Talk every night before bed?”

You cover your mouth to stifle your laughter as he continues, his arms flailing for emphasis. “And don’t even get me started on the diapers. Do you have any idea how many diapers I changed with Seyeon? Enough to build a small fortress! I could’ve gone pro in diaper-changing.”

You snuggle closer, resting your chin on his chest as you grin up at him. “So what I’m hearing is... you’re scared of tiny humans.”

“Terrified,” he says, nodding solemnly. “Tiny humans are unpredictable. One minute they’re giggling at your funny faces, and the next, they’re crying because you didn’t let them eat crayons.”

“You’re being dramatic,” you tease, poking his side. “But for the record, I think you’d do just fine if we ever had another one. You’re kind, patient, and you have a way of making even the most boring things fun.”

He blinks at you, his dramatic persona melting away for a moment as he smiles softly. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” you say, pressing a kiss to his chest.

He sighs, his smile turning playful again. “Okay.”

“but why did we started to talk about kids all of the sudden?”

“i.. cummed inside,” you laugh, pulling him into a hug.

As he wraps his arms around you, his voice softens. “Don’t tease me! It’s serious, I don’t.. I don’t think we can be pregnant yet. Seyeon barely know that we are together.”

“Agreed,” you murmur, resting your head against his chest again. His hand resumes its lazy circles on your back, and soon, the room is filled with nothing but the sound of your shared laughter and steady breathing. “And for the record, I take the pill.”

He sigh in relief, making you laugh louder.

It’s a quiet Saturday morning, and the three of you—Jisung, Seyeon, and you—are sitting in the living room. Seyeon is sprawled on the floor, surrounded by a sea of coloring books and crayons, her little tongue sticking out in concentration as she carefully colors a unicorn. Jisung is on the couch, his legs stretched out lazily, while you sit beside him, close enough that your knees occasionally bump.

“Daddy,” Seyeon says, not looking up from her masterpiece, “what’s your favorite color?”

Jisung leans forward, pretending to ponder the question deeply. “Hmm, that’s a tough one. I like... whatever color y/n likes.”

You look at him in surprise, your cheeks heating up. “What?” you ask, laughing nervously. “Why?”

“Because,” he says with a playful shrug, “it’s always a safe bet to like what y/n likes. She has excellent taste.”

Seyeon looks up at him, her crayon paused mid-stroke. “What if she likes rainbow? That’s all the colors, Daddy.”

“Then I like rainbow,” Jisung declares confidently, shooting you a wink.

A few minutes later, Seyeon holds up her finished unicorn drawing, beaming with pride. “Look, Daddy! Look, y/nie!”

“Wow!” Jisung exclaims, clapping his hands dramatically. “That’s amazing, sweetheart. y/n, don’t you think Seyeon’s got the best artistic talent ever?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Absolutely. She’s a little Picasso.”

Seyeon grins, clearly pleased with the praise. Then Jisung leans down toward her, his tone suddenly conspiratorial. “You know,” he says, “Y/n has been helping you so much lately. I think she deserves a big thank-you, don’t you?”

Seyeon nods eagerly. “Thank you, y/n!”

“Aw, you’re welcome, sweetie,” you say, reaching over to ruffle her hair.

Jisung isn’t done, though. “But,” he adds, his voice taking on a teasing tone, “don’t you think y/n is super nice and pretty, too? Like, the best nanny ever?”

Seyeon blinks up at him, then looks at you, her face scrunching in thought. “Yeah, y/n is really pretty. And she makes the best sandwiches. Daddy, do you like her?”

The room goes still for a moment, and you feel your face heat up. Jisung, however, takes it in stride, a sly smile spreading across his lips. “Of course I like her,” he says, leaning back casually. “She’s amazing. Don’t you think it’d be nice if she stayed with us forever?”

Seyeon tilts her head, her tiny brows furrowing. “Like... forever forever?”

Jisung nods, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Forever forever.”

You clear your throat, trying to suppress a laugh. “Okay, let’s not confuse her,” you say, shooting him a look.

Seyeon, ever the perceptive child, turns her gaze to you. “Do you want to stay forever, y/n?”

Caught off guard, you stammer, “Well, I—I mean, I really like being here with you and your daddy. But—”

“She does,” Jisung interrupts smoothly, cutting you off with a grin. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Daddy,” Seyeon says matter-of-factly, “you’re being weird.”

Jisung laughs, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “Maybe. But I’m also right.”

You shake your head, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as Seyeon goes back to her coloring. Jisung catches your eye, his grin softening into something more sincere. It’s a moment that lingers just a little too long, and when you look away, you can still feel his gaze on you.

The morning slips into the soft, lazy hum of afternoon, with Seyeon bouncing between coloring, her favorite cartoons, and occasionally running to grab snacks from the kitchen. You and Jisung remain in the living room, comfortably settled on the couch, though his occasional remarks keep you on edge—playfully, of course.

As Seyeon gets engrossed in her show, Jisung leans toward you, his voice dropping low enough so only you can hear. “You know,” he starts, his tone light and teasing, “I wasn’t kidding earlier.”

You glance at him, narrowing your eyes. “About what?”

“About you staying forever.” His grin is playful, but there’s an unmistakable warmth in his eyes that makes your breath hitch.

“Jisung,” you whisper, glancing nervously at Seyeon, who’s still focused on the TV. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” he asks, leaning his chin on his hand as if you’re having the most casual conversation in the world. “It’s true. I mean, Seyeon already loves you, you make the best sandwiches, and—let’s be honest—I think I’d be a little lost without you around.”

You try to play it off, rolling your eyes even as your cheeks heat up. “You’re being dramatic again.”

“I’m not!” he protests, his voice a little louder now. Seyeon turns briefly to look at him, and he quickly softens his tone. “I’m just saying... this house feels a lot warmer when you’re in it.”

You bite your lip, unsure how to respond. Before you can think of something, Seyeon pipes up from her spot on the floor, completely oblivious to the tension in the room.

“Daddy, can we have pancakes tomorrow?” she asks, twisting around to look at him.

“Of course, sweetie,” Jisung says with a bright smile. Then, without missing a beat, he adds, “Maybe y/n will help me make them. Or, you know, we could have y/n  make all the pancakes forever.”

“Forever pancakes!” Seyeon cheers, throwing her hands in the air. She doesn’t fully understand what he’s implying, but she giggles anyway, clearly enjoying the idea.

Before you can respond, she climbs onto the couch, wedging herself between the two of you with all the confidence of a child who knows she’s the center of your world. She looks up at Jisung with big, curious eyes.

“Daddy, do you love y/n?”

The question hangs in the air, and you feel like your heart has stopped. Jisung, however, doesn’t miss a beat. He glances at you, a playful twinkle in his eye, before turning to his daughter.

“Of course I love y/n,” he says, his tone warm and sincere. “She’s very special to us, don’t you think?”

Seyeon nods seriously. “Yeah, she’s the best.”

Your heart melts at the sight of her little face lit up with pure affection. Jisung, ever the opportunist, takes the moment to slide an arm around both you and Seyeon, pulling you closer.

“See?” he murmurs, his voice dropping just for you. “I think it’s unanimous. You’re stuck with us.”

Seyeon claps her hands. “Y/n forever!” she declares, leaning against you with a contented sigh. Jisung winks at you over her head, and you can’t help but laugh. Maybe staying forever isn’t such a bad idea after all.

You’re folding laundry on a quiet Sunday afternoon when Jisung walks into the room, Seyeon bouncing happily on his hip. His face lights up when he sees you, and you smile back instinctively. Moments like these—the easy rhythm of life in their home—always warm your heart, even as they sometimes leave you wondering if you truly belong here in the way Jisung’s lingering glances suggest.

“Hey, y/n,” Jisung says casually, though there’s a certain energy to his tone that immediately puts you on alert. “I was thinking...”

“That’s always dangerous,” you tease, setting down the shirt you were folding.

He grins, undeterred. “Ha ha, very funny. No, seriously. We’re heading out of town for the holidays, just a little cabin getaway. Me, Seyeon... her mom.” He pauses, gauging your reaction. “And I thought it’d be really nice if you came with us.”

You freeze mid-fold, your mind racing. Did he just—?

Seyeon perks up at the mention of you. “Y/n’s coming? Yay! You’ll build snowmen with me, right?”

Your heart clenches at her excitement, but your nerves are quick to set in. “Oh, um... I don’t know,” you say hesitantly, glancing at Jisung. “I wouldn’t want to intrude or anything.”

“Intrude?” Jisung repeats, laughing softly. “Y/n, you’re family. You’re basically Seyeon’s favorite person in the world—after me, of course,” he adds with a wink.

“And Mommy,” Seyeon chimes in cheerfully, her little voice oblivious to the awkward undercurrent her words create.

You force a smile, your anxiety bubbling beneath the surface. The idea of spending the holidays with Jisung, Seyeon, and her mother feels... complicated. What if it’s awkward? What if her mom doesn’t like the idea of you being there? What if you misread all of Jisung’s hints and you’re overstepping your place in their lives?

“I don’t know, Jisung,” you say softly, busying yourself with folding another shirt. “It sounds like a family thing. I don’t want to get in the way.”

He sets Seyeon down, and she scampers off to find her crayons. As soon as she’s out of earshot, Jisung steps closer, his expression softening. “Y/n, listen. I know it might feel... weird. But it’s not like that, I promise. Seyeon adores you, and I want you there because—well, because I want you there. You make everything better, even the holidays.”

His sincerity catches you off guard, and you look up at him, your cheeks warming. “Are you sure her mom will be okay with it? I don’t want to cause any tension.”

Jisung waves off your concern with a casual shrug. “She’s fine with it. We’ve talked about it already. Things between us are purely about co-parenting now, nothing else. She knows how important you are to Seyeon—and to me.”

Your heart skips a beat at the way he says those last words, but you still hesitate. “It’s just... a lot. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

Jisung steps closer, his hand brushing yours. “Y/N,” he says softly, his gaze locking with yours. “You’re not just Seyeon’s nanny. You’re part of this family, whether you realize it or not. The holidays wouldn’t feel right without you there.”

His words settle over you like a warm blanket, melting away some of your anxiety. You glance toward the living room, where Seyeon is happily humming to herself as she colors. She’s so excited about the idea of you coming, and Jisung’s earnestness is hard to resist.

“Okay,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll come.”

Jisung’s face lights up with a smile that makes your heart flutter. “That’s my girl,” he says, squeezing your hand briefly before pulling away.

As you watch him walk back to Seyeon, your nerves remain, but they’re tempered by something else—something warmer. Maybe this holiday won’t be as daunting as you think. Maybe, just maybe, it’ll be exactly what you need to feel like you truly belong.

Oh, if only you knew how bad the things were turning to.

The cabin was quiet except for the faint crackle of the fireplace. Seyeon had just fallen asleep after an evening of snow angels and hot chocolate, and you were in your room, giving Jisung and his ex some space to talk. They hadn’t had a real conversation in a long time, and tonight seemed like the right time—at least that’s what Jisung had said.

But now, standing in the dimly lit living room, he wasn’t so sure.

“So,” she started, her arms crossed defensively as she leaned against the mantle. “What’s this really about, Jisung? You’re acting like everything’s fine, like we can play happy families for Seyeon’s sake, but we both know it’s not that simple.”

Jisung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not about playing happy families. It’s about doing what’s best for her. She deserves stability, and I thought we were finally in a place where we could at least pretend to get along.”

