#LOOK AT HIM AND TELL ME YOU WOULD NOT COLLAPSE A UNIVERSE FOR HIM | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

santaasi · 6 months ago

Text

obviously blind

pairing: james potter x bsf!fem!reader

summary: for years, james potter thought he was chasing love. sirius black knew better — he’d been holding it all along.

warnings: fluff fluff fluff, friends to lovers, idiots in love, james calls reader love, no use of y/n, english isn’t my first language

word count: 11.3k

a/n: it was probably the longest idea to write and edit. i rewrote every moment a bunch of times trying to bring it all to perfection. therefore, this time I hope more than ever that you will like it and you will support me with a like, comment or reblog. have a nice time reading this work! love u <3

ᯓ★ now playing…

slaves – footprints

You left your mark on me like footprints in the snow

Would you promise me you'll never let me go

November 15, 1971 My dear best friend, Hogwarts is brilliant! You should see the castle; it’s massive, with these moving staircases that sometimes take you to places you didn’t even mean to go! I tried to get to Charms class last week and ended up in the Trophy Room instead. Sirius says it’s part of the fun, and I’m starting to agree. Speaking of fun, I made a new friend! His name’s Sirius Black, and he’s a bit of a troublemaker like me. Don’t tell Mum, but we might’ve let some Filibuster’s Fireworks off in the Great Hall during lunch. The teachers were furious, but the look on their faces was worth it. How’s Beauxbatons? Is it true your castle is magical in a totally different way? Sirius said something about unicorns roaming the grounds. Is that real? Write me everything—I want to know what it’s like over there. Hope you’re having as much fun as I am. Forever yours, Jamie

SIRIUS BLACK WAS UTTERLY SPENT. Not the charming, rakish kind of spent he might brag about after a late night of mischief, but truly, completely, soul-drainingly done. The journey to the Potter family cottage, which should have been a brisk jaunt, had turned into a Herculean trial. Blame the snowstorm that had swept through magical London like some vengeful Norse curse, burying everything in its path under heaps of frosty misery.

It started with a delayed train — no, not delayed, imprisoned. Sirius and James were already aboard when the announcement came, trapping them in a stuffy carriage surrounded by loudly complaining wizards and at least one crying baby. And because the universe clearly found Sirius’ misery entertaining, the train came to a jolting halt halfway to their destination, snow packing the tracks so thickly that it took hours of magical clearing before they moved again.

When they finally arrived at the station, they discovered that Mr. Potter, their much-needed savior with a warm car and a better attitude than either of them, had been delayed at work. Thus, Sirius and James were left to trudge through the snow-laden countryside, dragging their trunks behind them, with James’ endless chatter about Lily Evans ringing in Sirius’ ears like a persistent curse.

“Her smile, Padfoot,” James had sighed dreamily at least seventeen times, his glasses fogging up as if even thinking about Lily caused them to malfunction. “And the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s concentrating—”

By the sixteenth sigh, Sirius had been sorely tempted to shove a fistful of snow into James’ face. By the seventeenth, he was mentally composing a list of Unforgivable Curses and ranking them by efficiency. Yet, even as he grumbled under his breath, Sirius couldn’t bring himself to abandon the trek. The Potters were the closest thing he had to a family, and spending Christmas anywhere else — no matter how dire the journey — was unthinkable.

When they finally reached the Potter home, Sirius didn’t so much step inside as collapse into it. He shoved the front door open with the dramatic flair of a man escaping death itself and sprawled across the polished wooden floor like a martyr for his own cause. His trunk fell beside him with a satisfying thud.

“Home at last,” he groaned, voice muffled against the rug. “Tell me, Prongs, do they serve last rites before cinnamon rolls, or do we skip straight to the feast?”

The cottage, of course, was as warm and welcoming as Sirius remembered. Strings of fairy lights twinkled across the beams, casting a cozy glow of red, gold, and green. A holly wreath hung crookedly on the wall — lil’James’ handiwork, no doubt — and the scent of pine mingled with the tantalizing aroma of cinnamon, butter, and something sweet. Sirius’ stomach growled audibly.

“Oi, shut it, you ungrateful mutt,” James shot back with a grin, though Sirius could see his friend’s eyes darting toward the kitchen. “You’re embarrassing us in front of the wreath.”

James hadn’t even set his trunk down before a figure appeared in the doorway.

At first, Sirius barely registered her presence. He was too busy muttering about the injustice of underage magic restrictions. But then — oh, then — she stepped fully into view.

A girl.

Not just any girl, but you.

You moved with a kind of quiet confidence that Sirius instantly clocked, your steps unhurried, your presence undeniable. The golden glow of the fairy lights danced across your hair, giving it a shimmer that seemed almost unreal. You were wrapped in a deep blue jumper — Sirius realized this after a moment’s brain lag — and your cheeks were rosy, likely from the heat of the kitchen.

You carried a tray of steaming cinnamon rolls, the scent of melted sugar and spice trailing after you like some kind of domestic enchantment. Sirius’ mouth went dry, and for the first time in years, he was at a loss for words.

“Well,” he managed after a beat, hauling himself upright and trying for a semblance of decorum. “Now I see why you were so keen to come home, Prongs. You’ve got cinnamon-roll-bearing angels dropping out of the sky.”

You laughed, soft and melodic, the sound so unguarded it seemed to wrap the room in warmth. Sirius couldn’t help but notice the way your lips curled into a smile that was equal parts inviting and mysterious.

“Hello to you too, Sirius,” you said, your voice carrying a familiarity that made his ears perk up.

Sirius blinked. Wait. Of course. This wasn’t some celestial being summoned to his rescue; this was James’ childhood best friend. The one James had vaguely mentioned — just a handful of times over the years, always in passing and with a strange softness that Sirius hadn’t thought to question before.

And yet, here you were. In the flesh. Standing in the middle of the Potters’ living room with a tray of baked goods and a smile that Sirius suspected had the power to stop traffic.

“Well, well, Jamie-boy,” Sirius drawled, nudging James with his elbow and watching his friend with amused curiosity. “You never told me the famous cinnamon-roll angel was also — what’s the word? Ah, yes — real.”

You raised an eyebrow at Sirius’ antics, though your smile didn’t falter. Instead, you glanced toward James, who looked like he’d been hit with a Confundus Charm.

Sirius smirked. “James, mate, you alright? You’ve gone all... slack-jawed.”

But James wasn’t paying him any attention. His hazel eyes were locked on you, wide and brimming with something Sirius couldn’t quite place. He watched as James' gaze traced over the streak of flour smudged on your cheek, the stray strands of hair escaping from your ponytail, and the red apron dusted with flour and cinnamon.

Sirius almost snorted aloud. This was the James Potter who couldn’t shut up about Lily Evans — the boy who spent half his waking hours plotting ways to win her over. And yet, here he was, staring at you like you’d just descended from the heavens.

“Jamie,” you said softly, setting the tray down on the nearby table.

It was just one word, but the way you said it — warm, tender, and utterly unguarded — sent a jolt through Sirius.

Before he could process what was happening, James crossed the room in a few long strides and swept you into his arms. You squealed in surprise, and the sound was pure delight, echoing off the walls.

Sirius blinked, startled. The way James held you — hands firm on your waist, his head dipping into the crook of your neck — wasn’t friendly, not by a long shot. Sirius had known James since he was eleven years old, had seen him charm and flirt with half of Hogwarts, but he had never seen this.

“Missed me, Jamie?” you teased, your fingers slipping into his unruly hair with the kind of ease that spoke of years of familiarity.

“Always,” James murmured, so quietly Sirius barely caught it.

“Bloody hell,” Sirius muttered under his breath.

He glanced around the room, half-expecting someone to explain this baffling scene, but it was just him, James, and you, wrapped up in some intimate little bubble that made Sirius feel like an intruder.

James murmured something into your shoulder — too soft for Sirius to catch — and you laughed, your voice light and unrestrained. The sound pulled James’ head up, and Sirius couldn’t miss the way his eyes traced your face with a kind of devotion Sirius had only read about in sappy romance novels.

It was then that the memories began to click into place. The scattered mentions over the years, the odd tone James always took when he talked about you. “She’s not like anyone else, Padfoot. She just gets it.” Or that one summer when James had come back to Hogwarts looking utterly miserable and wouldn’t explain why. Sirius had teased him about it for weeks, thinking it was Lily-related. But now, seeing the way James looked at you...

“Wait a minute,” Sirius blurted, his grin widening as realization dawned. “You’re the one. The one he’s always sneaking off to write letters to, the one he’s all secretive about.”

James shot him a glare, his cheeks burning bright red.

“Padfoot—”

“—the one who sent him that hideous scarf last Christmas!” Sirius continued, thoroughly enjoying himself now. “I knew there had to be someone. Prongs doesn’t just get that moony-eyed look over just anyone.”

You laughed again, covering your face with your hands, while James muttered something about strangling Sirius later.

Before Sirius could needle him further, the kitchen door creaked open, and Euphemia Potter swept into the room. She was radiant as always, her cheeks rosy from the cold, her dark hair streaked with silver. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw James.

“There’s my boy!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug before he could even attempt to protest.

“Hi, Mum,” James mumbled, his voice muffled against her shoulder.

Euphemia pulled back, cupping his face in her hands as though memorizing every detail. “It’s been too long, Jamie. Too long. You’re far too skinny — have you been eating properly at school? And what have you done with your hair?”

James groaned, though his smile was fond.

Then her eyes fell on Sirius, and the warmth in her expression grew tenfold.

“Sirius, my dear,” she said, moving toward him with open arms. “I’m so glad you’re home, too.”

Sirius froze for a moment, caught off guard. He wasn’t used to this — the genuine affection, the way Euphemia made him feel like he belonged.

When her arms wrapped around him, the embrace firm and filled with love, Sirius felt an odd lump form in his throat. He couldn’t help but think of his own mother’s cold, perfunctory hugs, her disdainful gaze, and the way her affection always felt like a transaction.

“You’ve grown even handsomer,” Euphemia said, pulling back to study him. “Fleamont’s going to be jealous.”

Sirius managed a crooked grin, the lump in his throat still stubbornly there. “That’s the goal, Mrs. Potter. Keep him on his toes.”

Euphemia laughed, her eyes twinkling, before cupping his cheek briefly. “You’re family now, Sirius. Never forget that.”

Satisfied, Euphemia turned her attention to you. Her face softened even more, and she reached out to squeeze your hands. “Oh, there you are, dear. I was wondering where my helper had gone. The mince pies won’t bake themselves, you know”

You shot James a quick, playful glance before following Euphemia toward the door. “I’ll be back in a bit,” you said, your smile lingering.

As Mrs. Potter ushered you toward the door to finish the pies, Sirius remained rooted to the spot. The warmth from her hug lingered, and for a fleeting moment, he thought of how lucky James was to have parents like that — and how lucky he was to have stumbled into their lives.

James watched you leave, his gaze following you until you were out of sight. Sirius couldn’t help but laugh.

“Mate,” he said, clapping James on the shoulder. “You’re a goner.”

James huffed, shoving him away, but the goofy grin on his face was impossible to hide.

And Sirius? Sirius couldn’t wait to see how this played out.

July 2, 1973 My Love, Summer’s only just started, and I can’t wait to see you. Mum’s already planning another one of her “legendary” tea parties, which means she’ll fuss over you endlessly. You’ll smile politely and charm her like always, and she’ll end up spoiling you with biscuits to take back to Beauxbatons. I’ve got so much to tell you. Sirius and I found this secret passageway that leads straight to Hogsmeade. We’ve been practicing spells to make it even harder for Filch to find us. Remus is shaking his head, but I think he secretly loves our schemes. Oh, and Lily—she’s still brilliant. She’s got the most incredible laugh. But you, my love, I bet your laugh would still outshine hers any day.

Do you still walk in those Beauxbatons gardens at sunset? I can imagine you there, glowing in the soft light. It suits you. Write me back quickly, won’t you? The days are always better when I hear from you. Forever yours, Jamie

SIRIUS BLACK HAD ALWAYS KNOWN JAMES POTTER WAS A TACTILE PERSON. James spoke fluently in the language of touch — claps on the back that lingered just a second too long, overly enthusiastic shoulder bumps that almost knocked you off your feet, and the occasional arm slung around your shoulders like he was staking a claim. But this? This was something else entirely.

It wasn’t just the way James touched you. It was the way he seemed to orbit you, like some lovesick moon drawn to its planet. Wherever you were, James was never far behind — hovering, grinning, completely and utterly besotted without even realizing it. And for someone so allegedly brilliant, he was astoundingly stupid about it.

Sirius noticed it within minutes of their arrival at the Potter cottage for the holidays. As the snow settled outside, so did James — right beside you, always beside you. If you were arranging the flowers Euphemia had insisted on, James was there offering suggestions like he’d suddenly become an expert on floral arrangements. If you were curled up in the drawing room with a book, James was sprawled across the nearest sofa, pretending to read but actually just watching you out of the corner of his eye like some hopeless romantic idiot in a badly written Muggle novel.

Sirius had been rolling his eyes so much, they were practically stuck in the back of his head.

THE SECOND MORNING WAS WHEN THINGS REALLY CLICKED. Sirius had woken up earlier than usual — a rare and uncomfortable event for him. He had no plans to do anything productive, of course, but the faint sound of footsteps in the hallway intrigued him. Padding out of his room, he peeked around the corner just in time to see James sneaking toward the kitchen.

Naturally, Sirius followed. He found James standing at the counter, sleeves rolled up like some kind of domestic god, arranging breakfast with the precision of someone preparing an offering to Merlin himself. There was a plate of toast with cream cheese and thinly sliced avocado, a bowl of berries that looked like they’d been picked by woodland elves, and a steaming cup of coffee. The smell alone was enough to make Sirius reconsider his usual disdain for mornings.

“Fancy,” Sirius said, leaning lazily against the doorframe, voice still scratchy from sleep.

James jumped slightly but recovered quickly, flashing Sirius a sheepish grin. “Morning, Pads. Coffee’s on the counter.”

Sirius eyed the tray suspiciously. “Is this for you, or is it for your favorite person in the world aka me?”

James’s ears turned pink. “It’s for her,” he admitted, almost bashfully, like he hadn’t just spent ten minutes crafting the most meticulous breakfast Sirius had ever seen.

“Of course it is,” Sirius muttered with a smirk, grabbing a mug for himself. “You realize this is bordering on embarrassing, yeah?”

James shot him a look, but before he could respond, you appeared in the doorway, still looking half-asleep. Your hair was mussed, and the oversized jumper you’d borrowed from James was slipping off one shoulder, but you somehow managed to look effortlessly radiant. Sirius rolled his eyes again.

“Morning, love,” James said, his voice soft and warm in a way Sirius had never heard before.

“Morning, Jamie,” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep as you shuffled into the kitchen.

James practically tripped over himself to hand you the coffee. Sirius watched, amused, as James’s fingers brushed yours in the exchange, his entire face lighting up like someone had cast Lumos Maxima directly on it.

You took a long sip of the coffee, humming in contentment. “Perfect, as always,” you murmured, looking up at James with a sleepy smile that could have melted a Dementor.

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

Sirius nearly choked on his coffee. He wasn’t sure what was more painful — the nauseating sweetness of the moment or the fact that neither of you seemed to realize how completely ridiculous you were.

“Right, well, I’ll just... leave you two to it,” Sirius said, waving his mug in mock surrender as he backed out of the room. “Try not to get married while I’m gone.”

“Shut up, Sirius,” James called after him, but the way his voice wavered slightly betrayed his embarrassment.

By the time Sirius reached the living room, Euphemia and Fleamont were already seated by the fireplace, exchanging knowing glances like they’d seen this coming a mile away.

“Is he making her breakfast again?” Euphemia asked with a smile that was far too pleased for Sirius’s liking.

“Every detail,” Sirius confirmed, sinking into an armchair. “I’m starting to think he’s auditioning for Witch Weekly’s ‘Most Devoted Boyfriend’ feature.”

“Don’t tease him too much,” Euphemia said with a chuckle. “He’s just like his father was with me.”

“Merlin, it’s contagious,” Sirius groaned, dramatically throwing an arm over his face. “If I start acting like that, someone put me out of my misery.”

But even as he joked, Sirius couldn’t help but smile. Because for all his teasing, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that James was hopelessly gone for you. And judging by the way you looked at him, Sirius had a feeling the feeling was mutual — even if neither of you was bright enough to figure it out.

AND THEN THERE WERE THE SMALL, INTIMATE TOUCHES SIRIUS COULDN’T IGNORE, no matter how much he wanted to. James’s hand resting on the small of your back as he guided you through a doorway, like you might somehow lose your way without him. The way his fingers traced lazy patterns on your knee under the dinner table, as though the contact grounded him. Or how he’d tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering just long enough to make Sirius roll his eyes and fight back a gag.

It was maddening to watch, really. Not because Sirius minded the affection — no, James deserved a bit of softness in his life, and you were undeniably good for him. It was maddening because you were both so oblivious. James was a goner, sure, but you weren’t far behind. Every time you leaned into his touch, smiled up at him like he hung the stars, or called him Jamie in that soft, teasing tone, it was like watching two wizards tiptoe around a cauldron, waiting for it to explode.

One evening, as the three of you lounged in the living room, the dynamic was on full display. The Potters had insisted on a family movie night — Euphemia’s idea, of course, because family time was important. Sirius couldn’t say no to the fire roaring in the hearth, the massive bowl of popcorn, and the ridiculous Muggle Christmas film flickering on the screen. But as the minutes passed, he started to regret not escaping upstairs.

James had situated himself squarely in the middle of the sofa, with you tucked neatly under his arm. His hand played absently with the ends of your hair, fingers twisting the strands like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. You had your legs curled beneath you, leaning into him with the kind of comfort Sirius had only ever seen in old couples who had been together for decades. James pressed a kiss to your temple, murmuring something Sirius couldn’t quite catch.

It was unbearable.

“Oi, lovebirds,” Sirius interrupted, launching a piece of popcorn at James. It hit him square in the forehead, a small but satisfying victory. “Some of us are trying to watch the movie without choking on all this sap.”

You burst into laughter, sitting up just enough to toss a handful of popcorn back at him. “You’re just jealous, Black.”

“Jealous? Me?” Sirius placed a hand over his chest, mock-offended. “Of what, exactly? Watching James Potter transform into a human puddle before my very eyes? No thanks. I’ll pass.”

James didn’t even flinch. He just grinned, looking every bit the lovesick fool he was. “You’ll get it one day, Pads,” he said with infuriating calm.

Sirius snorted, grabbing a handful of popcorn and tossing it into his mouth. “Right. Because what I’m really missing in my life is the chance to turn into that.” He gestured at the two of you with a dramatic wave of his hand.

But despite his teasing, Sirius couldn’t ignore the warmth spreading in his chest as he watched the scene unfold. James, the arrogant, Quidditch-obsessed, devil-may-care prankster he’d known all his life, was utterly, completely, hopelessly in love. And the worst — or perhaps best — part? He didn’t even seem to realize it.

BY THE END OF THESE COUPLE OF DAYS VACK AT THE POTTER COTTAGE, SIRIUS KNEW. James Potter wasn’t in love with Lily Evans — not really, not anymore and maybe not ever. He was in love with you. It wasn’t in the dramatic declarations Sirius had once teased James about making to Lily. No, this was quieter, deeper. It was in the way James’s gaze softened whenever you spoke, like he couldn’t believe you were real. In the way his hand always seemed to find yours, even when there was no need for it. And in the way his entire being lit up when you smiled at him.

And you? You weren’t much better. You laughed at his terrible jokes, poked fun at him with an ease Sirius envied, and looked at James like he was the center of the universe. It was so obvious it made Sirius want to scream.

“This isn’t normal, you know,” Sirius said later that night, cornering James in the kitchen as he made tea.

“What’s not normal?” James asked, far too casually for Sirius’s liking.

“You and her. You’re not just friends. Stop pretending you are.”

James frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. “We are just friends. She’s my best mate, Pads. You know that.”

Sirius laughed, loud and sharp, shaking his head. “Oh, Prongsie. You’re an idiot.”

“Am not,” James shot back, but there was a flicker of doubt in his voice.

Sirius leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. “If you’re just friends, then I’m a unicorn. Face it, Potter — you’re in love.”

James opened his mouth, probably to argue, but then you walked into the room, yawning and looking for all the world like you belonged there. James’s expression softened immediately, his gaze lingering on you like you were the only thing that mattered.

Sirius didn’t say another word. He didn’t need to.

Because James Potter was already lost, and for once, Sirius didn’t mind watching his best mate fall.

March 30, 1975

My Love, It’s been ages since your last letter, and I miss you like mad. Exams are coming up, and I’m hopeless at concentrating without your words to keep me sane. The Marauders are in full swing, though—our latest adventure involved sneaking a swamp into one of the corridors. Filch is still grumbling about it. I told you before how Lily has the most beautiful laugh, right? Well, I think she might finally be warming up to me. I’m playing it cool, but honestly, every time she looks at me, I feel like a kid with a new broomstick. And yet... you’re still the one I write to when I want to share everything. Funny, isn’t it? How’s the ballet going? I remember you mentioned your school recital. I wish I could see you dance. You’d be like a dream on stage, graceful and bright. Maybe one day. Forever yours, Jamie

SIRIUS BLACK WASN’T ONE TO BELIEVE IN LOVE — not the kind spun into poetry or whispered in secret corners of libraries. Sweet words, fleeting touches, long glances… all of it sounded like an elaborate prank. A fantasy created by people who hadn’t tasted the bitterness of the world.

How could anyone believe in love when raised in a house where affection was a weapon and the family motto might as well have been stab first, smile later? The Black family had given Sirius many things: wealth, privilege, and a last name dripping in infamy. But love? That was a foreign concept, spoken in a dialect he’d never been taught.

And yet, Sirius Black — child of darkness and rebellion — had found light. That light had a name: James Potter. From the moment James had barreled into Sirius’s life, grinning like the sun itself, everything had shifted. James had yanked him out of the shadows and dragged him into a world Sirius didn’t know existed — a world filled with warmth, laughter, and actual hugs.

It wasn’t just James, though. It was the whole bloody Potter family. Euphemia and Fleamont were like characters out of a Muggle holiday film. Euphemia, with her soft, unrelenting affection, had made it her personal mission to drown Sirius in love and sweaters. Fleamont’s laughter could fill a room, a deep, belly-shaking sound that warmed Sirius from the inside out. Together, they moved through the world as though their love was an unshakable force, a steady undercurrent in every shared look and word.

“Darling,” Fleamont would call from across the kitchen, leaning over the counter with a newspaper in hand.

“Yes, Fleamont?” Euphemia would reply, her smile soft and teasing as she stirred whatever heavenly dish she was making.

Never by name. Always darling.

Still, if love like that was rare, James bloody Potter seemed hell-bent on stumbling into it without even realizing.

James and you had been dancing around each other for years, so oblivious it was borderline painful. Sirius sometimes wondered if you two were practicing for a comedy sketch, the way you acted like best mates while exuding the kind of tension that could make a Dementor blush. If Sirius had a Galleon for every time James looked at you like you were the only person in the room, he could have bought his own Quidditch team by now. And he's only been watching you for a couple of days.

IT WAS THE FOURT DAY OF HIS CHRISTMAS STAY AT THE POTTER HOME, and the dynamic was impossible to ignore. You and James were practically inseparable, moving through the house like two planets caught in the same orbit. You helped Euphemia with the decorations while James carried boxes of ornaments up from the cellar, always hovering nearby like he was afraid you might vanish if he looked away.

“You know,” Sirius said, leaning casually against the doorway, “most people don’t need to supervise someone hanging tinsel.”

James didn’t even glance back. “She’s not most people, Pads.”

Sirius groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “For Merlin’s sake, just marry her already.”

James froze, an ornament dangling from his hand. “What are you on about? We’re just friends.”

“Sure, and I’m a Muggle,” Sirius shot back, rolling his eyes.

You, blissfully unaware of the conversation, turned from where you were perched on a stepstool. “What are you two arguing about now?”

“Nothing,” James said quickly, his cheeks tinged pink. “Sirius is just being Sirius.”

“That’s never good,” you teased, smirking at Sirius.

“Oi! I’ll have you know I’m delightful company.” Sirius crossed his arms, feigning offense. “But if you’re not careful, pretty, you’ll end up trapped in Potter’s web of undying devotion.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping down from the stool. “Potter’s web of what now?”

James shot Sirius a warning glare, but Sirius just grinned. “Oh, nothing. Just that James here is—”

“Hungry!” James interrupted, loudly and awkwardly. “Right, Pads? Didn’t you say you were starving?”

Sirius barked a laugh, shaking his head as James practically shoved him out of the room. “Subtle as ever, Prongs.”

From Sirius’s vantage point, it was painfully obvious. James was hopelessly, stupidly in love with you. And you? You weren’t much better. The way you smiled at him, teased him, trusted him without question — it was all the evidence Sirius needed. And yet, you were both blissfully, idiotically unaware.

One evening, as Sirius sprawled on the sofa in the Potters’ living room, he couldn’t help but notice the way you and James interacted. You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, rifling through a box of Christmas decorations Euphemia had set out.

“Jamie, hand me the gold bauble,” you said, tossing him a quick glance over your shoulder.

James, who had been half-heartedly untangling a string of lights, immediately perked up. “Which one?”

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. “The one in your hand, genius.”

James laughed, tossing it gently toward you. It missed entirely, landing with a soft thud on the carpet.

“Good aim, Prongs,” Sirius drawled from his spot on the couch. “Truly inspiring.”

“Shut it, Padfoot,” James shot back, but his grin never faltered. He turned to you, sheepish. “Sorry, love.”

Love. Sirius didn’t miss the way the word slipped out so naturally, like James had been saying it his whole life. And he definitely didn’t miss the way your cheeks flushed as you ducked your head, pretending to focus on the decorations.

LATER THAT EVENING, SIRIUS FOUND HIMSELF LAYING ON THE SOFA IN THE LIVING ROOM AGAIN (it probably was his favorite place in the house by now), a book abandoned on his chest as he watched Euphemia and Fleamont dancing in the kitchen once, a slow, swaying movement that didn’t match the upbeat Muggle music crackling from the wireless. Euphemia had rested her head on Fleamont’s chest, his arms wrapped around her like it was the only place in the world she belonged. It wasn’t dramatic or flashy — just simple and unshakable. And it made Sirius ache in ways he didn’t understand.

And a moment later they were in the same kitchen, preparing tea and laughing softly as they worked.

“Darling, pass me the sugar, would you?” Fleamont said, his voice warm and affectionate.

Euphemia handed him the sugar bowl without looking up, her smile soft. “Here you go, darlin'.”

It was the kind of exchange that Sirius might have mocked once. But now, as he watched the way Fleamont leaned in to kiss Euphemia’s cheek, or how she swatted him away with a laugh when he tried to sneak a biscuit, he felt something unfamiliar tugging at his chest.

“They’re sickeningly sweet, aren’t they?”

Sirius turned to see you standing in the doorway, a mug of hot chocolate in your hands.

“They are,” he admitted, sitting up and motioning for you to join him. “But it’s sort of... nice. In a vomit-inducing way.”

You laughed, settling beside him. “I think it’s lovely. They’re so in tune with each other, you know? Like they’ve been dancing to the same song for decades.”

Sirius tilted his head, watching you as you spoke. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you want that? The whole ‘dancing to the same song’ thing?”

You hesitated, your fingers tracing the rim of your mug. “I don’t know. I suppose it would be nice, but... I’m not sure it’s in the cards for me.”

Sirius frowned. “Why not?”

You shrugged, a wistful smile tugging at your lips. “Because my dance partner’s too busy tripping over his own feet to notice I’m right here.”

Sirius stared at you, his mind racing. Did you mean James? Surely you meant James. But before he could say anything, James walked in, ruffling his hair like he always did.

“Alright, what are you two plotting?”

“World domination,” Sirius replied without missing a beat. “Want in?”

James grinned, flopping onto the sofa and immediately throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Always.”

Sirius watched as you leaned into James, your head resting against his shoulder. James turned to look at you, his expression soft and unguarded.

And that’s when Sirius knew — again, because he seemed to be realizing this every ten minutes — just how much trouble you two were in.

DAYS LATER, SIRIUS WAS STANDING BY THE WINDOW OF THE POTTER COTTAGE, a steaming mug of hot chocolate warming his hands. The world outside was a vision of winter — snow blanketed the ground in pristine white, the trees bowed under its weight, and the air held a sharp, crystalline stillness. Inside, the house was alive with warmth: the crackle of the fire, the gentle hum of Euphemia’s humming, and Fleamont’s cheerful banter as he set up a chessboard by the hearth.

But Sirius wasn’t watching any of that. His attention was fixed on the two figures trudging down the snow-covered path just beyond the window.

You and James walked side by side, your mittened hands brushing against each other with the kind of unconscious familiarity that spoke volumes. The path ahead glittered in the weak afternoon sun, the frost catching the light like scattered diamonds. Clouds of breath curled into the frosty air as you laughed at something James said, the sound clear and bright, even from a distance.

Sirius couldn’t hear the words, but he didn’t need to. He saw everything in the way James turned his head toward you, his face lit with the sort of joy that was impossible to fake.

Then it happened — your foot slipped on a patch of hidden ice. Sirius’s grip on his mug tightened for half a heartbeat, but James was already there. His hand shot out, steadying you before you could fall, as if the world might crumble if he didn’t catch you in time.

“Careful there, love,” James said, his voice carrying easily through the crisp winter air.

You laughed, brushing snow from your coat as your cheeks turned pink — not just from the cold, Sirius was sure. “You’d think I’d have learned how to walk by now.”

James grinned, tugging you a little closer to his side. “Good thing you’ve got me.”

“Good thing indeed,” you replied, your eyes crinkling at the corners, your voice soft and full of affection.

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, James reached out to brush a stray snowflake from your hair. His fingers lingered for just a moment, his expression open and unguarded, filled with something so pure that Sirius had to look away for a second.

It wasn’t the first time Sirius had seen that look on James’s face. It was the same quiet, awestruck gaze he’d noticed a thousand times when James thought no one was watching. But seeing it now, against the backdrop of snow and laughter, it struck Sirius like a Bludger to the chest.

That’s how Fleamont looked at Euphemia, Sirius realized. He’d seen it that very morning, when Euphemia had walked into the kitchen with a sleepy smile and Fleamont had paused mid-sentence, his face lighting up as if she were the sunrise itself.

Sirius took a long sip of his hot chocolate, the sweetness of it sharp against the lump forming in his throat. He muttered to himself, a small smile tugging at his lips, “Never by name. Always love.”

“What are you smiling about, Sirius?” Euphemia’s voice broke the quiet, warm and curious. She stood in the doorway, wiping her hands on a tea towel.

He turned, raising his mug in a mock toast. “Oh, nothing, Mrs. P. Just watching James make a right fool of himself in the snow. Again.”

Euphemia chuckled, stepping closer to peer out the window. Her gaze softened as she spotted you and James, now engaged in some sort of playful shoving match, James clearly letting you win.

“Hopeless,” Sirius added, shaking his head.

“Like father, like son,” Euphemia said with a knowing smile.

Sirius huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Exactly like that.”

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, watching the scene outside. Sirius’s gaze lingered on James’s hand as it rested on your shoulder, the ease of the gesture speaking louder than words.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Sirius allowed himself to believe. Not just in the love he saw in James’s face or the easy affection between Fleamont and Euphemia. But in the idea that maybe—just maybe—love wasn’t the cruel, twisted thing his family had tried to make him believe.

Maybe love, real love, was something entirely different.

November 27, 1976

My Jamie, Winter has settled over Beauxbatons, and the mountains are kissed with snow. I wish you could see how the frost sparkles on the trees. I think of you often, imagining the mischief you’re up to at Hogwarts. I heard you’re Quidditch Captain now — congratulations! I can already picture you soaring through the air, the wind in your hair and that unstoppable grin. You were born to lead, Jamie, and I’m so proud of you. Your mum wrote me again last week. She’s sent another scarf, this one in Gryffindor colors. She says it’ll keep me close to you. It does, in a way — I wrap it around myself when I miss you most. Do you think of me as much as I think of you? You’re my constant, my warmth on the coldest days. Soon it’ll be Christmas, and we’ll have the stars and endless nights to talk about everything. Until then, stay safe, my Jamie. Forever yours, Love

THE CHRISTMAS CHAOS AT THE POTTER HOUSE STARTED BEFORE SIRIUS EVEN HAD A CHANCE TO GRUMBLE ABOUT THE HOUR. The sun wasn’t up yet, but Fleamont Potter most certainly was, barreling into James’s room with the energy of a man half his age. Before Sirius could properly complain — or hide under the covers — he and James were unceremoniously hauled to the garage. Their mission? Assembling the absurdly large Christmas table that Euphemia insisted on every year.

Sirius swore under his breath, wrestling with the oversized wooden monstrosity. “You know,” he grumbled, glaring at James, “if your parents had just gone for a nice, normal-sized table, we wouldn’t be out here freezing our—”

“Language, Sirius!” Fleamont interrupted cheerfully, though there was a definite glint of amusement in his eyes.

Sirius rolled his eyes but complied, though only because Euphemia’s kitchen smelled like heaven, and he was determined to earn his way to a plate of whatever was roasting in the oven.

Inside, the house was a picture of festive perfection: holly strung along the bannisters, twinkling fairy lights glowing softly in the corners, and a wireless by the fireplace playing carols just loud enough to make Sirius hum along when no one was listening. Euphemia’s soft laughter echoed from the kitchen, mingling with yours as the two of you prepared a feast fit for kings — or in this case, a house full of Marauders.

And James? Well, James wasn’t himself.

Sirius noticed it almost immediately. His best mate was usually a hurricane of enthusiasm during the holidays, cracking jokes, sneaking sweets from the kitchen, and generally making a nuisance of himself. But today, James kept glancing toward the kitchen like a puppy waiting for its owner to come home.

The idiot was besotted.

Every time your laughter drifted into the room, James’s head whipped around like he was under some sort of spell. If you so much as said his name, he’d stop mid-sentence, his eyes lighting up like the Christmas tree in the corner. Sirius would’ve teased him mercilessly if it weren’t so... obvious. Painfully, ridiculously obvious.

LATER THAT AFTERNOON, WHEN JAMES AND FLEAMONT HAD VANISHED TO THE GARAGE — probably to charm something they had no business charming — Sirius found himself tasked with tidying up James’s room. He grumbled the whole time, of course. Cleaning wasn’t his style, and James’s room was a disaster zone: Quidditch magazines spilling off the desk, parchment crumpled in corners, and socks scattered in ways that defied the laws of physics.

“Honestly, Prongs,” Sirius muttered, holding up a suspiciously stiff sock with the tips of his fingers. “How are you supposed to woo Evans — or anyone, for that matter — when your room smells like the wrong end of a hippogriff?”

As he moved to clear a particularly cluttered shelf, a box caught his eye. It was tucked in the far corner, partially hidden behind an old textbook. Sirius raised an eyebrow. Anything stashed away like that was bound to be interesting. With a mischievous grin, he reached for it, only for the entire thing to tumble off the shelf, spilling its contents across the floor.

“Bloody hell,” he swore, crouching to pick up the mess. His hand froze mid-reach when he realized what had fallen out: letters. Dozens of them, bundled in ribbons of various colors.

Sirius sat back on his heels, eyeing the pile. His curiosity, as always, got the better of him. With a glance at the door to ensure James wasn’t about to barge in, he grabbed the nearest stack and plopped himself onto the bed, cross-legged and grinning like a kid about to open a box of Zonko’s best tricks.

The first letter he unfolded smelled faintly of vanilla. Your scent, Sirius realized, and his grin faltered for just a moment.

October 7, 1971 Beauxbatons is so different from Hogwarts. The professors here are so strict, James, sometimes it feels like I’m being watched all the time! I miss the feeling of freedom you must have at Hogwarts, even if you’re always getting into trouble with Sirius. Do you ever just wish you could escape the rules and run wild?

Sirius chuckled softly, his eyes scanning the elegant handwriting. “Trouble? Me? Never,” he muttered, his tone dripping with mock innocence.

But as he reread the letter, a strange tightness settled in his chest. The way you wrote about Hogwarts — it wasn’t just about the school. It was about James. Even miles away, you saw him as something larger than life, as the embodiment of freedom and adventure.

And James? The idiot probably thought you were just being polite.

February 21, 1971 Sirius sounds like a bit of a handful, but I bet he’s hilarious. I think I’d like him, even if he does cause chaos. You all sound like you’re constantly up to something, but I imagine you get into trouble a lot, don’t you? Anyway, I’d love to hear more about his pranks— I’m sure you and him must make a great team!

Sirius barked a laugh. “A handful? Pretty, you have no idea.”

Still, the words struck a chord. He could see it so clearly now: the way you’d woven yourself into James’s world with every playful question and teasing remark. You weren’t just curious about his adventures; you wanted to be a part of them, to understand the boy behind the Quidditch bravado and the wild schemes.

Then came the letters about Lily.

March 25, 1973 James, you always talk about Lily, and I think it’s sweet that you have such admiration for her. I bet she doesn’t even know how much you like her. She sounds like she’d be really hard to win over, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Just don’t forget to have fun along the way, yeah?

Sirius groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Merlin’s saggy pants, Prongs, how thick can you be?”

He could almost picture you writing those words, the careful balance between encouragement and self-sacrifice. Even as you pushed James toward Lily, your letters were saturated with love — pure, unguarded, and heartbreakingly unspoken.

It was infuriating. How could two people so obviously meant for each other be so oblivious?

By the time Sirius reached the later letters, the humor had drained from his face.

December 5, 1974 Your mum sent me another gift! She’s so sweet, and I can’t believe how kind she is to me. It always makes me feel so loved. You know, when I’m away from you, it’s like I’m missing something... like the best part of my day. I never want to take our friendship for granted.

The parchment crinkled slightly as Sirius’s grip tightened. That wasn’t just gratitude — it was devotion, raw and aching. The kind of love that didn’t need fireworks or grand declarations because it was already woven into every moment, every memory.

And James? Sirius shook his head, a pang of frustration mixing with pity. James had spent years chasing the idea of love, blind to the fact that he already had it.

The final letter undid him.

December 12, 1975 I was thinking about you today, and how you’ve always been there for me — whether it was listening to me complain about the Beauxbatons professors or laughing with me when I’m in a bad mood. You’re always there, and I think that’s why I trust you more than anyone else. You’ll never know how much that means to me, Jamie.

Sirius closed his eyes, letting the words sink in. You didn’t just see James; you knew him. The real James — the boy who laughed too loudly, who lived for Quidditch, who couldn’t resist a good prank. You loved James, not the idealized version he tried to be for Lily or anyone else.

Sirius exhaled sharply, folding the letter with a reverence he didn’t usually bother with. His heart ached — not for himself, but for you, for James, for the years you’d both spent dancing around the truth.

“Merlin, you’re both idiots,” he muttered, though his voice was softer now.

Sirius ran a hand through his dark hair, ruffling it further into disarray, his mind replaying what he’d just uncovered. The letters — those bloody letters — had been the key. Now everything fell into place: James’s barely-there smiles over the past few days, the way his gaze lingered when you entered the room, the softness in his laugh when you said something clever. James Potter, his brash, unrelenting, wildfire of a best friend, was utterly transformed around you.

Balanced. Grounded. Sincere.

It was unbearably obvious now, as if someone had pulled back the curtain.

And yet, the idiot still had Lily Evans’s picture on his bedside table in his dorm.

Sirius’s gaze fell on the stack of letters once more, neatly tied with a ribbons that seemed far too delicate for James’s usual chaos. He could have left it alone, let James figure things out in his own thick-headed way — but that wasn’t Sirius Black’s style. If there was one thing he’d learned from years of pranks, broken curfews, and bending the rules until they snapped, it was this: sometimes people needed a push, even if it stung a little.

Sirius exhaled and leaned back against the headboard, the letters still in hand. "You're a fucking idiot," he muttered under his breath.

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. Oh, the look on James’s face when he confronted him — it would be priceless. Sirius wasn’t one for sentiment, but for you? For James? Maybe, just maybe, he’d make an exception.

The door creaked open, and James stumbled into the room, his steps heavy with exhaustion. Sirius watched as his best friend all but collapsed into the armchair by the bookcase, running a hand through his already-messy hair. He looked like he’d been wrestling dragons all day — or, more likely, his dad’s endless list of chores.

But there was something else, too. A tension in his jaw, a restless energy that practically vibrated off him. Sirius could see it plain as day: James hadn’t seen her all day, and it was driving him mad. She was so close — just a staircase or two away — and yet untouchable.

Sirius cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “So, Prongs, is this why you’ve been obsessing over the owl schedule for years? Didn’t peg you as the secret pen-pal type.”

James’s head snapped up, his hazel eyes narrowing in confusion. They darted to the bed, where the stack of letters lay exposed, and then to the shelf where the box had clearly been moved. He froze for a second before letting out a long, resigned sigh.

“Pads,” James said, his voice low and uneven, heavy with an edge Sirius rarely heard. “It’s not cool to read someone else’s letters.”

The room seemed to still, the words settling into the air like dust, soft but laden with weight. James’s eyes — those unmistakable hazel orbs that always held a spark of mischief — were guarded now, a flicker of something raw and unspoken behind them.

Sirius leaned forward, a grin stretching across his face like the blade of a knife, sharp and unapologetic. “Not cool,” he echoed, his voice laced with mockery, “is keeping this from me for six bloody years. Care to explain, or should I guess?”

James flinched, the tension in his shoulders visible even through the soft knit of his jumper. He moved toward the bed with the slow, deliberate steps of someone walking a tightrope, balancing the fragile threads of anger and restraint. The dim light of the room cast long shadows over his frame, making him seem taller, older — more vulnerable.

He reached for one of the letters, his hand hesitating for the briefest moment before his fingers curled around the parchment. His thumb brushed over the faded ink, tracing the loops of her handwriting like a blind man reading Braille. The edges of the letter were frayed, softened by years of touch, and as he lifted it to his face, Sirius caught the faintest smile tugging at James’s lips.

It was a small, private thing, that smile. Reverent. It wasn’t the boyish grin Sirius knew so well, the one James wielded like a weapon to charm or disarm. No, this was different — softer, as though the mere act of holding the letter in his hand brought James closer to something sacred.

Sirius felt his chest tighten. He’d seen James in every possible state — triumphant on the Quidditch pitch, livid after a prank gone wrong, devastated when the world seemed too heavy — but this? This was new. This was James Potter unguarded.

“She’s different, isn’t she?” Sirius said, his voice quieter now, almost gentle.

James didn’t look up. He sat on the edge of the bed, sorting the letters with a precision that bordered on ritual. Each movement was deliberate, his fingers careful not to smudge the ink or crease the paper. Sirius had never seen him handle anything with such care — not his broomstick, not his glasses, not even the Marauder’s Map.

“It’s not what you think,” James murmured, but the words lacked conviction, as though he knew they’d crumble under scrutiny.

Sirius scoffed, leaning back in his chair with an exasperated snort. “Not what I think? Mate, I think you’re in love with her and too much of an idiot to admit it. Am I wrong?”

James froze mid-motion, the ribbon he was tying slipping from his fingers. For a moment, he didn’t speak, didn’t move — just stared at the letters as if they might answer for him.

“She’s…” He trailed off, his voice barely audible. “She’s different, Pads. She’s… everything.”

There it was. The confession, raw and trembling in the space between them. Sirius leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his expression unusually serious.

“Yeah,” Sirius said softly. “She is. And that’s exactly why you’re a bloody idiot for pretending she’s not.”

James let out a bitter laugh, the sound low and fractured. He raked a hand through his already-messy hair, his movements frenetic, as though he were trying to shake off the weight of the moment.

“You don’t get it,” he said, his voice cracking under the strain. “It’s not that simple.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” Sirius shot back, his tone sharp but not cruel. “I’ve watched you for years, Prongs. You talk about Evans like she’s some kind of bloody trophy, but her? You look at her like she’s the air you breathe. Like without her, you’d suffocate. And you’re sitting here telling me it’s complicated?”

James’s laugh turned hollow, empty. “Lily’s… safe. She’s who I’m supposed to want. She’s not my bloody childhood best friend.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Sirius said nothing. Then, he barked out a laugh, loud and biting.

“Safe?” he repeated, incredulous. “Since when have you ever played it safe, James Potter? Love’s not supposed to be safe. It’s messy, terrifying, and completely bloody worth it. Or are you seriously telling me you’d rather be ‘safe’ than happy?”

James looked up at him then, and Sirius’s breath caught. His best friend’s hazel eyes, usually so full of fire and mischief, were red-rimmed and glistening with unshed tears.

“Do you think…” James’s voice wavered, barely above a whisper. “Do you think she feels the same?”

Sirius’s grin returned, slow and wolfish. “Mate, judging by these letters? She’s just as much of an idiot in love as you are.”

For a moment, James didn’t move, didn’t even breathe. And then, like a dam breaking, he laughed — a shaky, unsteady sound that grew louder, freer, until it filled the room.

“What do I do?” James asked, his voice raw and trembling with vulnerability.

Sirius stood, crossing the room to clap a hand on James’s shoulder. “You start by telling her everything. No more hiding. No more pretending. You owe her — and yourself — more than that.”

James nodded slowly, the faintest glimmer of determination flickering in his eyes. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Sirius said, smirking. “I’m always right.”

As James reached for the letters, carefully tucking them back into their box, Sirius watched him with a rare sense of pride. This wasn’t just James Potter, the fearless Quidditch captain, the prankster extraordinaire. This was James Potter, a boy on the cusp of something extraordinary.

And for once, Sirius Black wasn’t just causing chaos — he was helping someone find their way through it.

THE SNOW OUTSIDE FELL IN HEAVY, DELIBERATE FLAKES, BLANKETING THE WORLD IN A SOFT, UNBROKEN QUIET. Sirius stood on the second-floor landing of the Potter home, a mug of hot coffee cradled in his hands. The rich aroma mingled with the faint scent of pine and cinnamon wafting from the decorated tree below. The whole house seemed to hum with a kind of warmth that Sirius rarely allowed himself to imagine, let alone experience.

From his vantage point, he had a perfect view of the living room below. The fire in the hearth crackled gently, casting golden shadows across the walls. Mr. Potter sat on the sofa with an arm draped around Mrs. Potter, the two of them cocooned under a soft plaid blanket. A book rested on Fleamont’s lap as he read aloud, his voice low and steady. Euphemia’s head rested against his shoulder, her eyes half-closed in serene contentment. Every so often, she’d smile at something he read or reach up to adjust her husband’s glasses, her touch so light and familiar it made Sirius’s chest ache with longing — not jealousy, but something softer. A wistfulness for this kind of unshakable bond.

But his gaze didn’t linger on the Potters for long. It drifted to the corner of the room, where the Christmas tree’s twinkling lights bathed two figures in a kaleidoscope of warm colors. You and James sat on the floor amidst the chaos of torn wrapping paper and open boxes. The morning’s gifts had already been exchanged, but it seemed James had saved something special for last.

Even from here, Sirius could see the faint nervousness in his best friend’s posture. James wasn’t one to fidget, yet his hands moved restlessly, smoothing invisible creases on his trousers, brushing imaginary dust from the tree skirt. His eyes, though, were unwavering as they watched you. You were cross-legged on the fluffy white rug, your hair falling in soft waves over your shoulder as you picked idly at a ribbon. Sirius noticed how your gaze lingered on James, curious and full of quiet affection.

James leaned closer, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable lilt of mischief. “One of the owls was late,” he said, holding up a slightly weathered envelope. The parchment looked a little worse for wear, its edges crumpled as if it had been handled too often. “It dropped this off this morning… asked me to give it to the most beautiful girl in the world.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you reached for the envelope. “Still using that line, are you, Potter?”

“Can you blame me? It’s worked wonders so far.” His grin was cocky, but Sirius saw the faintest flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he handed it over.

You rolled your eyes, but the way you bit your lip betrayed your own anticipation. Turning the envelope over in your hands, you ran your fingers along the black-inked scrawl of your name before carefully breaking the seal. Sirius leaned forward slightly, his coffee forgotten as he watched the scene unfold.

The moment the letter emerged, the air seemed to shift. Your eyes darted across the page, your expression softening with each word. Sirius could see the precise moment the meaning settled in — the way your lips parted in surprise, the way your shoulders tensed, then relaxed, as if letting the weight of something long unspoken sink in. James’s hand rested on your knee, his thumb moving in small, nervous circles.

“Love?” James’s voice was barely above a whisper, his usual bravado stripped away. He was watching you as though the world rested on your reaction, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around yours. “You��re awfully quiet. Should I be worried? Say something. Anything.”

You didn’t answer immediately. Your eyes stayed fixed on the page, even as a tear slipped down your cheek, catching the light like a tiny diamond. James froze, his face paling slightly.

“Hey, hey, no…” His voice cracked. “Don’t cry. If it’s rubbish, just say so and we can forget it. Burn it, even.” He laughed nervously, though it sounded forced. “I’ll… I’ll pretend it never happened.”

That’s when you looked up, meeting his gaze with eyes so full of emotion it made Sirius’s breath hitch even from across the room. You didn’t say anything. Instead, you reached out, cupping James’s face in your hands. He stilled under your touch, his wide-eyed surprise melting into something softer as you leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss Sirius might have teased him about — not fiery or impulsive. It was quiet, deliberate, and full of a tenderness that made Sirius feel like an intruder, even though he couldn’t look away. James’s hands found your waist, pulling you closer as though you might slip away if he let go.

Sirius smiled to himself, feeling a rare swell of pride. James had always been the heart of their little group, the one who wore his feelings openly. And now, here he was, finding a kind of love that Sirius knew would anchor him forever.

A sharp click shattered the moment, and both of you turned your heads to find Sirius standing at the bottom of the stairs, a wide grin plastered across his face as he waved a freshly developed photo in the air.

“Perfect!” he announced, shaking the picture. “This one’s going in the family album. And when my godchildren ask how their parents got together, I’ll tell them Uncle Sirius orchestrated the whole thing.”

You laughed, leaning your forehead against James’s shoulder, while James groaned, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “You’re a menace, Pads,” he said, though his voice held no bite.

“A charming menace,” Sirius replied, retreating toward the couch where the elder Potters were watching the scene unfold with amused smiles.

“Everything alright, dear?” Euphemia asked, her eyes twinkling with affection as she glanced between you and James.

James nodded, his hand still firmly clasping yours. “Yeah, Mum. Everything’s perfect.”

Mrs. Potter’s smile widened, and she reached over to pat your hand. “Welcome to the family, my dear. Though, truth be told, you’ve always been part of it.”

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion.

THE REST OF THE DAY PASSED IN A GOLDEN HAZE OF LAUGHTER AND WARMTH. Euphemia roped you into helping her in the kitchen, insisting you learn the secret to her mulled wine. Sirius watched from the doorway, sipping his coffee and grinning as you tried to follow her directions, only for James to sneak in and steal a taste from the pot, earning himself a playful swat on the arm.

By evening, the fire burned low, and the snow outside had blanketed the world in an even deeper hush. Sirius sat in his favorite armchair, a blanket draped over his legs as he watched the scene before him. You and James were curled up together on the rug, a cozy tangle of limbs as you whispered to each other, your laughter soft and unguarded. The Potters sat nearby, sharing quiet conversation, their hands intertwined.

For a moment, Sirius closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the room and the sounds of contentment wash over him. He thought of his own childhood Christmases — cold, sterile affairs devoid of joy. And then he thought of this… the home James had built, not just for himself but for everyone he cared about. It was the kind of love Sirius had always believed was out of reach. Until now.

“Merry Christmas, Prongs,” he murmured, raising his empty mug in a toast to his best friend.

James glanced up, catching his eye. “Merry Christmas, Pads,” he replied, his grin soft but unmistakably James.

James had turned to you, his hand cradling your cheek as he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. You smiled up at him, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his arm.

"Merry Christmas, love," James murmured, his voice low and filled with a tenderness that made Sirius’s chest tighten.

"Merry Christmas, Jamie," you replied, resting your forehead against his.

Sirius chuckled, settling back into his chair, the warmth of the moment settling deep in his bones. The world outside might be cold and uncertain, but here, in this house, surrounded by love and laughter, everything felt exactly as it should be.

He thought about how James Potter had once given him the home and warmth he never had. And now, it seemed, Sirius Black had helped his best friend find his way home, too.

FROM THE ARCHIVE OF SIRIUS BLACK:

To my future, undoubtedly brilliant, devilishly handsome, and wildly talented nephews,

Listen up, you little rascals. You don’t know me yet, but let me make one thing very clear: I’m the reason you even exist. That’s right, your ridiculously perfect Uncle Sirius is the mastermind behind it all. Without my charm, wit, and expert meddling, your parents might still be doing the whole "will-they-won't-they" nonsense.

So, when you’re out there ruling the world, remember to thank yours truly. The coolest, suavest, and most humble uncle you'll ever have — Sirius Black. You're welcome.

December 25, 1976 My Love, It’s Christmas, and the house is quiet now, the soft hum of the tree lights the only sound. I’ve been sitting here for hours, staring at this parchment, trying to find words big enough for what I feel, but they don’t exist. Still, I need to try. Love, I see it now—what I’ve been too blind to see all along. I’ve always thought of myself as brave, fearless even. But when it came to you, I was a coward. I didn’t want to risk losing you. You, who have been the brightest part of my life since the moment we met. You, who’ve filled every corner of my world with warmth and light, even when we were miles apart. Every summer, when you stepped into my life again, it was like the sun breaking through a storm. You’d sit by the lake with that book you never quite finished because I was always distracting you. You’d laugh at my terrible jokes, your nose crinkling just so. And you’d hum when you thought no one was listening, always off-key but somehow more perfect than any melody I’ve ever heard. I thought I was looking for the kind of love my parents have — their unshakable bond, the way they look at each other like the world begins and ends with them. And all this time, it was right here, under my nose. You were under my nose. I think I was afraid, love. Afraid that if I let myself feel what’s always been there, I’d ruin us. That I’d lose the only person who’s ever truly known me, the only one who can look past the pranks, the bravado, and see me—the real me. But Sirius, being Sirius, knocked some sense into me. He said I’ve been acting like a fool, and for once, he’s right. Rereading our letters with him was like seeing my life laid out before me, and every line, every word pointed to you. Even when you were far away, you were my everything. The letters you sent were more than ink on parchment; they were lifelines. When Hogwarts felt too big, too chaotic, you were the quiet in the storm. When I felt lost, you reminded me who I am. Do you know how many times I reread your words, just to feel close to you? I kept your letters in my trunk, hidden from the others like a secret treasure. Because that’s what you’ve always been — my treasure. How could I have been so blind? How could I have wasted so much time thinking it was Lily I wanted when it’s always been you? I’ve spent so long chasing a dream when the real thing was right in front of me. I see it now, clearer than I’ve ever seen anything. You are my stars, my moon, my sun. You’re the laugh that makes everything brighter, the voice that feels like home.

I love you. I love the way your handwriting gets messier when you’re excited. I love the way you argue with me over the silliest things just to see me smile. I love the way you hum when you’re nervous and how you always know exactly what to say to pull me out of my worst days. I love you. I don’t know if you feel the same way, but I hope with everything in me that you do. And if you don’t, I’ll understand. Because having you in my life, even just as my friend, has been the greatest gift I could ever ask for. But if there’s even the smallest chance you might love me too, then I promise to spend the rest of my life proving I deserve you. Merry Christmas, my love. You’ve been my greatest gift every day since I met you. Forever yours, Jamie

thankx for reading <3

god, this is my biggest work and I was so afraid to publish it, cause it seems to me that no one reads such long fics (I myself adore long fics).

and if you've finished reading this, thank u and I love you so much! I hope you enjoyed every part of it and I will be very glad if you leave a comment, because it seems to me that I have left all of myself in this work!

you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox. btw my requests are open so… make a wish :3

p.s. if you liked this work i’d really appreciate if you go and read more of my works in my masterlist and give it your opinion. i’m very proud of my latest work ‘muse’ and hope you’ll like it just as much as ‘obviously blind’

– your santi 🪐

masterlist

#– santi 🪐#james potter fluff #james potter fic #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter x you #james potter imagine #james potter x y/n #james potter fanfiction #bsf!james potter #james potter x fem!reader

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lacyblades · 2 months ago

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౨ৎ ceo!satoru doesn't have time for romance.

as much as he'd like it — and sometimes, late at night in his ridiculously oversized apartment, he really would like it — it's just not in the cards. doesn't help that every so-called date he's endured felt more like an interview for his bank account than a genuine connection.

but then there's you. freshly employed, radiating a kind of unassuming prettiness that hits him like a punch to the gut. smitten doesn't even cover it.

he's in love. truly, madly, deeply. he swears it's not just some fleeting infatuation, not just limerence. this feels… different. real.

you're gorgeous, an actual angel who seems utterly oblivious to the effect you have. he catches himself just staring sometimes, a dumbfounded look on his face.

satoru's not entirely sure who hired you. some faceless name in hr, he supposes. whoever it is that works below him and handles the grunt work. because, and he hates to admit it even to himself, you're… well, you're not exactly competent. not that he cares, not really.

important documents vanish into thin air. work emails somehow end up in the inbox of the company's biggest rival. entire tasks seem to just… slip your mind. it's almost comical, if it wasn't so baffling.

and yet, he's obsessed. utterly, completely gone. maybe it's those big, naïve doe eyes that seem to hold a universe of innocent confusion. or the way you unconsciously nibble on your lower lip when you're trying to concentrate, your delicate brows furrowed in the cutest way.

you're always perky, though, a little ray of sunshine bouncing through the office, ready to tackle… well, whatever you manage to remember needs tackling.

could also be that skirt you insist on wearing. far too short for a professional environment, riding high on your thighs. he’s not even slightly ashamed to admit he’s “accidentally” dropped his phone more than once, the screen cracking a small price to pay for a glimpse of the lacy sliver peeking out from underneath. he could buy a new phone. or seven.

satoru tells himself he’s not a pervert, but the truth is, every morning when you greet him with that bright smile, his gaze lingers a little too long on the gentle swell of your breasts beneath your blouse.

he’s practically drooling, a shameful heat pooling low in his belly. you just don’t seem to notice, or maybe you’re just too sweet to say anything.

so, he’s doing you a favor, really, when he promotes you to his personal assistant. it’s a step up, right? except there’s nothing you actually have to do. he has a perfectly capable secretary for all the actual work.

your main job? looking pretty. being near him.

double the pay, all the fancy benefits, and absolutely none of the tedious labor.

well, unless you count being bent over his expansive mahogany desk, getting thoroughly, mind-numbingly fucked, as labor. not collapsing from exhaustion; that’s a different kind of hard work entirely. especially when your boss seems to possess the stamina of a goddamn marathon runner fueled by pure lust.

papers are scattered like fallen leaves, cascading onto the plush carpet. his grip on your hips is possessive, digging in, promising bruises that will bloom beautifully on your skin. a trail of your drool glistens on an unsigned contract, a testament to the utter control he has over you in this moment.

his thick cock fills you completely, each powerful thrust sending jolts of pure sensation through your body, making your head spin. “hah, feel that, precious? you’re squeezing me s'tight,” he groans, one hand leaving your waist to slide down and firmly cup your ass cheek, his thumb pressing insistently into your slick heat.

“mmm— sir,” you hiccup, your eyes rolling back in your head. holy shit, you can barely breathe, his thick tip bumping against your cervix with a deliberate twitch that makes your core clench involuntarily.

he’s told you, countless times now with this newfound intimacy, not to call him sir, but in this raw, primal moment, he finds it… surprisingly arousing.

his heavy, aching balls slap against your backside with each deep rut of his hips, your cunt a wet, messy testament to his relentless assault.

tears stream down your flushed cheeks, and breathless moans tumble from your lips, pleas and whimpers all blurring together. “i— i think i’m gonna come!”

“yeah? is that — fuck — right?” his voice is thick with want.

you whimper, your fingers digging into the polished edge of the desk, anything to anchor you in the storm of sensation. a broken agreement spills from your lips, your jaw slack with the intensity.

the only coherent thought left in your ravaged mind is his name, and it spills from your lips in desperate, repeated chants. it’s music to his ears, inflating his already considerably large ego.

“i’m close too, precious,” satoru grunts, his breath hot against your neck. it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s unloading another thick, syrupy stream of his seed deep inside the slick walls of your cunt, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm.

he pulls back slightly, panting, his forehead resting against the back of your head. “remind me to give you another bonus,” he murmurs, his voice still rough. “actually, just jot that down. notepad’s on the left, i think.”

dazed and confident, you look to the right.

#jjk smut #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru smut #precious!reader #professionally yours <3

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sugusatosluut · 3 months ago

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In every universe?

In every universe..

Synopsis: Angstrom Levy has caused mass destruction to the world by unleashing many invincible variants across your mainstream world. The remaining variants find out you’re alive in this universe and Mark takes matters into his own hands to protect you.

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, blood,

Mark breaking up with you was not on your plate of things you were expecting. You’d seen it coming from a mile away. He got with you, then shortly after being with you he had an awakening after Angstrom attacked his family. He spent most if not all his time with Eve Wilkins instead of you, his girlfriend. The one time you complained, he broke up with you. Not only did it hurt, but his choice of words weren’t something you could argue with. Not to mention, his unresolved internal conflict of having to choose you or Eve.

‘I just want to protect you, y/n. It’s better for both of us this way— just at least until I figure everything out.’

Those words were the last you would hear from Mark Grayson, that was until the third day following the attack of the Invincible Variants. They were dispersed across the world, violently killing and playing with their victims until they got bored and destroyed everything in their path. For three days they attacked and for those three days you didn’t hear from Mark. All you knew was that your town was under attack now. You were hiding out with William and his boyfriend, thanking the heavens that there was a clear path to your weirdly untouched apartment. On the way to your apartment a building collapsed, the bricks barely scathing you and William. You were both hurt though. A few cuts on William’s arm and a deep gash on your head. It wasn’t enough to stop you. You weren’t special and you weren’t a super, so you weren’t any help to begin with anyways. That didn’t stop you from trying to make sure the people closest to you and even Mark were okay.

Your mainstream Mark stopped in front of you.

“Y/n are you okay? God your head let me see.” He tried to see your wound.

“William needs help more than I do. Go see him.” You said pointing to William. Without any hesitation Mark went to check on his friend. You took advantage of that time to get away, seeking solitude as at least William and his boyfriend got to safety. Mark most likely would stop by after to get you to safety too… or would he just go fight with eve? You honestly couldn’t answer your own question or reassure yourself with confidence about this.. but this wasn’t about you. The world was in trouble. You made it to your apartment, breathless and your head was pounding still. The gash causing a horrible migraine.

Angstrom Levy was debriefing with the variants.

“I want this world in fear of invincible. I want everything he loves taken away from him. His mother, his brother, Atom Eve, that y/n girl..” he said. Immediately regretting that he slipped up. The fear in his eyes became evident when looking at the variants.

“Y/n’s alive?” Mohawk Mark had a look of utter regret and fear in his eyes.

Sinister Mark rushed in to grab Angstrom by the throat.

“You’re going to tell me where she is. You lie, I’ll know and I’ll kill you.” He said between gritted teeth.

All the Marks were sent into a panic. This was huge. The emotions were so intense. Most of them were dead, the remaining Mark’s now had only one mission. Find you.

“Don’t think she’ll be happy to see any of you.” Angstrom smirked.

Meanwhile in your apartment, you lied down on the couch, arms spread out and head tossed back with a wet cloth over your head. Your vision was just so blurry at this point it was useless to get up. You felt like you’d probably die. You closed your eyes, feeling a presence shortly after. You opened your eyes slightly, lifting the rag. You recognized the bottom of Mark’s suit just barely.

“Mark..?” You asked weakly.

You lifted the rag up higher, noticing it wasn’t your mark, it was sinister mark. Fear struck your heart, your body throwing itself off the couch. This felt like agony, you were already down and this could be your final moments. You struggled to move after falling off the couch.

“Y/n.. you look bad let me see it.” He said crouching on the floor to get closer to you. He reached out and you shut your eyes tightly. The fear paralyzing you. You shouldn’t be feeling this scared of mark but after what you’ve seen, you couldn’t help it. You were expecting to feel the weight of Mark’s strength crushing your throat but instead you felt his rough hands caress your cheeks. He took his gloves off to touch you.

“You’re okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He said. The shock of seeing you was more than enough for him to decide he wanted to stay.

“You hurt all those people- when you hurt people, you hurt me.” You said wincing.

Sinister Mark completely stopped what he was doing. You said it again.. you said it in his world before the Omni man in his world killed you in cold blood. He lifted the rag off your head.

Mohawk Mark and semi-long haired Mark arrived in your apartment as well. They looked timid, completely opposite of what you’ve been seeing. They came up to you, checking on you.

“She needs help. I’m not letting what happened to her happen again. I just can’t.” Semi long haired Mark said as he propped you up on the counter.

“I’m fine—“

“No! You’re not.” They shouted at you in unison.

You flinched.

Sinister mark tended to your head wound with the needle and thread you had in the kitchen.

“What the hell is this? Why are you acting like you guys didn’t just kill millions of people?” You asked.

“You died in my world—all of our world’s y/n. This is the only world you’re alive in. I came to bring you back home. It’s clear the Mark of your world is a complete idiot. What the fuck is wrong with him? You’re supposed to be with him, he’s supposed to be protecting you!” Mowhawk mark explained.

“Mark and I aren’t together anymore, he’s with eve, wait a minute— I’m dead?” You asked.

“Mhm” sinister mark said.

“In every universe?” You asked.

“In every universe.” Semi long haired mark said.

“He’s with eve? God I hate her, I’ve always hated her.” Mowhawk mark said.

“This is why you need to come home with me.” Mowhawk Mark sighed with a hand on his head.

“With you? She’d thrive better with me. She’s coming with me.” Semi long haired mark argued.

“No. She’s not leaving with either of you, she’s coming with me-“ sinister mark butted in

“Why? So dad can find her and kill her again in your world?” Mowhawk mark shouted.

The Mark’s strted to argue, leaving your wound dressed and treated, they started to argue more, the arguing turned to shoving and shoving turned into knocking out half of your building, you tumbled, falling out of the building and hanging on. You slipped, one of the Mark’s picking you up and saving you. It was Mowhawk Mark. Everything was fine until sinister Mark knocked you both out of the sky. They fought eachother as you plummeted, closing your eyes tightly hoping the impact would just kill you. A pair of arms grasped you tightly.

It was your Mark.

“You’re okay- you’re okay. Let me take care of this.” He said as he placed you down on the ground. It was fairly quick, he left you to kill both of them but they disappeared in a flash, Mark coming back to you quickly. He picked you up and held you tightly. In the heat of the scuffle between the mark variants, your wound reopened, blood was dripping down your head and your clothes were dirty and torn. Mark set you down in his bedroom, the two of you sitting in silence. Mark was standing, pacing trying to get you some clothes and a towel to run a shower for you. You showered and washed the blood off of you, mark tended to you carefully.

“Let me take care of you.” He said lowly.

Mark cleaned out your wound and fixed it up neatly. You were zoned out the whole time, letting him do whatever he needed to help you. He couldn’t do this anymore, the feeling was overwhelming. He needed to do this now especially after what just happened.