“Pretend,” she repeated bitterly, a harsh laugh escaping her lips. “Right. Because pretending fixes everything. Like it fixed us?”

“This isn’t about us,” Jisung snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. He softened his tone, taking a step closer. “It’s about Seyeon. She’s happy. She feels safe. Isn’t that what matters?”

Her eyes narrowed, and she straightened up, her posture rigid. “Don’t act like you’re the only one thinking about her, Jisung. I’ve been doing this alone for years while you were too busy chasing your career. You’re lucky she even knows you.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and his jaw clenched. “That’s not fair,” he said quietly, his voice laced with hurt. “I’ve done everything I can to be here for her. I love her.”

“And yet you weren’t there when she needed you the most,” she shot back, her voice cracking. “When she had her first fever, when she started school, when she cried herself to sleep asking why Daddy wasn’t home.”

Jisung flinched, his shoulders sagging under the weight of her words. “I know I made mistakes. I wasn’t there as much as I should have been, and I’ll regret that forever. But I’m here now. Doesn’t that count for something?”

She shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. “You think you can just walk back in and fix everything with your charm and your promises, but life doesn’t work that way. You can’t undo the past, Jisung. And you can’t expect me to forget it, either.”

“I’m not asking you to forget,” he said, his voice trembling with frustration. “I’m asking you to see that I’m trying. For her. For all of us.”

“All of us?” she scoffed, bitterness dripping from her words. “Let’s not pretend this is about ‘us.’ You’ve already moved on, haven’t you? Bringing her here, parading her around like she’s some kind of replacement.”

“Y/n isn’t a replacement,” Jisung said firmly, his eyes blazing. “She’s a part of Seyeon’s life, and she’s been nothing but good for her.”

“Maybe,” she admitted, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “But you don’t get to rewrite history, Jisung. You don’t get to act like the perfect father now and expect me to just go along with it.”

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Jisung looked at her, his expression a mix of anger and heartbreak.

“I’m not trying to rewrite history,” he said finally, his voice quiet but steady. “I’m just trying to be better. For Seyeon. If you can’t see that... then I don’t know what else to say.”

She turned away, her back to him as she stared into the flickering flames. “Maybe there’s nothing left to say,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Jisung stood there for a moment, his fists clenched at his sides, before he turned and walked away, the weight of her words pressing down on him like a storm cloud.

The air between them was thick with unresolved tension, and as he disappeared down the hallway, she didn’t call after him.

In the quiet of the cabin, the distance between them felt more insurmountable than ever.

The first couple of days passed in relative peace, but by the third morning, it was clear something was off.

It started small: Seyeon’s mother, would “accidentally” leave you out of conversations, her voice dropping to a whisper with Jisung whenever you walked into the room. She rearranged the kitchen supplies you’d neatly organized to prepare breakfast, then acted oblivious when you couldn’t find anything. Once, she even laughed and said, “Oh, you must not spend much time in kitchens,” with a pointed glance at Jisung.

You brushed it off at first. This was her time with Seyeon, too, and you didn’t want to stir up unnecessary drama. But her passive-aggressive behavior only escalated.

When you offered to take Seyeon sledding, she suddenly announced that they’d already planned to go without you. You stayed behind, feeling awkward and unsure of your place. When they returned, her mother made a point of loudly recounting how much fun they’d had, conveniently forgetting to include Jisung’s praise about how Seyeon wouldn’t stop asking for you while they were out.

At dinner one evening, she served everyone but you. When you politely got up to grab your own plate, she laughed. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t realize you were joining us for every meal.”

You bit your tongue, plastering on a smile. “I didn’t mean to impose.”

Jisung, oblivious, simply passed you the serving spoon with a wink. “Y/n’s practically family,” he said, not noticing the way her jaw tightened.

That night, as you tucked Seyeon into bed, she wrapped her little arms around your neck and whispered, “Mommy says you’re just visiting. But I want you to stay forever.”

Her words made your heart ache, but you only smiled, brushing her hair back gently. “I’ll always be here for you, sweetie.”

The next morning, the mother pulled out all the stops. She insisted on decorating Christmas cookies with Seyeon, making a big show of asking Jisung for help. “It’s our little family tradition,” she said sweetly, her eyes flicking to you as she emphasized the word family.

You excused yourself, claiming you needed to catch up on reading. But as you sat on the couch with an open book in your lap, you couldn’t concentrate. You could hear their laughter from the kitchen, and every time her voice rang out, you felt smaller and smaller.

Jisung seemed none the wiser, though you couldn’t blame him. she moves were subtle, designed to push you out of the picture without outright confrontation. And you didn’t want to ruin the holidays for him or Seyeon by bringing it up.

But by the time Christmas Eve rolled around, your patience was wearing thin. You were helping Jisung set the table for dinner when she walked in, holding a tray of desserts she’d made with Seyeon.

“Oh, Jisung,” she said in a syrupy tone, “remember the first Christmas we spent together? You couldn’t stop eating my cookies.”

Jisung chuckled, not catching the tension in the room. “Yeah, you always did make great cookies.”

She smirked, turning to you. “Did you try baking with Seyeon yet? It’s a bit of a skill, you know.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but Jisung beat you to it. “Y/n’s amazing with Seyeon,” he said, smiling warmly. “She doesn’t need to bake to prove that.”

For the first time, his ex faltered, her expression slipping before she covered it with a tight smile. “Of course,” she said, turning back to the tray.

But as the evening wore on, her petty jabs continued, each one chipping away at your resolve. You kept your head high, smiling and nodding through it all, but when the night ended and you finally retreated to your room, you felt exhausted.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your hands trembling with the weight of it all. You wanted to tell Jisung—desperately—but the thought of burdening him during the holidays, or worse, causing tension between him and her, kept you silent.

Christmas morning dawned bright and snowy, the cabin blanketed in a pristine layer of white. You could hear Seyeon’s excited voice echoing through the halls as she begged Jisung to wake up and open presents. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and despite the tension brewing under the surface, you pulled yourself out of bed and resolved to make the day as joyful as possible for her.

By the time you made it to the living room, the mother was already there, sitting cross-legged by the tree and sipping her coffee. Her gaze flicked to you briefly before she turned her attention back to Seyeon, who was bouncing on Jisung’s lap.

“Good morning,” you said softly, offering a polite smile.

The older girl raised her mug in response but didn’t say anything. Jisung, oblivious to the exchange, grinned at you. “Morning, sleepyhead. Coffee’s in the kitchen.”

You nodded and slipped into the kitchen to pour yourself a cup. When you returned, Seyeon was already tearing into the first of her presents, her delighted squeals filling the room. You took a seat on the couch, watching her with a warm smile as Jisung handed her another brightly wrapped package.

“This one’s from y/n,” he said, holding the gift out to her.

Seyeon’s eyes lit up, and she practically lunged for it. “From y/n?” she asked, tearing into the wrapping paper. “Yay!”

As she pulled out the set of art supplies you’d chosen for her, her face lit up with pure joy. “Thank you, y/n!” she cried, running over to throw her arms around you.

You hugged her tightly, your heart swelling. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. I hope you make lots of beautiful pictures with them.”

“Of course I will!” she said, running back to show Jisung and her mother her new treasures.

Jisung’s ex smile was tight, but she said nothing, instead turning her attention to the next present.

As the morning went on, the tension simmered just beneath the surface. Her comments were subtle but pointed, from joking about Jisung’s taste in gifts to making unnecessary remarks about your relationship with Seyeon.

When you offered to help clean up the wrapping paper, she waved you off with an overly sweet smile. “Oh, don’t worry about it, y/n. I’m sure you’re used to tidying up after Seyeon, but this is a family tradition.”

You swallowed the retort rising in your throat and busied yourself picking up stray ribbons instead. Jisung was too preoccupied with helping Seyeon assemble a toy to notice the slight, and you decided not to draw attention to it.

Later, during lunch, his ex decided to needle further.

“So, y/n,” she began, her tone light but her eyes sharp. “What are your plans for the new year? I imagine you’ll be looking for other opportunities soon, right?”

Jisung frowned, looking up from his plate. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said with a shrug, taking a sip of her wine. “It’s just that being a nanny isn’t exactly a long-term career, is it? How long is that girl working for you now? 9, 10 months?”

You felt your cheeks flush, and you opened your mouth to respond, but Jisung beat you to it.

“Y/n’s not just Seyeon’s nanny,” he said firmly, his tone laced with irritation. “She’s part of this family. And she’s not going anywhere.”

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Of course not,” she said smoothly, though her eyes betrayed her displeasure.

You busied yourself with your food, your appetite gone. Jisung’s words were kind, but they only seemed to add fuel to Mirae’s passive-aggressive fire.

By the time the day wound down, you were emotionally drained. Seyeon had fallen asleep on the couch, clutching one of her new toys, and Jisung had carried her off to bed. Mirae was sitting by the fire, scrolling through her phone, when you finally decided to head to your room.

As you passed her, she spoke without looking up. “You know,” she said, her tone casual, “Jisung’s always been good at seeing the best in people. But that doesn’t mean everyone belongs in his life forever.”

You stopped, your breath catching in your throat. For a moment, you considered responding, but you quickly decided against it. Instead, you turned and walked away, her words echoing in your mind.

Lying in bed that night, you stared at the ceiling, your heart heavy. No matter how much Jisung reassured you, her actions had a way of making you feel like an outsider. And while you didn’t want to let her win, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe she was right—maybe you didn’t belong here after all.

The days after Christmas continued to weigh heavily on you. You kept your distance from her, as much for your own sanity as to avoid any further confrontations. But the further away you emotionally distanced yourself from her, the more distant you became from Jisung too.

You saw the way he looked at you, the concerned glances he gave when you withdrew into yourself during meals or stayed behind while he and Seyeon went outside to play in the snow. He was starting to notice the quietness, the way you didn’t laugh as easily anymore, how you seemed to put distance between yourself and everything they shared.

“Hey,” Jisung said softly one evening, after Seyeon had gone to bed. You were sitting by the window, watching the snow fall in silence. He sat down beside you, his hand gently brushing yours. “What’s going on with you?”

You looked away, your fingers tightening around the edge of your sweater. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

He frowned, his brows knitting together in concern. “baby, come on. You’ve been like this all week. I know something’s bothering you.”

You let out a breath, your gaze fixed on the snow falling in the distance. “It’s just... Seyeon’s mother.”

Jisung sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I should’ve known. I told you, I’ll handle her. You don’t have to deal with her alone.”

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not just her. She’s been trying to make me feel like an outsider. And it’s working.”

Jisung’s expression softened, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “She doesn’t get to dictate how we feel, love. You’re important to us. To Seyeon and me.”

“I know that,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “But it doesn’t feel that way when she keeps pushing me away.”

“I see it too,” he admitted, his hand squeezing yours gently. “She’s been petty, and it’s not right. But you can’t let her win by pulling away from me too.”

You glanced at him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. “I don’t want to hurt you,” you said softly, your voice breaking. “But I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t bother me.”

He let out a breath, leaning his forehead against yours. “You’re not pretending. I can see it. And it hurts me too.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back. “I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath.

“We’ll figure it out together,” Jisung said firmly. “But you can’t shut me out. Not when I’m trying to make things better for you.”

“I’m scared,” you admitted, the weight of everything pressing down on your chest. “That no matter how much you try, it won’t ever be enough.”

Jisung cupped your face in his hands, tilting your chin up so your eyes met his. “Then let me try harder. Please angel.”