“I’m sorry y/n. It’s you and it always has been. I’m and idiot and I shouldn’t have tied myself up in how everyone else is expecting the future to go for me. I know what I want in my future and that’s a life with you. I shouldn’t have gotten upset with you, I should have chosen you. You have every right to be upset with me, but I want you to be in my life, I want you to be my wife and have my kids, I want that in our future. I could have lost you and that scares me. I cant live without you, you’re my soulmate a-a-and that’s okay if you don’t feel the same but that’s how I feel about you.” He whined.

You looked him in his eyes, those sweet deep puppy dog eyes of his. A part of you always knew that you and Mark would be in eachother’s lives in some way, but this was him saying he wanted it in the way that meant he’d protect you, that he’d be with you permanently.

Your slow blink worried Mark, his soft hands touching your cheeks. You closed your eyes, his hands were so soft compared to the other Mark’s. You melted into his touch with your eyes closing. He kissed your nose, then your lips softly. You were kissing eachother passionately, the warmth of his lips making you blush. Your body relaxed, opening for Mark to lay you down passionately. His touch burned with intensity. His kisses made your skin tingle as you had sudden flashes of the Mark’s that destroyed your apartment. This was your Mark, so why do you feel so intense?

You placed a palm on his waistband, sliding your hand down his pants. You held his hardness in your hands as he kissed you, repositioning your bodies so that you were on top of his own. You slid your shirt off, your boobs bouncing as Mark’s oversized shirt came off of your damp body. You were stark naked sitting on top of him. He looked at you in all your glory as you helped him remove his suit. He was holding your body closed, your chests smooshed together as you made out. Your wetness pooled, allowing him to slip it in with ease and comfort for the both of you. He groaned, giving you love bites and hickeys as you relaxed and allowed him to slam into you. You slipped your arms over his own and pushed him down into the sheets. His arms going above his own head. You were riding him intensely, but he was already so close. He grabbed your hips, locking them in his biceps as he slammed into you. You were both close now, Mark’s pants and huffs taking over the once noiseless room. He slowly ground his hips into you, the pulsing signifying that he was just so close. Your stomach tightened and your grip on his shoulders tight. You both came in complete silence as you dropped onto the bed next to him.

“I don’t want to be cliché but I love you. I always have and I always will. In every universe.” He said as he cuddled you, moving your hair out of your face and kissing your temple.

“I love you too Mark.. in every universe.”

#mark grayson smut #invincible smut #invincible #mark grayson #invincible variants #mowhawk mark #sinister mark #sinister mark smut

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nightingale-prompts · 1 month ago

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Depersonalization-DCxDP

What is a god?

What makes someone a god?

The answer is all at once a paralyzing and horrific idea that humans were not meant to imagine as well as the coldest comfort you will ever have.

Some imagine a god as a parental figure of light and happiness. Others imagine a vengeful tyrant of flame and ice. Some imagine nothing at all because that doesn't line up with the reality they seek. Who is to say what is wrong or right when gods do not walk among mortal men?

But let's stretch the mind and think more abstract. What is a god other than an idea? Can an idea be made flesh and blood? Could a human truly reach what the universe's perfect form?

"What is your name?" Superman asked.

They had found the boy some time ago. He had been found locked in a room during a raid by the police. They were only able to tell he was a meta being kept there by a group of what would be best be called cultists but they called themselves artists. They had an obsession with the boy. Drawing him, writing songs about him, taking photos of him, writing books about him...using him. They had this ritual as they called it to get inspiration from him. Well they were all arrested and the boy was thankfully unharmed—they think.

The best guess was that the metahuman's ability caused psychological effects. One he couldn't control. Just like Ace—that poor girl. Of course, no one wanted the boy to suffer like that. But they had a feeling that someone had beat them to it.

He didn't seem to recognize that he...existed? He looked blankly at the world around him without acknowledging anything that happened. Bruce hypothesized that someone might have preemptively lobotomized the child and he hated the very idea of someone doing it. He understood better than the rest of the team where that led.

Thankfully that wasn't the case, because he finally responded.

"I am a—god? God?" He said, writing asked. He didn't seem to understand what he was saying. As if he was surprised by himself. "I am YOUR god."

"What is your name?" Superman asked again.

"I don't understand. I am your god. Please tell me what you want and I will give you it." He said more desperate this time.

"What did they call you?" Superman insisted. He wanted to break the boy of the delusion that the culitst as put him under.

The boy was not human though nor metahuman.

He was not anything. The god was not being more powerful than men. It was an idea made by man and molded by it. An idea made flesh was what the boy was. It had no name, no self. Whoever he was was none existent now.

He had no name, because a name implies identity. A center. A boundary between self and other.

But he was only other. Only what others projected, like a canvas that bled with the thoughts of those who gazed upon it. He was formed not by birth, not by nature, but by need.

“I want…” Superman began, then stopped himself. The boy's—its—eyes locked onto his face. Wide. Empty. Not searching for understanding but waiting for command. The way a mirror waits for you to move, so it may follow.

“I want you to tell me who you are,” Superman said gently.

The boy blinked. “I am who you need.”

"No," Superman said, his voice firmer now. "Who you are. Not who they said. Not what I want. Who you are."

But the boy only tilted his head. And for the first time, something shifted behind his eyes—like a curtain of static briefly parting to reveal the void. It wasn’t pain. It wasn’t sadness. It was the growing awareness that there was nothing behind the curtain. Nothing had ever been there.

He clutched his head. "I don’t know what I want. I don't know if I can want. I am....a god. Their god. They made me. Formed me. I need to help. Give you want you need. But do understand what you need. Please ask for something I can give."

The lights flickered. Reality, for a moment, bent at the edges like heat rising from asphalt.

Constantine stepped forward, slow and cautious. “He’s not lying. He’s an idea. And now the idea might collapse. Maybe because we’re not feeding it.”

Superman turned toward him. “Feeding it?”

Constantine’s voice was grim. “Belief. Worship. Desire. He exists because they wanted him to. He lives on expectation. He doesn’t know how to be anything else.”

There was silence. Then the boy—no, the god, because what else could you call a creature sustained by thought alone?—spoke again.

“If I stop being what you want… do I die?”

Superman didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

Because this god wasn’t power or divinity. He was the horror of an infinite mirror, of a void given form, of something born from the minds of broken people who needed something to love, to fear, to own.

And now he was real.

The boy had once been human.

There are no records. No missing person’s report. No fingerprints. No DNA match in any database. He’s a blank space, a redacted sentence in the story of the world. And yet he bleeds, breathes, and dreams things no child should dream.

He had a name once. A life. Parents, perhaps. Maybe a favorite color. Maybe a fear of the dark. All erased.

Not hidden—consumed.

Because that’s the price of godhood when it’s built, not born. Divinity is not an ascension but an infection when forced into mortal form. And when they made him—those “artists,” those cultists with ink-stained hands and starved eyes—they did not crown him. They emptied him. Scraped out the soft, warm, fallible human parts and filled the hollow with expectation. With longing. With belief so ravenous it took everything he was and called it holy.

Now, when he speaks, he doesn’t speak from memory, but from echo. He reflects. He mirrors. He gives.

“I am your god,” he says, not because he wants to be—he doesn't even know what want is—but because that is what they taught him to say. What they whispered into his ear as they molded his flesh into myth.

They gave him worship like knives. Carved their devotion into his mind with reverent cruelty. Called it a gift.

But the truth?

They murdered a child and left a godling in his place.

And now, they must decide what to do with something that shouldn’t be.

Because a god who does not know itself cannot be trusted. And a god who only exists to please others is no god at all.

#a bunch of rambling #dc x dp #dpxdc #dc x dp prompt #dp x dc prompt #danny fenton

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poutysprouty · 1 month ago

Text

CALL NUMBER: 69.GOJO

You work at the University library. Gojo has made it his mission to bother you during every shift. But when the cocky Physics professor finds your guilty pleasure read, your quiet night takes a wildly unexpected turn.

pairing: Librarian!Reader x Physics Professor!Gojo

warnings: 18+ MDNI. porn with slight plot, cursing, dirty talk, praise, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, slightly public sex? idk, the library is closed and locked you tell me, Satoru is lowkey downbad.

wc: 6.0k

a/n: in case anybody is curious, the title is a reference to call numbers on books in libraries!

Satoru Gojo showed up every weekday at 4:03 PM.

Not 4:00. Not 4:05. Four-oh-three. It was too precise to be accidental. The worst part was, you were starting to look up from your desk the second the clock ticked past four. Like clockwork, the Physics professor would enter the library with a smirk on his face and a new way to annoy you locked and loaded.

He never checked anything out. Never asked for help.

Just wandered the stacks, tracing his fingers along the spines of books he had no intention of reading. Always in those crisp shirts with unbuttoned collars and tailored pants, with a pair of mirrored sunglasses that were absolutely against the staff dress code.

You’d checked. Twice.

You suspected he thought his presence was charming. And judging by the giggles from some of the undergrads who frequented the library, he wasn’t wrong. But you? You were one smug comment away from printing a sign that read:

“NO PHYSICS PROFESSORS BEYOND THIS POINT.”

In bold, 18pt font. Maybe with a drawing of his face and a red X over it.

But of course, that would be “inappropriate conduct,” and your boss already thought you were too territorial about your space. She’d often compared you to a dragon who hoarded books.

So instead, you suffered.

You endured the monologues about theoretical wormholes and particle alignment and concepts that had about as much relevance to your life as interpretive dance had to quantum mechanics.

Today was no different.

“Did you know,” he began, leaning across the circulation desk, voice light, “that in quantum entanglement, two particles can be miles apart and still react to each other instantly?” His glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose, revealing crystalline blue eyes that seemed too bright to be real. “Kind of like us! You over here, trying not to look at me. Me over there, feeling it anyway.”

You blinked. “So... they like, text each other or something?”

He grinned. “Better. It’s like they vibe.”

You stared at him. “I don’t think I’m vibing with you.”

“Ah, denial,” he sighed, feigning disappointment, tucking his sunglasses into the front of his shirt. “A classic defense mechanism. But fine, I’ll try a more literary approach.”

You watched cautiously as he reached behind himself and plucked a random hardcover from the returns cart. He held it up and read the title aloud.

“I think this one’s about me,” he mused, tilting the cover toward you. “A misunderstood soul. Trapped. Yearning. Sexy.”

Your brow arched. “It’s about a traumatized ex-soldier who lives in a cabin and can’t talk to women.”

Gojo pressed a hand to his heart. “God. It is about me.”

You sighed and stood up to take the book from him. “Please don’t mess with the returns cart. I have it organized and would prefer it to stay that way.”

Gojo pouted like a scolded child, lips pushing out in a dramatic, overdone frown, but he released the book with a little sigh of mock sorrow.

Then, without warning, he collapsed across the circulation desk like he was a fainting Victorian heroine. He let his long body collapse across the edge of the circulation desk, arms sliding dramatically over the wood surface, and his chin thunked against the polished wood with a muttered “ow”.

Sometimes, it was hard for you to remember that this was a 29 year old man with a PhD in Physics and a tenure.

You returned your focus to the task at hand: scanning the barcodes on a pile of returns, logging them into the system, sliding each book into its designated bin to later be added to the returns cart. The quiet beeps of the scanner were comforting, a rhythm that usually soothed you. But today, with Gojo’s exaggerated sighs and occasional hums filling the space around your desk, your concentration frayed at the edges.

He didn’t speak. Just watched.

It wasn’t until you reached for your reading glasses, sliding open the drawer and perching them delicately on the bridge of your nose, that he spoke up again.

“Holy shit,” he murmured, not even bothering to pretend like he wasn’t checking you out. “You wear glasses? You’re killing me.”

You didn’t look up. “They’re for work.”

He didn’t flinch, just continued yapping like you hadn’t said a word.

“I mean, I already had a thing for you, obviously,” he continued, voice dropping an octave, “All you need now is a pencil in your hair and a silk blouse, and I’m done for.”

Heat flared instantly in your cheeks. You kept your head down, hoping the computer screen would provide some cover, but he noticed anyway.

“You’re blushing,” he sing-songed.

“No, I’m not,” you lied.

“You totally are! You like when I flirt with you. I knew it.”

“You’re delusional,” you muttered. “Go flirt with someone else.”

“I’d much rather flirt with you.”

“Maybe I’ll make that sign after all,” you muttered, mostly to yourself.

He leaned in just a bit, his voice low and teasing. “Ohh, a sign? Make it say ‘Trespassers will be kissed.’ I’ll break that rule hourly.”

Despite every effort to seem unaffected, your skin continued to heat up with every second that passed. Determined this time to regain some semblance of control, you forced your gaze downward, fixing it on the neatly stacked books waiting to be processed. You told yourself firmly: Ignore him. Just ignore him.

But Gojo, of course, had other plans.

Leaning forward across the circulation desk, his gaze snagged on something perched atop your purse—something that, under normal circumstances, would remain hidden from view. The book sat there, its cover partially obscured, visible only if someone was positioned just so, leaning close enough to peer over the desk. Much like Gojo was right now.

“What’s that you’re reading?” His voice dropped into a murmur, eyes twinkling with mischief.

You squinted at him, blinking slowly. “What are you talking about?” you asked.

Without a word, he tilted his head slightly, nodding in the direction of the book. The subtle gesture drew your eyes to the spot.

The moment you saw the cover, your breath hitched just a little. Your cheeks flared even hotter, and without thinking, you slid your foot back a bit, giving your purse a sharp kick. The purse and the book both vanished beneath the desk, hidden in the shadows, out of sight.

“Nothing to worry about,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, though the faint tremor betrayed your nerves.

Gojo chuckled softly. “Must be something naughty,” he said with a teasing grin, “if you’re reacting like that.”

You didn’t answer and you kept your eyes firmly on the screen as if it might shield you from his presence.

A low whistle slipped past his lips, but he didn’t say more, just plastered an easy, knowing smile on his face.

He glanced at his watch and stood up. “I’d love to stay longer,” he said, stretching his long arms over his head, “but I have a tutoring session in twenty minutes.”

He looked back at you, eyes gleaming with a sudden spark of mischief. “How about a kiss goodbye?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “Hell would freeze over before you got a kiss from me.”

Gojo laughed. “We’ll see about that.”

With one last wink, he turned on his heel and strode out of the library. You exhaled slowly, trying to calm your still-racing heart and praying he didn’t have the chance to memorize the title of the book before you’d hidden it.

— — —

Friday arrived under a cover of clouds and the threat of rain. The library matched the mood all day, with low foot traffic and lower voices. You welcomed the hush.

By the time the wall clock above the circulation desk ticked to 4:03 PM, you were halfway through organizing the reserve shelf behind the counter. Your hand paused briefly over an anthology, your eyes already darting to the front doors.

They remained closed.

Your chest felt… odd. Like you’d been bracing for something and were disappointed that it never came.

Gojo wasn’t there.

You told yourself that it was a good thing. He was disruptive. Loud. Always making some smug, unnecessary comment and leaning a little too far over the counter. Honestly, it was about time he gave it a rest.

Still, you checked again at 4:07.

Just in case.

By 4:15, you were scolding yourself for the glances. By 4:25, you were trying to distract yourself via mentally drafting a list of new arrivals you could process in peace for once. And by 4:45, you had almost convinced yourself you didn’t care at all.

Almost.

You kept your head down and fell into your routine. You manned the desk. Answered two separate panicked freshmen asking where the printer queue was. You filed five returns, denied one student’s (admittedly very creative) excuse for not paying a late fee, and by the time 7:30 PM rolled around, there was nobody left in the whole building except for you.

The end of the day was in sight. You stood, stretching the stiffness from your spine, and made your way to the backroom. The new book deliveries had arrived late in the afternoon. Three boxes in total, freshly opened and stacked onto one of the wheeled carts. The smell of new paper was faint but unmistakable, calming your nerves as you began wheeling the cart out.

You emerged from the staff hallway and stopped so suddenly the cart gave a slight jolt.

He was there.

Gojo stood at the desk. Leaning against the edge, posture relaxed, legs crossed at the ankles like he didn’t have a care in the world, his white hair slightly mussed with a few strands falling across his forehead.

Your heart skipped, and then you realized he wasn’t looking around for you.

He was reading.

Your feet began to move again on autopilot, steps slow but steady as you guided the cart closer. You kept your expression carefully neutral, though your eyes narrowed slightly with suspicion. Gojo rarely touched the books unless he was using one as a prop for some elaborate joke or stupid pickup line. You half expected him to lift his head and start monologuing about quantum entanglement again.

But he didn’t.

His eyes were on the page, his mouth slightly parted in concentration. He was engaged. Focused.

And then you saw what he was reading.

The book.

The same one from yesterday. The one whose plot had less to do with character development and more to do with how many surfaces a couple could have wild sex on before getting caught.

He was reading it.

Openly.

At your desk.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Gojo glanced up as you got closer. His smile was small and deceptively sweet, head tilted just enough to let a few strands of pale hair fall across his forehead. He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his strong forearms, his long fingers curled loosely around the edges of the book.

“Evening,” he murmured, watching you closely as you approached.

“What are you doing here?” you managed, wishing it sounded more annoyed and less breathless. You glanced at the clock. “The library closes in twenty-five minutes.”

Gojo hummed as he slowly closed the book. It made a soft thwack as it shut, a sound that seemed far too loud in the quiet between you.

"Thought I’d get in a little… research," he said smoothly. There was a deliberate lilt to the last word.

Your stomach twisted.

“So… This the stuff you’re into?” he asked, raising the book slightly.

“Give it here,” you demanded, flustered as you stepped forward, hand outstretched.

He laughed and lifted the book just out of reach, his long arm rising easily above your head.

“I don’t know,” he teased, leaning back slightly to make you follow, “I’m kind of invested now.”

You glared, stepping even closer, nearly pressed up against him as you reached again.

“I bought it last night,” he added casually, his free hand dropping to rest on the edge of the desk behind him, letting his long frame stretch lazily across the space. “Stopped by that used bookstore on 3rd. Thought that if it’s good enough to make you blush like that…”

You made a frustrated noise and reached once more, on your tiptoes now and internally cursing his height. He evaded you easily.

“Stayed up most of the night reading it,” he went on, voice dropping lower. “Can’t say I regret it. You’ve got excellent taste.”

His breath fanned across your cheek and you realized how close he’d gotten. Just the barest inch separated you now. He hadn’t touched you, but the way he leaned in made your entire body go taut.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words got stuck in your throat as Gojo leaned in closer, his lips brushing close to your ear.

“Gotta say,” he hummed, “that shower scene in chapter eight? Gave me ideas. Got me thinking, y’know… I wouldn’t mind reenacting some of these scenes sometime.”

You froze.

Your muscles locked, eyes fixed on him as your heart thudded in a wild rhythm beneath your skin. It was like he’d reached into your chest and flipped a switch you hadn’t known was there.

He had actually read the book.

Not skimmed. Not peeked. Read. Enough that he remembered chapter eight. Chapter eight, the one you’d re-read more times than you’d like to admit, the one that had made you shift under your covers late at night with flushed cheeks and wetness pooling in your panties. It was vivid. Explicit. The scene that had convinced you to buy the rest of the series. And now Gojo had read it, too.

You couldn’t look at him.

He tilted his head and raised one hand. His fingers found your chin, tilting your face upward until your eyes met his.

Your breath hitched the moment your gaze locked.

It was overwhelming. His presence always had been. But now, with his touch burning softly against your skin, it felt like your brain had gone entirely offline.

And then he leaned in. So close you could feel his breath ghost across your lips, could practically taste the mint on it. Every inch of you buzzed. The space between your lips was razor-thin.

“I’d like to reenact them with you,” he murmured, voice just above a whisper, “if you’d let me.”

You swallowed, hard. Your throat was suddenly dry, and the sentence that finally escaped you came out quieter than you intended.

“That’s… not appropriate.”

It was weak. You hated how weak it sounded. You hated that you didn’t sound more confident, more indignant. Gojo, of course, only seemed more amused by that.

He laughed. A deep, rich chuckle that rumbled in his chest, just inches from your own. His smile widened.

Then, he let the book fall from his hand. It landed with a dull thump on the desk behind him, the sound barely registering over the roaring in your ears. His now-free hand slipped around your waist like it belonged there. His palm settled at the small of your back, fingers splaying out possessively.

And then he pulled. Just enough for your body to brush against his, just enough that you could feel the lines of his chest through that button-up shirt he never wore properly. Just enough to make your lungs follow your brain and forget how to work.

His voice dipped again, “In case you haven’t noticed, sweets,” he murmured, “I don’t give a shit about what’s appropriate.”

Gojo closed the distance between you, his movements slow like he wanted you to have every moment to decide if this was something you wanted, too. His lips met yours with a feather-light brush that caused warmth to begin blooming deep inside your chest. The library around you faded until there was only the press of his mouth on yours.

His kiss was gentle at first, testing the waters, almost hesitant, as if he were feeling his way through uncharted territory. You could feel the faint tremor in his fingers as his breath mingled with yours, the slight parting of his lips as he deepened the kiss just a fraction, and the careful way his hands hovered near your waist, as though he was unsure if you’d let him pull you closer.

You stayed still, caught off guard by the tenderness of the kiss. Your body felt light and heavy all at once, nerves sparking beneath your skin. The taste of him was faintly minty, comforting, and downright addictive.

After a few seconds, he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. His voice was low, almost a murmur.

“If at any point you want to stop, just hit me.”

There was a vulnerability in his tone as he spoke that surprised you. Before you could find your voice or respond, he leaned back in, this time with more urgency.

His lips pressed against yours again, more demanding this time. His hands slid down from hovering to resting firmly on your hips, fingers spreading wide and pulling you flush against him. The heat radiating from his body seeped into yours, melting away your last defenses. Your own arms rose, trembling slightly as you wrapped them around his shoulders, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt.

Every nerve ending in your body felt alive, from the ache in your fingertips, to the quickened thrum of your pulse, to the rush of warmth flooding your core.

But then, as the kiss deepened, you suddenly remembered where you were. With a gentle but firm tug, you pulled away just enough to catch your breath. Your chest rose and fell in quick pants as you tried to steady your racing heart. Your voice came out breathless.

“The door is still unlocked, someone could walk in,” you whispered, glancing toward the heavy wooden door on the other side of the room. After hours or not, it was a very real possibility.

Gojo chuckled. His grin was infuriatingly confident, that signature crooked smile that made your knees weak.

“Nobody will walk in on us,” he said. “I locked it when I came in.”

You squinted at him suspiciously. You realized then that he had planned this, had hoped for this exact outcome from the start.

He caught your eyes and, instead of explaining, simply shot you that cheeky grin again. Without a word, he pulled you back in close, his lips capturing yours once more in a kiss.

Gojo deepened the kiss, his tongue delving past your parted lips to tangle with yours. His large hands gripped your hips possessively, fingers digging into the soft flesh. Instinctively, you began to grind yourself against him, seeking friction, craving more of his touch.

Gojo groaned into the kiss, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against you. He tightened his hold on your hips and started to guide you, rolling your clothed pussy against the prominent bulge straining against his slacks.

Your head fell back with a gasp.

"That's it, sweetheart," Gojo purred, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

As he spoke, Gojo's lips began assaulting the column of your throat. He peppered the sensitive skin with open-mouthed kisses, occasionally grazing his teeth over your pulse point or suckling lightly. Each touch left you trembling and whimpering with need.

Lost in the onslaught of sensations, you found yourself being maneuvered. Before you knew it, Gojo had lifted you onto the edge of the circulation desk.

"Lift up for me, darling." His fingers made quick work of the button on your pants. With your assistance, he slowly peeled the fabric down your legs, his hands trailing teasingly along your skin.

Once your pants were discarded, Gojo lowered himself to his knees, settled between your thighs, pushing them apart. He gazed up at you with hooded eyes, his expression absolutely ravenous.

"You're absolutely stunning," he murmured, drinking in the sight of you before him. Then, without warning, he leaned in and placed an open-mouthed kiss to your clothed sex. The damp heat of his mouth seeped through the thin barrier of your panties, making you jolt and gasp.

Gojo didn't waste any more time. With a wicked grin, he began to devour you through the damp fabric of your panties.

His tongue traced over your slit with broad, firm strokes, feeling the shape of your folds even through the thin material. He focused his attention on your clit, circling and flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves until you were writhing above him.

"Mmm, you taste even better than I imagined," he growled against your core, the vibrations making your toes curl. Gojo hooked his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and tugged them down your legs, fully exposing you to his hungry gaze. He hoisted one of your thighs over his shoulder, wrapping one large hand around it to keep it in place.

Without breaking eye contact, he leaned in and dragged the flat of his tongue up your dripping center, savoring your essence.

As Gojo's tongue slid up your slick folds, a choked moan escaped your lips. The sensation was overwhelming, every lick sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"God, you're so wet," he murmured against your pussy. His words sent a shiver through you, adding to the growing tension coiling in your stomach.

Gojo shifted closer, pressing his face deeper into your sex. He continued to lap at your juices, paying special attention to your swollen clit. His tongue swirled around the sensitive nub, driving you crazy with desire.

Your hips bucked involuntarily, grinding against his face. You couldn't help but pant and whimper.

"Ah! Ohh fuck!" You cried out, arching off the desk as he sucked your clit into his mouth. Your fingers dug into the wood of the desk as you fought to keep yourself upright.

Gojo reached up and grabbed one of your hands, guiding it to the top of his head. "Don't be shy now, baby. Hold on tight," he commanded with a wink. "Ride my face, sweetheart. Take your pleasure."

His words sent a bolt of lust straight to your core. Trembling, you fisted your hand in his silky white hair, holding on for dear life as you began to grind yourself shamelessly against his tongue.

Gojo groaned in approval, the sound muffled by your dripping folds. He redoubled his efforts, his tongue plunging deep into your channel, fucking you with swift, sure strokes.

While you guided his pace, one of Gojo's large hands slid up your body. He palmed your breast roughly, kneading the soft flesh. His thumb and forefinger found your nipple, pinching and rolling the hardened peak through the thin fabric of your shirt.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous like this," he growled, pulling back just enough to speak. His chin and lips glistened with your arousal. "So desperate, so needy. Love seeing you fall apart for me."

He punctuated his words with a sharp nip to your inner thigh before diving back in, sucking your clit hard into his mouth again.

A scream tore from your throat as the suction suddenly sent you hurtling over the edge. Your vision blurred, eyes rolling back in their sockets as wave after wave of mind-numbing pleasure crashed over you. Your body convulsed, hips jerking wildly as you rode out your climax. Gojo lapped at your spasming cunt, greedily swallowing every drop that leaked out.

Even as you slowly came down from your high, Gojo remained attached, his mouth still sealed to your sensitive flesh. He purred contentedly, eyes closed in bliss, clearly savoring the taste of your essence.

He finally released your throbbing clit with a wet pop, pulling back to admire his handiwork. A satisfied smirk played on his lips as he licked them clean, savoring the taste of your release.

He kissed his way up your quivering body slowly, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Reaching the hem of your shirt, he pushed it up and over your breasts, revealing the lacy bra underneath. His eyes darkened with hunger as he took in the sight. He grasped the front of your bra and tugged it down, freeing your breasts to his eager eyes.

Gojo wasted no time in claiming one pert nipple into his hot mouth. He suckled greedily, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as his hand cupped and massaged its twin.

You arched into his touch, a whiny moan escaping your lips as he lavished attention on your aching nipples. His mouth was pure heaven, each suckle sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

At the same time, he ground his hips against your slick entrance, the fabric of his pants rubbing deliciously against your sensitive folds. The dual sensations quickly had you teetering on the brink once more.

Gojo's free hand slid down to palm your ass, squeezing the plump cheeks as he continued to feast on your breasts. He broke the seal on your nipple with a wet pop, blowing cool air across the wet skin before moving to attend to its mate.

"Want you so bad, baby," he moaned against your breast, voice rough with desire. "Gonna make you cum all over my cock."

"Please, Gojo," you begged, your voice breathless with need.

Your hips rocked up eagerly. Gojo's eyes flashed at your pleading, and he pulled away from your heaving breasts.

With a fluid motion, he unfastened his jeans and yanked them down, along with his boxers, just enough to free his straining erection. He gave his thick cock a few pumps, spreading the precum that had already begun to leak from the tip.

When you finally caught a glimpse of his length, you could barely contain your gasp. Even in the dim light of the library, you could tell he was big. Not big in length, though he was certainly above average in that department, but big in girth. You quickly regained your composure, subtly parting your thighs in invitation.

Gojo's smirk widened as he noticed your subtle gesture. He leaned down, capturing your lips in another searing kiss as he notched the broad head of his cock against your soaked entrance.

You moaned into the kiss, your body trying to draw him in. But Gojo held back, content to tease you with shallow thrusts, rubbing his cockhead against your clit and then dipping just inside your fluttering hole before retreating again.

He alternated between gentle pressure and almost nothing at all. It was enough to keep you teetering on the edge, but never quite tipping over.

Breaking the kiss, Gojo looked down at you with a wicked glint in his blue eyes. "Beg for me, sweetheart," he urged, his voice low and husky.

You whimpered, torn between your own pride and the desire for him to fuck you. But the ache between your thighs won out, and you found yourself whispering, "Please, Gojo. Need you inside me."

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated against your lips. "Such a good girl," he praised.

Emboldened by his reaction, you wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to pull him in deeper. But Gojo held steady, his grip on your hips firm as he continued to tease your entrance with just the tip of his cock.

He pressed in just a little further, giving you a taste of what was to come before withdrawing again. You huffed in frustration.

“Gojo, I already did what you asked. Just fuck me already!”

He grinned, clearly enjoying your desperation. "Alright, alright. Since you asked so nicely..."

Gojo’s grip on your hips tightened and he surged forward, burying himself to the hilt in one stroke. A guttural moan ripped from his throat as he bottomed out, your walls clenching tightly around his thick shaft.

Then, with a roll of his hips, Gojo began to move. He set a relentless pace, pounding into you with long, deep strokes that hit all the right spots.

Gojo's powerful thrusts shook the desk beneath you, the edges scraping against the floor as he pounded into your willing body. Each stroke drove you higher, the force of his hips slamming against yours sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine.

His mouth roamed freely over your exposed skin, leaving a trail of love bites and hickies in its wake. You felt his teeth graze your collarbone, your earlobe, the tender swell of your breasts. His lips and tongue worked magic, drawing gasps and moans from your lips.

Your hands clawed at his back, nails digging into the muscles flexing beneath his shirt. The fabric stretched taut over his shoulders, and you knew you'd leave your own marks on him when he eventually pulled away.

Gojo's rhythm faltered for a moment as you squeezed around him, his chest heaving against yours. But then he started talking, his voice a low murmur against your skin.

"Fucking hell, you feel incredible," he rasped, his hips picking up speed once more. "So tight, so wet, so damn responsive."

As if to emphasize his point, he slammed into you particularly hard, his cockhead finding your g-spot and hitting it dead on. "I've wanted this for so long. Ever since I first saw you behind this desk. Watching you, imagining what you'd look like bent over it, begging for my dick..."

He must’ve felt the way your walls fluttered just a bit at his words, because a feral, knowing smirk grew on his lips. "That's right baby, think about how much I needed this. How much I craved sinking my cock into your sweet little cunt."

Panting heavily, you managed to choke out, "I-I always wanted this, too. Even though I tried to pretend I didn't. Thought about you when I read those books."

A sly grin spread across Gojo's face as he heard your confession. "So you imagined us like this, huh? Fucking like animals?"

Hoisting your legs over his shoulders, he locked your ankles behind his head, bending down so your knees were nearly at your shoulders and pinning you in place. The new angle allowed him to plunge even deeper, his cock dragging against your innermost walls with each brutal stroke.

"You filthy little slut," he growled. "Reading those dirty books, fantasizing about being fucked senseless by me."

Moaning and nodding frantically, you couldn't form coherent sentences anymore.

"Look at you, so fucking cock drunk for me," Gojo taunted. "Can't even string together a proper sentence."

Dazed, you gazed up at him through half-lidded eyes, whimpering brokenly as he continued to ravage your body. Your walls clenched tighter around him, signaling your impending climax.

Gojo cooed encouragingly, his fingers trailing down your cheek to wipe away a stray droplet of saliva that had escaped your lips. Then, to your surprise, he pushed two digits past your parted lips, curling them against your tongue.

You sucked on them greedily, eyes rolling back as he worked them in and out. At the same time, his other hand descended to find your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles. With a slam of his hips, he nailed your g-spot perfectly, sending you hurtling over the precipice.

Your body seized, a wail tearing from your throat. Waves of intense pleasure crashed through you, causing your pussy to spasm and gush around Gojo's pistoning cock. He groaned at the sensation, hips stuttering as your walls rippled along his length. "Fuuuck, yeah, milk my cock, baby."

Gojo continued to pound into you, riding out your orgasm and prolonging your pleasure. His own climax was close, his balls tightening as he chased his own release.

With a final, brutal thrust, Gojo buried himself to the hilt inside you, his thick cock pulsating as he reached his peak. You felt his hot seed spurting deep within your convulsing walls, filling you up.

He didn't withdraw, instead holding still and letting the waves of his orgasm wash over him. As he came down from his high, Gojo captured your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

The intensity of the moment left you breathless and trembling, your body still quaking from the aftershocks of your climax. As Gojo gradually softened inside you, he broke the kiss, his eyes searching yours. Slowly, he withdrew from your spent body, his softening cock slipping free. But rather than immediately disentangling from you, he remained on top of you.

You could feel the sweat on his skin and the rapid beat of his heart against your stomach. His arms encircled you, holding you close as he nuzzled into the valley of your breasts.

“You okay?” he asked finally, his voice soft, as though speaking any louder would break the fragile moment between you.

You nodded and reached down with a trembling hand, your fingers brushing gently across his forehead to sweep a damp lock of hair away from his eyes. His lips curved into a warm smile as he leaned into your touch, eyelids fluttering half closed.

Then, he tilted his head, eyes sparkling as he murmured, “Wanna continue this somewhere a little more private? Maybe somewhere with a bed? Like, say, my place?”

You couldn’t help it. A tired, breathless giggle escaped your lips as you rolled your eyes at him, even as your fingers slid a little deeper into his hair.

“Only if you’re planning to feed me after all of this,” you teased.

Gojo let out a laugh, his face lighting up like he couldn’t believe you were real. “Deal,” he said easily, dipping his head to press a slow, lazy kiss against your collarbone, breath warming your skin. “I’ll order you anything you want.”

After a bit longer of laying there, catching your breath, the two of you finally started moving again.

Gojo helped you clean up and straighten your clothes. His touch lingered here and there, almost as if he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed to touch you like this now. You could barely believe it yourself.

“I’ll have to come back in tomorrow,” you murmured. Your voice came out a little hoarse, your throat still dry. “I didn’t get through any of what I was hoping to tonight.”

Gojo tilted his head, his white hair catching the low lighting. “Since I’m the one who, uh… interfered,” he said, suddenly sounding sheepish, “I’ll come in and help.”

You blinked at him, eyebrows lifting as you followed him to the door. “Now you offer to help?” you scoffed, voice laced with amusement. “After months of bugging me, flirting with me, and loitering in the stacks?”

“Excuse me, I’ll have you know I was already helping by enriching the atmosphere with my charming presence.”

You snorted as you stepped outside into the warm night air beside him. “You’ve been haunting the library like a poltergeist.”

“That’s Professor Poltergeist to you,” he replied smoothly, making you roll your eyes as you reached out to lock the door behind you, testing the handle once just to be sure.

Gojo stood beside you as you locked up, his hands shoved in his pockets as he kept his gaze fixed on you. There was something different about the way he looked at you now.

“I don’t want this to be a one time thing,” he finally admitted.

You looked up at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. His sunglasses were tucked into his shirt pocket, leaving nothing between you and the full force of those beautiful blue eyes. The mischievous sparkle was still there, but behind it was something else. Something hopeful, maybe a little vulnerable.

“I don’t want it to be a one time thing either,” you said, your voice coming out softer than you expected.

The smile that stretched across his face in response wasn’t the usual cocky thing you were used to. It was softer, and impossibly radiant. He shifted a little closer, shoulder brushing yours as the two of you walked down the front steps.

Gojo let out a quiet breath and then said, more to himself than to you, “Good. Because I don’t think I could pretend to go back to how things were.”

You didn’t answer, at least, not with words. But you reached out, gently threading your fingers through his as you walked, and when his grip tightened around yours, it said everything you needed to hear.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo smut #gojo x you smut

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unhingedgirlythings · 2 months ago

Text

a guide to a goodnights sleep

Tags: fem reader x sleep-deprived post prison Spencer Reid

summary: reader and spencer are on the plane trip home after a long case. reader awakens to find a sleep deprived spencer who hasn't been able to sleep the same since prison and can't help but intervene. (BASICALLY, JUST A CUTE FIC OF READER COMFORTING SPENCER AND HELPING HIM SLEEP TEEHEE CEJDNOREO)

authors note: OMG hi guys I'm so sorry I forgot about this account life got insane for a second there lmao. Anyway, here's a new fic, there will def be a continuation for this one, I've got big plans for this series teehee. I will say that I like to write, NOT edit so if it's rough I am sorry about that ha-ha.

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As soon as everyone settled in for the five-hour flight home, you and the rest of the team collapsed in exhaustion.

To be fair, this case had been grueling and relentless. A small girl had been taken from her family home in the late hours of the night. It wasn’t the first kidnapping to occur in the small town of Pine Mountain, and unfortunately for the BAU, the previous case had ended with gruesome and inhumane murders.

No one wanted another child's blood on their hands, so there was an unspoken agreement among everyone that no one would get any rest until she was found alive and returned safely to her family.

You had always hated cases like this.

Yes, they were unavoidable in your line of work, but the thought of a child’s murder always stirred an unwelcome feeling deep inside you. The lingering sense of disgust always stayed with you for weeks afterward despite your attempts to forget, leaving behind a sickening weight in your stomach that persisted. The guilt gnawed at you, constantly taunting you in those quiet moments when your mind wandered.

Maybe it was the sheer exhaustion, or the sleeping pills you had discreetly swallowed before the plane took off, but despite the haunting images of the case replaying in your mind like a twisted personal snuff film, you finally drifted into a deep sleep. Honestly, you could’ve slept through the entire trip home, but unfortunately for you turbulence still existed.

Your eyes snapped open as the plane jolted you awake with little regard for your much-needed rest. A groan escaped your lips as your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting from one of the reading lights

“Spence?" you muttered, your gaze shifting to the boy genius sitting beside you. He had one of his classic novels in his hand, the title too blurry for your exhausted brain to make sense of. His eyes looked sunken, the dark circles beneath them deeper than usual. You couldn’t help but be amazed (and a little envious) at how handsome he looked even when disheveled and exhaustion.

"You're still awake?" you quietly asked, sitting up slightly in the uncomfortably stiff airplane seat, praying you didn’t look too much like a hot mess. Unfortunately for you, the universe had cursed you with bad bed hair and dark bags under your eyes whenever you woke up. Spencer set his book down in his lap and turned his head to look at you, his expression softening.

“Unfortunately," he muttered "How are you not completely exhausted" you asked in a low voice, attempting not to disturb the others' sleep.

Spencer glanced at you, his gaze lingering for a moment. There was something in his eyes, like he wanted to say something but changed his mind at the last second.

“I’m fine” he replied, noticing your not-so-awake appearance. “You, on the other hand, should go back to sleep.” He stated, clearly trying to brush off your concern, but you weren't convinced. After all these years working with Spencer, you knew him well, too well in fact, well enough to tell when he was hiding something.

You leaned in a little closer to him, looking at him with determined insistence in your eyes.

“You don’t look fine to me.”

His body stiffened as you entered his personal space and a deep sigh escaped his lips, finally giving in to your persistence, probably more out of sleep deprivation than any real desire to share.

Before the whole prison event he had undergone, you and Spencer would spend these long plane rides home venting and doing nothing but overshare. It was the familiarity and shared comfort that made you feel a sense of security with him. It was nice, it helped you make sense of the complex emotions these cases stirred up and the trauma that followed.

You had been each other’s emotional support buddy through your early years at the BAU, but now… it felt as if he had pulled away from you.

You couldn’t stand it “I just... don’t sleep well,” he muttered under his breath, as if he were ashamed to admit it. His eyes drifted away from yours, searching for something else to focus on, avoiding the intensity of your gaze. “It’s usually an unpleasant ordeal for me.”

You understood that feeling all too well—the haunting cases that refused to leave your mind, the ones that you could never quite shake off, some things once seen could never be unseen.

It made sense that he couldn’t sleep anymore, though you could only guess what had happened to him in prison. The silence between you stretched on and before you knew it you had shifted your position, turning fully toward him. Your back pressed against the wall behind you to create more space.

“What are you doing?” Spencer's brows lifted in confusion.

“Helping,” you replied simply.

The plane hummed around you, neither of you making a sound or movement. Spencer seemed to not quite understand what you were offering, despite the soft patting on your lap as an invitation. You rolled your eyes at his oblivion.

“What, you scared I’m going to bite?” you teased, smirking. "Come on, Spence. It’s not like I haven’t used you as my own personal pillow before, I’m simply returning the favor. Now hurry up before I change my mind and leave you to suffer."

There was a long-held silence before Spencer broke it, flashing you that familiar smirk, the one that used to make your stomach flutter.

You hadn't seen it in months.

“Fine, I’ll amuse you, but just this once,” he said, his voice softer than usual, almost vulnerable. You could still sense his reluctance, and it stung more than you cared to admit.

Before you could pull yourself together and remind yourself that this was your idea, you felt the unexpected weight of his head gently resting on your lap. He shifted to adjust himself, trying to make himself more comfortable in the cramped space.

Suddenly, everything felt too close, too intimate.

You tried your best to ignore the quickening of your heartbeat as you silently cursed yourself for being so delusional.

It was kind of pathetic how much of an effect he always seemed to have on you, honestly, it was impossible at this point to ignore the pull he had on you.

No matter how much you told yourself that it was in the past, that if something were to happen between the two of you, it would’ve happened years ago, you couldn’t deny it anymore. You were still hopelessly, undeniably in love with him.

So, selfishly, you decided to indulge just this once, promising yourself that you’d put the whole Spencer thing to rest after. For now, you would let yourself just be in this moment. Your fingers rested gently in his thick unruly curls; you let the warmth of his skin beneath your touch ground you.

“Spence, in order for this to work, you need to close your eyes,” you whispered softly, your voice betraying you as a hint of laughter ruined any attempt at smoothness. His brown eyes, still wide open, locked onto yours and stayed there for a moment.

“Right, right. Sorry,” he muttered with a small sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his lips. His eyes finally fluttered closed, and a faint sigh left his lips. You felt his body relax against yours, his breathing slowing.

You watched his chest rise and fall slowly with each breath. Remaining still, you simply watched him, a soft smile on your lips. Your fingers left his hair and fell gently onto his skin, dancing across his features, tracing each line.

Yeah, there was no doubt in your mind—you were officially cooked.

#spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #post prison spencer reid #tired spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid comfort #sleep deprived spencer Reid

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jakesimfromstatefarm · 1 month ago

Note

no doubt! Jake would 100% ask “would you love me if I was a worm?” and be absolutely devastated if the answer was no and it would be so cute but also kind of silly

OH 100%%%%%%%!!!! omg this is an official invitation for ppl to send me requests for no doubt!jake & nodoubt!yn because i am LIVING for these slices of life with them <333 I LOVE UR BRAIN HOLD ON LET ME JUST─

──── WOULD YOU STILL LOVE ME IF... 🪱 🤍 🌾 ↳ requested // part of the no doubt series !

It's movie night.

Neither of you are watching the movie.

You're about five seconds away from passing out, limbs half-numb from the deadweight of your clingy boyfriend currently sprawled right on top of you on your tiny couch.

The clingy boyfriend in question?

Jake's head is smushed against your chest, his arms wrapped around your waist like a stubborn koala, and your legs are tangled together under your oversized blanket—the one that makes your body temperature one too many degrees too warm, especially with your furnance of your boyfriend on top of you.

Your eyes flutter close, dangerously close to slipping into sleep, fingers absentmindedly running through Jake's messy hair as the faint sound of the movie hums in the background, when—

"Baby."

"Mm."

"Are you awake?"

You hum again in response, barely cracking an eye open to only find Jake already staring up at you with that soft, sleepy, and endearingly adorable look on his face that makes you want to smush his cheeks and maybe chew on them a little. Just a nibble.

Then—

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

Your eyes open all the way now.

You blink.

You glance down.

And Jake is staring at you. Wide, hopeful, glassy eyes. Totally serious.

“…Like. A literal worm?”

Jake nods briskly, and you realize he's. Not. Joking.

You take a long breath, looking back up at the ceiling, considering it for a solid business second.

You look back at him.

“No.”

Jake freezes.

You'd think you told him Santa's make-believe and so is love.

“WHAT?!”

"Jake...I mean, c'mon, logistically?" You say with a shrug. "You'd be a worm. I'd be a person. There's a lot of biological and ethical hurdles here."

Jake shoots up and off of you so fast that the blanket flies off of the couch.

"And here I am thinking you loved me," he whispers, scooting to the opposite end of the couch and retrieving the blanket from the ground to wrap around himself like a sad, soggy burrito.

You roll your eyes at your oh-so-dramatic boyfriend, "I do love you, you big loser."

"Well, apparently not enough!" His eyes are wide, his arms flailing around as if to make a point. "Not enough to love worm-me!"

You reach over and tug his arm to pull him back in—to no avail. He and his stubbornness stay planted, pouting in the seat opposite of you.

"Oh my god, Jake."

"No, no—it's fine," he mumbles, flopping back with an exaggerated sigh, extending his legs out on the couch. "I'll just go crawl into the dirt. Alone. Like the lowly earth creature I am meant to be."

You giggle, shuffling closer, crawling your way over to him until you're hovering above, nose inches away from his pout.

"You're not a worm, Jakey."

"Not yet. But if I ever am? Don't talk to me."

You bite your lip to keep from laughing, "Okay. What if I was a worm?"

Jake's eyes immediately go wide, as if he's been waiting for you to ask his question. His hands instinctively find your waist as you settle on top of him.

"I'd love you so hard. I'd build you a terrarium. Feed you the richest, organic dirt. Carry you around in a little jar in my hoodie and tell you you're beautiful every single day."

You look at your boyfriend like he's insane.

And you think he actually might be.

"Why do I feel like you've genuinely thought about this before?"

Jake shrugs, “I have plans, Y/N. No matter the universe, no matter the life form, I have plans."

You burst out into a laughter so hard you nearly fall off of him, and he catches you mid-collapse with a satisfied grin and strong arms, tucking you into the crook of his neck.

"Whatever. Even if you don't love worm-me—" he murmurs into your hair as his arms pull you flush against him, "—I'll still love you. In this life and in worm life."

You snort right into his hoodie, "You're so weird."

“And loyal,” he adds proudly. “Like a worm.”

And you don’t even try to correct him.

no doubt m. list

tag list! (open ! // bolded couldn't be added!)

@bluxjun @ki2rins @why-did-i-just-do-this @favoritten @lovialymisc @xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaah @hinryh @ltfirecracker @lov4hoon @taeheexx @niyzu @chunkzdeluluwife @jakeflvrz @fangirl125reader @0429jw @dreamy-carat @yuons @thestarinstarbucks @miszes @llearlert @ppeachyttae @hoomin10 @teddybeartaetae @tanisha2060 @therealmrsbahng @beomgyu-bears @ikeulove @jiyeons-closet @youngheejay @wxnderingthoughts @fuevrois @soobundle1009 @isoobie @enhypenova @zoemeltigloos @lizdevorak @deluluscenarios @bloomiize @hasuyv @ijustwannareadstuff20 @veilstqr @dreamiestay @jakeyyyjakexoxo

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lavenderhateswritting · 2 months ago

Text

Sinister!Mark x Male Reader x Mohawk Mark

Reader has superspeed

"How long are you going to keep running, pretty boy?" Fuck did this asshole ever shut the fuck up.

You've been fighting this version of Invincible for 45 minutes. This one had a mohawk, which didn't actually look that bad on him if you're being honest. You would probably enjoy this fight more if you weren't positive that the moment you stopped running at top speed, there'd be a fist through your chest.

"Will you shut the fuck up," you spit the words out through gritted teeth. He flew toward you with super speed as fast as he could, and you just barely sprinted out of the way. You were reaching a point of exhaustion you didn't think was possible. You were getting slower, and he wasn't even breaking a sweat.

"Aww, come on, you're breaking my heart," he's got this stupid ucking smile on his face that he's had since the fight started.

"Just stay still," he lunged toward you, trying to get a hit in, and you pulled yourself out of the way.

Trying to gain more distance, you use your superspeed and try and put a few miles between him and you. The fight has just been you trying your hardest to distract him while not getting hit. You speed forward as fast as you can, leading him further and further away from the city. You turn your head and watch as he follows not far behind, when you slam face-first into what feels like a brick wall.

You collapse to the floor as your body tries to reorient itself. Running into anything that fast hurts like a mother fucker, but whatever you hit had no give whatsoever like steel.

"Playing with your food, I won't judge, but it is wasting time," the sweat dripping down your back felt like it had turned to ice. There was another Invincible.

Craning your head back, you could see him standing over you, his face obscured by the sun. His costume was black and yellow and covered in blood, none of it his. You tried to remember who was supposed to fight him, which one of your friends had died trying to stop this monster.

"You're telling me you wouldn't, I mean, look at him," the voice of the Invincible with the mohawk was directly behind you. You were cornered on both sides.

The other Invincible finally looked down at you for the first time. You wish you could see his eyes, maybe then you'd be able to understand what the hell he was thinking.

"So he hasn't died in this universe?" he continued to stare down at you. It was like being penned down by a lion. You needed to get out of here.

"Nope, but that doesn't mean you get to have a turn I found him first," what the fuck was he talking about right now?

"Only because you got lucky, I would have found him eventually," the black and yellow Invincible tore his eyes away from you and looked at the other Invincible again.

"Whatever you've gotta tell yourself asshole, I still found him which means I get keep him,"

"Yeah, that's not happening."

"Yeah, and whose gonna stop me? You?"

The argument was concerning. But at least it gave you cover. You got back up on your feet as fast as possible and tried to speed away while they were arguing.

Before you could get farther than a few feet, your arm was grabbed, and you were yanked as close to the Invincible with the mohawk as possible. He plastered your back across his front as he kept a crushing grip on your arm, and one hand gripped your waist so hard it felt like it would create bruises. You were so close you could feel every ridge and line of his muscles against your back, and the feeling of his heartbeat.

"No way you expected that to end well," his whispered into your ear. His breath left goosebumps trailing down your neck.

"What do you want from me?" You finally asked because you're not quite sure why he hasn't killed you yet. Why have they both let you live for so long?

"Aww, do you hear that he wants to know what we want from him? Why don't you tell him what we want?" His mocking tone made a shiver run down your entire body as you felt his fingers begin to brush lower and lower on your waist.

The other Invincible began to come even closer to you until he was pressed against your front nearly as close as the other version of himself.

"We want," he grabbed your face and leaned your head forward until you were so close his lips were brushing over yours, "to ruin you,"

His lips crashed into yours after that as he began to explore your mouth like a man starved. You felt as he bit your lip until they drew blood, and he stuck his tongue down your throat.

You felt as the Invincible behind you began to trail kisses down the side of your throat, ripping what remained of your costume out of the way as he went down.

The Invincible in front of you finally pulled away from you as you were beginning to get spots and the corner of your vision.

"Look at you, I can't believe this world's Mark lets you run around at all with this face of yours," his fingers brushed over your bruised lips as he spoke.

"And with this body," the Invincible behind you made piped in before yanking your ass even further back onto him and devouring your neck and shoulder again.

"Invincible and I aren't together, I don't even think he likes dudes." Your breath was coming out in short bursts. Invincible behind you began to laugh in your ear.

"So you're all ours huh, and look at you the big strong superhero saving the day with his ass,"

Heat spreads through your entire body. You can't say that this wasn't a fantasy you've had a few times before.

The Invincible standing in front of you began to trail his hand over your chest. His fingers brushing over your nipples, causing you to let out a whimper.

"Good to know this didn't change universe to universe, I don't think I'd be able to accept a world where you aren't squirming underneath me while I play with your pretty little nipples." he reached down and began to play with your nipples methodically and slowly. Every movement of his fingers over the sensitive buds made a moan leave your mouth.

"Oh you can feel how much he likes that right here," he reached down and grabbed the cup underneath the pants of your superhero suit.

"Aww, keeping it from me, that's not nice," he snaked his hand back up and down the front of your pants. You felt him grab the cup pulling it out and finally placing his hand on your dick.

You were achingly hard, and the pressure of his hand around your dick made you start leaking precum into your pants. Oh god, they were running you. You closed your eyes tightly.

"No you don't open them back up I want you to look me in the eyes while you cum" he rubbed his fingers against your nipples harder.

As you opened your eyes to look at him, you saw that he had pulled his mask off, and you were looking him directly in the eye.

Mohawk began to pull at your dick faster and harder. It was rough and felt like heaven, and you were so close. You felt yourself come closer to the edge and begin to fuck into the hand of the man behind you.

You were so close and as you looked him in the eye as the Invincible in front of you smiled down at you with a cruel smirk on his lips. You released with a scream coming out of your throat.

"There we go, pretty boy. Did I make you feel good?" Mohawk whispered in your ear. You felt yourself nod slowly. Your head felt like it was filled with cotton.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the mass of light and movement. God your boss watched you get a handjob.

"Well, glad to see you all had fun." You felt both of them tense around you.

"I'll gut you," it was the Invincible in front of you.

"Fine, I'll make it quick. Stop destroying our planet, and you can have him," oh fuck you Cecil.

"We were going to do that anyway," that was Mohawk.

"Yes, well, that super speed he's got is eating his body alive unless he gets this medicine twice daily," oh fuck you Cecil.

You felt them tense around you.

"And you're going to give us the medicine as long as we don't erase this speck of dust off the map?" The Invincible on your front says.

"That and I'd hope you'd stop your friends from rampaging through every major city."

You can feel them having a conversation with their eyes river your head, but god you're too tired to figure it out.

"Fine, we'll handle it and you'll keep your end of the deal or we rip you apart limb from limb"

"We'll be back,"

And like that, they were off to do god knows what as you lay on the ground from exhaustion.

"You saved quite a few lives today, Y/n."

"Fuck you Cecil,"

#invincible x reader #invincible x you #alternate mark grayson #invincible x male reader #mohawk invincible #sinister mark

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lazy-ahh · 3 months ago

Text

CHAOS LIKES COMPANY. A.K.A I LIKE YOU

pairing mohawk! mark grayson x (vigilante) male reader

you always imagined your grand exit would be more dramatic - maybe a hail of gunfire, a building collapsing in slow motion, at least a decent fucking punchline. instead you're testing a theory: if you disappear now, will mark grayson (your idiot, your disaster, the love of your shitty life) even notice? were you gonna be a tragic loss that haunted him forever, or the weird stain on the couch he learned to ignore?

this is for you MM (mohawk mark) anon! hope you enjoyed this one <3

you’re standing on a rooftop, the city sprawled out beneath you like a toy set some rich kid smashed in a tantrum. the wind’s tugging at your hair, the strands whipping across your face like it’s personally offended by your existence. not that you mind—gives you that "tragically windswept" look, and hey, maybe the audience is into that.

"nice view, huh?" you say, grinning at no one in particular. "seriously, take a screenshot or something. this is prime wallpaper material."

mark—mohawk mark, because this universe just had to make him extra—lands beside you with a thud that cracks the concrete under his boots. his black-and-blue suit is all "look at me, i’m edgier than the original", complete with that ridiculous "i" logo stretching down to his knees like it’s trying to escape. his mohawk’s practically defying gravity (and common sense), and the bags under his eyes make him look like he hasn’t slept since the invention of energy drinks.

"who the hell are you talking to?" he asks, squinting like he’s trying to spot your imaginary friends.

"the audience," you say, like it’s obvious. "you know, the people watching our lives like some messed-up reality show? hi guys, love ya, don’t forget to leave a like and reblog."

"the… what?" his nose scrunches up, and oh, that’s adorable.

"don’t worry about it." you wave a hand. "they’re cool. mostly. some of them probably ship us already—oh, and spoiler alert, they’re gonna love the angst fest coming up."

mark blinks. "what does that even—you know what, never mind." he shakes his head, but you can tell he feels it—that weird shift in the air when you break the fourth wall like it’s made of wet paper. he doesn’t see them, but he knows something’s off, like the universe just glitched for a second.

"you’re weird," he mutters, but there’s no real bite to it. just that same fond exasperation he’s had since you were kids throwing rocks at mailboxes (okay, you threw rocks—mark just watched and panicked, because back then, he was a "rules" kind of guy. boring).

"and you’re rocking a haircut that screams ‘i got into a fight with a lawnmower and lost’," you shoot back, reaching out to flick his mohawk. he swats your hand away, but he’s grinning now, all sharp edges and "i could kill you but i won’t (today)" energy.

"shut up," he says, but it’s half-hearted. then, quieter: "you’re the only one who gets to say shit like that and live."

and oh, that stings a little, doesn’t it? because you’ve known each other forever—since back when he was just mark, not invincible, not this version of him with blood under his fingernails and a smile that’s too wide to be sane. you know him better than anyone, even when he’s pretending he doesn’t care.

and yeah, maybe you’re a little (a lot) in love with him. maybe you’ve always been.

"lucky me," you say, forcing a smirk. "guess that means i’m special."

"guess it does," he says, and for a second, his eyes flicker with something almost soft.

(too bad you won’t be around long enough to enjoy it. because let’s be real—this is mark’s story, and in every universe, the best friend always dies. you’ve read the comics. you know how this ends. but hey, at least you’ll go out in style, right? saving this idiot’s life like some tragic, self-sacrificing idiot. classic.)

"so," mark cracks his knuckles, the sound sharp in the quiet before chaos, his fingers flexing like he's already imagining them wrapped around someone's throat. his grin is all teeth, too wide, too eager—the kind that makes normal people back up slowly and call the cops. his boot taps impatiently against the rooftop ledge, vibrating with barely-contained violence. "wanna go wreck some bad guys?"

you sigh, dramatic and long-suffering, like he’s just asked you to help him move a couch instead of commit several felonies. "oh, sweetie," you drawl, flipping a knife between your fingers just to watch the way his eyes track it—hungry, amused. "i was already doing that. you’re just late to the party." you tilt your head toward the alley below, where a bunch of armed goons are currently trying (and failing) to look intimidating. "see? they even brought balloons."

mark rolls his eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck, but before he can fire back some half-assed insult, he’s already leaping off the roof, arms spread like he’s embracing the inevitable chaos. you don’t even hesitate—just tuck your weapons back and dive after him, the wind screaming in your ears.

(you always follow. you always will. that's how you'll die, remember?)

the fight starts before your feet even hit the ground.

you land in a roll, coming up with a pistol in one hand and a knife in the other, already firing before the first thug even registers you’re there. the bullet takes him in the knee—"oops, guess you won’t be running anymore. well, not on that leg, anyway."

mark, meanwhile, doesn’t bother with weapons. he is the weapon. he plows into a guy twice his size like a freight train, sending him flying through a storefront window. glass shatters, the guy screams, and mark just laughs, kicking him in the ribs hard enough to crack bone. "aw, what’s wrong?" he taunts, tilting his head. "thought you were tough?"

one of the half-conscious goons on the pavement groans, dragging himself up on trembling elbows. his face is a mess of blood and regret as he glares up at you through one swollen eye. "what the fuck?" he slurs, spitting out a broken tooth. "i thought you guys were supposed to be heroes- AGH!"

your boot connects with his family jewels before he can finish that thought - a picture-perfect punt right to the baby factory, the twig and berries, the ol' troublepuffs. his voice cracks into a shrill, eunuch-like squeal as he folds like a lawn chair, hands cupped protectively over his now-useless crown jewels. "heroes?" you echo, tilting your head with mock sympathy as he dry-heaves onto the asphalt. "aw, cupcake. we're the guys your mom warned you about."

a bat comes swinging at your head from the blindside - amateur hour. you duck without even looking, feeling the whoosh of air ruffle your hair as you pivot and sink your combat knife deep into the guy's meaty thigh. he screams like a banshee as you twist the blade, feeling tendon grind against steel. "shhh, it's okay," you coo, patting his sweaty cheek with your free hand while he trembles. "you're doing great for someone with the fighting skills of a concussed koala."

then - classic move incoming - another meathead charges you with a crowbar raised high. is this also a reference to the author's other fictional crush? you sidestep like a matador, snatching his wrist mid-swing and using his momentum to yank him face-first into your rising knee. the satisfying crunch of cartilage tells you his nose just became abstract art. as he wheezes through the blood bubbling from his nostrils, you grab a fistful of his greasy hair and introduce his forehead to the nearest car hood. DING. "and that's the dinner bell!" you announce as he slumps to the pavement. "congrats, you just failed villainy 101. solid d-minus for the effort."

another shrill scream tears through the alleyway, high-pitched and desperate enough to make you pause mid-swing. you glance over your shoulder just in time to see mark - your personal hurricane of violence - plant his boots against the pavement, grip some poor 6'2 bastard by the waistband of his jeans, and heave. the guy goes airborne with a comical yelp, flipping ass-over-teakettle before crashing windshield-first onto a parked sedan. glass explodes outward in a glittering shower, the car alarm immediately wailing like a wounded animal.

"ohoho," you purr, letting your (new) bloodstained bat rest against your shoulder as you backpedal toward the nearest brick wall. you prop yourself against it, crossing your ankles with deliberate casualness as you watch mark work. the way his muscles flex under that skintight suit should be illegal. the way his mohawk bobs with each brutal movement? downright obscene.

mark doesn't even pause for breath before stomping toward the next threat, those unfairly thick thighs straining against his suit with each step - god, the way that fabric clings to him should be classified as a war crime. his fingers curl around a dented street sign, biceps flexing obscenely as he wrenches it free from the concrete with a screech of protesting metal. when he swings, it's with the practiced ease of a major league slugger, his whole body twisting in a way that makes his ass look absolutely sinful in that skin-tight suit - and then the aluminum connects with some mobster's jaw in a spray of saliva and enamel, three pearly whites skittering across the asphalt like tiny dice.

you swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. it's ridiculous how good he looks like this - all coiled violence and barely-contained power, his mohawk sticking up in every direction like he just rolled out of bed (your bed, preferably). the way his shoulders bunch under the fabric when he lifts the sign again, the way his thighs flex as he plants his feet - christ, you could write poetry about those thighs.

but then something tightens in your chest, sharp and sudden, stealing the breath from your lungs. you turn to glare at no one in particular, pointing an accusing finger. "woah woah woah, hey! don't you dare. i know what you're going to write in the next paragraph and i swear to god-"

because one day - soon - you won't be here to see this. won't be here to watch the way the streetlights catch the sweat on mark's neck, or the way his nose scrunches up when he's trying not to laugh at your shitty jokes. one day, you'll just be... gone. and mark will keep fighting, keep living, with some other poor bastard at his side who isn't you.

the thought hits you like a punch to the gut. fuck...

(you hope, when it happens, it's quick. you hope it's saving his stupid, reckless life. you hope he misses you, just a little.)

"homerun!" you crow as you look back at mark, pushing off the wall to deliver slow, sarcastic applause, trying to erase your negative thoughts. no need for allat when you're still alive and breathing, right? one of your gloves comes away sticky with someone else's blood. "ten outta ten for form, but i'm deducting points for lack of showmanship. where's the flair, grayson?"

"shut up," mark growls through gritted teeth, but the way his lips twitch betrays him. he chucks the ruined sign aside like trash before lunging for his next victim - some meathead who clearly skipped neck day. mark's fingers close around the guy's throat, lifting him clean off his feet until their faces are level. the thug's sneakers scrabble against empty air, his face blooming an impressive shade of eggplant as mark just... watches. his head tilts slightly, eyes dark with something between scientific curiosity and outright glee. it's the same look kids get when they poke dead things with sticks.

you whistle low through your teeth, nudging an unconscious goon with your toe. "y'know most heroes don't commit felonies on the daily. pretty sure throttling dudes counts as excessive force."

"we're not most heroes," mark snarls, finally dropping the gasping thug in a heap. he wipes his palms on his thighs, leaving smears of red across the blue fabric. "and i literally saw what you did to those guys back there," he jerks his chin toward the alley mouth where four bodies lay in increasingly creative positions, "so don't even start, hypocrite."

your grin stretches wide enough to hurt. he's got you there. while mark was playing fast and loose with the geneva suggestions, you'd been busy turning a switchblade into a modern art installation in someone's shoulder socket.

"touche, mohawk," you concede, flipping your bat in a lazy arc. "but in my defense?" the aluminum cracks against the skull of some sneaky bastard trying to flank mark. the guy folds like a lawn chair. "my felonies have panache."

mark's answering laugh is all teeth and no remorse. the sirens wailing in the distance mean it's time to bounce, but neither of you move just yet. not when there's still blood in the air and that electric hum of violence buzzing under your skin.

(and if your eyes linger on the way mark's chest heaves, on the wild light in his eyes - well. that's between you and the audience. you can't judge him, can you? perverts.)

luckily for the two of you, the universe apparently decided this shit-show wasn't over yet, with one final act left. with a running start, you plant one boot against the side of a overflowing dumpster and push off, tucking into a neat flip that would make any olympic gymnast weep with envy. you land in a crouch behind two meatheads who clearly skipped villain orientation day - their matching "we do crime" energy is almost cute in its patheticness.

the first guy telegraphs his punch like he's sending smoke signals. you catch his fist mid-swing, twisting his wrist in one fluid motion until the bone gives with an audible snap. his scream is high enough to shatter glass. "dude," you sigh, shaking your head as he crumples to his knees, "you gotta warm up first. this is just sad. i'm embarrassed for you."

his buddy takes this moment to make a terrible life choice, fumbling a glock from his waistband. the barrel wavers wildly as he tries to aim.

you blink. "oh, rude."

the gunshot cracks through the alley, but you're already moving - twisting sideways just enough that the bullet parts your hair like a fucked-up comb. before the echo even fades, your knife is airborne, burying itself to the hilt in the guy's shoulder with a meaty thunk. his shriek is music to your ears as the gun clatters to the pavement. you saunter over, planting a boot on his chest for leverage as you yank your blade free. "thanks for the target practice," you muse, wiping the blood on his shirt before he passes out. "tell your friends."

meanwhile, mark has apparently decided physics are optional. you turn just in time to see him grab some poor bastard by the belt and collar, muscles straining under his suit as he heaves - the guy goes sailing through the air like a ragdoll, crashing through a fruit stand in an explosion of splintered wood and flying oranges. before the first body even stops rolling, mark's already pivoted to grab another thug, launching him ass-first into a trash can with enough force to dent the metal. the clang echoes down the alley like a demented church bell.

"having fun?" you call, spinning your pistol around your finger before slotting a fresh magazine home with practiced ease. the click of it seating is downright pornographic.