The sincerity in his voice broke something inside you, and you finally let the tears fall, your body trembling against his embrace. “I want to trust you,” you said, your voice a whisper. “But she makes it so hard.”

He held you tighter, his warmth enveloping you in a cocoon of love and comfort. “We’ll get through this,” he whispered against your hair. “I promise.”

The next morning, the cabin was quiet. Seyeon and her mother had gone for an early walk through the snowy woods, leaving the house blissfully empty. Jisung had spent the night thinking about how to make things right, how to remind you that he cared—truly cared—and that nothing his ex said could take that away.

When he found you sitting by the window, staring out into the snowy landscape with a distant look in your eyes, he knew it was time.

“Hey,” he said softly, gently nudging your shoulder. “What do you say we spend the day together? Just us.”

You glanced at him, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “Just us?”

“Just us,” he confirmed, his eyes sincere. “Seyeon and her mom are out all day. It’ll just be you and me.”

You hesitated for a moment, the quiet tension in the air between you making it hard to let go of your worries. But then his hand reached for yours, steady and warm, and you felt your resolve soften.

“I’d like that,” you said softly.

The day was crisp and clear, the snow untouched, and the silence between you and Jisung was comfortable. You walked hand in hand through the frosted woods, your breath forming tiny clouds in the cold air.

“You don’t have to worry about her you know,” Jisung said quietly, breaking the silence. “Not today. Today is just about us.”

You nodded, letting his words settle into your heart. “It’s hard, though. Hard not to think about everything.”

“I know,” he murmured, pulling you a little closer. “But we don’t have to carry that weight right now. Let’s just be us.”

You both kept walking, the crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound between you. The crisp air stung your cheeks, but Jisung’s warmth radiating from his coat and his hand in yours made you feel grounded.

After a while, he stopped walking, tugging you gently to a nearby bench tucked between the trees. You sat down together, the snow falling softly around you.

“This is nice,” you said, leaning into him slightly.

“Yeah,” he agreed, brushing a snowflake from your hair. “It’s perfect.”

For a while, you just sat in comfortable silence, the world around you feeling far away. Eventually, Jisung broke the quiet with a soft, playful nudge.

“So, what do you want to do next?” he asked with a smile, his voice teasing. “Snowball fight? Sledding?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re not going to win a snowball fight, Jisung.”

“Oh, you don’t know that,” he said with mock confidence. “I was a champion in school.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving his shoulder. “You’re delusional.”

He laughed, his entire face lighting up. “Okay, fine. We’ll skip the snowball fight. But you owe me something fun.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling at how easy it felt to be with him, to simply enjoy each other’s company. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“And you’re lucky you’re stuck with me,” he teased, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

Jisung held you close, his arm draped comfortably around you, and you let yourself sink into the warmth of his embrace, knowing that even if the world around you wasn’t perfect, this— him—was.

He drags you in the deep woods, making you giggle with a confused expression, “What are we doing now?”

Jisung’s smirk grows bigger when he grabs your waist gently, pushing you gently against a tree, his lips meeting yours. The sudden touch of his cold hands for the snow makes your skin tingle under his touch, “u-um..”

You don’t realise how much you missed your boyfriend’s attention until you are under him, in bed in the empty cabin in his room, with his head between your thighs. 

He sucks hard on your nub, feeling your writhe beneath him.

Jisung moans into your pussy as you pulls him closer, your taste filling his senses. He licks and sucks at your folds, his tongue delving deep inside your tight heat. His hands grip your thighs, keeping you spread open for his mouth.

His tongue flicks against your swollen bud, his fingers slipping inside you to curl up and stroke that spot that drives you wild.  “Mmm, you taste amazing baby...”

Jisung's skilled tongue explores every inch of your glistening folds, lapping at your sweet nectar like a man starved. He focuses on your sensitive bud, flicking and circling it rapidly before sucking it between his lips.

“i-i’m so close...” You gasp as you cover your mouth with your hand, your eyes roll back in pleasure.

Feeling your walls starting to flutter around his fingers, Jisung doubles his efforts. He seals his lips around your clit and sucks hard, his tongue vibrating against the sensitive nub as he pumps two fingers deep inside your, curling them to hit that perfect spot.

It doesn’t take you long after to cum, his tongue happy to clean you, his eyes meeting yours after that—it was the best head someone gave to you. He stands up between your thighs, looking down to your happy and now relaxed figure, “that’s my girl, all happy and smily.”

A few months had passed since that quiet trip, and life had settled back into its routine. Seyeon had grown closer to you, her attachment deepening as you spent more time with her, nurturing her and becoming a significant part of her life. The bond between the three of you felt natural, but you knew it wasn’t sustainable to keep your relationship with Jisung a secret from her forever.

One evening, after tucking Seyeon into bed, you found Jisung sitting by the fire with a tired smile on his face. The room was dimly lit, casting a warm glow over him. You approached slowly, sitting down beside him with a soft sigh.

“I think it’s time,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

Jisung’s brow furrowed slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a question. “Time for what?”

“For Seyeon to know about us,” you continued quietly. “About us as more than just... you know, me being her nanny.”

He inhaled deeply, considering your words. “You think she’s ready?”

You nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I do. She talks about you all the time. She knows you’re important to me, but I think it’s time she understands what that means. Fully.”

Jisung reached for your hand, threading his fingers gently with yours. “You’ve given this a lot of thought.”

“I have.” You squeezed his hand lightly. “It’s not just about us. It’s about Seyeon feeling secure and knowing that you love her, and that we love her together.”

He smiled softly, leaning in just slightly. “You’re right. She deserves to know. And I don’t want her to feel confused about what we mean to each other.”

“Exactly,” you agreed, squeezing his hand again. “We’ve built something special with her, and I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

Jisung leaned back into his chair, his gaze thoughtful as he considered your words. “It might be a bit overwhelming at first,” he admitted. “But I trust you. We’ll figure it out together.”

You smiled softly, your heart lighter than it had been in weeks. “I just want her to know that it’s okay to love both of us.”

He gave you a tender look, his thumb brushing across the back of your hand. “She’ll understand. You’ve been there for her in a way that goes beyond what anyone else could. And I couldn’t have asked for a better person to be by her side.”

The warmth of his words settled into your heart, and for the first time in a long while, you felt peace.

“We’ll tell her soon,” you said quietly, feeling a new sense of certainty. “Maybe even tomorrow.”

Jisung nodded, a soft smile playing at his lips. “Tomorrow it is.”

The next day, after breakfast, you and Jisung sat down with Seyeon in the living room. She was playing with her dolls on the carpet, her little giggles filling the space. You and Jisung exchanged a glance, both of you ready for the conversation that was about to change things.

“Seyeon,” Jisung began softly, settling beside her on the floor, “there’s something important we want to talk to you about.”

Seyeon paused, looking up at both of you with wide, curious eyes. “What is it, Daddy?”

You sat down next to Jisung, a gentle smile on your face. “Well, Seyeon, you know y/n, right?”

She nodded eagerly, her small hands clutching a doll close to her chest. “Yeah! y/n takes care of me and plays with me. I love her.”

Jisung smiled warmly. “We love you too, sweetheart. But there’s something else you should know. Y/n isn’t just here to take care of you. She’s a very important person in our lives. She’s someone we care about a lot, someone who loves us just like we love her.”

Seyeon blinked up at him, her little brows furrowing. “So… y/n is more than just my friend?”

You nodded. “That’s right. Jisung and I, we’re all like a family. And we want you to know that it’s okay to love all of us, even if it’s a little different from what you’re used to.”

The room grew quiet for a moment as Seyeon absorbed what you were saying. She stared at you both, her expression thoughtful, before breaking into a small smile. “I already love both of you. So, that’s okay, right?”

Jisung and you exchanged relieved glances, sharing a quiet laugh. “Yes, sweetheart,” Jisung said softly. “That’s more than okay.”

Seyeon clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling. “Then I don’t have to worry! I’m happy. I like having both of you.”

You and Jisung embraced her in a hug, the three of you tangled together in the warmth of love. “We’re happy too, Seyeon,” you whispered, your voice full of emotion.

Later that evening, Jisung held you close on the couch, Seyeon nestled between you both as a Disney movie played quietly in the background. She giggled at a funny scene, her little fingers clutching the popcorn bowl, as Jisung’s arm tightened around your shoulders.

“I thought she might not understand,” you admitted softly, feeling Jisung’s warmth seep into your bones.

“She’s smart,” Jisung replied, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “And you made it easy for her. She loves you more than you know.”

You smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “She loves both of us.”

“And that’s perfect,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

For the first time, the weight of uncertainty seemed to lift. Together, you and Jisung had built a family—one that was unique, imperfect, but full of love and understanding. And that was all that mattered.

The sun set gently over the quiet cabin, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and orange. The sound of a crackling fire filled the room, its warmth spreading through the space as you sat together with Jisung and Seyeon. She sat between you both, her small hands clasped tightly as she listened to a bedtime story Jisung was reading.

“And then, the prince and princess lived happily ever after,” Jisung finished, his voice smooth and comforting. He closed the book gently and kissed Seyeon’s forehead.

“Goodnight, Daddy,” Seyeon whispered sleepily, her eyelids fluttering closed.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Jisung murmured, tucking a blanket around her.

You watched quietly, a soft smile on your face as you ran your fingers through Seyeon’s hair. She was fast asleep in no time, her little breaths steady and peaceful. Jisung carefully carried her to her bed, placing her down gently and pulling the covers up to her chin.

Once she was tucked in, he returned to you, sitting beside you on the couch with a sigh of contentment. You leaned into him, your head resting against his shoulder as the fire continued to burn warmly in the hearth.

“I think she finally understands,” Jisung said softly, his voice low and affectionate.

You nodded, smiling up at him. “Yeah, she does. She loves us both so easily.”

“She’s lucky,” he said quietly, his arm wrapping around you. “Having two people who care about her like this. You’ve been amazing with her, baby.”

You gave him a small laugh. “Well, she makes it easy. How could I not love her?”

“She’s lucky,” he repeated, pulling you closer. “But so am I.”

The room settled into a peaceful stillness. Outside, the snow continued to fall gently, blanketing the world in white. Inside, it was warm and cozy, the only sounds being the crackling fire and the soft hum of your shared presence.

You and Jisung sat in comfortable silence, lost in the little moments of your own little family. This, right here—this calm, this love—was enough.

No matter what came next, you knew you had each other. And that was everything.

@chancloud8 @hanji-coffee .

[hvbris]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

From where she sat, and with Sloane now sitting in Theo's seat, Violet couldn't see what was happening on the floor, but she could hear the laughter and the screaming, and imagined that the tickle fight was going well. For Samantha, at least.

And indeed, she was not relenting, tickling Theo mercilessly, her fingers poking into his sides. "Your principles won't save you!" she exclaimed as she laughed, very theatrical about it -perhaps it was Sloane's influence on her.

"I'm glad she spared me," chuckled Violet as more yelps erupted behind them. Her eyes fell on the crossbow that Sloane placed next to her, and she blushed a little bit. She had proved she could use it well, and now he trusted her with it. "A high vantage point?" she repeated, before looking back at him.

"Like on a roof?" Her face turned paler. Violet didn't want to be on a roof. Or on any high vantage point of any kind. She didn't like heights. But she had insisted so much to help them, she couldn't falter now. Of course, she didn't know yet that Sloane wasn't thinking of a roof at all, but of a safe dorm room. "I can do that," she assured him, trying to sound resolute. It was a good plan, after all. With the crossbow, she could be a sort of... medieval sniper.