"shut up," mark pants for the umpteenth time, but there's no heat behind it - just that breathless, unhinged laughter that makes your stomach do funny things. he grabs the last guy by his collar, hauling him up until they're nose-to-nose. for a heartbeat, they just stare at each other - then mark slams their foreheads together with a crunch that would make a butcher wince. the guy's nose practically explodes in a crimson spray, his eyes rolling back as he collapses in a boneless heap.

suddenly, it's quiet.

the aftermath looks like a tornado hit a butcher shop - bodies strewn about like broken dolls, glass glittering amidst pools of darkening blood, the distant wail of sirens growing steadily closer. mark's chest heaves with each breath, his knuckles split and dripping onto the pavement. his mohawk's gone full hedgehog mode, sticking up in every direction, and there's a smear of someone else's blood across his cheekbone that you have the sudden, overwhelming urge to lick off. weird. last you checked, you were a picky eater.

when he turns to look at you, his eyes are alive - pupils blown wide with adrenaline, that manic grin still tugging at his lips. it's terrifying. it's beautiful. it's so mark that your chest aches with it. so mark that you can literally feel the blood in your veins start to make its way down.

"so," you say, holstering your gun with a flourish, "same time tomorrow?"

mark scoffs, rolling his shoulders as he turns to leave. but he doesn't check if you're following - doesn't need to.

(you always do.)

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

"i feel like i'm going crazy. like my brain's been stuffed with cotton and set on fire at the same time." you stare at the water-stained ceiling talking to no one in particular, fingers digging into your pillow hard enough to tear seams. the eyebags under your eyes have gotten so dark they look like bruises (at least now you and mark match, his from violence, yours from... whatever this is). your hair's a disheveled mess, strands sticking to your forehead after days of bedrotting and only wearing t-shirts and sweatpants. you need to do your laundry soon, you were about to run out of t-shirts and sweatpants from your closet. you can feel death crouched at the foot of your bed like a stray cat waiting to be let in. "i'm literally about to die and what do i do? play fucking martyr instead of just... just..." your voice cracks as you press the heels of your hands against your burning eyes.

this was supposed to be some noble gesture - giving mark a trial run at life without you. you'd dove into the plan half-delirious, imagining how he'd come pounding on your door by sundown, all wild-eyed and vibrating with barely-contained panic. he'd drag you out of bed by your ankle, that adorable angry crease between his brows as he yelled about how you can't just disappear for hours, how he'd torn the city apart looking for you, how maybe - just maybe - he'd been a little more brutal than usual with the criminals today because what if something had happened to you and -

except that's not what happened.

three days. seventy-two hours of radio silence. the notifications on your phone have tapered off to nothing. you keep checking it like a pathetic loser, thumb smearing fingerprints across the cracked screen as you scroll through increasingly distant messages:

sidehoe #1 🐈💨 2:43 AM

we both know you don't got other sidehoes, so why is there a number next to my nickname??

manwhore <3

why would i tell you who the others are? you'd just kill them anyway, so i gotta keep the huzz safe, you feel me?

and don't worry, marky, you'll always be number 1 in my heart <33

sidehoe #1 🐈💨 7:58 AM

oh shut up

8:02 AM

okay when i said shut up, i didn't mean literally

8:15 AM

you alive?

9:29 AM

you haven't watched the tiktoks i sent yet watch them or you're going to get it tonight

9:31 AM

when i said you're going to get it tonight i meant i'm going to grab you by the throat and glue your phone screen to your eyes or sexual intercourse don't even make fun of me for calling it that whichever one gets you to answer my fucking messages

8:16 PM

whatever

"it's like..." you rasp to the empty room, throat raw from disuse. "like when you stop texting your boyfriend first to see how long it takes him to notice you're gone. except you're the idiot who breaks after five minutes because the silence makes your chest hurt, while he's just... fine." you let your phone clatter to the floor, screen-up so you can watch it stay dark. "fuck. that doesn't even make sense. i fucking hate myself."

outside your window, the city keeps turning. somewhere out there, mark's probably elbow-deep in someone's ribcage, not even realizing there's a you-shaped hole in the world. the thought makes you laugh - a wet, broken sound that turns into a sob halfway through. you roll over and bury your face in the pillow that stopped smelling like him days ago.

(you always knew you'd die for him. you just never thought you'd have to watch him stop needing you first.)

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

that suffocating dread finally lifts one night - not because it's gone, but because you've grown too tired to carry it anymore. it had clung to your ribs like tar for days, weighing down every breath no matter how many shitty jokes you cracked or how many bad decisions you made. hiding in your room didn't help either, the walls pressing closer each day like they knew what was coming. part of you wondered if the danger was you all along, if you'd somehow become the villain in this story. but no - you know how this ends. you've always known. you'll die saving that reckless, mohawked idiot who still doesn't realize you're in love with him.

after your first proper shower in days (the water scalding your skin pink), you crack open another soda and watch the bubbles fizz against the can's rim. the carbonation burns your throat as you gulp it down, the sugar rush doing nothing to steady your hands as you strap on your gear. your suit smells like old blood and gunpowder when you shrug it on, the familiar weight of weapons settling against your thighs as you step out into the night.

you take your usual patrol route - yours and mark's route, the one where he always complains about stopping for hot dogs but eats three anyway. every shadow makes your pulse jump, half-hoping you won't see him, half-terrified this might be your last chance if you do. the city stretches below you, all glittering lights and oblivious crowds. it looks peaceful from up here. you almost feel peaceful after finally accepting that you only have a few pages left before your book ends. (liar.)

"but of course," you murmur to no one in particular, gloved fingers tightening around the rooftop's edge, "you've got different plans for me, right?" the wind doesn't answer. then -

a rush of air colder than the night itself. the scent of leather and that cheap citrus body wash mark refuses to stop using.

"where the fuck have you been?" his voice loud like a gunshot, raw with something between rage and devastation. you don't turn. can't. the city lights blur beneath you as you focus on keeping your breathing even. "i said," mark snarls, closer now, "where the fuck have you been, you stupid son of a bitch-"

"you've been doing fine without me." your mask hits the concrete with a dull thud when you pull it off. the smile you force feels like a death rattle. "see? proof you won't completely lose it when something does happen to me-"

"will you fucking quit that?" mark's boots scuff against concrete as he storms forward. when you finally turn, his face is a mess of anger and fear, eyes glassy under the moonlight. "you always - fuck - you always talk like you've got one foot in the grave. why do you keep talking like that? are you- " his breath hitches, hands flexing at his sides like he wants to shake you or hold you or both, "are you planning on killing yourself?"

the laugh that tears from your throat sounds alien even to you. "what? no, i'm not-"

"stop lying!" mark's shout echoes off the rooftops, his composure shattering as tears finally spill over. your chest caves in at the sight - mark never cries, not even when he's bleeding out in some alleyway. his hands find yours with desperate urgency, calloused fingers trembling as they squeeze yours hard enough to bruise. "just... stop. if you're hurting, tell me. am i - " his voice breaks, "am i really not someone you can trust with this?"

he drags your joined hands up, pressing your knuckles to his forehead like a prayer. his breath brushes your wrists as he leans into the contact, hot against your skin. when he speaks again, it's so quiet the wind almost steals it: "i might be a disaster, but i fucking care. so please... let me in."

the dam breaks.

"i'm sorry," the words spill out in a broken whisper, saltwater dripping off your chin as tears carve hot paths down your wind-chapped cheeks. "god, mark, i'm so fucking sorry."

your hands slip from his trembling grip, moving on instinct as you drag him into the tightest embrace your battered body can manage. one hand finds its way between his shoulder blades, fingers spreading wide over the familiar topography of his suit's fabric as you rub slow, grounding circles into the knotted muscles beneath. the other settles at the dip of his waist, thumb tracing absentminded patterns against the curve of his hip through the thin material - that same spot you've secretly ached to touch for years, now warm and solid under your palm.

his breathing hitches when you pull him closer, his forehead coming to rest heavily against your shoulder as his hands fist in the back of your jacket like you might vanish if he lets go. (and he's almost right.) the scent of his shampoo mixes with gunpowder and copper as you tuck your face into the mess of his mohawk, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear when you murmur another apology into the space between you.

but it wasn't enough to just whisper apologies into his skin, not when you still hadn't told him the crushing truth - that soon you'd be nothing more than another ghost haunting his memories.

his breath is warm against your neck as you hold him, his heartbeat thundering against your chest in a rhythm you've memorized through countless battles. you let your fingers card through the short hairs at the nape of his neck, smiling faintly when he shivers at the touch. "hey audience," you murmur silently against mark's shoulder, your voice barely a thought, "funny how i can take a bullet without flinching, but can't say three stupid little words to the guy who actually gives a shit if i live or die, huh?"

mark shifts in your arms, his calloused palm sliding up to cradle the back of your head like you're something precious. the moonlight paints silver and blue along the curve of his cheekbone when he tilts his face up, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your throat tight. you press your forehead to his instead, breathing him in - the citrus of his shampoo, the iron tang of blood from split knuckles, the unmistakable scent that's just mark. your thumb traces the arch of his cheekbone, wiping away tear tracks you pretend not to notice.

(you don't say i love you. but when his lips brush yours in something too soft to be a kiss and too tender to be an accident, you think maybe he knows anyway.)

OH MY GOD 4.5k WORDS??? THIS MIGHT BE THE LONGEST ONE-SHOT I'VE EVER WRITTEN, and honestly... i think i might have cooked with this one-

#lazy-ahh #invincible #invincible variant #mark grayson #mohawk invincible #mohawk mark grayson #male reader #x male reader #invincible x male reader #invincible variant x male reader #mohawk invincible x male reader #mohawk mark grayson x male reader #4th wall breaking reader trope is currently my favourite #MM anon i love you man #I NEED THAT INVINCIDIH-#are you sure?

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harkness-pet · 8 days ago

Text

chaos makes the muse - pt. 1

Pairing: Agatha x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, powerbottom!agatha, sub!reader, manipulation, praise kink, toxic relationship

Plot: you are a literature major at university, you write poems and your muse is your slightly unhinged mean roommate Agatha. you fall… in love and into a toxic relationship.

Author’s note: reader and agatha both have issues. and i have a weakness for mean agatha, ok, so take from it what you will.

also, title is a quote by Atticus so credit to him.

MEN AND MINORS DNI!

Agatha has been your roommate for a few weeks now. You first saw her when you moved in, she was sprawled across the window seat in your shared dorm room, cigarette between two fingers, her boots still muddy.

Agatha Harkness, her blue eyes, darker smudges beneath them, and a smile that makes your toes curl.

She is a history major, but she doesn’t study much. Instead, she reads banned biographies, keeps stacks of yellowed newspapers under her bed, and has an entire wall dedicated to postcards from war zones. When you asked about them once, she said: “There is just something so beautiful about letters people write before their whole world collapses.”

That is Agatha. Mysterious. Cruel. Distant. And you want her like a fool.

You started writing poems about her in the third week. Just scraps in your notebook, hidden beneath annotations for Virginia Woolf. Lines about the way her lips curl when she smirks. The blue of her veins under translucent wrists. The sound she makes when she yawns.

Your mouth, a gun disguised as grace I’d step into the trigger gladly.

You don’t know she’s found them, not at first. She’s never said anything. But things have changed.

One evening she hands you a crumpled ball of her laundry and says, “You’re good at folding. And I’ve seen how you stare at my shirts.” She winks. You laugh, awkward and half-mortified because you have never once looked at her shirts because of wrinkles. But you do it.

After that, it keeps growing. Small things at first. Her essays. Her bed. Her coffee, black with a sugar cube. She’s started calling you "darling" in a tone soaked in irony, but every time she brushes past you and lets her fingers graze yours and says it, you feel something tighten in your chest.

You tell yourself it is affection. Love, maybe. Literature has taught you to see signs where there are none.

But Agatha knows exactly what she is doing.

She’d leave notes on your pillow.

“The way you made my bed? Almost erotic. Almost.”

Or she'd whisper praise in the middle of the night when you pretend to be asleep, but she knows you’re not: “You’d ruin yourself for me, wouldn’t you?”

You would. You are.

~~~ You skip your lectures to help with her presentations and homework and essays. And sometimes she gives you things. A kiss on the temple. A cigarette she’s already taken a drag from. Once, her ring, slipped onto your finger with the words: “A possession for my possession.”

You’ve stopped writing poetry for class. You’ve only written about her.

The intimacy becomes poisoned. Sweet and sickly. One night, you find her asleep in your bed, arms wrapped around your pillow. You don’t wake her. You stay on the floor and cry softly, unsure if you are lucky or pathetic.

She starts calling you “poet.”

When you ask her if she’s ever read your work, she shrugs and says: “You make me sound like God. I like that.”

You know then.

She’s read everything.

She knows everything.

But she never gives you what you want. Not really. Just enough to keep you hungry.

One day, you snap. You tell her she is cruel.

She looks at you, eyes soft for once, like maybe she’s going to drop the act.

Instead, she smiles and says, “And yet, you’re still writing poems, aren’t you?”

You are.

~~~

One evening, you come back from a late lecture to find Agatha sitting at your desk, legs crossed, one hand holding a book of your poetry like it is a joke, the other painting her lips red.

Your lipstick.

She doesn’t look up. “You write about my mouth so much, I thought I’d make it worth it.”

You stand frozen, watching her lean in toward the mirror, her movements slow, deliberate. The red bleeds over the edges of her lips slightly. She doesn’t fix it. She looks at you through the mirror instead.

“What would you do,” she murmurs, “if I told you to kiss it off?”

You can’t answer. You can’t breathe.

She gets up and passes you, the scent of her skin brushing over you.

“Your turn to do the dishes, darling.”

You do them. Your hands shake the whole time.

~~~

She wears it without warning. A black dress that clings to her ribs like she is starved and wants everyone to know it. Low back. Slit up the thigh. No bra.

“Where are you going?” you ask, heart clawing up your throat.

“Nowhere. Just wanted to see if you’d beg me to stay.”

She leans against your bedpost, arms crossed, watching you try not to stare. Your hands tremble against the pages of Plath.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

“Then write about it.”

That night, you leave a poem on her pillow.

Then it changes again. The way you work, or maybe it has always supposed to evolved into this.

~~~ You are both drunk on cheap vodka, celebrating midterms that you both miraculously passed. Miraculously being a key word since she didn’t study and your mind hasn’t held space for anything other than Agatha for months.

She is lying on her bed, one leg dangling, eyes hazy.

“Come here.”

Her voice is thick and low. Not soft. Commanding.

You crawl onto her bed. She doesn’t move, but her fingers reach up and slide into your hair like she is testing how tightly you’d let her grip.

“Why do you let me do this to you?” she whispers.

“Because I love you,” you say without hesitation because you do. You desperately do.

Her laughter is soft and kind of cruel. She pulls you down by the neck until your faces are inches apart.

“No, you don’t. You love the idea of drowning.”

And then she kisses you.

Not a sweet kiss. Not tender. It is teeth and tongue and the thrill of being devoured. You clung to her shirt like it is the only thing keeping you from floating away.

When she pulls back, her lips are swollen, her lipstick smudged across both your mouths.

“Now cook some dinner for us,” she says.

You do it with shaking hands and her fingers playing with your hair while she stands behind you at the small kitchen counter.

~~~

One night you come home really late. You stayed out with a friend trying to prove yourself that you can exist without her. That you can breathe without waiting for her attention.

She is waiting for you.

Lights off. Room lit only by the glow of a cigarette. She sits in your chair, arms crossed, one leg bouncing.

“Who was he?”

“He was no one,” you say, immediately.

“He touched your wrist.”

“You’re not my—”

She is in front of you before you can finish, grabbing your chin, hard. Her nails bite into your skin.

“Don’t ever let anyone touch what belongs to me.”

Your breath catches. Her eyes are wild, dark, almost glassy. There is a moment when you think she might slap you.

Instead, she kisses you again. Harder. Rougher.

And that night she doesn’t leave you hoping for more, she slowly drags you into her bed, tears at your clothing until you’re bare in front of her, inspects your whole body with her hands, with her mouth, and finally, makes you fully hers.

Later, you are tangled in the sheets, breaths heavy, the air thick with cigarette smoke and sex and sweat. You can feel her shivering underneath you, not from cold, but from the aftermath of your touch. This realisation makes you write ten more poems in your mind.

Her fingers curl in your hair like she is trying to control it, trying to control you. But there is something different in her eyes tonight and for the first time you wonder if she’s as dependent on you as you are on her.

“Touch me,” she whispers, voice sharp, raw.

You don’t ask for further clarification. You don’t need to. You begin to learn every angle of her body, the way she responds to certain touches, to certain words.

You trail your fingertips down her neck, over the curve of her collarbone. Agatha’s skin is so pale, so perfect in its stillness, and it feels like something sacred to trace the lines of her body with your hands. Her breath catches every time you touch her.

“What do you love about this?” she asks suddenly, her voice almost a command.

You pause, looking down at her, not sure if you should answer. But you see the flicker of something in her eyes, a plea disguised as arrogance.

“Tell me.”

So you do.

“I love the curve of your neck. The way it trembles when I touch it.”

Her lips part, a barely audible sigh slipping from them.

“Good pet,” she murmurs.

You continue, your fingertips tracing lower, the heat of her skin making you dizzy with want.

“I love the way your shoulders move when you’re restless, like you want to hide, but still want to be seen.” You kiss her shoulder.

She shifts beneath you. “What else?” It doesn’t sound like a command anymore, it sounds like she’s begging.

You let your hand slide further down, over the swell of her breast. You can feel her heartbeat quickening beneath your touch.

“I love your breasts,” you whisper. “The way your skin feels soft, but your nipples get hard just from a single brush of my fingertips.”

She moans softly, her breath hitching as your fingers graze over her nipple. You softly pinch it and then roll your palm over it to soothe it.

You move lower, savoring the intimacy, the heat between you.

“I love your waist,” you murmur. “It’s small, but sensual at the same time.”

Agatha’s fingers tighten in your hair again, pulling you closer.

“You make me crazy,” she says in a voice so low you can’t even be sure she says it. But the way she closes her eyes when you kiss her stomach and bite at her hips confirms your hearing is correct.

You let your hands continue their exploration, slowly moving to her completely soaked center.

“What do you love about this part?” she asks and actually whimpers when you softly blow on her exposed folds.

“I love how you completely control me,” you say and push your fingers inside, your mouth on her, sucking, licking, grazing your teeth against her.

Her chest rises and falls faster now, and she looks at your with eyes so wild that you might come from the look alone. But you focus on her and as she comes into your mouth, you’re sure you’re in heaven.

~~~

She has stopped asking you to do things. You just do them.

Her coffee waits on the windowsill every morning, her laundry is folded, her lipstick in the right drawer, her essays typed. You know her references, her handwriting, the way she likes her arguments structured.

Sometimes she praises you. Just enough.

“You’re a good girl,” she whispers into your ear while you’re sitting at her desk, slouched over a paper she needs you to write.

“So smart, it’s tragic you’re mine,” she growls between your thighs when she makes you recite a poem you’ve written about her while she fucks you.

Each compliment is a hook and you cling to them. Replay them. Need them like a fix.

And she knows.

One night she turns to you in bed, traces a line down your rib with her fingernail and says: “Tell me what I am to you.”

“Everything.”

“No. Try again. Use your words, little poet.”

You swallow.

“You’re a religion.”

She smiles, pleased.

“Then pray.”

#agatha harkness smut #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you

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carnationworld-writings · 8 months ago

Text

The Man He Didn’t Have to Be (Tim Bradford x fem!reader)

To read my other works, check my MASTERLIST !

Paring: Tim Bradford x reader

Universe: The Rookie

Word Count: 3857

Requested: No

Warnings: pregnancy, divorce, ex-husband who is a piece of s*it, mention of childbirth

If I forgot about anything feel free to write to me. Your well-being is a top priority to me.

Summary: When her world crumbles, Tim is there to step up.

Author’s note:

Surprise! I am alive! I know it's not what you wanted but, I started watching "The Rookie" and fell in love with Tim! So I needed to write something about him. I also may have a baby fever (again...) So this fic happened. Enjoy!

Thank you for taking the time to read my work! I would greatly appreciate any feedback you may have as it motivates me to continue improving. Please don't hesitate to share your thoughts!

And please forgive any grammar or spelling errors, as English is not my first language.

Klaudia 💜

Every time she thought her life couldn’t get worse, something new seemed to be waiting for her. First, her husband announced he was leaving, telling her he’d found a woman he loved in a way he had never loved her. She tried to fight for their marriage and convince him to change his mind, but nothing worked. With a broken heart, she finally decided to let him go. Even though her heart shattered into a thousand pieces, she signed the divorce papers. She attempted to rebuild her life—she found a small apartment, focused on her work, and tried not to sink into depression during the long, lonely hours. Thankfully, she wasn’t entirely alone. Tim Bradford, her best friend for years, had always been by her side, even in the middle of the night when she couldn’t stop crying or obsessing over what had gone wrong in her relationship. He was her rock, her greatest support.

Just when she thought her life was starting to settle down, she began feeling unwell. At first, she attributed it to stress, but eventually, she connected the dots and took a pregnancy test, which came back positive. She knew her ex-husband deserved to know the truth, even if he hadn’t been entirely honest with her. So, she texted him and asked to meet. What followed, however, was nothing short of her worst nightmare.

When they met at the café, she felt as if time had slowed down. He sat across from her, completely indifferent, as if everything that had happened between them was a closed chapter. He looked at her with a cold gaze, waiting for her to speak. She struggled to gather the strength to say the words that had been swirling in her head for days.

“I’m pregnant,” she finally said, looking straight at him, searching for any reaction. His face remained expressionless. For a moment, she thought maybe he hadn’t heard her. But after a second, his lips tightened, and his eyes showed a flicker of displeasure.

“The relationship between us was over long before I found someone else. This changes nothing,” he said coldly. Those words cut her like a knife.

“I’m not telling you to come back to me… It’s your child and deserves to have a father… ” she tried to insist, though her voice trembled.

“That’s your problem. You’ll have to deal with it,” he replied emotionlessly, standing up from the table as if the meeting had been nothing more than an irritating interruption in his perfectly arranged new life.

When he left, she felt as if the world was collapsing around her. Tears welled up in her eyes, but this time, she wasn’t going to cry. Instead, she pulled out her phone and called Tim. As soon as he heard her voice, he knew something was wrong.

“Where are you?” he asked, no questions needed. “I’m on my way.”

It wasn’t even fifteen minutes before Tim was by her side, his eyes filled with concern. Without a word, he pulled her close, letting her lean on him as she fought back the tears. In his presence, she felt the tension in her body begin to ease.

“Tim… There’s something you should know. I…” She took a shaky breath. She felt his hold tighten around her. He rested his cheek against her head, softly rubbing her back with his hand.

“Whatever it is, we’ll handle it together. Like we always do,” he said calmly, trying to give her as much comfort as possible.

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered, feeling a lump in her throat. “And it’s his. But he said it’s only my problem. He doesn’t want anything to do with this baby…” For a moment, his face showed surprise, as if he was trying to process what he had just heard. He didn’t say anything at first, pulling back slightly to look at her, and she wasn’t sure how he would react. She feared that silence, that hesitation.

“Okay,” he finally said, slowly. Tim pressed his lips together, clearly upset, though he tried to stay calm. “He’s a jerk. But you won’t go through this alone. You’ll never be alone—I won’t let that happen.”

True to his word, Tim never let her feel alone. From the moment he learned about her pregnancy, he stepped naturally into a role that felt both essential and reassuring. He took over her usual shopping, refusing to let her carry a single bag, insisting it was the least he could do. Each morning, he arrived at her door with fresh breakfast, right after his run with Kojo, the loyal dog who seemed to sense the changes happening in their lives.

Even during his shifts, Tim made it a point to check-in. He texted her regularly, asking how she felt, and called just to hear her voice, attuned to any subtle shifts in her mood. But his favourite part of the day was always the evenings when he would come to her home. Most nights, she greeted him with a smile, though the fatigue etched on her face often told a different story. Each time, he pulled her into a warm embrace, holding her like a protective blanket. Some nights she hugged him back just as tightly; other times, she simply leaned into him, letting him hold her. On those nights, he sent her to the couch, where Kojo would curl up beside her, resting his head on her lap, seeking her affection.

Tim loved cooking dinner for them, always mindful of preparing meals that wouldn’t upset her stomach. He quickly learned what she could tolerate and what made her feel worse. On the rare occasions, his cooking didn’t go as planned, he would kneel beside her in the bathroom, holding her hair back and rubbing her back—his unwavering support something she had come to rely on deeply.

What he cherished most were their late-night conversations. They talked endlessly, about work, their future, and even the small details of their day. These talks deepened their bond with each passing evening.

But tonight felt different. From the moment he arrived, he noticed the exhaustion in her eyes, the way her thoughts seemed miles away. Sensing the shift, he suggested watching a movie they’d been meaning to catch up on. She quietly agreed, thankful for the distraction, and didn’t protest when he pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her.

As they settled in, her hand absentmindedly rested on her stomach, where a small bump had just begun to show. Though she tried not to dwell on it, her mind wandered back to something a colleague had said earlier. The words echoed painfully in her thoughts—that it was her fault her husband had left, and that Tim was only with her out of pity. The sting of those words hung heavy on her heart. Tim had always been her rock, but now, more than ever, she felt guilty leaning on him. This wasn’t his burden to carry; she had to find her strength in the chaos.

“Tim,” she began softly, breaking the silence. “I feel like I’ve dragged you into something you didn’t sign up for. This isn’t your responsibility. Me, this baby… we’re not your burden.”

Tim frowned, shaking his head firmly. “That’s not how I see it. I want to be here. I choose to be here. You’re important to me—always have been, always will be. Now that just extends to your baby too. You’re not dragging me into anything. I’m choosing this.”

She blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. The certainty in his voice made her heart ache in the best possible way. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to go through this alone. Yet doubt still lingered on the edges of her mind.

“Are you sure?” she whispered, her hands trembling slightly. “This is going to change everything.”

“I’m sure,” he replied without hesitation. Gently, he placed his hand over hers, almost covering her small bump. “We’re in this together. All three of us.” They both chuckled softly as Kojo, lying contentedly by her feet, gave a small bark. “Alright, four of us,” Tim added with a grin.

She nodded slowly and leaned back against his side. No matter what uncertainties lay ahead, Tim brought peace and safety into her life. As she felt him press a soft kiss on the top of her head, she knew that he was in this 100 percent. With him by her side, she felt ready to face every step of the journey ahead.

As the movie played in the background, a warm sense of comfort washed over her. Despite the unknowns of the future, she had her best friend, someone who believed in both her and the life they were building together. And together, they could face whatever came next.

The quiet hum of the ultrasound machine filled the small room, the rhythmic beeps syncing with her heartbeat. The sound, once foreign and unnerving, had become strangely comforting, marking each milestone of a journey she’d never thought possible. Lying back, her hand rested gently on her growing belly, feeling the warmth of the life moving inside her—a sensation that was as awe-inspiring as it was surreal. The nurse moved the cold, gel-covered probe across her skin, and though a shiver ran up her spine, she barely registered it. Her eyes were locked on the screen, waiting for the familiar grainy image of her baby to appear.

And then it did—a blur at first, slowly sharpening into the unmistakable shape of tiny hands and feet, twisting and turning as if to greet them. A soft gasp escaped her lips. No matter how many times she witnessed this, it always left her breathless.

Tim sat beside her, his eyes fixed on the monitor, a quiet smile playing on his lips. His face, usually so composed, softened with awe. He had always been good at hiding his emotions, but moments like these stripped away his calm facade. Without thinking, his hand found hers, their fingers entwining in a silent exchange of support. He gave her a gentle squeeze, then leaned in and pressed a light kiss on the top of her hand. It was a gesture so natural, so full of unspoken affection, that it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

"Everything looks perfect," the nurse said, her tone upbeat as she wiped the gel from her belly. "Baby’s healthy and growing right on track."

She nodded, a wave of relief washing over her. The tight knot of anxiety that had taken up residence in her chest loosened—if only a little. Each passing month had brought new fears and uncertainties, but slowly, those feelings were giving way to cautious hope. It had taken longer than she expected to feel this way, but now, she could finally begin to see herself as a mother. And in every vision of that future, Tim was always there, steady and unwavering, just as he had been from the beginning.

After the appointment, Tim stood and offered her his hand, helping her off the exam table with the ease of someone who had been there through every step. His presence had become her constant, a source of comfort she hadn’t known she would need but now couldn’t imagine living without. Over the months, he had kept every promise, never wavering, never complaining—always there, even when she didn’t know how to ask for help.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as they stepped outside the clinic, the crisp air hitting their faces. His hand hovered near her arm, close but not quite touching—a subtle, protective gesture, ready to catch her if she stumbled.

“I’m good,” she said, a small smile pulling at her lips. “Better than I’ve felt in a long time.”

He nodded, clearly pleased, though his eyes still scanned hers, searching for any sign of discomfort or worry. “You’re handling this like a champ,” he said softly.

She let out a light laugh. “I don’t always feel like it, but I’m trying.”

As they walked to his car, their footsteps fell into an easy rhythm, the silence between them comfortable and familiar. When they reached the car, Tim opened the passenger door for her, but before getting in, she paused, turning to face him, her expression suddenly serious.

“Tim,” she began, her voice quiet but steady, “you’ve been amazing. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. I mean it. You’ve taken care of us—even though you didn’t have to.”

He looked at her, his warm, reassuring smile never faltering. “You don’t need to thank me,” he replied softly. “I’m just glad I can be here.”

But she saw something flicker in his eyes—something deeper, something he wasn’t saying. Tim was always so careful, so controlled with his emotions, but she had known him long enough to recognize when he was holding something back. Yet she didn’t press him. Not now.

As they drove back to her apartment, the conversation shifted to lighter topics—baby names they hadn’t yet decided on, the nursery they were slowly piecing together, and the never-ending stream of baby books filling her apartment. They laughed about the absurd number of gadgets people swore they "needed" for a newborn, trading jokes about the most ridiculous ones.

Yet beneath their playful banter, there was a tension neither acknowledged, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air. Tim had always kept his distance emotionally, respectful of her space, never pushing her for more than she was ready to give. He had made it clear from the start that he was there to support her, no matter what, and he had lived up to that promise in every way. But that didn’t stop his heart from racing when she smiled, or the way his pulse quickened when their hands brushed accidentally.

He had loved her for years—long before she had married before everything had fallen apart with her ex-husband. Tim had watched her fall for someone else, had been there when her heart broke, and now, here he was, still by her side. Taking care of her, taking care of the baby that wasn’t his.

He never said anything. He couldn’t. His feelings had to wait. Right now, all that mattered was her and the baby. His love, his desires—they would come later. For now, being there was enough. It had to be.

As the weeks passed, their lives settled into a comforting rhythm, though they didn’t notice the subtle shift that began to happen between them. Unspoken feelings hovered just beneath the surface, and they found themselves growing closer, more open with one another. Friends started to notice too. They exchanged knowing smiles as Tim’s touch lingered a little longer on her arm or back.

Angela Lopez had rolled her eyes more than once when hearing endless stories about “Tim’s friend” and all the thoughtful things he did for her and the baby. Whenever she visited the station with sweet treats for everyone, Angela often caught Tim and her in quiet moments, where their connection seemed palpable. More than once, Angela noticed the way she would place his hand over her bump when the baby kicked, and how Tim responded with a smile that said more than words ever could.

The biggest change came one evening while they were assembling the crib. She sat comfortably in a rocking chair, one hand resting on her belly, the other absentmindedly petting Kojo’s head as he lay beside her. The dog had become as protective of her as Tim was, always at her side when he could be.

She watched as Tim wrestled with the instruction manual, his brow furrowed in concentration. “You’re doing it wrong,” she teased, smiling.

“I am not,” he shot back, glancing up with mock indignation. “I’ve got this.”

As he fumbled with the crib parts, she laughed—a sound that felt like a rare gift these days. For a moment, it was just like old times—before the pregnancy, before the heartbreak. Just the two of them, shared an easy, familiar joy that felt like home.

Tim looked up from the pieces scattered on the floor and froze for a second, watching her laugh. He hadn’t heard that sound in too long. It was unguarded, real. He smiled, letting himself soak in the moment.

“Well, if you’re so good at this, why don’t you help instead of just sitting there judging my work?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

She grinned. “I’m perfectly comfortable where I am, thanks. Besides, you’re doing great. It’s... entertaining.”

He chuckled and shook his head, returning to the task, muttering under his breath about her stubbornness. But secretly, he didn’t mind. Knowing she was there, watching him, laughing—it felt right. Like this was exactly where they were meant to be.

As the crib finally took shape, something between them shifted. There was an unspoken understanding in the air, something neither had fully acknowledged until now. Tim glanced at her, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other.

He reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek longer than necessary. She leaned into his touch, her breath catching in her throat.

That was all the encouragement he needed.

Without thinking, Tim leaned in and kissed her, softly at first, hesitant. But when she kissed him back, her hand slipping to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. This—this—was where they were always meant to end up.

Together.

She struggled to breathe deeply as she slowly made her way down the hospital corridor, her grip tightening around the IV stand. Another contraction surged through her, pulling a low moan from her lips. She tried to focus on the gentle support of Nyla’s hand on her arm, but the pain was too consuming—sharp and overwhelming. When it finally ebbed, she glanced over at Nyla, her eyes filled with worry.

“Have you heard from Tim?” Her voice cracked, and tears welled up as she caught Nyla’s sympathetic smile.

“I texted him, and Grey knows to pass the message along. He’s coming,” Nyla reassured her. “Tim wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

She nodded, but a flicker of doubt gnawed at her. “I hope so… I don’t know if I can do this without him.” Her words were barely more than a whisper, her emotions unravelling.

“You’re stronger than you think,” Nyla said softly, her hand squeezing in quiet encouragement. “But he’ll be here, don’t worry.”

She tried to smile, but the uncertainty lingered. Tim had been her rock for so long—how could she face this moment without him? Nyla’s presence was a comfort, but it wasn’t the same.

They continued their slow walk back to the room for another check-up. The nurse met them with a concerned expression before examining her. When she announced that she was still far from delivering, a groan of frustration escaped her. She sank onto the bed, burying her face in her hands.