Samantha let out a cry of victory behind them. "AHA!" she exclaimed, raising her arms in the air, "finally, you admit defeat!" And with that, she stood up and handed him her hand to help him up.

Theo let out a yelp of surprise as he went crashing down to the floor, but there were plenty of notes of laughter in it too. He knew it was coming at least but then came the tickling and he squirmed and tried to get away to no avail, laughing all the while. "Never!" He protested at the merciless tickling. "I don't lie." He countered between laughs and breaths.

Sloane sat himself down in what had been Killian's chair and picked up the drawing carefully so to not crush it, sparing a quick glance over it with a smile before putting it aside for Killian to give to Violet when he and Samantha were done with their shenanigans. "I'm pleased to hear that," Sloane said of her father, hoping that his Killian would be the same one day. Casting a little look back towards the pair and agreeing with Violet. "Yes I can't see him winning this one, but it's deserved."

Sloane put the crossbow down beside Violet, it was hers after all and he was sure Killian wouldn't take it from her now. "I trust you to help me and Obsidian protect Orion," he said calmly and sincerely while he peered at her over his glasses, ignoring the gasping laughter and playful scream coming from behind him. "I want you at a high vantage point so that you can see what's coming with a longer ranged weapon that's also stealthy."

Theo struggled a little more, red in the face with laughter, his hair in a state from wiggling on the floor to try and get away from the tickling before he started to relent. "Ok. Ok." he tried as he continued to try and push her off between laughs. "You're better. You're better." He surrendered.

[mmso-notlikethat]

Bucktommy Ι WC: 3206 Ι Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Panic Attack(s), implied pow

Buck wasn’t sure what was worse: the stifling heat pressing down on them or the way Tommy’s breathing was turning erratic by the second. This was a catastrophic building collapse, the kind that mobilized every station in the area—and the moment their paths crossed, the nightmare only got worse.

They’d both been in tight spaces before. It came with the job. But this? This was different. The ceiling had given way, leaving them trapped in what felt like a box barely big enough to fit them both. Their turnout gear made it worse, adding bulk to an already suffocating situation. The air was thick with smoke and dust, and every shallow breath Buck took felt like inhaling sandpaper.

Tommy, who’d been quiet—too quiet—suddenly pressed his back against the debris behind him, his helmet knocking against the wall as his breathing became audible over the comms.

“Hey, this is awkward, huh?” Buck tried to inject some levity, his voice muffled by his mask. “Just being crammed with your ex in the world’s worst escape room.”

Tommy didn’t respond. His gloved hands were trembling slightly, and Buck could hear his breaths coming faster, shallower.

“Tommy?” Buck’s tone shifted, the humor fading. “Hey, you with me?”

Tommy’s head jerked up, but his eyes—visible through his mask—were wide, unfocused. He shook his head slightly, muttering something Buck couldn’t catch over the hiss of air tanks and the distant sound of fire crackling.

And then it clicked. Buck had seen this before, though never from Tommy. Panic. Real, gut-wrenching panic.

“Tommy, hey, it’s okay,” Buck said, his voice steady but urgent. He reached out, resting a hand on Tommy’s arm. “You’re okay. We’re going to get out of here.”

Tommy’s hands shot up to his chest, fumbling with the straps of his oxygen harness. “I—I can’t—” His words broke off into a choking sound, his breaths coming in short frantic gasps.

“Tommy, stop!” Buck grabbed his hands, keeping them from ripping the mask off. “Listen to me. You need to breathe. Just focus on me, okay? Look at me.”

But Tommy wasn’t hearing him. He was spiraling, his body starting to shake as the panic took over. Buck’s heart was racing now, but he forced himself to stay calm. Tommy needed him to be calm.

“Tommy, listen.” Buck leaned in closer, their helmets almost touching. “I’m right here. It’s me. Evan.” He hadn’t called himself that in months—since before the breakup—but it slipped out now, instinctive and raw. “Look at me, okay? I’ve got you.”

Tommy’s eyes darted to his, wild and desperate.

“That’s it,” Buck said, his voice softer now. “Just keep looking at me. We’re in this together. You’re not alone.”

Tommy’s hands clawed at Buck’s turnout coat, gripping the fabric like a lifeline. “I—I can’t breathe,” he choked out.

“You can,” Buck insisted. “Your gear’s heavy, I know, but you’ve done this before. You’re the strongest guy I know, Tommy. You’ve got this.”

Tommy was shaking his head, but Buck kept talking, his voice steady and even. He reached up and adjusted Tommy’s straps, loosening them just enough to take the pressure off his chest. “There, that’s better. Just take one breath at a time. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Match me, okay?”

Buck exaggerated his breathing, drawing in a long, slow breath and letting it out just as slowly. “See? You can do it.”

Tommy’s breaths hitched, uneven at first, but slowly matched Buck’s rhythm. The seconds stretched unbearably, but Buck held his focus. One breath. Then another.

“That’s it,” Buck murmured. “You’re doing great. Just keep going.”

Minutes passed—though it felt like hours—before Tommy forced out “I—I’m sorry,” he rasped, his voice barely audible.

Buck shook his head. “Don’t apologize. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

Even as Buck reassured him, Tommy’s hand remained clenched in his turnout coat, his grip unwavering, almost unconscious. The space around them felt smaller with every passing second, the air pressing in like an invisible weight. Sweat trickled down Buck’s spine under his turnout, but he ignored it, focusing on the man in front of him.

“Tommy,” Buck said again, louder this time, as if sheer volume could break through the haze in Tommy’s mind. “I need you to focus on me. Look at me. It’s just you and me here, okay?”

Tommy’s hands fumbled again, this time clutching at his helmet as though it were suffocating him. His shoulders were heaving, and Buck could hear the sharp, staccato gasps of his breathing echoing in the small space.

“Shit,” Buck muttered under his breath. He placed both hands firmly on Tommy’s shoulders, grounding him. “Listen to me, baby.” The name slipping, but neither of them noticed, “You’ve been through worse than this. You’ve done this a hundred times. You’re the guy everyone counts on. You can do this.”

Tommy’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto Buck’s for a brief moment. There was no recognition there—just raw, unfiltered fear. “I can’t,” Tommy whispered, his voice breaking. “It’s… too much. I can’t breathe.”

Buck’s heart twisted at the sheer vulnerability in Tommy’s voice. This wasn’t the stoic, unflappable man Buck had known—the man who flew them into cat-5 hurricane with no hesitation. This was someone who was unraveling, someone who needed him now more than ever.

“You can breathe,” Buck said firmly, refusing to let Tommy slip any further. “You’re not alone in this. I’m right here, yeah? I’m not going anywhere.”

Tommy’s grip on Buck’s coat tightened, his gloved fingers digging into the thick fabric. “I can’t… I can’t do this. Not again,” he said, his words barely audible over the crackling of distant flames and the muffled sounds of the world outside.

Buck frowned. “Not again? Tommy, what do you mean?”

Tommy didn’t answer, his breathing accelerating again as his eyes darted around the confined space. It hit Buck like a punch to the gut—this wasn’t just claustrophobia. This was something deeper, something rooted in Tommy’s past.

The army. The PTSD Tommy had never really talked about.

Buck’s mind raced as he tried to piece it together. He didn’t have all the details, but he didn’t need them. What mattered was getting Tommy through this.

“Hey, listen to me,” Buck said, his voice dropping to a softer tone. He leaned in, his helmet almost touching Tommy’s “I don’t know what you’re seeing right now, but you’re not there. You’re here, with me. This isn’t the past. We’re going to get out of this, but I need you to come back to me first. Can you do that?”

Tommy’s breaths were still ragged, but something in Buck’s words seemed to reach him. His eyes flickered back to Buck’s, and for a split second, there was a glimmer of recognition.

“Evan,” Tommy rasped, the name tumbling out like a lifeline. “I—I’m trying.”

“I know you are,” Buck said, his heart squeezing at the sound of his name. “And you’re doing great. Just keep trying. We’re in this together.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy and tense, broken only by the distant sounds of the fire team working to clear the debris. Buck shifted slightly, trying to make himself more comfortable in the cramped space, but it was impossible. The walls were too close, the heat too oppressive.

He noticed Tommy’s hands trembling again, tugging weakly at the straps of his harness again. “It’s too tight,” Tommy choked out. “I can’t… I can’t breathe.”

Buck acted quickly, loosening the straps just enough to relieve the pressure without compromising the seal of the mask. “There,” he said. “That’s better, right? Just focus on breathing with me. In through your nose, out through your mouth. You’ve got this.”

Tommy tried to mimic Buck’s exaggerated breathing, but it was still uneven, shaky. Buck didn’t let up. “That’s it. One breath at a time. You’re not in this by yourself, Tommy. I’m right here, and I’ve got you.”

Tommy’s grip on Buck’s coat didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened, like he was afraid Buck might disappear if he let go. His voice was barely above a whisper when he finally spoke again. “I thought… I thought I’d moved past this. I thought I could handle it.”

“Hey,” Buck said gently, “there’s no ‘handling’ something like this. It’s not a weakness, Tommy. It’s just something you go through, and you’re not going through it alone. Not now.”

Tommy’s head dropped forward, resting briefly against Buck’s chest. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to tell Buck that he was breaking through the panic, bit by bit.

“You’re doing great,” Buck repeated, his voice steady and calm. He adjusted his own position slightly, ignoring the discomfort as he stayed close to Tommy. “Just keep breathing. We’ll get out of this soon.”

The sound of shifting debris and distant shouting pierced the heavy silence in the confined space. Buck froze, straining to hear. The words were muffled at first, but then they grew clearer.

“Kinard! Buckley! Can you hear us?”

It was Tommy’s team. Relief flooded Buck, but it was short-lived as he glanced at Tommy, whose breathing was still ragged, his wide eyes darting around as if the walls were closing in again. The panic hadn’t fully released its grip on him.

“They’re here, Tommy,” Buck said firmly, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We’re getting out. You’re going to be okay.”

Tommy barely reacted, still trapped in his own mind, his hands twitching slightly where they gripped Buck’s turnout coat.

The rubble above shifted again, light spilling into the tight space as the team above worked to clear the debris. A voice called out, clearer now. “Kinard! Buckley! Respond if you can hear us!”

“Here!” Buck shouted back. “We’re here! We’re okay!”

“No, no, no…” Tommy was mumbling, his voice trembling as his head shook violently. “No, they can’t find us. They can’t. They can’t.”

Buck froze for a moment, the words hitting him like a gut punch. “Tommy, what are you talking about?” he asked, his voice careful but laced with confusion. “They’re here to help us. They’re our team. Your team.”

Tommy’s eyes darted around the confined space, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. “No,” he whispered, shaking his head again. “No, if they find us… if they find me—” His voice cracked, and he clamped his mouth shut as if he’d already said too much.

“Tommy,” Buck said slowly, trying to keep his tone steady, even as alarm coursed through him. He reached out, gripping Tommy’s shoulder. “It’s okay. This is your team, Tommy. They’re not here to hurt us. They’re here to pull us out.”

Tommy flinched at the contact, his head jerking back to look at Buck. His eyes were wild, unseeing. “You don’t get it,” he said, his voice raw and desperate. “You don’t know what it’s like—what happens when they find you. You think it’s over, but it’s not. It’s never over.”

Buck’s stomach churned, the weight of Tommy’s words sinking in, though the full meaning remained just out of reach. He didn’t need the details–the pain in Tommy’s voice said enough.