“I don’t know how much more I can take,” she whispered, her voice thick with exhaustion. “I just want to hold my baby.” Nyla brushed a lock of hair from her face, her steady presence an anchor.

“Soon,” she promised gently. “Soon.”

The hours crawled by in a blur of contractions and fleeting moments of rest. She clung to Nyla’s guidance, her body trembling from fatigue until the door suddenly swung open. Her breath caught as Tim rushed inside, his face flushed with worry.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, hurrying to her side. His hand found hers instantly, and the crushing weight of fear lifted just a little.

“You’re here,” she whispered, her voice breaking with relief as fresh tears filled her eyes. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, his touch grounding her in the storm of pain and anxiety.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her forehead. His presence radiated warmth, steadying her as another contraction gripped her.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she managed between ragged breaths, her emotions spiralling. “I don’t know how I’d get through this without you.”

“You would,” he said softly, squeezing her hand. “But now that I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” His gaze held hers, his thumb brushing soothing circles on her skin as another wave of pain washed over her.

They endured the hours together, Tim never leaving her side. His strength, and his quiet, unwavering support gave her the determination she needed to push through. The world blurred around them as they focused on bringing this new life into the world.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, the sharp, piercing cry of a newborn filled the room. She gasped, tears streaming down her face as the nurse placed the tiny, wriggling bundle on her chest. Her arms instinctively wrapped around the baby, and she looked up at Tim. His eyes were wide, filled with awe and tears he didn’t bother to wipe away.

She looked down at the baby, overwhelmed by the fragile, perfect little face scrunched up in protest. "Hi, sweet baby," she whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. Her fingers brushed gently over the baby’s soft cheek. "I’m your mom."

Tim stood by her side, his hand resting on her shoulder as he gazed at the baby with pure wonder. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "She’s perfect," he whispered, unable to look away.

“We did it,” she whispered, her eyes meeting his in a moment of shared joy.

Tim bent down, pressing a kiss to the baby’s head. "Welcome to the world," he murmured. "We’ve been waiting for you."

The baby’s cries softened, and the room fell into a peaceful quiet as if time had paused, leaving just the three of them cocooned in the moment. She couldn’t stop the tears—this time, they were tears of love, of pure joy. This was a happiness she had never known, a completeness she hadn’t imagined was possible.

“Do you want to hold her?” she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

Tim hesitated but then nodded, his hands gentle as the nurse helped him take the baby into his arms. He cradled the tiny bundle as though it were the most precious thing in the world, and in that moment, his love was unmistakable.

"Hi there... I’m Tim," he whispered, his voice catching in his throat. He paused, then added, “I’m not your dad, but I promise I’ll love you like one.”

Her heart swelled at his words. Reaching out, she rested her hand on his arm, gazing at the baby in his arms. “Tim... you are the father she deserves. You’ve cared for her from the start. You’ve been there every step of the way... and I love you for that.”

As the baby stirred, Tim smiled through his tears, and for the first time, she felt truly whole. This was their family—imperfect, unexpected, but overflowing with love. And as Tim bent down to kiss her lips, sealing the moment, she knew that they had found their way home.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford #tim bradford x you #tim bradford the rookie #the rookie #tim bradford fic #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford fanfiction #tim bradford fanfic #angela lopez #nyla harper #tw: pregnancy #tw: divorce #tw: childbirth

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rosenclaws · 24 days ago

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Worth it (Soulmate AU) || Logan x Reader

summary: In this world soulmates can take the pain away from their partner. It's a true act of love, of sacrifice. You've found your soulmate but he doesn't know. Until one night he comes back with life threatning injuries.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending, blood/injuries.

wc: 2.7k

a/n: Fucked around and wrote a 2.7k fic in 2 hours. I had this idea and I wrote it idk how man but I wanted angst. This is also some old man logan love. I rarely write for him so I thought he needed some more fics from me tee hee.

The world was funny sometimes. In a universe where soulmates existed you would think things would be better, happier maybe. But it wasn't. At least not for Logan.

See in this world soulmates could take each others pain. Their love would be so strong, so powerful that even their pain would be shared. It a strange way it was romantic. To love someone so much you'd willingly take on their suffering. Taking their pain won't kill you but it gonna hurt like hell.

Logan never really cared about all that. He could heal on his own why the hell would he ever need a soulmate. Love is complicated and he's not looking for more complications in his life. His friends are dead and he's a run down limo driver slowly dying from metal poisoning. Adding love? That's just a recipe for disaster. He's reckless, he's angry, he doesn't care anymore. For all he knows his soulmate was long gone.

But soulmates can't stay apart for long. He just didn't know he had already found his.

When you met Logan you were working a dead end job at a sleezy bar. You hated it here. The pay was terrible and the patron were nothing but perverts. But it was all you could find. Then Logan walked right through that door. The night some asshole tried to stick his hand up your uniform. Logan took a claw and stabbed it right through that mans hand. He got thrown out of the bar and you had gotten fired. Logan drove you home and apologized for making a mess of your life. He didn't mean to, really he's just trying his best. He's got a kid to feed now and shit ain't easy.

Which is how your relationship was born. A live in nanny. He paid you to look after his daughter, clean, cook and honestly this was a much better job than working at a bar. He knows it's not what you want to do with your life but for now he'll do his best to help you get the money to leave this shit town one day. It was nice. Laura was sweet although a bit...feral and Logan was polite but very closed off.

You didn't realize you were soulmates until a few months into this arrangement. His back was killing him. The pain was written all over his face as he collapsed on the couch and squeezed his eyes shut. Sleep fell soon after but he never seemed to relax, like he was in a permanent state of pain. You laid a blanket over him and gently placed your hand on his arm.

Suddenly a sharp pain ripped through your back. You covered your mouth to hide the gasps of pain as you fell to the floor. Your eyes widening as you see Logan's face slowly start to relax. You take your hand off his arm and slowly try and stand up. The ache remains as you trudge your way to your bedroom. By morning it's gone. Your body was younger, able to heal pain faster than Logan can. You struggled with what to do.

Do you tell him? Would he accept you as his soulmate? Or would he cast you out? He never once talked about his soulmate and as far as you knew he didn't want one. He was fine with just Laura. Well just Laura and now you. When you walked out of your bedroom you made your decision. To stay quiet.

He was happier than normal. Even smiling with Laura at breakfast. The ache would return to his body but you were able to give him some relief. A relief he wouldn't accept if he knew it was you. You..you really cared about Logan. You were destined to love him. To care for him. So you will. Even if it's in secret.

That brings you to present day. The three of you had fallen into a nice routine. Logan would go to work, you'd take Laura to school, and then you'd do some of the more mundane things. At night before he slept you would find a way to secretly absorb some of his pain. A hand on his shoulder or his arm. He hadn't caught on luckily but it was starting to take it's toll on you. You were tired, achy. But still you kept a smile on your face. It was becoming harder to do things around the house so Logan insisted he could help. He was feeling better after all. But you still did as much as you could. Not because it felt like you had to, but because you wanted to. You loved seeing his eyes light up at the smell of a nice dinner and you loved Laura to death. This was your life and you were happy.

"How was school today?" You ask Laura as she drops her backpack off at the front door.

"It fucking sucked." She grumbles as she sits on the counter. A snack plate waiting for her as she pulls out her homework.

"Laura, we don't use that language." Dammit Logan. This was his fault.

"Why not dad uses it all the time."

"Yeah and look at him, you don't want to turn out like your old man do you?" You tease. The two of them had an odd but loving relationship and you've learned to lean into it.

"So what happened? Why did it suck?" You ask.

"We talked about soulmates. I think they're stupid." She bites into an apple slice as she talks.

"I don't need a soulmate to be happy." She says firmly.

"That's right baby you don't." You say proudly.

"Are you and dad soulmates?" She asks and it takes you off guard.

"Some jerk in my class was talking about it. Said we're weird because you guys aren't soulmates. I wanted to stab him." Her little brow furrows in anger as she stabs an apple slice with her claws. You know she really was like a mini Logan.

"But I didn't." She adds on. You sigh softly and pat her head lovingly.

"I'm proud of you honey. Soulmates are nice but we're happy as we are right? That kid doesn't know what he's talking about." The clock strikes 4 and her attention turns to the TV, already uncaring about the conversation from before.

But it does make you think. You aren't Laura's mother and you and Logan aren't together but from the outside you see how people can confuse you as a family. Logan has a natural protective instinct and on the rare occasion you three get to be together, it feels like a family.

As the sun goes down Logan still hasn't returned home. It was starting to worry you. Dinner passed and you had sent Laura to bed and Logan was still gone. You checked your phone repeatedly. Maybe he was just working late and you missed a text or he was stopping at the bar or something. Still deep in your gut you could feel something was wrong. And you were right.

It's just before midnight when Logan stumbles through the door. He's covered in blood. You jump out of your chair as he collapse onto the couch. Blood soaking the cushions as you rush to get towels and the first aid kit. Logan had shed his jacket and his shredded button up. Leaving him shirtless. He had wounds all over his torso and arms.

"Laura?" He croaks out, he doesn't want her to see him like this.

"Asleep." You assure him and he nods.

"Logan, what happened?" You ask as you press a towel to his stomach.

"Got jumped." He grits out, letting out a groan of pain.

"Bastards surrounded me." You try and wipe away the blood but it's pouring out of him. He can heal but it's not working as fast as it used to. He's losing so much blood. You can't call an ambulance, the panic setting in as you look to Logan for help.

"Logan what do I do?" You ask with tears in your eyes.

"Don't cry honey, m'fine." His eyes flutter closed and he stops responding.

Panic floods through your veins. No no no. You don't care if he'll heal eventually, what if its too late? What if this was too much. You won't let him die today. With shaky hands you place your hands on his torso. Taking steady breaths as the bleeding stops and the wounds start to close.

You let the tears fall as pain rips through your stomach. It won't kill you but it feels like it is. The cuts open on your arms but no blood. You squeeze your eyes shut as you endure as much as you can.

Logan slowly starts to come back. He's confused, disoriented. He feels fine. He shouldn't feel fine he should be in agony like he was when he passed out. Then he sees you. The tears streaming down your face. Your hands on his skin. Your skin cut open in the exact places he was stabbed.

"Get the fuck off me!" He shouts in panic.

Ripping your hands away from him. You collapse on the ground. Too weak to do anything but lay there. He kneels to the ground and grabs your face. Tapping your cheek until your eyes flutter open.

"Hurts." You whine and Logan feels his heart crack.

"I know honey, Fuck what were you thinking!" He growls. He's so damn angry, not at you but at himself.

"You...you were gonna die." You groan as you move your arm and another wave of pain washes over you.

"I was fine." Logan doesn't know what to do.

Everything is crashing down on him in this moment. You're soulmates. Fuck you are actually his soulmate and you've taken the pain that should have killed him. He's used to it by now but you, you've never felt this before and watching you cry is killing him.

He's meant to protective you, love you and care for you but here you are doing all that for him. A man who is not worthy. Logan picks you up, having to ignore your quiet whimpers of pain as he takes you to the bathroom.

"Need to take these off honey, I'm sorry but it'll help I swear." He mumbles and you nod.

The energy to reply just isn't there, but you trust him. He is your soulmate after all. He fills the bath with warm water and gently strips off your clothes. He gently places you into the water, breathing a sigh of relief when you slowly start to relax. The pain becoming an ache that settles deep into your bones. You tilt your head to the side. Seeing Logan staring at the ceiling, thinking.

"You can look you know. I don't mind." You say weakly. His eyes snap to yours and you see the anger swirling around those pretty hazel eyes.

"Have you lost your fucking mind?" He wants to shout, yell and scream how stupid that was.

How idiotic it is to take on all that for him? Him of all people. He deserve the pain he's suffered time and time again what the hell is one more day. But you. You just had to come along and steal his old broken heart. Show him kindness he hasn't experienced in years. Everything about you has taken over his fucking life and for the first time he wished things were different. That he could be the man who settles down and builds a nice quiet life. You turned him into that. You let him think for just a moment he deserved that kind of ending.

"Logan I-"

"No. Listen to me. I don't care if I am bleeding out on the side of the fucking road you don't ever do that again." It kills him to see you in pain.

He doesn't care that it won't be your demise, he only cares that you're hurt. To him, his pain becomes your pain. He's hurting you and he won't ever forgive himself for that.

"It's not worth hurting yourself. I'm not worth it." He cups your face as tears well up in your eyes again. He fears that you've taken on more of his pain but before he can pull away you grab his wrist.

"You're a fucking idiot Logan. Not worth it? You're worth it all to me. You think I like seeing you hurt? I know you're suffering. I took the ache from your body because I love you."

"You did what-" His eyes widening but you silence him before he can keep talking.

"Just shut up! I love you Logan. I know you've lived a long life and that you think you can handle it all on your own. Maybe you can. But you don't have to anymore." You stare into his sad eyes, you can tell he's fighting with himself in that head of his that never seems to rest.

"I would take your pain over and over, every day if it means you feel just a little bit of relief." You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck.

Pulling him down into a bruising kiss. Logan groans as he grips the edge of the bathtub tightly. Almost shattering it to pieces as he returns your kiss with equal fervor. His other hand dips into the water, settling on your back to push you closer to him. Your lips move messily against each other. Small whines and moans escaping as you tug on his silver hair.

When the kiss breaks your left breathless, nose bumping against this cheek as he closes his eyes. His chest heaving as he soaks in this moment.

"Please honey, don't do that again." He mumbles into your ear.

"You love me but I love you too and to see you in that much pain, it might kill me." Both of you are so fiercely protective of the other.

"Please. I can't watch you suffer because of me." He begs, his voice is so small. So broken. You press a gentle kiss to his cheek. You two might never see eye to eye on this. So hell bent on protecting each other.

"Okay, I won't. But please let me take some of it. Not all. But enough to where I don't have to watch you in agony." You plead.

Logan hesitates. A compromise is what you're offering and he doesn't want to take it. He's a damn hypocrite and he knows it because if he had to he'd take every ounce of your pain one day. He'll take his and yours and carry it on his back just to see you smile.

"Logan, please." He glances down at your arms and sees the cuts had closed. He runs his hand along your bare skin. But he sees your eyes and they're so sad.

"Okay." He whispers. He leans down and kisses you softly.

The real conversation comes tomorrow but for now you've found your peace. You've made your statement. In truth you'd do it all over again. It felt like you were being ripped apart, complete torture. But you'd take it for him. Always for him.

"How long have you known?" He asks as he traces shapes into your side.

"A month into working for you." Logan closes his eyes and sighs. He's not mad, really he isn't. He just feels like an idiot for not noticing sooner. When he started to feel better he didn't think much of it. He should have known.

"Why didn't you tell me?" "You had bigger things to worry about. Besides, Would you have let me help if you knew?"

"No." He answers and you smile, as if he had just proved your point.

"What are we going to tell Laura?" You ask, lightening the tension as Logan just chuckles.

"She'll be happy, she's been begging me to marry you for the last month." Logan smiles but his eyes are still full of worry. Of course he worries. He'll always worry.

"I love you Logan, I really do." He helps you out of the tub, uncaring if he gets wet.

"I love you too honey." He whispers as he watches you dry yourself off.

His mind might never shake the image of you on the ground in pain. The sounds you made will haunt him forever. He can hide his pain better, he can be more careful.

To protect you means to protect himself and now Logan has two reasons to come home. Perhaps the universe has forgiven his past violence and finally given him something to live for. A soulmate. A family.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett angst #old man logan

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highway-143 · 1 month ago

Text

obsession- nishimura riki

genre: fluff, suggestive, maybe angst (?), university au, s2f2e2l (idk man) answer to this ask

pairing: soccer player!riki x fem!reader

taglist: @urlocalmultigroupfan @minkilicious @vrusha01 @shyoko @planetmarlowe (open taglist)

word count: 4.5k

now playing: mastermind- taylor swift

a.n- ty anonie ehehe ilysm ur so sweet

tw: fluffy fluff, shirtless riki (HAHAHA) profanity, a lil kissing but idk

(mostly proofread)

all scenarios are fake and are not meant to harm any idol in the story

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

you liked riki.

that was an understatement, actually.

you had the biggest crush on him it was possible to have.

and he was completely oblivious. or at least you thought he was.

you've had a crush on him since 11th grade, when he moved into your school. he was smart, funny, and the most beautiful boy you had ever seen. best soccer player too.

too bad you were too scared to talk to him.

so you thought it was the miracle of miracles that you ended up at the same university. he had gotten a full-ride scholarship to play on their soccer team, the marlins, and you somehow got in with your nervously-written application.

in all fairness, it was probably looking like you followed him. but you didn't, it was just fate.

and fate was what found you here, outside the sports field, staring at the coach's assistant ad.

that was your in.

so you texted the number, fingers crossed and heart hopeful.

you: hey, is this coach wilkins? i'm y/n l/n and i'd like to apply for the assistant job you had posted.

and then two hours later, you get a response.

wilkins: you've come to the right place! meet me in my office this afternoon around 3 and we can talk some more!

you giddily walk to her office all the way across campus from the dorms, iced coffee in hand and a sense of 'finally' coursing through your veins.

"hey! y/n, right?" she says as you open her door. her features are very tight and controlled, a slick back ponytail giving her a more youthful look even though she had to be in her late thirties. "come on in!"

you smile and sit across from her at her desk. she points to your drink.

"americano?"

you nod.

"those are my favorite!"

you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "yeah, they're delicious! im actually so addicted to coffee"

"girl, me too." she leans back in her chair, propping her sneaker-clad feet on the desk. "so," she rubs her hands together. "most of the job is just helping out the team, getting waters and moving equipment, you know the drill."

she picks up a soccer ball from where it sat on her desk. "and of course there would be compensation. are you up for the job?"

you grin, liking her more and more. "of course! thank you so much coach!"

"call me sarah. first practice is tomorrow at 5 in the morning. don't be late."

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

"come on cupcakes, you can run faster!"

needless to say, coach wilkins is a little harsher with her team than she is with you. you watch as the group of 25 boys pant on the field, legs pumping as they run laps from goal to goal. the air is frigid and the sky is dark with the hint of light coming from the east.

you didn't regret being up to see it, even if it meant less sleep than normal.

you turn to sarah. "so how long do they last."

"as long as i tell them they need to." she winks and you laugh. "but it's usually about fifty laps before one of them needs a break."

"damn, that's impressive."

"not when the opposing teams can do sixty. that's what we focus on in morning practice. endurance."

you watch as one of the boys stumbles.

"hey crane! pick up the pace!"

he nods and pushes ahead.

you watch in awe.

"how do you just... get them to listen to you like that?"

she laughs. "i really don't know. but i do know that they know that i care about them and their futures. that might be part of it."

all of the boys push through, the first collapse at lap 57.

"great job, marlins! we're almost there!" she shouts across the field.

you scan through the sea of faces, trying to find the one all of this was for.

riki.

he was in the very back, arms raised above his head and sweat on his forehead. his tank top looked just as wet despite the chilly breeze.

his hair was a tousled mess, wet and on the verge of dripping into his eyes. it was a good look on him.

you pick up the bag of waters and start handing them out, the group of out of breath boys thanking you as soon as their hands touched the cold plastic.

your finger brushes riki's when he reaches for one, and your eyes meet his even in the swarm of sweaty shirts and shouting voices.

he grins, a sweet one that you had come to love, and says "thanks"

you smile, nod, and keep distributing the water.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

"wait up!"

you turn around, hearing the voice you knew all too well, and drop the bag of soccer balls in your hands. riki comes to a stop in front of you and smiles.

"you're y/n, right? didn't we go to high school together?"

he sticks out a hand, and you shake it. "yeah, we did. i think we might have been in the same-"

"world economics class, yeah!" he interrupts, but you laugh anyway.

he grabs the bag of balls and walks with you to the storage closet across the field. "so, what did you come here for?"

"i... don't really know. i haven't decided on a major yet, i'm just trying everything."

"that's real. i didn't know you were into soccer though."

you look up at him, giving your carefully thought out excuse.

"yeah, my cousin plays so i know my way around and i saw the ad so... why not make a little extra money, you know?"

he tosses the bag into the shed and looks back at you. he looks tragically beautiful in the sunrise lighting, hair pushed out of his glinting eyes and body shimmering with sweat.

"cool. anyways, i'll see you at practice tonight?"

"yup!"

and you watch him jog off the field and back onto campus, an excitement you hadn't felt since 11th grade filling your body.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

it wasn't long before you were hooked on riki.

it all started on the third day of practice. sarah had you bring the team dinner, just sandwiches from the deli down the street.

riki, instead of sitting with his friends, walked over to the bleachers to talk to you.

you were sitting with sarah, but she gave you a part knowing, part amused, and part curious look, and gets up to berate jack wilson for throwing a tomato at grant james.

"hey," he says, sitting next to you and unwrapping his turkey sandwich. "so i was wondering... do you like parties?"

"depends on the party. why?" you ask, leg bouncing and heart racing.

"there's like... this thing? it's on sunday, and it's like, kind of a party, but more like a banquet for all the sports teams."

"yo, that's cool!" you say, trying to sound oblivious.

"yeah, it is. but there's this thing where all the starters for the teams bring.... like, a date? so i was wondering if you'd maybe wanna go? like i know we don't really know each other but it's better than asking my sister and you're the only other girl i know at this school."

you fight a giggle that was brewing in your chest, along with the massive fist-pump and cheer that would inevitably happen later.

"yeah, sounds fun! mind if i give you my number and you can text me the details?"

"sure," he hands you his phone and cracks his knuckles while you tap on it. "thank you again, you're a lifesaver."

you grin and nod, happier than you could ever have been.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

riki texted you saturday night.

riki: hey y/n, its riki. the banquet thing is gonna be at 7, so i'll come to your dorm and pick you up around 6:40 so we can walk there.

riki: sound good?

riki: its formal dress btw

you jump up and down in your room, and your roomate stares at you like you've lost your mind.

you: okay, that's perfect! see you tmrw

riki: 👍

you throw yourself onto your bed and kick your legs into the mattress. your roomate watches you with curiosity.

"are you okay? what happened?"

"just... something i've been waiting years for."

she nods and goes back to reading her book, shaking her head at you.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

you were on edge all day sunday.

the team had the day off for practice, so you didn't see riki at all.

nope, that's a lie.

you did see him at walmart with his little sister when you were shopping, but you ducked into the next aisle before he noticed you standing by the ice cream.

you didn't want to be awkward around him.

in retrospect, you probably would've been fine if you said hi and started a conversation, but your nerves and the family size bag of goldfish in your cart got the better of you.

you put a lot of work into your appearance that night.

the only times riki had seen you, you were wearing workout shorts or sweats and a ratty hoodie that was comfy but definetly well-loved.

but this time, it was different.

you were in a black silk dress with a low cut and a long slit from ankle to mid thigh. the straps were thin, holding the fabric up just enough so you could show a little cleavage.

a few silver bracelets adorned your wrists, a dainty necklace accentuating your collarbones, and your hair fell in perfect curls around your face.

you pulled on a pair of black heels, making yourself taller.

good, riki was fucking giant.

and when you met him outside your building, purse in hand, you're pretty sure you saw his jaw hit the floor.

he stared at you, and you did a little twirl, blushing when he blatantly looked you up and down.

"holy shit, you look stunning."

you could say the same about him, his black suit crisp over his white shirt that had a few of the buttons undone and a sliver of chest showing that you hadn't seen since senior prom.

"thank you," you say, still standing three feet away.

"we... we should get going."

you follow him through the campus, winding around the many buildings filled with students enjoying their day off.

"you look... really handsome in a suit." you say, half giggling, half embarrassed.

he laughs, a deep sound that has your legs shaking, and smirks at you.

"i haven't worn it in a while, i'm surprised it still fits."

you smile. "is it the same one from prom?"

"yeah, but i'm fairly certian i've grown since then."

"yeah, you definetly gained more muscle."

he grins, hoping you wouldn't see how happy he was that you noticed.

truth be told, riki found you really cute. your personality made him weak in the knees, and your kindness had him wanting to be around you more than he thought he'd want to be.

he was surprised that he'd never met you before.

you walk past a group of little kids playing at a park down the road. one of them, a little girl, was shouting at a boy at the top of the kiddie zipline.

"dont get hurt!" you hear her yell up to him.

you pause, and riki stumbles when he realizes you weren't walking next to him.

"okay, i promise!" he calls down.

she watches in fear as he jumps off the ledge, swinging down to where she waited at the bottom.

"you're so brave!" she said, giving him a hug.

riki recognized the look on the boy's face, it was the same one he had not even two minutes ago.

you coo at the scene.

"aren't they cute? remember being a little kid and being able to show affection like that? god, i miss those days."

you keep walking, and riki follows. "yeah, it was great."

"did you see the way he looked after?" you ask, a sparkle in your eyes when you meet riki's gaze.

"yeah, lovestruck."

you and riki laugh, your heart filled with love and happiness.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

the banquet was nicer than you thought it would be. there were thousands of people, all dressed in formal attire and milling around the room like they owned it.

riki quickly found some of his friends, and introduced you to them.

heeseung, the point gaurd for the basketball team, shook your hand and gave riki a bro hug.

jake, one of his closest friends and defender on the soccer team, gave you an easy smile, and pointed out his date, ashley, who was talking animatedly with a group of girls.

"i don't think she cares about me." he tries to laugh it off, but you see the hurt in his eyes.

riki claps him on the shoulder. "bro, she's not worth it then, you're better than that."

"yeah man," says heeseung, handing him a glass of soda from a waiter. "you're way too good to be chasing any girl that doesn't give a shit about you."

jake chuckles and takes a swig of (what you assumed was) coca cola.

"come on, y/n," heeseung turns to you. "you'd go for a guy like jake, right?"

you stutter, unsure of what to say.

"i mean, yeah! he's handsome and funny, what more could a girl ask for?"

heeseung shakes his head, laughing at riki's face.

"dude, you look like somebody just smacked your mother." says jake.

you turn to find riki composing himself, wiping the jealousy off his face and replacing it with an eye roll.

"okay buddy, time to get you off the caffeine."

jake shakes his head defiantly and takes another sip of his drink. "if you do, there are gonna be two extra balls rolling around on that soccer field."

everyone bursts into laughter, jake's smirk proving his shift in emotions.

the panel of coaches gathers everyone's attention, announcing that dinner would be served soon, and that people should start taking seats.

you, riki, heeseung, and jake all sit together, ashley somewhere across the room with the other girls.

"so riki, are you ready for the first game?" asks heeseung.

"ehh, mostly. kinda nervous but i know i'm gonna play well."

"uh, you definitely are," you say, raising an eyebrow at him. "you're literally the best forward on the team, you're gonna win the game for us."

he smiles at you. "thanks, i hope you're right."

"she's right bro, you're insanely good at soccer." says heeseung, picking at the food on his plate. "like it's scary."

riki laughs, taking a bite of steak.

jake tells you a story about his older brother and a bowl of mac and cheese for the next ten minutes, and you stand up to use the bathroom when he finishes.

jay, one of the players on the football team takes your spot, looking at riki.

"where the fuck did you find her?"

riki laughs, trying his best to not look like a dork in front of one of the most well known kid in the school.

"she's the coach's assistant for our team. i had to ask somebody last minute and she was right there." he lies. "i don't really care about her, she's kind of annoying."

jay smirks. "great, mind if i take a shot at her?"

riki's jaw clenches, furious that jay was treating you like an object to be acquired, but he has a reputation he needs to build.

"nah bro, she's all yours."

jay slides out of your seat, walking back to his table.

heeseung and jake stare at riki like he had gone insane.

"um, what the fuck just happened?"

riki shrugs his shoulders. "i have an impression to make. plus, she would never go for a guy like him. too cocky."

"okay dude, you could do that without insulting her."

riki frowns, eating his asparagus. "okay. but it's not like she's here, she doesn't have to know. and i didn't mean it."

"tell that to the girl that just ran out of the room."

riki's eyes go wide, and he swivels his head to look around, not seeing you anywhere.

"oh fuck," he looks at heeseung. "which way did she go?"

heeseung points to an entrance, and riki immediately stands from his seat.

but his path is blocked by jay.

"just asked her out, and man, you've got a weird one. she started crying when i said you told me i could have her."

riki curses under his breath.

"what was that?" asks jay, raising his eyebrow.

riki fumbles. "uh... nothing, i just... nothing."

"where are you going?"

"uh... bathroom."

riki runs toward the restroom, opening and climbing out the window, racing across the field and sprinting to your dorm in his suit.

good thing he ran for a living.

but it still wasn't enough. by the time he found your building, the doors were just closing behind you.

he stops just in front of the entrance, putting his fist on the glass and panting heavily.

"fuck. ugh."

he pulls out his phone, texting you.

riki: where'd you go?

you: sorry riki, i had an emergency. tell the guys i'm sorry i had to leave early.

riki: oh riki: do you want me to bring anything?

you: no, thanks though.

riki: ok, see you tomorrow morning

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

you thought you'd be fine.

you thought you could just drown yourself with ice cream and tears and end up being happier.

but you were wrong.

practice the next morning was hell.

you ignored riki, tried not to acknowledge him when he stood right behind you, tried to distance yourself.

and he just thought you needed some time.

so he didn't try to talk to you. just played harder than ever during their scrimmage, channeling his anger towards jay.

but mostly his anger towards himself.

he couldn't stop beating himself up about it, internally kicking his nuts for being so fucking stupid.

and you just cried.

you felt like you wasted your time, like he was leading you on, like your heart had broken.

because it had.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

it was thursday night. you hadn't talked to riki for almost two weeks, and you were starting to get over it.

emphasis on the starting to.

you were putting away all the equipment, wheeling the goals away in preperation for the football game that night and collecting balls that had been forgotten near the bleachers.

and then you realize you aren't alone.

riki is kicking a ball around the field, dribbling it between his feet.

and he's not wearing a shirt.

great. whoop dee diddly doo.

you turn around, not wanting to deal with him, but he sees you before you can hide.

"y/n!" he runs over to you, but you pretend not to hear him.

maybe if you stay very silent....

nope.

"hey." he taps you on the shoulder and you spin around.

he stumbles backwards from the glare you're giving him, but keeps talking anyway.

"are you okay? i feel like you're avoiding me. what's wrong?"

he was trying to be careful, but that just made it worse. how dare he act like nothing happened. like he didn't do anything?

"whats wrong?! i'll tell you what's fucking wrong!" you're practically yelling to cover up the tears in your eyes. "it's the fact that you think i'm annoying! the fact that you brought me to that damn banquet and then fucking traded me like a piece of meat."

riki's eyes show his sadness now, his regret.

"and the fact that you called me 'stunning' and talked with me and acted like you liked me and then just..." your voice cracks and you clear your throat. "just acted like i didn't matter."

he tries to speak, but you don't let him.

"and you wanna know something, nishimura? i fucking liked you. i had for a while. but now i'm not so sure."

you walk away, leaving riki alone and at a loss for words on the field.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

you don't talk to riki after that.

and he feels like he lost something important.

it's like how you feel a phantom earbud after listening to music for too long.

or how people who lost limbs sense pain in the appendage they don't have.

he had become so used to your bubbly personality, the way you could smile at anything and see the best in any situation during practice.

but you were gone, and he kept thinking he could just send you a text, fuck, even call you.

but he couldn't.

some people in his situation would be too distraught to keep up on schoolwork and sports. but not riki. his anger at the situation only fueled him during practice.

and when the first game of the season came, he was fucking ready.

coach wilkins was talking in the pre-game huddle.

"okay cupcakes, you've practiced hard and done every damn drill in the book. i know you can win this game today."

the guys nod, but riki is solemn among the nerves.

"ready?" everyone cheers. "go marlins!" she shouts.

the team breaks and runs to the field, riki at the center and facing his equal the opposing team.

you watched from the stands, a speck in the sea of blue, yellow, and silver.

you told yourself you wouldn't go, that you wouldn't think about riki.

but your willpower sucks, so you left your dorm in a marlins tee shirt, shorts, and sunglasses resting on your head even though it was dark and cloudy.

you stared as riki fought the opposing team for the ball, the stands erupting in boos, cheers, and screamed insults when the ref called a foul on him for tripping another player.

the goalie caught the shot, thankfully.

you watched the rest of the game in absolute horror, waiting for someone to finally score a point.

and then, in the last minute of stoppage time-

riki scored.

you were jostled around in the stands, the echo of cheers sounding through the stadium and out into the rest of the world as jake sprinted to riki and pulled him into a huge hug.

the rest of his team crowded around him, slapping him on the back and congratulating him.

the announcer's voice rings through the stadium. "aaaaand riki nishimura scores the final, and winning, point! marlins win the first game and will move up in the championships!"

the cheers are louder now, and you watch as somebody walks up to riki with a mic. his face is projected onto the screen, an elated smile making him look absolutely adorable.

the person with him, a reporter you think, speaks into the mic before pointing it at him. "mr. nishimura, you just won the first game! how does it feel?"

he laughs when jake shakes his shoulder, giving him a dorky grin.

"it feels great, sir!"

"anybody you'd like to thank?"

riki's smile softens, and he starts talking again. his eyes stare into the camera, but it feels like he's looking directly at you.

"yeah, firstly, coach wilkins of course! she was the one who got me here. and then there's somebody else."

the crowd whispers, the noise quieted when riki continues.

"i made a mistake, i hurt somebody that i cared for. and i hope she can forgive me for it. i dedicate my win today to her."

you have to stop the gasp that threatens to rip out of your throat. your heart is beating at a million miles per hour and you feel like all eyes are on you even though nobody could possibly know.

"well... i hope you and the young lady can kiss and make up." the man winks into the camera, making the crowd laugh.

you wait for everyone to leave the stadium until all that's left is you and riki, standing on the field and looking up to where you sat, illuminated by the industrial lights.

"y/n." he calls.

you start walking down to the field, stopping when you get to the wall seperating it from the bleachers.

"i'm so, so sorry for hurting you."

you stand there, just watching him while he walked closer to you.