“Tommy, listen to me,” Buck said, his grip tightening. “This isn’t that. This is now. And now, they’re pulling us out, okay? It’s over. Whatever you’re thinking about—it’s not happening again.”

Tommy’s lips parted as though to argue, but no words came. His trembling intensified, his breaths growing more frantic.

“They’re calling for us, Tommy,” Buck said firmly, leaning closer. “And you’re going to let them find you. This time is different, Tommy. You’re safe, and I’m right here with you.”

A few seconds later, hands reached down through the gap. “We’re pulling you out!” one of the firefighters yelled.

At the sudden movement above them, Tommy flinched violently, his panic hitting a breaking point. Instead of clinging to Buck, he shoved him away, pressing himself back, but there was nowhere to go.

“No!” Tommy choked out, shaking his head in wild denial. “No, they can’t—don’t touch me! I can’t—” His voice cracked as he pushed harder against the debris, trying to disappear into the unyielding surface.

“Tommy!” Buck said sharply, shifting closer despite the cramped space. “Stop! You’re safe! They’re here to help us!”

But Tommy wasn’t listening. His hands scrabbled at the debris as though trying to dig himself further into the confined pocket of space, his eyes darting frantically. “No, no, no… I can’t let them—don’t let them take me!”

“Tommy, listen to me!” Buck urged, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him lightly. “You’re not there! You’re here, with me. They’re pulling us out—”

“Buckley!” a voice barked from above. Buck’s head snapped up to see Melton, leaning dangerously over the gap. His face was tight with urgency. “There’s no time! We need to get out now, or none of us are walking out of this!”

Buck swore under his breath, his gaze darting back to Tommy, who was still caught in the throes of panic. There was no time to coax him out, no time to reason with him.

“I’m sorry Tommy,” Buck muttered, his voice low, before grabbing Tommy’s arms. With a grunt of effort, he forced Tommy upward, pushing him toward the waiting hands of the team above.

Tommy struggled weakly at first, mumbling incoherent protests, but the team didn’t hesitate. Melton reached down, gripping Tommy’s gear and hauling him up with the help of another firefighter. “We’ve got him!” Melton yelled as they pulled Tommy out of the gap.

“Shit! their tanks are bone dry!” Lucy yelled, her voice sharp with alarm. “They’re hypoxic—we need medics now!

Buck watched for a split second to make sure they had Tommy, then yelled, “I’m coming!” Hands reached for him next, and in a matter of moments, he was pulled free of the suffocating debris.

The rush of fresh air hit Buck’s lungs, but it didn’t do much to clear the heaviness in his chest. The medics were already waiting, their gear ready. Hen and Chimney were among them, both moving with purpose. Eddie stood nearby, his sharp gaze flicking between Buck and Tommy as the team ushered them toward the ambulances.

“They’re hypoxic!” Lucy shouted, sprinting to meet the medics. “Both of them were trapped for too long.”

Hen was on Tommy instantly, guiding him to sit on the bumper of an ambulance. “Tommy, stay still,” she ordered, securing an oxygen mask over his face.

Chimney grabbed Buck before he could sway too far, steering him toward another ambulance. “Sit. Down.,” Chimney demanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. He pressed an oxygen mask toward Buck. “You need this, like, five minutes ago.”

“I’m fine,” Buck muttered, pushing the mask aside. His eyes locked on Tommy, who sat hunched over, his shoulders rigid and his breaths shallow, even through the oxygen.

Chimney waved his hand in front of Buck’s face. “Nope. Not happening. You’re not pulling the ‘I’m fine’ routine when you look like you just wrestled a furnace.”

“I’m fine,” Buck insisted, standing abruptly. “How’s Tommy? Is he okay?”

Hen glanced over, catching Buck’s movement. She stalked toward him, her tone sharp. “Buck! Sit back down and stay on oxygen. Tommy’s fine. I’ve got him.”

“But—” Buck started, his voice tight with worry.

Hen sighed, cutting him off. “He’s stable, Buck. He’s not going to collapse on us, but he’s rattled. Let me handle it.”

Eddie, who had been watching quietly, frowned as he took in Tommy’s stiff posture and far-off gaze. Without a word, he walked past Hen, his boots crunching against the gravel as he approached Tommy.

“Tommy,” Eddie said softly, crouching in front of him. “Hey, you doing okay?”

Tommy’s eyes flickered to Eddie, but his gaze didn’t hold. He shook his head slightly, his voice muffled through the oxygen mask. “I froze,” he muttered, barely audible.

Eddie tilted his head, his voice calm and understanding. “You’re out now. That’s what matters.”

Tommy swallowed hard, his eyes dropping to the ground. “It’s not that simple,” he whispered, his voice hollow. “It’s never simple. When you’re found… it doesn’t always mean you’re free.”

Eddie didn’t need more. He’d seen that look, heard those words, and felt that fear. It lingered, even now, in the quiet corners of his mind. He understood exactly what Tommy wasn’t saying.

“You’re not there anymore,” Eddie said gently. “You’re here. You’re safe.”

Tommy glanced up briefly, his lips pressing into a tight line. For a moment, it looked like he might say something more, but then he turned his head away, retreating into complete silence.

Eddie let out a slow breath, standing and stepping back. As he returned to Buck, he kept his expression carefully neutral, but his eyes carried a weight that Buck couldn’t ignore.

“He’s fine,” Eddie said quietly. “You should talk to him. Just… be patient.”

Hen sighed as Buck started to move again. “Fine,” she said, exasperated. “Go. But if you don’t get back on oxygen afterward, I’m hauling you to the ER myself.” Buck didn’t argue. He crossed the distance to Tommy.

“Tommy,” Buck said softly, crouching in front of him.

Tommy’s head jerked up, and his eyes found Buck’s. They were still glassy, his breaths still uneven. “Evan… I…” His voice broke, and he shook his head. “I’m fine,” he murmured, though the faraway look in his eyes betrayed his words then he chocked “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, there’s nothing to be sorry for,” Buck said quickly. “We’re both okay. That’s all that matters.”

Tommy’s hands twitched where they rested on his knees, his fingers curling into fists. “No, it’s not… I don’t know what happened. I thought I was fine, but then… the collapse… it just happened so suddenly, and I was pulled into another place. I couldn’t—” His voice cracked, and he looked away, ashamed.

“Tommy, look at me,” Buck said, his tone firm. He reached out, resting a hand on Tommy’s knee. “It’s okay. You were scared. That’s normal. You’re human.”

Tommy’s jaw clenched, and he let out a shaky breath. “But I’m supposed to be better than this. I’m supposed to be able to handle it. What if—I could’ve gotten us killed!”

“You didn’t,” Buck said firmly. “You didn’t get us killed, Tommy. We made it out because of you. You kept coming back, even when it felt impossible. That’s what matters.”

Tommy’s eyes filled with tears, but he blinked them away quickly, shaking his head. “I don’t know what could have happened if you weren’t there,” he admitted in a broken whisper.

“You don’t have to know,” Buck replied. “Because I was there. And I’ll always be there. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Tommy let out a shuddering breath, some of the tension in his body finally easing. For the first time since the collapse, his shoulders relaxed slightly, and he nodded. “Thank you,” he murmured.

Buck gave him a reassuring nod, staying by his side until Hen returned, her hands on her hips. “Alright, Buck. Oxygen. Now. Or I’m dragging you to the hospital.”

Buck raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m riding with him anyway,” he said simply, nodding toward Tommy. Finally, he took the mask, but his eyes stayed on Tommy, making sure he was okay.

[rafesbangs]

𝜗𝜚 bf!rafe fingers and eats you like a man starved while you're on the phone

c!w; mdni !! sort of shy!reader, kinda humiliation kink on rafe's part, fingering, overstim, squirting, praise kink, slight degrading kink, use of nickname bunny. notes; thinking abt rafe just loving to see you squirm.

your best friend had been on the phone for nearly forty minutes, she was complaining about topper yet again. and of course, you attentively listened, until she started saying the same thing over and over again.

rafe could tell you were getting a little bored of your conversation, your eyes were glazing over a little as you sat cross-legged on his bed. he had been waiting for this conversation to end too, you two were about to ...get cozy. you turned your head mouthed a sympathetic 'sorry' to your somewhat patient boyfriend sitting next to you.

but his patience had run out.

he began running the pads of his fingers gently over the inside of your thigh, getting dangerously close to your clothed heat. your eyes shot up at him, a shit eating grin splayed across his lips and mischief in his eyes. he quickly slid his hand down to cup your pussy, you gasped lightly, luckily your best friend still on the other side of the phone took no notice.

your cheeks flushed almost a deep red as you breathed in, glancing at rafe who had his eyes now laser focused on your small pyjama shorts, very clearly getting more and more damp by the second. the tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips in satisfaction, he loved watching you get wet for him.

your breath hitched when he dragged his fingers over your clothed but wet slit before pulling the shorts and your soaked panties to the side. you hit the silence mic option on the call immediately, turning to look rafe in the eyes now.

he was slowly, tauntingly, gliding his fingers along your sopping slit, his mouth partially open as he watched your pussy twitch a little every so often. "rafe" you hissed, your chest beginning to rise and fall strenuously. his eyes just glanced up at you with a little smirk before looking back down. suddenly you heard your best friend saying your name on the phone, shit.

"y/n?? y/n are you there?" she asked, clearly annoyed. you hoped she hadn't been saying your name for too long. you switched mute off, "yes- sorry, rafe just um came and asked me something.. could you repeat that?"

your best friend sighed and went on to say something else about how topper's behaviour was unacceptable and you zoned out of the conversation again. looking down, rafe was now rubbing your puffy little clit, you couldn't help but let out a small whine but you froze when you realised your best friend definitely would've heard you then.

"are you okay?" she suddenly said, stopping in the middle of her ever flowing train of thought. you internally stuttered, not knowing what to say but quickly snapped out of it while rafe was no help, now turning rubbing teasing little strokes to tight little circles right on your aching bud. "sorry, my legs hurt... rafe, yknow" you quickly babbled, your friend then scoffing and going on to say something about how topper isn't good at sex.

you gripped rafe's wrist and he grinned, you mouthed 'stop' but that only made him slide two fingers deep into your drooling cunt whispering, "shh bunny, i know this pretty pussy is begging for my fingers. you keep talking."

he loved hearing the breathy whimpers you make for him to stop, to try and push him away, but he refused to relent, now lowering himself in front of you, his face an inch away from your core. you pulled the phone away from your face for a moment, the pleasure making you forget about that stupid mute button, "rafe." you whined quietly, "stop... ughh, please. the call 'll be done soon-"

you were promptly cut off by his mouth connecting to your weeping pussy, immediately eating you like a man starved as his two huge fingers continued to fuck your hole. he was mumbling into your clit now, periodically coming up for air to whisper a few words, "mmm, my dumb lil' bunny's taking my fingers so good..." "you taste so good baby..." "gonna make you squirt all over this tongue."

it was taking everything to keep quiet, laying back on the bed your phone had fallen beside you a long time ago, your hand threaded into his soft messy hair as he ravenously ate and teased you.

you looked to the side, noticing as rafe was pushing the phone back up to you, "keep talking baby, wanna see if you can hold in what a slut you're being for me" he grinned, his gaze piercing.

you shook your head but he pulled his fingers out with a stern expression, raising your phone up to you again with raised eyebrows, you let a shaky sigh go and held the phone up to your ear again. your best friend now asking you for your opinion, which you could only answer with shaky and deep breaths.

the way he was lapping at your sopping hole was getting sloppier, three fingers now causing you to unravel, the feeling was too overwhelming. your eyebrows cinched together as your thighs threatened to snap shut but rafe's strong arms had a death grip on them.

he looked up at you, a teasing glare as he licked a deep stripe up your pussy, your legs twitched and you quickly pulled the phone to your ear, "sorry girl i'm gonna have to go- ohh. um- shit, bye!" you hung up and threw the phone down, now gripping on rafe's head with one hand and the bed sheets with the other.

hot white ripped through your body and it felt like exploding fireworks, your juices now coating rafe's face and hand. you looked down at him, half lidded and gasping for air as he chuckled lightly into your tired cunt, pressing a butterfly kiss to your wet pussy before getting up.

"i knew you'd squirt f'me bunny, such a good girl." he breathed, sliding his hands up your trembling thighs.

[cosmicporos]

What Arcane characters would gift you for Christmas!

Jinx, Vi, Ekko, Viktor, Jayce

(Semi crack Drabble… sorry for going super long with Viktor’s and Jayce’s HCs. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH)

(Jayce is Hispanic in my hc :3)

ENJOY AND HAVE FUN LOVE YALL<3

Not proofread

JINX

Hear me out… the first thing she would plan to gift you are decorated safety googles.

As a matter of fact everything she gifts you is handmade!

She knows you love to spend time with her when she’s in her workshop and the extra spare of googles she had were pretty crappy…

“Ugh, these old things? Pfft, they look like they’ve been through a freakin’ explosion… oh wait, they probably have! We gotta get you a new pair soon toots!”

They’d be totally decked out! Lots of character as she calls it.

“Okay toots check it out! Maximum protection but most importantly! They got style!”

The googles themselves would be in her classic style, very colorful paint, cute little heart scribbles all around! And of course lots of glitter….

“"I mean, you've got to stay safe while causing mayhem, right? And hey, if we're blowing stuff up together, you'll definitely need these. Plus, I made them perfectly for you. No one else will have goggles like these... trust me!"

I totally see her adding little handmade jewelry from her gears and spare parts, would totally make you a belt or choker out of spare bullets.

Vi

She would totally panic on what to get you for Christmas. Like what if you suddenly hate the thing you’ve loved since the very beginning she’s known you???

Would end up both buying and making you something!

She’s make you something small but meaningful

“Okay Okay fine! You can open mine now. Just don’t laugh too hard Cupcake…”

You’d open the poorly wrapped gift to uncover a bright pink scarf she knitted you! The stitching is a mess.. there a hole’s through the project (no doubt a missed stitch) but in all honesty it so cute you feel like your heart might explode.

"Yeah, I know I'm not, uh, the best at this kind of thing," she mutters, scratching the back of her neck, "but I figured you could use something to keep warm... and, you know, 'cause it's winter. And... you're important to me."

Guys please tell her she did an amazing job PLEASE.

She would also totally buy you a pair of combat boots! Totally saved up for months in advance.

She loves the idea of being able to match and have a bit of her style on you!

Ekko

Just like Jinx (sobs) he’d also make something for you!

The first thing he’d give you would be a little sketch book full of drawings of you from random moments throughout your relationship he remembers oh so clearly.

"I've been working on it for a while... It's... it's just a bunch of drawings. I mean, not just anything. Stuff that made me think of you. Stuff we've done, or things I hope we do. I don't know, it just felt like the best way to show how I feel about... well, us."

Okay he would also totally make you matching jewelry (matching clock hand necklaces?)

You’d force him to take the hour hand since it’s shorter (heheheh little man)

Once you explain your reasoning as to why he should take the smaller one he sighs disappointedly…

"Okay, okay, I get it," he finally says, a little less playful now, his voice softening. "I guess if you want me to wear it, I can..."

Then, a grin creeps back onto his face as he adds, "But don't think I'm letting you off the hook with the minute hand. You're wearing that one for sure." He places the hour hand necklace around his neck, the smaller pendant resting there, and looks up at you with that mischievous gleam in his eye.

He pauses, holding up his necklace, "I'm still the one with the bigger job. You'll just have to keep up." A proud smug smirk now rests on his face.

Viktor

FUCK WHERE DO I BEGIN I LOVE THIS MAN

o k a y. He would just like Vi panic… not because he doesn’t know what to get you but because he totally is going Christmas shopping late… very very late.

As much as I would love to say he’d make some little invention to make your day easier and give it to you for Christmas I don’t see it happening.

Not because he wouldn’t do it but because he already does it all the time! A little example, you’re late for work often? A little robot that hits you with a plastic squishy hammer every morning at 7 am waking you up when he can’t!

He’d definitely want to make Christmas special, I see him buying you something and then doing something special for you too!

Christmas morning would be greeted with warm hugs and kisses along with an even warmer bowl of potato soup!

He wanted to make sure he perfected his mother’s Bramboračka recipe. It was a once a year meal him and his mother shared every Christmas day.

He’s not a good cook by any means… but this is the one dish he can make and oh boy can he make it.

"Don't expect perfection," he says with a small, self-conscious smile, as you catch him sneaking a taste of the soup. Viktor looks up, his gaze softening. "I hope you like it," he says, and despite his usual perfectionism, there's a quiet pride in his voice. You take a sip, and the rich flavors of mushrooms, potatoes, and herbs immediately comfort you, just like his mother's love must've comforted him all those years ago.

OKAY for the making gift he planned I see him commissioning something due to the fact a lot of his inventions lack aesthetics.

Specifically I see him commissioning a music box that functions as a a jewelry box as well! He would have loved to make it himself but he was worried he wouldn’t have gotten the look right.

"Do you like it?" he asks, his voice softer than usual, as if he's worried about the reception. "I had it made... I thought... it might remind you of us."

The detail was breathtaking-floral patterns etched into the surface, with tiny gears and delicate metalwork accenting the edges. The craftsmanship was stunning, and you couldn't help but run your fingers over the smooth finish.

you lifted the lid, and a gentle, lilting melody began to play. It was slow and sweet, a tune that felt timeless, and as you stared at the tiny figurines inside, your breath caught.

His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his cane, his gaze flicking between you and the music box. "I commissioned it," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "I had the craftsman use a sketch I made. It's how I see us... in my mind. How I feel when I hold you." He paused, his expression softening. "I thought... I thought you deserved something that would remind you of that. Of... how much you mean to me."

Jayce

Oh hon… Jayce would spoil you rotten.

I’m talking presents are overflowing underneath the tree.

You thought you lost your favorite piece of clothing? WRONG! He commissioned for more to be made in different colors and textures for you.

All the fragrances in the world he knew you would enjoy.

Cozy adorable pajamas we would give you Christmas morning so you could cuddle up drinking hot chocolate.

Spends Christmas Eve spoiling you and cuddling and being so tooth rottenly sweet.

It’s Christmas Eve, the scene was almost overwhelming. The living room looked like a perfectly curated holiday catalog-twinkling lights, a roaring fireplace, and, of course, an absurd number of gifts. Jayce sat cross-legged beside the tree, an excited grin lighting up his face as he handed you the first box. He had merely grinned, sheepish yet unrepentant. "What can I say? I got carried away?.”

"Open this one first," he urged, nearly vibrating with excitement. Inside was a bottle of an exquisite fragrance, the glass etched with delicate, swirling designs. It smelled divine-rich, warm, and entirely you.

"I figured you'd like that," he said eyes carefully watching everyone expression you make. You swear if he had a tail it would be swishing uncontrollably right now.

Christmas Day would be you spending Christmas day at his mother’s house!

(Listen I’m hc them as hispanic because for one HIS MOMS NAME HIS XIMENA… and two because why not :3 )

You have a great relationship with his Mother, she absolutely adores you and sees you as her daughter.

There’s lots of yummy food she’s prepared… perhaps too much for just 3 people?

Nonetheless, a pot of pozole, tamales de puerco and de dulce! And of course she made jayce’s favorite choco flan!

God she urges to to eat until you nearly pop! You have to undo your belt by the end of the night…

"Come, sit!" his mom insisted, pulling out a chair for you. "Jayce told me you've never had my tamales. That's a crime! Here, start with this." She placed one on your plate, her eyes twinkling.

Jayce sat beside you, his grin widening as you took your first bite. "Good, right?" he asked, nudging you playfully.

You could only nod, savoring the perfectly seasoned masa and tender filling.

Later in the evening, when everyone was too full to move, Jayce leaned over and slipped his hand into yours. His eyes were soft, his voice low as he said, "I'm glad you're here. This—" he gestured to the lively scene around you, "—feels perfect with you."

[weltraum-vaquero]

cariño (eres un amor)

Jayce Talis x GN Reader

Synopsis: Jayce wakes up with feverish, and with a sore throat.

Tags: SFW, established relationship, fluff, tenderness, Jayce being a big baby about being sick, comfort, Jayce being a human furnace

Word count: 2.3k

Notes: Just another little something to tide you guys over while I work on my bigger projects. I don’t usually do fluff, but I hope it’s not terribly obvious and that you’ll enjoy this little sickfic!

It’s about three AM when the heaping mountain of warmth beside you clears his throat, and shifts around sluggishly. The mattress creaks uncomfortably under his moving weight as he moves to the opposite side of your shared bed.

You can hear plastic soles sliding against the floor when he slips into his fuzzy pink slippers (an old Christmas gift from you — mainly a joke, but now an indispensable part of his cozy wardrobe), and, with a suppressed little huff, moves to stand.

“Uh oh.”

His voice is raspy when he mutters it, and you hear him stumbling, and vaguely see him bracing himself against the nearest wall when you turn to look.

You rush to flick on the bedside lamp.

“Jayce?”

He’s set a hand over his throat, breathing labored, and his loose T-shirt is soaked through with sweat — between his shoulder blades, under his arms, even at his collarbone.

“I don’t… feel so good.” He croaks.

You’re up on your feet before he can finish saying it, rushing to his side to offer your help. He watches you with dizzy, weary eyes, and by the time you reach his side, you realize he’s trembling a little.

“You don’t look good either,” you mutter, brushing your fingers to his clammy forehead. 

Hot. Too hot.

“Hey.” He fake pouts, cracking a tired smile at his own attempt at a joke a moment later.

“You’re burning up a nasty fever, Jayce,” you conclude. It must be getting to his muscles, too, because his thighs are shaking a little. “What do you need, hm?”

“Was gonna go pee,” he says. You cannot, for the life of you, get used to how worn his voice sounds — like he’s just chewed and swallowed a handful of gravel. “And, uh, probably chug water from the sink. I’m so thirsty.”

“Let’s get you to the bathroom, and I’ll get you a big glass of water and make you tea in the meantime. Chamomile?”

He nods. “And an aspirin?”

“And an aspirin.”

His smile turns sappy.

“I love you so much.”

—

He manages to get himself back to the bedroom without you. By the time you get there with a tray of everything you’ve promised and more, he’s pathetically crawling under the sheets like he’s just lost a physical fight, curling up like a kicked puppy once he reaches the pillow.

“Got you some toast, too.” You tell him, setting the small tray on the night stand and sitting next to his curled up form.

Even his hair’s damp with sweat, you realize when you brush a gentle hand through it.

“Not hungry,” Jayce mutters. 

“I know, but you shouldn’t take the aspirin on an empty stomach. Do you wanna sit up?”

“Uuughhhh… okay.” Jayce groans like he has been cursed with the world’s most terrible predicament. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“Which is often,” you tease, propping up his pillow against the headboard to help him sit up a little better. You give him his water first — he sounds like he needs it.