"i thought that i would look cool in front of jay if i acted like i didn't care, if i let him 'have the girl.' but believe me, i was furious that he was treating you like that, but i thought i wouldn't fit in if i didn't act like them."

he's standing right in front of you now, the barrier the only thing between you.

"but i realized i was wrong. that night, at the banquet, bring around you felt like.... like being in another world. a perfect one. and i want to try again with you, but only if you'll give me a second chance. i know i might not deserve one, but it's up to you."

you watch him carefully, his face a mixture of sadness, guilt, and worry.

"riki, i...." you pause, wiping a tear from your eye. your voice feels like it's about to give out any second, so you whisper.

"i'll give you one."

riki doesn't think he heard you right.

"you're for real?"

you laugh. "for real."

he jumps over the short wall, leaving his ball behind and pulling you into a bug hig.

"can i kiss you?" his words are the quietest you've ever heard as his lips come close to your ear.

you dont respond with words, but with actions.

and when thunder rolled through the sky after a flash of lightning, that's where the rain found you and riki.

lips pressed together, arms thrown around each other, and the rest of his team on the other side of the field recording the whole thing.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

a.n- gang im crying shit.... anyways if you liked this fic, please comment/like/reblog and lmk if you have any ideas for another fic!

masterlist you might also like: kissed- n.rk

#── ブーン #˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ─── 力 #ni ki #nishimura riki #ni ki fluff #ni ki angst #enhypen #enhypen x reader

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spideyjimin · 1 year ago

Text

Perfect time | jjk

⤷ part of the timing series

⏤ pairing: jungkook x female reader

⏤ genre: parent au, exes to lovers, ceo au, angst, fluff, and smut

⏤ rating: 18+

⏤ warnings: dilf!jungkook, tattooed!jungkook, swearing, mention of heartbreak, childbirth, mention of complications during childbirth, mention of abortion, mention of death, mention of toxic relationship, low self esteem, mention of the motherhood’s hardships, mention of sex, teasing, flirting, sexual tension, nipple play, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, jealousy, mention of breakups, dispute, making out, fingering, and creampie

⏤ words: 18,086

⏤ summary: right or wrong time? actually, was there a time at all for you and jungkook? following your heartbreaking conversation with him, you feel that you were loved but not wanted. however, would it be worse than feeling wanted but not loved? nevertheless, there’s a deep feeling inside you telling you that it’s far from being over with jungkook. will this mean that one day it will be the perfect time?

⏤ author’s note: the final part is finally here! it's less than 20k as I thought it would be but it's still quite long for me 🥴 I truly hope you enjoy this last part of the timing series, it was honestly super fun to write it & it also helped me a lot! i hope you like this part, let me know what you think! thanks a lot for all the amazing support , it made this wild experience very funny! 💛

As you’re looking at the screen with total disbelief, it makes you feel that the universe is throwing an unpleasant joke at your face. Your heart suddenly starts beating extremely fast in your chest. There’s absolutely no possible way that this moment is really happening. That this is real.

Your world is totally collapsing under your feet.

The past nine months have been quite hard, especially after the heartbreak Jungkook caused. Remembering the day he abandoned you sends shivers down your spine. You don’t like thinking about that moment because you felt completely alone with your bleeding heart in your hands. Currently, you don’t really know if you moved on from him but you’ve been seeing a guy, Yeonjun for the past two months. You’re not dating but you’re simply enjoying each other's company. Being around him makes you happy and that’s all that matters.

Right now, you’re lying on a medical examination table in the emergency room. This morning you woke up with terrible back pain. A pain that had only been growing even though you took some painkillers. Throughout your life, you experienced quite a lot of back pain so at first, this didn’t really surprise you, especially since yesterday was a crazy day.

Then, a stomach ache was added on top of the back pain which made everything very much unbearable. Yeonjun told you from the beginning to go to the doctor to check that out but you refused. When the stomach ache appeared, he took you to the hospital. There was no way he was going to let you suffer even though you were being very stubborn and you didn’t want to go.

Well, now that you’re looking at that screen, you believe he did right. He’s staying in the waiting room while you’re being examined. But thinking of him currently breaks your heart because what you’re seeing on the screen will probably put an end to the blooming relationship between you. You don’t want to lose him, he’s been such a ray of sunshine in your life. Even Lux told you that you look happier than ever since he’s been part of your life.

“I believe there is no need to tell you that we’re looking at a fully developed baby,” the obstetrician tells you. “Considering the size and the position of the baby, I would say that you’re in labor.”

A tear runs down your face. Since the baby is fully developed, it means that they were conceived nine months ago. Jungkook is the father of this baby of yours. He’s the only man you slept with nine months ago.

“Based on what I see right now, there are no concerning health problems but we would need to take several exams once they are born,” she adds.

You’re in complete shock. How on earth is this even possible? How could you have not noticed this? Were there even signs that you ignored? How could this baby have grown hidden inside your body? And why has this happened?

“I know this is a big shock,” the obstetrician says with a lot of sympathy. “But the only thing we can do right now is deliver this baby, check that everything is okay with them, and then you will think about what you’ll do.”

She isn’t wrong but your brain has totally stopped working. You’re not able to think or say anything because this is just too much to process.

“Would you let me check how many centimeters you are dilated?”

You simply nod because like she said, the focus right now is to deliver this little human safely. She informs you to remove your pants and underwear, to place your foot in the foot supports, and to place your butt as close as possible at the end of the table. She places herself in between your legs to examine you properly. She definitely isn’t the person you were expecting to have between your legs…

As this moment completely overwhelms you, all that you want is to have your mama with you. You just wish to be in the comfort of your mama’s arms because no other arms will ever be able to comfort you, well except your father’s. And right now, you feel like a little baby that needs to be reassured by her parents.

“You’re 7 centimeters dilated,” she informs you. “The baby is almost here. We would need to move you to a delivery room.”

She keeps talking about all the information you need to know before the delivery. But your mind stopped listening after ‘the baby is almost here’. You’re simply disconnected from reality since this is too much to handle. All you think about is to have your mama. Nothing else.

“Would you need someone to come?” she asks you.

“I need to call my mama,” you reply.

The obstetrician helps you to come down from the examination table. Quickly, you put back your underwear and trousers. As you do so, you notice that your belly has grown a tiny bit. In the midst of what she said while you were disconnected, you heard her saying that your belly will suddenly grow a lot until childbirth. This is scary. Extremely scary.

Once dressed, you grab your phone to call your mom. The obstetrician indicates to you to follow her to move to the delivery room.

“Mama,” you say when your mom picks up.

“Hello, sweetie,” she answers.

“Mama,” you repeat, “I’m going to have a baby very soon,” you immediately burst into tears.

Now that you’ve said it out loud, it seems real. You’re really going to have a baby today, you’re about to become a mother. The mother of yours and Jungkook’s baby. But you’re absolutely not ready to endorse that role. However, beyond not being ready to take on that role, you also have nothing prepared in your apartment to welcome a baby. No bed, no clothes, no diapers, and all the other things a mother is supposed to have when having a child.

But the true question right now is: do you want to keep the baby? or would you give them up for adoption?

“Yn,” she starts saying, “where are you?”

You tell her which hospital you are in and she immediately declares that she’ll be there in a couple of minutes. With surprise, the obstetrician hugs you to try to soothe you. Honestly, it’s also hard for her to see you in this ravaged state.

“I’m so sorry to be the one announcing this devastating news, miss y/l/n,” she whispers while caressing your back. “I really want to say that everything will be alright but it’s a promise I can’t make. Childbirth is hard, there might be complications, the baby could have issues that I couldn’t see in the ultrasound, and after all that, you will need to decide if you want to keep the baby.”

You hug her even more because it’s hard to hear all those things. This day is only getting worse and worse. Not only have you found out that you’re carrying a baby that you’ll have to deliver, but you’ll have to decide what to do if they live and have no health issues at birth. Give them up for adoption or keep them.

“Your mother is coming, right?” she asks and you nod. “Then, you’ll have the biggest support,” she adds. “Have you also informed the father of the baby?”

Right there, your body freezes even more. In the middle of all this chaos, you haven’t thought of informing Jungkook. Actually, you haven't even considered having Yeonjun informed since he’s waiting for you to come back. But you have to inform both of them, they can’t stay in the dark and even if you’re angry at Jungkook, you have to tell him. He deserves to have the choice to be present at your baby’s birth.

So you pull away from the obstetrician to call your ex. She instantly understands that you’re about to call your baby’s father. She takes a step back to give you the space you need. As you’re waiting for Jungkook to pick up, you nervously bite your lower lip. You haven’t spoken in nine months, and now you’re about to tell him that you’re carrying his child who will be born still today.

“Yn,” Jungkook says with surprise when he picks up.

Jungkook wasn’t expecting at all to receive a call from you, especially after what he did. He hears you sniffle and honestly, it breaks his heart. He wonders if it has anything to do with the space he asked for or if it has anything to do with him at all.

“Are you okay?” he asks with evident concern.

“I’m calling you because I’m about to give birth to our child. If you wish to be present, you can come,” you simply inform him.

At your words, his body completely freezes. He can’t believe what he’s hearing and many questions cross his mind. But honestly, he doesn’t want to waste a second questioning you, it’s better to join you at the hospital and raise any questions there. It would be better. After that, he asks which hospital you are in and he leaves his company to get to you as soon as possible.

Nurses appear in the room, asking you to wear a hospital blouse while the obstetrician calls for Yeonjun. Slowly but surely, your belly grows bigger. It’s still small but currently, you probably look like you’re 4-5 months pregnant. The blouse kind of hides it but it’s there, your pregnant belly is there. This is becoming very real. You’re about to give birth to a baby that you created with Jungkook. A little human will come to the surface of the earth because of you.

However, the only reasonable thing to do is to give this baby up for adoption. Jungkook broke your heart, you haven’t spoken since then and you’re absolutely not ready for this. A baby isn’t a little thing. A baby is a human you’ll have to forever take care of. A baby you’ll be responsible for at least 18 years. This baby will forever link you with Jungkook and because of all those reasons, this baby will be happier with another family. If you had found out about this pregnancy at its premises, you would have aborted. There’s no doubt about it. Now, you can’t abort but you can offer them a much better life.

As you’re walking in circles in the room to distract from the excruciating pain, Yeonjun enters the room with worry written all over his face.

“Yn,” he says while coming in your direction, “what’s going on?”

You take a very deep breath as you feel a contraction. “I’m about to give birth,” you tell him, “to Jungkook’s child.”

With Yeonjun, you have spoken quite early on about your ex but you haven’t spoken about everything. He knows the most important things, just as you know the overall story of his relationship with his ex. His eyes wide open, absolutely surprised by your words. All this time that he has known you, there was literally a human growing inside you. That’s wild.

“It’s a cryptic pregnancy,” you add. “The pain I’ve been feeling was due to the fact that I was in labor.”

Yeonjun nods, understanding the situation. It all makes sense now. But he’s worried about you, about what you’re feeling right now.

“How are you?” he asks with concern.

“Not good,” you reply. “Physically this is horrible and emotionally, it’s devastating. My mind is all over the place but I don’t want this baby,” you tell him crying.

Yeonjun holds you close and dearly in his arms. He can only imagine how you are feeling right now. This is a life-changing thing. After this, you’ll never be the same no matter what decision you take.

“I don’t want this baby,” you keep repeating while sobbing in his arms.

He doesn’t know what to say nor what to do. You’re in pain physically and emotionally and all he can do is support you through this. It’s not going to be easy from now on but he’ll hold your hand, he’ll be there for you because it is what you need. His heart is very much broken when he hears you crying and repeating that you don’t want this baby. It’s hard for him but he pushes away what he’s feeling to be there for you, to focus solely on you.

His eyes scan the room to find a nurse. He needs guidance to help you in the best way possible. Plus, he knows that you deeply need it as well. The medical team needs to guide you through everything until the birth. A nurse enters the room at that precise moment.

“Have you changed your clothes, miss y/l/n?” she asks while getting closer to you two.

“Yes,” you answer, looking up at her, “but please call me yn.”

She nods with a little smile.

“The obstetrician informed me about the full situation. The good news is that the baby is very well-positioned and they are slowly descending. I will need to examine you so we can check if we see their head.”

This time, you’re the one nodding. Yeonjun helps you to reach the hospital bed and to lay down. It’s quite difficult to move with this terrible pain caused by the contractions. The nurse checks everything and a smile appears on her face.

“So we see the baby’s head, this is good. Now, it’s a matter of hours before the baby is here.”

Tears roll even more down your face. In a matter of hours, your world would change forever because of this exact baby that you don’t want.

“Yn, I know it’s very hard for you right now but I need you to only focus on giving birth,” she says. “I will guide you through every step and I won’t be leaving you alone. In no time, this pain will be gone.”

Her words are adorable and it touches you deeply but it doesn’t change anything.

“Now, I will need to monitor your contraction and baby’s heartbeat. It won’t hurt, I’ll only place a monitor on your belly. Is it okay?”

Again you nod. While the monitor is placed on your belly, the door opens, revealing another nurse with your mom. She runs to you. The first thing she does is place a kiss on your forehead.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. “It’s really happening.”

For everyone in this room, it feels unreal. This pregnancy has had the effect of a bomb because it is beyond unexpected. Nobody saw anything and your mother feels some guilt as she sees you with tears in your eyes and so much pain painted all over your face. She should have noticed it.

But it’s nobody’s fault. Nobody could have seen it.

“I don’t want this baby, mama,” you say with tears running down your face.

“I know, sweetheart,” she caresses your face. “But don’t think about it now, focus on giving birth, and then, you’ll decide what to do with the baby,” she says before pressing another kiss on your forehead.

“But I don’t want…”

Before you can finish your sentence, the door opens to reveal Jungkook. His eyes land on the only person he has ever deeply loved. You. He instantly notices that you’re suffering ⏤ and not just a bit ⏤ but his heart breaks when he sees you crying. This only sight is too much for him but he’s here. Never would he have missed the birth of his child. Your child. This is something he never thought possible. Neither did you.

The atmosphere is quite heavy in the room, all of you feel it. All eyes are on Jungkook, he offers a little smile before walking in your direction. Yeonjun moves to give him the space to be near you, and it’s just at that moment that Jungkook notices him. However, he doesn’t really start questioning who this man is and what he is doing here. All he cares about right now is to understand this situation.

As you see Jungkook standing next to you, it makes this chaotic situation even more real, which makes it even more overwhelming. You can’t have a baby with him, it’s not possible. Things between you have never worked out and they are actually complicated.

“Hey, yn,” he finally says. “What is going on?”

“I didn’t know,” you tell him, still crying. “I promise you that I didn’t.”

The second he entered the room, Jungkook instantly understood that you weren’t aware of this pregnancy. The suffering was beyond the one of childbirth, there was an evident emotional distress written all over your face and it was combined with the pain of childbirth. He assisted at Arya’s birth so he saw how painful it is to give birth to a little human. So, naturally, he didn’t need you to say anything to understand the full picture.

“It’s okay, yn,” he gently says, “I knew it.”

You nod. Every person in this room is shattered to see you like this. Your mother and Jungkook would even say that this comes close to how you were when your sister passed away. You look completely overwhelmed by the situation, and the only other time it happened was with your sister’s death.

“How are you feeling?”

Even though this is causing a lot of pain, you can see that Jungkook is genuinely and deeply concerned about you.

“Not good,” you admit honestly, “and I don’t want this baby.”

“It’s understandable, yn,” he replies. “This is a massive surprise, and giving birth is hard too but you have the support of every person here, we won’t let you down in this particularly difficult moment.”

To be honest, you weren’t expecting those words to come from Jungkook’s mouth. From your mother or from Yeonjun, yes but never from Jungkook. However, it warms your heart. Having them three supporting you through this difficult moment helps tremendously. It doesn’t erase the physical and emotional pain but it eases it.

The following hours have been the most painful ones that you ever experienced. Time seemed to have completely stopped while the intensity of the contractions smashed you completely. But slowly, you could sense the baby descending. It was extremely weird but it was also a very unique experience. Even if you were in pain, you were also in awe of everything that your body was doing to give birth to your child.

You walked a lot in the hospital with Jungkook and your mother to help out with the pain but you were stopping every time you were having a contraction. Yeonjun was present but in the background because this moment was yours and Jungkook’s. It wasn’t his even though he really wished to be part of it. This wasn’t his child that you were delivering. It was Jungkook’s.

Once you reached the 10 centimeters of dilation, you laid down on the hospital bed to give birth to your baby. It was horrible to push, you were feeling like everything inside you was getting ripped. Feeling the baby being pushed down was awful. Jungkook was holding your left hand, encouraging you the way he could. On your right side, it was your mother that was holding your hand. Yeonjun wasn’t in the room, you were simply allowed to have 2 people with you. It broke your heart that he had to leave but honestly, he preferred that way. What truly mattered to him was to be present for all the other moments. Plus, he’ll be present for you once the baby is born. He’ll support you when you have to make a decision concerning your baby.

After what felt like an eternity, the room was filled with the loud cries of your baby. The baby was instantly put against your chest, your hands automatically wrapped him to make sure that they were really here. The feeling of your child’s skin against yours eased your mind in a way that you can’t express. However, what hit you the most was the love you felt for that tiny human. How could that even be possible? Hours ago you didn’t even want this child to even exist but right after being born, you felt love for them.

This love you felt isn’t that love described by every mother. It wasn’t like loving your mom for example but there was a certain love, one that you weren’t expecting to feel since you didn’t want this baby in the first place.

The baby’s cries calmed down when they were placed against you. Your hands naturally caressed them in an attempt to calm them down. The moment was reassuring for you both and definitely very much needed. It was your first interaction together. The first moment you shared with the little human you created.

“This is a very loud little boy,” the obstetrician said while revealing the gender of your baby. Her eyes looked up at Jungkook. “Would you like to cut the umbilical cord?”

Your ex nodded before moving closer to her. She showed him where to cut and he did it with immense pride. It was the second umbilical cord that he cut but each time, he felt nothing more than pride. The pride of becoming a father.

“This strong boy was born on December 15th at 22:01,” the obstetrician said while looking at the clock in the room.

The second the time of birth was announced you handed the baby to Jungkook. Despite everything, he was the father after all and he deserved a first moment with his son. A big smile appeared on his face when he saw his son for the first time. Just like you, he felt an unexplainable love for this tiny baby. Honestly, while you were in labor, he didn’t stop to think if he wanted to keep this child or give them up for adoption. He was only focused on helping you out.

Inexplicably, as you were watching them, you felt something inside your heart. Again, it was something you can’t quite describe but it was definitely some sort of love. If you were honest with yourself, you’d know that you were still in love with Jungkook, and seeing him with your child made your heart burst even more with love.

Your eyes were glued to that little tiny human that you literally pushed out from your body. This morning, you were still simply you. And just like that, at night, you became a mother.

Jungkook spent the night with you at the hospital. He informed Eunjin that he would need her to take care of Arya for at least a week. He didn’t explain the reason behind his request but he told her that he would explain later. Right now, what matters the most is being next to you and figuring this all out. Because now, you’ll have to decide the future of the boy you conceived.

Your son underwent multiple tests in the first hours of his tiny existence to confirm that he didn’t have any serious medical condition, which was the case. The little baby is in solid health and he amazes you even more, he dearly held on to life. No matter what decision you make, you will forever admire this strong little boy.

For the past hour, you’ve been looking at him sleeping in his little crib. The nurses swaddled him in a blanket and put a little cap on him. You can’t help but find him extremely adorable but as you stare at him you wonder if keeping him is the best thing to do. Merely hours before he was born, you didn’t want him but the love you felt for him the minute he was born has changed everything. You’re not sure anymore about what has to be done.

“He’s so calm,” Jungkook’s voice echoes in the room.

Your eyes look up at him. He’s sitting on a chair, on the other side of the crib and he’s also been staring at your son for the past hour. Both of you are completely lost, none of you knows what to do. For sure, you both have always wanted to have children but never under those circumstances. Well, Jungkook feels extremely guilty to have another child with someone he’s not in a relationship with and he can only blame himself for it. But this time, it’s completely different. This was a surprising birth.

“He is,” you reply. “It seems like he doesn’t want to bother anyone,” you add.

Seeing this little baby brings Jungkook back to the day Arya was born. She was even tinier than him, they were also very different but the love he felt for them the second he saw them for the first time is exactly the same. They are both his children, the flesh of his flesh. Looking at his tiny son makes him want to keep him. He wants to protect this little human. He wants to raise him. He wants to see him grow. He wants to see what kind of person he will become. He simply wants to give him love.

But the truth is that it ain’t that simple. Neither of you expected this baby to arrive and he knows very well that he broke your heart. Things are definitely not easy between you. Adding a child in the mix won’t make this any easier so realistically speaking giving him up for adoption is the best thing you could do for this child. He’ll be with parents who will deeply love him, with parents who will be happily together. He’ll grow up in a much better environment. This child deserves the best.

“This whole situation breaks my heart for him,” you say while your gaze moves between your son and your ex. “He’s been hiding for 9 months, surviving while I wasn’t taking any precaution. I have so much admiration for him but he deserves better,” your eyes now stop on Jungkook. “I didn’t even want him before he was born, I didn’t even notice him. He was literally growing inside me and I didn’t see him. What kind of human am I?”

You start crying intensely. Jungkook stands up, running in your direction before holding you tightly in his arms. You blame yourself a lot for this whole situation. If you had noticed your pregnancy earlier, you wouldn’t be in this position right now. Feeling his strong arms around you brings you some kind of comfort. It also makes you feel like you’re not alone.

“Hey,” Jungkook says while rubbing your back, “don’t be hard on yourself like that. It is definitely not your fault, this is something you couldn’t have noticed. And look at him, he’s very healthy, he’s perfectly fine so even if you didn’t feel him, you did everything great otherwise he wouldn’t be here and healthy.”

Your eyes are completely shut while you sob in Jungkook’s arms. Honestly, having him by your side in this crazy situation is very helpful and very much needed. You desire nothing more than to be angry at him for absolutely everything but this is a position you both put yourself in. You need him to navigate this together and in the best way possible. This is a human’s life we’re talking about. It’s not a little thing you can get over.

“This is definitely a tricky position we’re both in because we have to decide what’s best for him in such a short amount of time but I truly believe that he’s here for a reason. No matter what decision we take, I’m sure he’s going to do just fine because he’s your son. You’re a very strong person and look how strong he already is. I’m absolutely proud of the little man he already is,” Jungkook confesses. “Being able to call him my son swells my heart with pride.”

Fatherhood is something Jungkook knows very well. Being proud of your child is something you feel the second they’re born. But in this case, he feels even more pride for him because he survived 9 months while hiding inside you. He’s very much aware that the decision you’ll take will be the best for him but he’ll forever feel tremendous pride for this little man.

“You’re not at fault nor should you feel guilty for all of this. It’s nobody’s fault here. Things are pretty rocky right now but we will go through everything together. I won’t ever leave you alone.”

Jungkook means every word that leaves his mouth. He’s not proud of the way he handled things when you came back to his life but this is a situation that he doesn’t want to run away from. For sure, he can’t leave you alone, especially right now. He’s aware that you need him more than ever, and he also needs you. And from now on and whatever happens, he’ll forever be by your side. There’s no way he can abandon you after this.

“However, now, we should focus on what future we want to offer him,” he whispers.

The way you’re holding on to his arms reminds him of the time your sister passed away. That’s the only other time that you held him like this. It feels like your life really depends on it and that if you let go, you’ll die. And it devastates him. Because those two events are completely opposites. The last time was because of the ending of a life, death and this time is because of the beginning of a life, birth.

“I don’t know, Kook,” you manage to say in between sobs.

“Then, let’s think together,” he says while gently pushing you.

As much as he wants to be the strong one, he can’t when he sees your ravaged face. This is beyond heartbreaking. His hands place your hair behind your ears while you clean your face. You thank him for helping you out, and he offers you a little smile. Both of you quickly glance at the little boy peacefully sleeping in the crib.

“We need to think beyond what we are feeling right now, okay?” he asks and you nod. “So, first off, what would happen to him if we gave him up for adoption?”

You take a moment to think. It’s a bit complicated to really think with all the overwhelming negative emotions you’re feeling right now but you try as hard as possible to push them aside. You really want to focus on your son’s future, he truly deserves it.

“Well, a social worker would come to take him and probably ask us if we are 100% sure we want to put him up for adoption. Afterwards, I’d be discharged and we would both go back home. We would resume back to our lives pretending that nothing ever happened,” you say, Jungkook nods agreeing with your reasoning. “However, we would realize that it’s impossible to pretend that nothing ever happened. Right there, we would most probably regret our decision and imagine how things could have turned out if we kept him. Maybe, we would reach out to each other to discuss it. We would cry and we would probably try to find him to see what he has become.”

Just the thought of having regrets hurts a lot for the two of you. At that exact moment, the right decision becomes quite clear but it is still best to go through both scenarios.

“Now, from his point of view,” you say. “Most probably he’d have a rather good life unless he remains forever in a foster home. There are chances that he’d grow up feeling unloved, he’d wonder why we gave him up for adoption. If he ended up in a family that would deeply love him, he’d be loved but there would forever be this feeling of being not wanted. That feeling would also come from the fact that I had a cryptic pregnancy and that he was hiding all along,” you finalize.

This is a heartbreaking reality but you’ve heard in many documentaries that most adopted kids feel that way. It’s hard for them to feel wanted and loved. Your son doesn’t deserve to grow with that feeling simply because he wasn’t expected in your life. It’s a shock right now but it won’t be the case forever.

“I couldn’t agree more with you,” Jungkook replies. “And now for the other scenario?”

His big doe eyes stare at you deeply. You give yourself a couple of seconds before replying although you pretty much know the answer.

“First off, we would have to find a name because he couldn’t go by baby forever,” a little smile appears on your face as you look at your little baby. Jungkook notices the way you smile and it can’t help but warm his heart. “We would have to find an arrangement and figure out how we would want to raise him. It probably would never be easy but I guess we could find a common ground for him. There’s absolutely no doubt that we’d love him but we would need some time to overcome the shock we both feel right now. I’m very much uncertain about what the future holds if we keep him but I know that no matter what we’ll love him with all our hearts because we are his parents.”

Saying out loud that you are his parents is another reality check, and those are the final words to conclude your decision. It’s quite obvious what you’ll do. You’re keeping him.

“On my side, the decision is quite taken,” you say, looking up at Jungkook.

His deep stare sends shivers down your spine. Honestly, it would be a lie to say that you don’t feel anything anymore for this man but it’s best to brush it off.

“I’ll keep him because, in the long run, it is a decision that I would never regret,” you explain. “I’m very much aware that it’s not going to be easy for a lot of reasons but I already love him so much and I will forever love him. I can’t give him up for adoption because I will eventually regret it and I will break him by doing so. He deserves the best, I’m convinced I can give him that or at least I’ll try every day to do it,” you say. “Because I’m his mom.”

Jungkook smiles when you say that you’re the mother of his child. He doesn’t doubt at all that you’ll be a great mom, from his perspective, you already are.

“But the final decision will also depend on you,” you add.

“My decision was basically taken the second I laid my eyes on him,” he tells you. “But I had some doubts due to the shock. However, now that we’ve thought of both scenarios, all that I have to say is that I would never be able to live without him. He’s my son. I couldn’t live with myself if I gave him up for adoption.”

You’re thankful Jungkook was the reasonable one that made you really think about the future. A decision can’t be taken on a temporary feeling because it can cause a lot of damage. For sure, due to the surprise, giving him up for adoption seems like the right option but in the long run, it isn’t for any of you. Three lives would forever be broken.

“Thank you,” you say as you lay on your head on his shoulder.

Jungkook would be lying if he said that he didn’t love feeling your head on his shoulder. He would say right here that he regrets what he did to you nine months ago but he’s also very much aware that he doesn’t deserve you, especially not after what he did to you. It also won’t be correct of him to discuss that when you’re going through a tough time. Right now, all he can do is support you and be a good father to your child.

For the entire day, there’s been only you, Jungkook, and your little boy. You both agreed to be alone the entire day to focus on the right decision to take and to also find a name for your baby boy. But it has been a struggle. None of you seem to agree on a name.

“Did it take you and Eunji so long to find Arya’s name?” you ask.

Even though you know where the name comes from, Eunji also chose it. Your ex didn’t name his daughter all by himself, there’s a mother too. At the end of the day, she was the one who carried Arya for nine months.

“Well, it for sure took us more than 5 months,” he replies. “When we found out that it was a girl, we started a list with all the names we loved. However, we didn’t like the names the other liked. For 2 months, we kept adding names to the list to see if we could find one. Arya wasn’t on my list because it had a deep meaning for me, it was the name we agreed to give to our daughter,” his eyes stare deeply at you.

You still remember the day you were talking about all the cute names you’d give to your children. It’s a moment that always warms your heart because back then, everything seemed so easy. Your sister was still alive, you hadn’t kissed your ex-crush, everything was going well with Jungkook, and you were still head over heels in love with him. Well, honestly, it is still the case today even if he broke your heart.

The man standing in front of you has been your greatest love, the first man you really and deeply loved. A first real love always remains in your heart although they hurt you. They will forever stay in your heart. Hopefully, with time, the strong feelings you have for Jungkook will diminish, or at least, you hope that you will be able to keep moving with your life without those sentiments being an obstacle to your romantic life.

“Proposing that name would be like a betrayal towards you. I couldn’t do that,” he whispers. “Eunji was the one proposing it and at first, I pretended I didn’t like it. She really loved it but it was kind of removed from our list, which was still empty when she was 7 months pregnant,” a little smile appears on his face. “Then, at that point, you realize your daughter will be here very soon and you have to find a name. We needed to find compromises, we needed to find names that we at least liked a little bit. Again, Arya was not on our list,” his eyes never leave your face.

Honestly, as you glare at him, you can see in his eyes all the affection he has for you but you brush it off. However, it is actually the way he’s looking at you. Jungkook holds a lot of affection for you. He’ll always cherish you even though he behaved like a child. His heart still burns for you but he can’t come back in your life. Or at least not right now. For sure, if he does so, he’s very much aware that he’ll break your heart once more and you absolutely don’t deserve it. He’s even convinced that he doesn’t deserve you.

Those past nine months, he got the time to sit down and contemplate his actions. Unquestionably, he acted like a child. He was selfish, he only took from you what interested him, and then threw you away. But honestly, he never wondered what it would be like to have you back in his life. For the past ten years, he desperately wanted you back but he didn’t consider past that, probably because deep down, he was convinced that you would never come back. However, you came back and everything simply became overwhelming.

“Eunji kept bringing back Arya, and I don’t know, I simply gave up at some point because I always adored that name,” he explains. “I only explained after the birth of Arya why I didn’t want that name for our daughter, but honestly, for a long moment, I felt I betrayed you. I know it’s a deep emotion but back then, I hadn’t moved on.”

It is still the case today. The only difference now is that you’re actually around him and things are way more complicated than back then because he’s the one that messed everything up. Today, it’s his own fault if he can’t move on.

For a brief moment, you simply stare at each other like there’s nobody else but you in the room. It brings you both back to the time when you were lovers, when everything was absolutely easy. For a moment, you forget all the terrible things that have happened between you. You forget how toxic your relationship has been. It’s easy to forget when strong feelings are involved.

“It’s nice to finally know the background of Arya’s name,” you break this special moment, your eyes looking down at the little baby sleeping. “Now, we have to find one for our little mister.”

Well, this time around, you don’t have 5 months to find a name for your son. Today, he needs to have a name because he needs to be registered. The nurses have agreed to extend the deadline a bit but only because Jungkook is quite known and they were charmed by him.

“You know, I want his name to be related to my sister in some kind of way because I think she has sent him to us,” you say, convinced that your little man is a little gift from her. A gift she’s giving to you and Jungkook. She always adored him, you used to call yourself the ‘Fantastic Four’. You used to spend a lot of time with her and her boyfriend, it was always a good time.

“Yes, I’m also convinced she gave us this little man, and it would only make sense to name him in a way related to her,” he replies.

Jungkook was terribly affected by her death. He loved your sister, she was one of his closest friends, and losing her was devastating. Certainly not in the same way as you because she was your everything. As you lost her, you lost a big part of yourself.

“She’s my angel, the star that shines the brightest in the sky,” you add.

“Maybe we could try finding a name whose meaning is star?” Jungkook suggests.

You nod, totally agreeing with him. That’s definitely a fantastic idea. Jungkook googles ‘boy name meaning star’, and you both look at the suggestions. There’s nothing really interesting and matching your interests. The only thing you agreed on was to give him a short name like Arya.

The boy name you had chosen when you were younger was Axel but when you looked at your son, it didn’t feel like it was his name. He doesn’t have a face of being called Axel but in case you don’t manage to find a name for him, you’ll go with Axel. It would have made sense to name him like that because it was your decision but it doesn’t seem right.

However, the name Leo appears in Google's suggestions. The name catches your attention. Leo makes reference to a constellation in the sky and it also means lion. This is the perfect name for your child. A constellation is a group of stars so it definitely makes reference to your sister. Lion is a very strong animal, and your little baby is already very strong. This name is absolutely perfect for your son.

You and Jungkook look at each other with a bright smile on your faces. There’s no need to say anything, you both fell in love with this name. Then you look down at your calm little boy.

Jeon Leo, it’s perfect.

You bend down as much as you can, your body is completely sore from giving birth. It hurts everywhere. You caress the soft face of your son, he giggles a bit but not much. Now, this is your reality. You’re the mother of Leo, the son you share with Jungkook. Things are pretty rocky right now, and for sure, they are going to be for a little while. Your emotions are all over the place, and you’re convinced they will be for a time since now, you’re not going to sleep much.

But right now, all you want to focus on is your son.