He grips the glass with two hands, unusual for Jayce, strength personified. Brings the glass to his lips with shaky hands before he exhales with bliss and starts chugging the damn thing.

He’s done with it in record time.

“Mmh. Thank you.” You take it from him, set it on the nightstand, before you take the tray and set it in his lap. Full, steaming teacup, a sad plate with an even sadder toast and an aspirin right next to it. “Breakfast of champions,” Jayce mutters, more to himself than to you, before he takes the toast.

At about three bites in, he looks at you with wide eyes.

“Shit, the gala. It’s—“ he stops to cough into his sleeve, “in two days…” Jayce looks down at himself, drenched in sweat, then at you. “And you have work tomorrow—“

“Viktor will have to take one for the team,” you counter. Another coughing fit takes him, you hold the tray steady for him as he does, and cradle the side of his face when he starts to calm. “And I’d rather have a shitty day at work than not be there when you need it most, Jayce.”

”I’m sorry,” he mutters anyway. 

“You didn’t ask for this,” you assure. Jayce closes his eyes and leans into the cup of your palm like a tired pup. “We���ll figure it out. Let’s just get you taken care of first.”

He nods weakly, before he pulls the blanket up a little higher over himself, settles into the pillows a little deeper and makes quick work of what remains of the toast. He takes his aspirin with the tea, which, judging by his sour expression when he sips some, is way too hot for his liking.

“Do you want me to blow on it for you?” you offer.

“ ‘m not a baby.”

“You are my baby.”

That makes him crack a wide, boyish grin — and it makes your heart soar. 

“Okay,” he mutters, before he lets you have it and sinks further into the sheets, until it reaches well above his lips, and it’s just his droopy, tired eyes peeking at you. 

You hold the cup with one hand, and the other comes to pet his sweat-damp scalp. He’s running hot, terribly so, but after a minute or so, you swear you can feel him starting to tremble under your palm.

It starts at just his neck first, but you can see the way it shakes him even under the thick blanket, can see the way it makes him nuzzle and hide further down. 

“C-can you get… another blanket?” He asks. “‘m starting to get really cold.”

And if there is one thing Jayce cannot stand, it’s being cold and damp. You know, because he’s always rushing to towel himself dry after his warm showers, you know, because he runs from any snowfall like it could make him melt. You know, because Ximena misses two fingers because of frostbite. You know Jayce was there when it happened. You know.

“That and a dry shirt,” you promise with a kiss to his clammy forehead. It leaves your lips a little sticky, but you don’t mind.

You’ve set the tea on the nightstand before he can finish asking, and you make your way to your shared closet fast. In one of the drawers, you find a thick fuzzy blanket, usually only reserved for the occasional power outage during winter. Which, granted, it is winter, Jayce’s least favorite season, but the heat is cranked up comfortably, as it always is. You can see his eyes smiling when he spots it in your arms, and smiling wider when you pick one of his loose, big shirts next. Whatever’s in reach first just so happens to be one with a drawing of his favorite cartoon dog and red hearts — a little V-day gift from last year.  

With both at your side, you sit down next to him and wait for him to finish his tea. Both hands cupped around it to soak up the warmth, Jayce sips on it in silence, as the both of you watch the street light outside your window, and the thick snowflakes visible in the flickering light below.

“At least I won’t have to wade through that to go to work tomorrow,” he muses.

“Well, I will.”

“Ha.” Jayce grins, curling up closer to his near empty mug in anticipated joy. He’s still watching the snow outside when he says it. “Sucker.”

If he weren’t in such a precarious state right now, you’d be blowing a raspberry on whatever’s closest til he begged for mercy. Right now, you settle for a smaller, gentler form of retaliation— peeling his blanket up and off of him when he least expects it.

“Okay. Let’s get your shirt changed.”

He frowns and makes a displeased little sound at that, but dutifully sits up regardless, and tiredly pulls the shirt up and above his head. To little avail, he also tries to dab himself dry using the damp shirt where he’s sweatiest — at the back of his neck and his underarms, before he tosses it near the laundry basket in your bedroom and turns to you.

“Arms up,” you tell him. “I’ve got you.”

It should be illegal to look this good while feverish and dazed. You can’t help the eyeful of him you get, not when his skin’s sweat slick and glistening, fuzz stuck to himself between his pecs and right below, the fuzz on the rolls of his tummy.

The second it’s on, Jayce wastes no time disappearing under the blanket once more, and you take the hint. The second, fluffy one is quickly unfolded and draped over him as well, before you climb atop him and begin to tuck him in nice and tight, the way he likes it when he gets like this.

Except — Jayce won’t stop staring.

He looks at you with pleading, puppy dog eyes and finally a pout when you don’t seem to take the hint.

“What is it?” You ask. You bring up one of your hands to cradle his soft, sleepy face, brushing through the scruff at his jaw. “D’you want a kiss?”

“Not just a kiss…”

He tilts his head and flashes you one of those sickeningly sweet, winning smiles of his. And he’s right to do it, because you know he’s about to ask something very difficult from you.

“Cuddle me?”

If he weren’t a living, breathing pile of hot coal right now, you might have said yes.

“I barely make it out alive and unscorched out of sharing a blanket with you on a normal day,” you remind.

“Please?”

It should be worrying how effective his tone is, worn and sore as it’s gotten. 

“You’re going to boil me alive under there.”

And that all seems pretty insignificant in spite of it all when he smiles drowsily and shrugs with a little hum.

“Mm. With love.” His raspy voice cracks on the second word.

It’s with much annoyance that you realize that if Jayce begged nicely enough, you would gladly do just about most things on this wretched earth. And that unfortunately includes this certain death sentence.

“Alright.”

From under the blankets, Jayce gives a tired, but victorious little yes.

You hardly make it far when you lift the blankets to join him. The heat is below overwhelming, even by his standards, envelops you suffocatingly, before warmth personified practically pounces on you. Jayce crawls to you the moment he can, nestling up against your side like he weighs nothing (except that he very much does, but it’s a familiar, comforting heaviness), before he drapes himself on top of you. Head on your chest, tired arm slung over your middle, the leg that’s closest to the mattress stays stretched out next to yours, and the other one he brings closer to himself, almost in a fetal position, his thigh atop your hips.

It’s already too much, but Jayce cuddles closer, rubs his face against you like an enamored little pet. If he had a tail it’d be wagging, or if he had the means for it, he’d be purring — either way, you can’t help a smile of your own, in spite of how smothered you are. You cradle the back of his head closer, until you can comfortably rest your cheek atop his hair.

Until… he shifts, and you can feel the tip of his nose nudging your jaw.

“And my kiss?” Jayce croaks.

He will be the death of you.

And yet, you’re very content with the notion as you pull back to look at him. You find him lazily lying on your chest, face tipped towards you in expectation, eyes lidded with sleepiness but still trained on you like you’re the only thing in the room.

“Where do you want it, baby?”

“Mmm…” Jayce lets his eyes drift shut and sniffles a little. “Dealer’s choice.”

You go for the space between his brows — messed up from sleep and how he’s been rubbing his face against you, instead of neatly tamed into place with his beloved brow wax.

You can hear his smile widen the second your lips brush his skin. And you don’t get to smooch him properly, before he’s already asking: “Another?”

You indulge. One more at his brow bone. One at his cheekbone. One on his closed eyelids, lashes tickling your lip, one at the strong bridge of his nose, one at the tip of it, a last one—

“Hey, no.” Jayce hides his face before you make it to his lips. “Don’t risk it.”

You can’t help a little laugh. This is where he draws the line?

“If there’s anything to catch, I’ve most likely caught it already,” you assure. “Unless you don’t want a kiss.”

That gets to him.

“Hmmm… I do want one,” he replies before you can hope to taunt him any further. He ponders it for just a moment, before he’s already tilting his face back up towards you in invitation, nose brushing under your cheek. “Okay. Please?”

You give him what he wants. A tender little nudge of your soft lips to his smiling ones, a swipe of your tongue at his bottom lip. Jayce purrs with delight at that, voice coming out in a low, gravelly hum, before he licks back, not ravenously, much more like a kitten. Basking in your comfort, in your presence.

When you pull back, Jayce inhales a fragile little breath before his eyes flutter open just barely. 

“Are you a little warmer now?” You ask. 

He nods. “And you?”

You chuckle. “If you’re lucky, you’ll find my bones in the morning. The rest of me will probably melt off and soak into the mattress.”

“So dramatic.”

“I learned from the best.”

[starfilmz]

close to you | rafe cameron

summary: you and rafe are together and no matter how long you two have been together, he still gets jealous. even if you’re admirers are 80% girls.

a/n: basically the jealousy trope but girls. bc i love girls :D

navigation

rafe cameron wasn’t the type to get jealous. at least, that’s what he told himself, day in and day out. but when it came to you—his girlfriend, the one person who had him wrapped around her finger—he couldn’t help but feel a pang of something every time a group of girls swarmed around you.

it was always the same. the way they’d giggle, whisper behind their hands, and act like they had some secret world he wasn’t a part of. he didn’t mind the guys; they were easy enough to brush off. a few sharp words and they’d back off, retreating into the background where they belonged. but the girls? it was different. they didn’t look at him like they were trying to size him up or steal him away. no, they acted like he wasn’t even there.

and that, to rafe, was a problem.

“you look good today, yn,” a girl would say as she sidled up beside you, eyes lingering just a little too long.

"thanks," you'd smile, not noticing the way rafe’s jaw clenched. you were always polite, always kind to everyone, but it did little to ease the tension in his chest.

he’d stand there, arms crossed, waiting for the moment to pass. but it never did.

“i can’t wait to see you at the next surf competition, yn! i’m sure you’ll crush it like always.” one of the girls would chirp, grinning like she had just made the most profound statement in the world.

rafe’s fingers dug into his palms as he glanced over at you, a possessive, yet proud look flashing across his face. he had to remind himself that it was because of you that all these girls were so…obsessed. you had that effect on people, on both guys and girls alike. it didn’t matter how many times he told himself he should be happy for you, that you deserved all this attention—there was still that sharp edge of irritation whenever you were in the spotlight.

“yeah, can’t wait to see you in action again,” another girl added, leaning in a little too close to you.

rafe resisted the urge to step in, though the thought of it brought an all-too-familiar feeling of frustration. you weren’t just his girlfriend—everyone knew that by now. yet somehow, you seemed to be this magnet for attention. people loved you. especially the girls.

but it wasn’t just the compliments or the giddy talk of your next competition that bothered him. it was the fact that these girls seemed to have no problem showing up at boneyard parties just to catch a glimpse of you.

“i heard yn's gonna be at the party tonight. i’m so excited!” one of them said to her friend, eyes practically sparkling. “i’ll be there early so i can get a good spot by the bonfire.”

rafe rolled his eyes, his hands curling into fists. you didn’t even notice them, didn’t care about any of this. you were just trying to enjoy yourself, trying to live your life, but it was like everyone wanted a piece of it. and most of all, they wanted a piece of you.

finally, rafe couldn’t hold it in any longer. as the girls continued to talk and laugh around you, he walked up, his presence undeniably commanding. he slid his arm around your waist, pulling you close, his face a study in controlled frustration.

“let’s go,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear. the girls hesitated, looking from him to you with a mix of confusion and intrigue.

“rafe, don’t,” you whispered softly, reaching up to touch his arm, trying to calm him down.

he gave you a tight smile, but there was something unspoken in his eyes. his possessiveness wasn’t something he liked, but when it came to you, it was almost uncontrollable.

“i’ll catch you guys later,” he said, his tone colder than usual, and with that, he guided you away from the crowd.

as soon as you were out of earshot, you let out a soft laugh. “you’re a little dramatic, you know that?”

“i don’t like them around you,” he admitted, his voice low but serious. “it’s not like i think you’ll do anything, yn. but you’re mine. and i hate how they act like you’re some prize to be won.”

you raised an eyebrow at him, a teasing smile on your lips. “and i’m supposed to be okay with you making a scene every time some girl talks to me?”

“you’re my girl,” rafe repeated, his eyes narrowing with that familiar intensity. “why would i want anyone else thinking they can just get close?”

you shook your head, a playful smile curving your lips. “you know i don’t belong to anyone, rafe. but i’m with you. only with you.”

he snorted, the tension in his shoulders easing a little. “that’s not the point. the point is—i’m not sharing, not now, not ever.”

“we’ll see about that,” you teased, pushing his shoulder lightly as you continued to walk away from the crowds.

rafe couldn’t help but laugh, even though he was still a little irritated. at least, for now, you were his—walking beside him, oblivious to the crowd and the chaos you left in your wake. he could live with that, for now.

“just don’t let them get too close next time,” he grumbled, eyes scanning the horizon as if daring anyone to make another move.

you rolled your eyes, but there was something in your expression that softened. “okay, rafe. i’ll try. but i can’t promise anything.”

“yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but the smile tugging at his lips said it all. for now, at least, he had you all to himself. and that, for him, was more than enough.

[frost-queen]

Hot tub (Reader x JJ Maybank)

Requested by: @p0nycurtis, Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @floatlosers, @alex--awesome--22  @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedrava-bitch-187, @erikasurfer , @slythetic  , @eliscannotdance

“Look let’s just find JJ and get this over with.” – Kiara spoke, looking over her shoulder to Pope and you. The three of you walked up the driveway. Kiara furrowing her brows when she noticed lots of lights coming from his front yard. – “What the…” – she mumbled underneath her breath. Pope had an interesting view of it too.

Looking confused around to the decoration lights like it was Christmas. Kiara hurried a bit up once she saw the huge thing in his front yard. Unable to miss the hot tub taking up so much place. Inside sat JJ, enjoying the warm water.

You rushed after Pope to reach the hot tub. JJ took the sunglasses a bit down. Eyeing his friends that came standing before him with shock. – “JJ what did you do?” – Pope asked. Gawking at the hot tub in disbelieve. JJ chuckled drunkenly. – “I got a jet going straight up my butt right now.”

It was clear he had been drinking. Certainly to see from the bottles of champagne standing in a floaty around him. – “Ya’ll should get in quickly.” – he continued, bringing a floaty with a bottle closer to him.

Kiara couldn’t stop herself from staring in disbelieve at him. Watching a JJ poorly poured some champagne in two plastic glasses. – “Do you hear me?” – He spoke when no response came. – “Hello!” – calling out for any attention.

Holding a glass up. – “How much did this cost?” – was the only burning question on Pope’s mind. JJ pulled the bottle of champagne down with a drunk chuckle. – “Uhm… well… with the generator, express deliver…” – he explained pointing around.

Kiara couldn’t stop looking around, still trying to hold on to the thought it wasn’t real. That hopefully this was all just a bad dream. You had a sense of what was coming next. Slightly whispering to yourself that he could still prove you wrong. – “Pretty much everything.” – he ended as the final blow was taken.

Pope’s jaw dropped. – “All of it.” – he said trying to wrap his mind around it. – “You spend all of it in one day.” – he finished. – “Pope…” – you said touching his arm to go easy. Pope pulled his arm away, too upset to listen to reason.

“Yeah burned a hole right through my pocket.” – JJ answered, not helping one bit with his case. It made you look up to the heavens, pleadingly. – “But come on guys look at this.” – his voice shrieked a bit higher as he brought the floaties closer to him.

Kiara kept staring in disgust at him. Something he quickly caught up on that he was being judged. – “Kie come one!” – he called out. – “Can’t a man have some luxury in life?” – he pleaded with no success.

Kiara shook her head, crossing her arms. – “Come on, honest all this scraping and struggling…” – his behaviour changing trying to maintain control over not losing his mind.

You noticed it. Saw him struggle to keep himself strong. You knew JJ. He wouldn’t do something this reckless unless something had truly shaken him up. – “You… you only live once right? Enough of this emotional shit, get in.” – he finished toughening up.

“JJ.” – you said coming closer to the tub. – “Y/n come on in, I’ve saved a special spot for you.” – he replied shoving a floaty aside. – “Y/n don’t encourage him.” – Pope told you. You glanced over your shoulder to him with a glare. – “Oh I almost forgot.” – JJ cut through.

Pressing a button as lights flashed on. An engine making a sound as water started to spray from one side to another. – “Yeah I know, disco mode.” – JJ called out with so much happiness. – “Are you kidding me!” – Pope shouted as JJ’s smile faltered.

“You could’ve paid for restitution.” – Pope blamed him. – “Or literally given it to charity!” – Kiara shouted along. – “Just stop!” – you yelled, turning around to them. – “Don’t defend him now Y/n!” – Kiara called back to you.

“I’m not, but yelling at him isn’t going to do any good. It’s not going to change anything. Maybe you should take a second and actually act like a friend than parent him Kie!” – you fired back without any shame.

Having enough of their parental talk towards him like he is a child that needs scolding. Kiara scoffed loud, turning her posture a bit away. – “So what you just want to pat him on the back and tell him it’s okay that he spend all of our money on a stupid hot tub!” – Kiara shouted back.

Pope tried to interfere, maintain some decency. JJ was pinching his nose bridge, close to lose his temper with all this shouting. – “Okay well I didn’t do that!” – he shouted getting up.

Your eyes immediately fell on the bruises on his chest. Knowing what it meant. Luke hadn’t kept his hands to himself. – “I got a hot tub for my friends!” – he called out trying so hard not to breakdown.

“No… you know what screw friends… for my family.” – he corrected himself. You climbed into the hot tub, not caring that you were getting wet. – “JJ what happened?” – Kiara asked shockingly. – “Look at this! Look at this Y/n.” – he said looking around.

You pushed his arm down, coming nearer to him. Wrapping your arms around him. The moment your arms were around him, he started sobbing loud. Burying his face in the nook of your neck. Hugging him tighter, barely able to withhold your own tears.

“I’m going to kill him.” – you whispered to JJ. Letting him know you weren’t going to let Luke off the hook so easily. He sobbed even louder, holding on tight to you. The only lifeboat he had in an endless sea.

“I’m sorry…” – he cried out to you. Regretting his action with the money. – “It’s okay.” – you reassured him. Giving him a kiss in his neck to let him know you were here. That you were always here for him. You felt him shudder against your body, embracing you tighter.

Leaning a bit back with your head, you cupped his cheeks, letting him meet with your eye level. Moving some of his hair aside. Wiping his cheeks dry from the tears. – “You’ll stay with me from now on.” – you told him. – “Your mom…” -  he sputtered out with a sob, guessing what she would say.

“Would welcome you with open arms.” – you told him, wanting him to look you in the eye. He curled up a faint smile. You kissed his cheek, making him smile just that bit more. Taking his hand you guided him down.

Forcing him to sit in the hot tub with you. – “Now where was that jet going straight up your butt.” – you told him hearing him chuckle. He moved a bit away, allowing you to sit there.

You looked over at Pope, nodding to him that it was alright. That you had him. Pope nodded back, taking Kiara by the arm. – “Are you just going to leave them like this?” – Kiara called out. Pope kept pulling at her to give you some privacy. JJ sniffed loud, wiping some wetness of his face.

“I know you are trying to make me feel better Y/n.” – he said splashing some water away. – “Well you got us a hot tub, I might as well enjoy it.” – you answered looking up to him. JJ chuckled slowly turning his head. His smile freezing when his gaze entangled with yours.

Slowly fading and changing into adoration. Sensing what was going through you, probably was going through him as well. A desire to kiss each other. For unspoken feelings to be declared. JJ moved closer to you, lifting his hands up from the water to cup your face.

“I wouldn’t know what to do without you.” – he whispered to you. – “Then stay with me.” – you whispered back. Eyes closing, you decreased the space between you. Allowing your lips to touch. To touch for the first time with such intensity it made your heart burst into a million butterflies.

-------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[warblogs17282]

Sinsmas is coming out today! So let's quickly discuss what we know about the episode right now.

Vivzie's Bluesky Thread:

Things we learn from this thread:

There will be quite a long wait until the start of season three, but we will have closer releases of episodes, considering that the team wants to commit to a more traditional release. This also has double confirmed that season three has 15 episodes. Season three will also be 'bigger and better'.

We will be getting shorts during the wait until season three, I assume it'll be like last time where we get a short every single month.

And of course, we gotta prepare ourselves to go out with a BANG!

Sam Haft calls the episode 'PACKED!', meaning yet again we're in for a ride and a half, that's for sure.

Yea, all the confirmation I need that Octavia's song is going to absolutely destroy us all emotionally when we hear it, SAM HAFT WHAT DOES THIS MEAN, WHAT DOES THIS MEA-

Brandon's Instagram Story:

Transcript:

"I'm so anxious for the new helluva boss episode to drop. I went back and I've been rereading the script over and over and over and I don't read."

So we also have Brandon fanning the flames of our anxious waiting as well.

Right as I was in the middle of writing this post Vivzie said that she was doing the final checks on the episode, and that she's in constant awe of what the artists at Spindlehorse are capable of.

The sneak peek gif:

We see a sinner at the I.M.P office, and it looks like the entire I.M.P crew is going on a mission somewhere where it appears to be snowing and naturally has all of the Christmas decorations up as well.

Although I will admit, it kinda strikes me as weird that they'd just leave a sinner completely alone within the building, unless, of course, that there is someone else within the building, with the most likely candidate for that being Stolas, but that's just a theory I'm spitballing here. It does also raise the question of 'where the hell is Stolas during this scene anyways?'

Onto the other not-so-new things, it was confirmed by Sallie May's VA that she is appearing this episode. (The 'next month' is supposed to be 'this month', I think she said at a panel after the first short that she'd be appearing again before this year ends.)

The trailer scenes:

This scene where Stolas appears to be getting attacked by someone while Blitz protects him with some kind of sword, with the floor appearing to suggest that this takes place outside of formerly Stolas' palace, said attacker has been commonly theorized to either be Andrealphus or Paimon.

We see a frozen over version of formerly Stolas' palace in the background, considering the events of Mastermind it now appears like Andrealphus is defending the palace against whatever it is that he's looking at, not a hostile takeover that we assumed it would be initially.

We see Octavia during this scene, everything about this shot seems to suggest that Octavia is getting a song of her own this episode, with this further getting backed up by Sam Haft's response to "Sam what heartbreaking song did you write this time."

It's also very likely that the conflict between Stolas and Octavia reaches it's boiling point this episode, considering that Octavia says "You never loved mother and you don't love me. You love him!" at some point during the episode.

Finally, in the helluva 2022 trailer, we see a shot of Andrealphus (I think this is a beta design of him or something), standing in front of what looks like formerly Stolas' palace, with a bunch of what looks like ice in the background, placing this shot after Mastermind, meaning that this shot also takes place sometime during Sinsmas, if this scene wasn't scrapped.