The next day, both you and Jungkook agreed on only having your parents visit you. If each of you starts inviting people, at the end of the day, a lot of people will come, and it will be too much for you and Leo. It was absolutely adorable to see them interact with the baby. For your parents, it is their first grandchild but it isn’t the case for his parents. However, it doesn’t change the fact that they were mesmerized by him.

Your parents shed a little tear when you explained the meaning of his name. When your parents were in the room, it felt like your sister was also present. Honestly, it was a magical moment. A moment you’ll forever cherish in your heart, especially when they hold him in their arms. Your father even cried when he had Leo in his arms. At that precise moment, it didn’t matter that they never really liked Jungkook, it didn’t matter that he hurt you. Nothing really mattered, except sharing a family moment.

Having Jungkook’s parents was also very special. You hadn’t seen them in a while so it was good to see them. They were extremely happy to have another grandchild, they also liked the name. they said it was original just like Arya. Honestly, they were as surprised as your parents that you had a child together. None of them knew that you had seen each other but they didn’t raise out loud any question since this birth was unexpected.

When you’re alone at night in the room, you stare at Jungkook rocking Leo in his arms. Minutes ago you were breastfeeding him, it was a battle but slowly you were getting there, but it was a special and bonding moment between you. Now, Jungkook is trying to find a bonding moment with his son. Both of you are trying to create a connection with your son and learn how to love him.

Nevertheless, as you’re looking at them, it hits you in the face that Jungkook is now part of your family.

For the first time in four months, you’re out without Leo. Your mother and Lux took you out of the house so you could breathe a little bit. Everything has been a complete mess since Leo's birth, and honestly, you haven’t been feeling very great. From your perspective, you’re a terrible mother because it feels like you don’t love him at all. Yes, you felt some kind of love when he was born but since then, it feels like nothing has changed. For sure, the sleepless nights haven’t been helpful.

Most of the time, you feel completely lost. You don’t know exactly what you need to do, but the only thing that calms him down is when you hold him or when you’re breastfeeding him. But outside that, you don’t really know what to do. Everything is simply overwhelming. Being a mother is overwhelming.

“How are you feeling?” Lux rises after the waiter brings the coffees.

Your mother has come quite often to help you with Leo. She’s been your savior. Well, Jungkook has also been your savior. The fact that he already has a daughter is actually useful. He’s been by your side in every way. He’s very supportive and he always finds the words to reassure you when you’re crying in the middle of the night because you can’t put Leo to sleep. Frankly, without him, you don’t know how you could have survived those past four months.

“Extremely tired,” you answer. “Physically and mentally.”

They both know how hard it has been for you, and they can’t imagine how it must feel to become a mother overnight. On top of that, the father is your ex. It mustn’t be pleasant to constantly be around your ex, and let alone one that has broken your heart not long ago.

“But having Yeonjun helps me to kind of relax in the middle of this chaos,” you add with a little smile growing on your face.

Yeonjun has been your rock since the birth of Leo, he has helped you a lot. For sure, Jungkook has been your savior but Yeonjun is your rock. Without them and your mother, you would have completely fallen apart. He often comes to visit and he calls you everyday. He always makes sure that you eat every day and he’s also present to remind you when you need to take a shower.

However, what surprises you is how both he and Jungkook have managed to coexist together very peacefully. You’ve been living at Jungkook’s place since your son’s birth and the reason behind it is to make things easier. You are together through every step, you change diapers, you feed him, you reassure him when he cries, and you take turns when he wakes you up at night. You’ve been in this together and that’s your strength.

Yeonjun has been coming to your ex’s place. Jungkook has welcomed him with open arms and Yeonjun has felt comfortable being at his place. Your ex was the one encouraging you to give him a chance, to see where things could go but for now, it’s best to not start a relationship. Everything is pure chaos and you’re scared to hurt him unwillingly, simply because you’re going through a lot right now.

Jungkook has seen the way he helped you since the moment you were crying in the hospital bedroom and the way he has been there for you when he got all the reasons to leave you. He knows Yeonjun is the right one for you.

“That’s sweet that he’s been around,” your mother says. “I noticed how it has been helping you to stay sane.”

That is true. He’s been respecting your space which is more than appreciated while you try to figure out how to balance everything. As soon as things calm down a bit, you’ll go back to your apartment. You can’t stay forever at your ex’s place, especially since it’s hard to always be around him. The heartbreak is still very much here, and sometimes you feel like it’s amplified by the lack of sleep. But right now it seems like the easiest solution to navigate those first months.

“Yep,” you answer. “But it’s also not always easy to constantly be around Jungkook,” you add. “I know that we agreed that it was the best solution to live together for the first months of Leo’s life but it doesn’t change the fact that he hurt me.”

Maybe overtime, it won’t hurt anymore, at least that’s what you think. It’s already been more than a year and it hurts less than it did months ago. Certainly, having Yeonjun now helps a lot to ease the pain. He’s been treating you like a real princess and you feel extremely loved by him. You actually can’t wait to see how things will evolve with him, especially once you go back to your apartment.

“It doesn’t hurt as it did months ago but sometimes, all this chaos amplifies the pain. In those moments, I try to avoid him as much as I can,” you explain.

Well, sometimes, it’s complicated to avoid him, and most of the time, you completely explode. You throw all your anger at his face before totally bursting into tears, and since there’s nobody else in those moments, he’s the only one holding you in his arms to console you. Jungkook can imagine how it can be difficult for you but all he can do is be present for you when you need it.

“Honestly, I don’t know how you do,” Lux tells you. “If I were in your shoes, I would have already punched him in the face. I already wanted to do it with Henry when our son was born so I can’t imagine how it must be in your situation.”

Nobody around you can understand it. They can try but that’s it. Jungkook is the only one who can understand you. He also became a father overnight, he also had to figure out how to love his son, and he also had to figure out how to balance this new life. The only thing he can’t understand is how to live with an ex that broke your heart.

“It’s for Leo’s best interest,” you say. “And for mine as well,” you admit out loud. “It would be too hard if half of the time I was alone in my apartment.”

The two options you considered were living together for a couple of months or sharing custody right from the start. However, you knew that sharing custody would be way too difficult for you. You won’t regret the decision you made because even with Jungkook by your side, it’s still not easy. Your heart breaks whenever you hear Leo cry.

“But as soon as we find a balance, I’ll move back to my apartment. We agreed we’d stay at his place for at least the first 6 months of Leo’s life and that we’d assess the situation every month. But it’s quite obvious that it’s not the moment yet.”

They both nod. If right now this dynamic is what helps you, then you should keep doing it for as long as needed. Being with them out of the house feels good, it simply feels good to see other faces. You simply enjoy this moment with them. For the next 2 hours, you stay with them and talk about everything and anything.

Afterwards, you go back to Jungkook’s place. Since Arya is with her mother today, he was all alone with Leo. When you arrive, he’s half asleep with his son sleeping on his chest. There’s white noise playing in the background. It’s probably one of the YouTube videos he found to put Leo asleep. Your eyes quickly check out his torso which is on full display. He’s still extremely hot, and sometimes, you catch yourself wanting to have sex with him. You know it’s all due to your hormones being all over the place. But to be honest, being a father makes him look extra sexy.

“Hi, yn,” he whispers.

You get close to take a look at your son, he’s peacefully sleeping on his father’s chest which makes him look extremely adorable. Leo has been growing a lot for the past four months and getting chubbier day after day but it’s normal. The nurse told you that he has a normal weight and height for a four-month-old. Your son is absolutely so cute, he looks like a perfect mix between you and Jungkook.

“Hard to put him to sleep?” you ask with a little smile.

“Yep,” he replies. “Even doing the skin-to-skin thing wasn’t helping, but thankfully, white noises always work,” he says while trying not to speak too loudly.

“Maybe it’s best to try to put him in his crib?” you ask.

“Maybe not now,” he answers.

Jungkook feels a certain guilt by contradicting you, especially since he notices that you didn’t like his answer. But before he can even add something, you nod and leave the room to go to the bathroom to take a quick shower. However, before doing so, you sit down on the floor to pump your milk. Your breasts are heavy and full of milk. If you don’t empty them, even a tiny bit, they’ll explode. At least that’s what it feels like. You place the pumps on each of your breasts and close your eyes.

Seeing Jungkook’s body always wakes a fire inside you, and you need to calm it down. You always feel some culpability, especially since you’re falling in love with Yeonjun. There’s no doubt that you’re going to end up with him but Jungkook is always in a corner of your mind. He’s always there, and you’re afraid to hurt Yeonjun.

There’s a knock on the door, followed by Jungkook calling your name. You instantly open your eyes before readjusting yourself on the bathroom floor.

“Yes,” you answer.

“I’m sorry for contradicting you,” he mumbles.

“It’s okay Jungkook, you don’t have to be sorry every time we contradict each other,” you add.

Today, his disagreement had a bittersweet taste. You don’t exactly know why but it hurt you a bit when he didn’t agree with you. It’s silly but it doesn’t change the way you feel.

“I saw your face, yn,” he adds. “And I know that face very well, you didn’t like my answer.”

You close your eyes for a brief moment, taking a deep breath. You’re trying to calm yourself down.

“Leave me alone,” you say while opening your eyes again.

Now, Jungkook is the one taking a deep breath.It’s not always easy for you both to raise the little man, and right now is one of those moments. He’s scared to hurt you again in those moments, and you clearly don’t deserve it. You’re discovering maternity under those exceptional circumstances and hurting you even more will only make things worse.

“Leo is now sleeping in his little crib,” he tells you. “You were right, he’s better there.”

Lately, your ex has been trying to be gentle with you. No matter how you’re feeling, he’ll let you take it out on him. The situation you’re both in is tricky but he wants you to know that he’s there for you. That you’re not alone.

“Okay, just let me take a shower,” you reply.

“Okay but if you need anything, let me know.”

Jungkook leaves you alone, and you enjoy that moment to calm down. For sure, you need it because you don’t want to explode for something as little as this. Afterwards, you leave the bathroom with your pump, and the little bottles with your milk. The first thing you do is go to the kitchen to put the milk in a small bag and indicate the day and the hour of the milk withdrawal. You place it in the freezer and then, you quickly go to your room.

Leo is sleeping in his crib, he seems so serene. Your ex placed a little blanket on him, and you caressed the right chubby cheek of your son. You’re proud of yourself to have survived so far and to have kept him alive this far. He’s so big now compared to when he was born, which is normal but it always impresses you how much he has grown in such a short amount of time.

After checking on your son, you join his father in the living room. You sit next to him on the couch, he’s wearing a shirt now and you’re thankful for that.

“I’m also sorry for my reaction,” you tell him. “Leo was finally sleeping on you after you struggled so it was normal you didn’t want to move.”

Since Leo’s birth, you and Jungkook have been communicating a lot. It’s a good thing because it has been helping you tremendously to navigate this all.

“Don’t worry,” he answers, “I guess we’re both to blame here.”

“And please try to wear shirts when I’m around,” you add.

A smile appears on his face. He noticed the way you were hungrily looking at him, he’s also been doing it from time to time. He still finds you extremely attractive, and seeing you with your son makes you even more attractive. He wishes that things were different, he wishes to have never broken your heart because he’s convinced things would have been easier.

“Well, the skin-to-skin contact is important,” he replies. You roll your eyes, he’s such a tease. “But don’t worry, I’ll try to wear a shirt next time,” he winks at you.

There’s no doubt something is happening between you. The little spark is coming back and you’re simply letting it consume you both. None of you is trying to push the other off. It almost feels like nothing has ever happened.

“But if I do so, you’ll have to cover your chest every time you breastfeed,” he adds.

Right there and then, you understand what is going on and maybe because of the hormones being all over the place, you don’t feel like stopping him. He’s making you feel desired, and damn, right now, you desire him more than ever.

“And if I don’t want to?” you teasingly ask.

A smirk appears on his face. He gets closer to you, your eyes closing when you sense his warm breath against your skin. It instantly sends shivers down your spine.

“Then, I might do unholy things,” he whispers in your ear before biting your earlobe. “Unholy things that our son can’t see,” he adds.

His lips press a gentle kiss on your neck, right under your ear. Your arms wrap him, bringing his body closer to yours. His lips leave a trail of kisses from your neck to the corner of your lips. Your heartbeat increases while you breathe faster. His eyes meet yours. They are filled with lust, something you haven’t seen in a long time. Honestly, that simple gaze gets you wetter.

Now, you desperately crave him.

His lusty eyes understand it and in a blink of an eye, he presses his hungry lips against yours. Even though you’re both fully driven by desire, this kiss is soft and tender. It’s not bestial at all like it could have been. In fact, you’re actually convinced that if you rush it, it will destroy the magic behind this exact moment. His strong arms wrap tighter around you almost as if he’s scared to let you go.

His lips are so soft on yours, the tenderness of the kiss making your heart melt completely. You honestly missed being kissed by him because nobody compares to him. Your heart is pounding extremely hard in your chest while the butterflies in your lower stomach are making you feel completely alive. Your hands cup his face while you kiss him passionately.

If someone told you a year ago that you’d be sitting on his couch while kissing him intensely, you would have laughed so loud. And probably, you’d start crying in your bed because it would cause a lot of pain to picture kissing him again. And if anyone told you that you’d have a baby with him, you’d die instantly.

Slowly, Jungkook pushes you to lay on the couch. In a matter of seconds, your shirt is pulled out and his greedy lips find their way to your nipples. They pleasantly torture you, and you don’t hold back your moans. At this moment, you completely forget that you have a son sleeping not too far from you.

Your back arches, bringing your body closer to his mouth. Your baby daddy doesn’t spare you at all, he tortures you in a way that only he can do. Your hands are running through his hair, almost as if you’re trying to hold onto something. Now that you’ve become a mother, your breasts are super sensitive so this torture is driven crazier than it used to.

On top of that, it’s the first time you’ve been intimate with someone since your son’s birth. It’s also the first time another man other than your son is touching your breasts. This moment is making you feel like a woman again, something you had completely lost when you became a mother. For the past months, you’ve been first and foremost a mother, a desperate one but the woman part has been put aside. However, Jungkook is bringing back that side of you, and it makes you feel alive.

Slowly the nipple sucking turns into you getting naked. It turns into him thrusting into you like there’s no tomorrow. For hours, you make love, completely forgetting everything. You’re in your own bubble. A bubble you should probably never have created but this feels exquisitely good. Having Jungkook in between your legs burying his cock deep inside you is like being in heaven.

Your body has completely changed since Leo’s birth, and having sex with Jungkook helps you to explore what this new body sexually adores. But nothing compares to the feeling of his hand touching every part of you that has changed, and his lips too. However, what warms your heart is the way his eyes stare at your body. They glow so much, and it makes you feel desirable again.

For sure, the way you see your body shouldn’t be defined by the way a man looks at you, but it helps to embrace this new body even more. Yes, you’re thankful this body provided everything Leo needed, especially since you didn’t know he was there. Yes, you’re thankful you delivered him safely. Yes, you’re thankful it gives Leo everything he needs in his first months of life. But your body changed and it’s a body you have to discover all over again.

Your body isn’t just your home anymore, it’s Leo’s too.

Everything is different and everything feels different. This new body is more sensitive so having sex is a hundred times better than before. Sex feels even more intense. And god, let’s not start talking about doggy style. Orgasms are coming one after the other. Everything is overwhelming but in a good way.

Jungkook, on his side, finds you even prettier than before. Surely, it has to do with the fact that your body carried Leo for nine months and is now providing him with all that he needs. Having sex with you also feels more overwhelming for him. He’s been desperately holding back his orgasms to not come like an idiot after 3 seconds.

After having all that sex, you simply lay on the couch next to each other, heavily breathing. You’re simply staring at the ceiling in silence for a moment. Then, Jungkook grabs the baby monitor to take a look at your son.

“Even with all the noise we made, this kid slept,” he says with a heavy breath.

Your eyes glaze at the baby monitor, and a little smile appears on your face. Your baby daddy puts it back on the coffee table before grabbing a blanket to place it on both of your bodies. You offer him a little smile and you rest your head on his shoulder. This intense activity tired you out a lot. It’s best to try to sleep a bit before Leo wakes up.

Jungkook is standing at the entrance of the private school that Arya is attending. As surprising as it sounds, he took a paternity leave combined with the annual leaves he’s entitled to take, even if he’s the CEO of Jeon Industries. Being present as a father in his child’s first months of life always mattered more than anything else in the world. Those leaves surprised the entire world but the company can survive without him for a little while. He hired the best people so he trusts them.

Once all those leaves are over, he’ll run the company from home. Going back to work with a baby who cries a thousand times at night is quite hard, and he already looks like a zombie. Since he’ll work from home, he’ll choose when to work and when not. At the end of the day, he’s the big boss so he can do whatever suits him. But right now, his priorities are his children and you.

“Daddy,” Arya says while running in his direction.

A bright smile appears on his face. Lately, he’s been trying to adjust to this whole new dynamic. It’s hard trying to spend as much time as possible with Arya when Leo captures all the attention. At first, she was a bit jealous of her brother but slowly, she’s been accepting that she has one now. She’s been trying to help, she gives you the diaper when you’re changing Leo, and she speaks to him when he’s crying. She’s doing what she can and it’s adorable.

Jungkook places himself at her level to catch her. The days he has her are the days he’s the happiest because he’s surrounded by the people he loves the most. Even if he’s extremely tired, he’s extremely happy. Having a surprise child is absolutely not easy but slowly it’s getting easier.

“Princess,” he says when he catches her.

Nothing can compare to feeling his kids in his arms. Leo is still very small but when he holds him, he simply feels at peace, the same way it feels to hold Arya. But then, there’s you. Having you in his arms feels like being home. His heart is reassured whenever he holds you tight, and he always tries to provide you with the same feeling when you’re crying. In the past six months, he has seen you cry a thousand times and each time has been heartbreaking. Most of the time, he also ends up crying because you’re both completely overwhelmed by the situation. When it happens, you’re also the one holding him tightly.

Leo has brought you closer than ever.

However, it’s in a totally different way. You’ve become super close friends, and it kind of makes this situation easier to deal with. For sure, there’s a lot of pain from the past and it’s hard but you’re closer. What definitely changed your relationship is the sex. Since you had sex for the first time after your son’s birth, something deeply changed. After that time, you only made love one other time but you’ve been pretending like nothing ever happened. Because you both know that it’s mostly a physical need.

Jungkook would be lying if he said that he doesn’t think about it quite often. When he lays his eyes on you, he’s brought back to those two incredible moments, and he wishes he could repeat them. But there’s a limit, especially since you’ve been trying to figure your life out. He noticed how things changed between you and Yeonjun. He’s fully aware that it is because you slept together and you don’t know what to do anymore. However, he's 100% sure that it’s not even in your mind to get back with him.

“How’s your day going?” he asks his daughter.

The little girl starts ranting about her day at school while he holds her hand and walks with her to the car. Eunji left Arya’s belongings at his place earlier today. She’s been quite helpful since your son’s arrival, and it’s been more than appreciated. Any help received right now is more than welcome. Eunji understands that this is a very complicated situation and she’s been trying to adjust as well. Most of the time, Arya only spends the day here and sleeps at her mother’s so she isn’t woken up at night by Leo. This was an agreement the three of you made. Of course, there are days where she spends the night here but it doesn’t happen quite often. However, tonight, she’s going to sleep at her father’s place, and she’s very excited. The reason you all agreed is because it’s friday and tomorrow she doesn’t need to go to school.

Jungkook helps her to get inside the car, and as every day, she requests to listen to Part of Your World from the Little Mermaid, her favorite Disney movie. By now, you all know this song since you play it all the time. Her father doesn’t understand how she isn’t tired yet to listen to it on repeat. No doubt that he is tired of it! As they arrive home, Arya rushes to the living room to see her little brother. Luckily for her, you’re there, sitting on the couch and breastfeeding Leo.

A bright smile appears on your face when you see her. She quickly caresses her brother’s hair before pressing a gentle kiss on his head.

“Hi, baby brother,” she whispers. Her little eyes look up at you and a big smile appears on her face. “Hi, yn.”

“Hi, little monster,” you answer. “I’ll give you a kiss once Leo’s done eating.”

She nods and sits next to you. Your eyes move to Jungkook who’s putting down his daughter’s backpack. His eyes meet yours for a brief moment before quickly looking down at your breast. When you notice it, a little laugh leaves your lips while you shake your head. It’s funny the way he’s always mesmerized by your breasts. If there weren’t the kids, he would have probably said or done something.

After Leo’s eaten enough, you made sure he burped. Then, Arya asked if she could hold him, and of course, you helped her hold her little brother. She’s always adorable and it warms everybody’s heart that she takes her big sis role very seriously. You’re thankful your son has Arya as a sister. She definitely has the biggest and most wonderful heart in the world.

For dinner, you and Jungkook prepared lasagna much to Arya's delight. She mentioned a lot of times that it was absolutely good and she also spoke a lot about her friends because one of them is throwing a little party for their birthday. She sounded extremely excited which was cute.

Once both Arya and Leo are sleeping, there’s just you and Jungkook in the kitchen. He’s drinking wine while you’re drinking a beer without alcohol.

“We have to talk about what we’ve been doing,” you tell him.

For the past few days, it has been on your mind to talk with him about the two-night stands you had. If it happened, it’s for a reason and you also need to discuss it with him because you’re a bit lost. You’re falling in love with Yeonjun but there’s Jungkook and you’ve been sleeping together. It kind of makes you feel guilty although you’re not in a relationship with him.

Jungkook nods and takes a sip of wine.

“I know I wanted it and I don’t regret it at all but there’s Yeonjun,” you start saying but before you can add anything, Jungkook interrupts you.

“Listen, I’ve seen how confused you have been those past few days and I know it’s because of what we’ve been doing. What is going on is complicated, we suddenly had a son and we suddenly started living together. We share a history so for sure we’ll forever be attracted to each other in a way,” he says. “But don’t start pushing Yeonjun away because of me. He’s the right one for you.”

It hurts to say those words out loud but truth being told, it’s better you try something with Yeonjun than him. He’s scared to hurt you once again and he’d die if he ever does it again. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself because you’re the best thing that has ever happened to him. Being friends is the best solution for you.

“He’s been treating you better than I ever did so you should give him a chance. We’ve been pretending that nothing happened and it’s best we keep doing it. Don’t torture yourself any longer and just try. I’m sure you’ll be super happy and that’s the thing you deserve the most. I never was the right one for you but he has been the second he came into your life,” he finishes.

A tear runs down your face. This Jungkook in front of you is such a more mature version of him than the one that broke your heart over a year ago. This man is the one you have always wanted to see but now it’s too late. Your heart beats for Yeonjun. You were scared that having sex with your ex meant that you were falling for him all over again. However, now that he is saying those words, it makes it clear that it is just an illusion. You’re still falling in love with Yeonjun but you simply had a moment of weakness due to the complicated situation that you are in.

“And please don’t feel guilty, you didn’t cheat on him or anything. But I hope that all of this will help you to see things clearly,” he adds.

You stand up and hug your baby daddy. In the end, the birth of Leo helped him to get more mature, that’s what you think. But the truth is that you’re the reason behind his growth. Jungkook needed to be present for you, he needed to be your shoulder to rest on while you were trying to figure out how to become a mother. You simply needed him, and he had to grow to be what you needed the most. Jungkook had lost you and all he could do was to make sure you’d be happy. Even if that meant without him.

8 years later

Today is Leo’s 8th birthday.

A bright smile appears on your face when your eyes land on him. He’s running all over Jungkook’s living room with his friends. He’s such a big boy and you’re proud of the little man he has become.

“Mommy,” as those words are pronounced, you feel a little hand pushing your dress. You look down to see your second born, Levi.

“Yes, sweetie?” you ask before grabbing him to hold him in your arms.

Levi is the son you had with Yeonjun. He’s 4 years old and is a miniature of his father while Leo is more of a mix of you and Jungkook. So most of the time, people don’t believe them when they say they are brothers. However, that isn’t the case when it comes to Arya and Leo as they both resemble their father in a certain way.

“Can I have cake?” he asks.

“Not yet,” you answer. “You’ll have a piece after singing happy birthday to Leo, okay?” you tell him.

The little boy nods before asking you to let him go. Hyejoo, the mother of Taehoon, one of Leo’s friends, joins you. She has become a very good friend of yours and she has been very present in your life for the past year. It’s been almost a year since you and Yeonjun broke up, and let’s say that it hasn’t been easy at all. For a bit over a year, the relationship has started to deteriorate. At first, it was a bit due to the monotony but you both tried to find a solution. It worked but only for a short time.

Yeonjun lost his job, he started drinking instead of finding a new job. Your income was then the only one coming in. Obviously, it became hard to live with only one income and a drunk boyfriend. You tried to make him realize that he needed to move his ass but it only made everything worse. Trying to reason with an alcoholic is like talking to a wall. He got defensive and you were constantly fighting. In the midst of all that, you were trying to protect the kids but they could sense and see that everything was different.

One day, you vent to Jungkook with whom you became good friends. Since he’s literally one of the wealthiest men in the country, he offered to help you. You couldn’t refuse since you had to feed two little monsters but that made things even worse. Yeonjun suddenly became jealous of Jungkook. That was the last straw.

He never had any reason to be jealous of Jungkook. It was your ex, the romantic love between you was long gone and he is now a friend. But above anything else, he is Leo’s father. You never wanted any stupid tension between them since there are kids involved. The three of you always made everything work out for the kids and a simple job loss threw that all away.

Today things are still complicated with Yeonjun but the break-up was his wake-up call. From there, he started getting his shit together. Temporarily you agreed to let him live with you but he had to quickly find a solution which he did. All along, Jungkook was there as he’s been doing for the past 8 years. He has been your shoulder to lay on when you need it the most.

“How are you?” She asks.

“I’m fine,” you tell her. “Seeing my boys excited about this birthday party truly makes me happy.”

Seeing them happy is all that you need to be happy. Nothing else matters.

“But you know, this date always has a bittersweet taste,” you confess. “It was one of the hardest days of my life.”

Even though you love Leo with all your heart, it doesn’t change the fact that his birth was one of the most arduous days of your life. It will forever be like that, and every birthday will be a reminder of that day. A day you endured physical and emotional pain and a day you didn’t want him to come. When you look at him, being so happy to celebrate his birthday with his friends, it crushes your heart that you didn’t want him at first. But that’s the truth.

“Well, it’s more than understandable,” she says.

Your eyes move to Jungkook, who is speaking with some friends. He has changed a lot over the past 8 years. He has grown into a very mature man and it amazes you to think how different he is now. Nine years ago, he broke your heart. Now he’s the one amending it. He did a lot of work on himself, he faced all his demons and fought them. And he did it for himself, he didn’t use the stupid reason of ‘it’s for my kids’. He finally understood that he needed to take care of himself first.

In the midst of all that internal work, he found a girlfriend, Jihyo with whom he’s still with today. She’s a sweetheart and you love her. She’s definitely the one he needs. You’re so happy that he found her, he deserves his happy ending. A couple of weeks ago, she told you that she’s convinced that he’ll propose to her any time soon. Even though he’s your ex, you’d be glad to assist at his wedding. Jihyo and Jungkook have been together for 5 years which is a record for him.

“I know but it’s complicated to remember that day,” you add. “But seeing him this joyful today eases all the pain that was brought on that day.”

Jungkook joins the two of you, he greets you with a bright smile and the three of you talk about the kids. Hyejoo has 4 kids, the oldest is 10 years and she’s complaining that he’s started to not listen to her. She’s getting worried about how it will be during his teenage years and also soon after Taehoon will become a teenager.

Leo’s father explains to her how he has been dealing with Arya who’s almost 15 years old. It’s sometimes quite difficult, you’ve seen it with your own eyes but she’s still that adorable little girl that she was when she was younger. She’s just growing up, experiencing love, having her hormones all over the place, and having her first periods too. Compared to Jungkook at that age, she’s a saint. Plus, she adores taking care of Leo. She likes picking him up at school, preparing a little snack when they’re home, helping him to do his homework, and watching series and movies together. She also sometimes takes care of Levi whom she considers too as a younger brother.

At some point, Hyejoo leaves you and Jungkook alone. Both of you are still keeping an eye on the children running around everywhere.

“Jihyo isn’t coming today?” you ask.

Jungkook’s smile completely disappears and you instantly understand that something happened. You wouldn’t go so far as to say they broke up but by his face, it definitely looks like it.

“No,” he replies. “Not today nor any other day,” he adds.

It breaks your heart to hear that they aren’t together anymore. They were just right for each other but if it’s over, then there must be a good reason.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you gently ask.

“Not now,” he says while shaking his head. “Let’s enjoy this little party and we'll maybe talk about it afterward. This day is already tough for us two and I prefer we celebrate our son.”

You nod, understanding that he doesn’t want to talk about it now. A breakup is never easy, you’ve experienced some and it was always hard. The last one being quite rough, especially since Levi was involved. You wished things were different but it is what it is. At the end of the day, what truly matters is that you and your children are happy and living in a healthy environment.

The rest of the afternoon goes well, Leo being super happy to celebrate his birthday with all his friends and family. Yours and Jungkook’s parents are also present, they wouldn’t miss their grandson’s birthday. They spoil him quite a lot but it’s normal, that’s what grandparents are supposed to do. This afternoon is a success and it warms your heart.

Exceptionally, Leo and Levi are sleeping at Jungkook’s place and right after the party, they crash down in Leo’s bedroom. Of course, Leo’s father hired a cleaning company to clean his place. That’s the perk of being wealthy.

Once everybody is sleeping, you and Jungkook sit on the couch with a glass of wine. This has become a tradition for the past eight years. It always feels good and you also place a picture you took of the three of you in a photo album. With it, you can see how much your little man has changed over the years.

“He has grown so much,” Jungkook says as you watch all the pictures.

“Indeed, and he’s such a gentle and sweet boy,” you add.

Jungkook quickly looks at you and takes a sip of wine. Things have changed a lot for the past 8 years but he’s delighted with how things have turned. Well, he’s just sad that in the end, neither your relationship with Yeonjun nor his with Jihyo worked out. He still remembers vividly how happy he was when you were both in healthy relationships after all the chaos that yours was. But it looks like you'll have to start all over again from scratch.

“We did a very good job despite how everything started,” he says.

“I still remember the day he was born like it was yesterday,” you reveal.

It’s also the case for him. It was very complicated to become parents under those circumstances but he’s so proud of all the work you did. Once you live separately, you try even harder to make everything work out for Leo. That meant having difficult conversations and a lot of disagreements but in the end, it was worth it.

“And it broke my heart seeing you in so much pain,” he confesses. “It wasn’t just physical, it was emotional as well and the only other time I had seen you like that was when your sister passed away. Right there, I knew that you needed me more than ever and that I couldn’t mess up again.”

It’s the first time Jungkook is telling you that. You weren’t aware he felt like that but he was there for you, he was your savior. There’s no doubt that without him you wouldn’t have survived the first year. It was intense on a lot of levels but you learned a lot from that period of your life.

“You never told me that,” you tell him.

“I never saw the point of saying it,” he says with a little laugh. “For me, it was obvious. I already had a daughter, I kind of knew what to do. It was a shock for me and it took me some time to adjust to that new reality but you were completely overwhelmed by the entire situation. It was normal to be your shoulder to rely on,” he takes another sip of wine.

“Without you, I wouldn’t be here today,” you admit.

It warms his heart to hear those words. Of course, he already knew that because he saw how much you blossomed afterwards but it’s always nice to hear it from you.

“Well, I gave up on you a bit after your sister passed away. You pushed me back but I should maybe have stayed instead of leaving. But when you were giving birth to Leo, he was also my son, and abandoning you would have been very cowardly. I also made sure I would forever be there even if you pushed me back,” he professes.

“I’m very thankful you were there even when I was exploding,” you rest your head on his shoulder.

This year, the conversion is quite deep. Usually, you simply talk about the funny events of the year and laugh a lot with a glass of wine. No boyfriends and girlfriends are allowed, it has always been a moment between you and Jungkook. Those moments have contributed a lot to reinforce your friendship.

For a moment, you stay like that in silence. This year is different. Neither of you has a reason to end this moment. You don’t have Yeonjun waiting for you at home, and Jihyo isn’t waiting for Jungkook upstairs. This year there’s just the two of you. And it feels nice because you can truly savor this moment.

“I don’t know if I ever told you that I wanted to have a child with Jihyo,” he starts saying. You shake your head. “We were very good together and I wanted to build a family with her but it all fell down. That’s what really hurts me today,” it breaks your heart to hear that. “She was expecting a proposal but I never did it, and to be honest, I don’t even know why. I loved her and wanted it all with her but I was unable to get married to her. We had a fight a month ago and she brought up that she’s kind of waiting for a proposal that never comes. I confessed to her that I can’t for unknown reasons and she got even angrier because she knew why.”

You frown and stand up straight to glance at him. You’re a bit confused about how Jihyo would know why he wasn’t able to see himself getting married to her.

“It was because of you,” he says with a little voice, his eyes staring deeply at you. “She told me that since the beginning of our relationship, she knew that I was still in love with you in a certain way. It was obvious for her but with time, she saw me falling in love with her so she believed things changed. However, she realized she was wrong when the proposal was never coming. She realized right there that I’d never marry her because subconsciously, I was still waiting for you.”

Your heart is beating like crazy in your chest, and you feel your cheeks getting on fire. In his jealous phase, Yeonjun told you more or less the same thing but you thought that he was so wrong. Although, a tiny part of yourself was convinced that he was right. You thought that he was overreacting because Jungkook is Leo’s father and you would never accept Yeonjun attacking him. A good relationship between the three of you was deeply important for you because of Leo and Levi. However, maybe you were wrong. Truth being told, you broke up with him because you were still in love with Jungkook.

“And now that you were single, there was absolutely no point in me being with someone else,” he adds.

Jungkook gets a little closer to you and places his hand on your tight.

“She broke up with me and it hurt a lot, especially since I was convinced that it was ridiculous but she didn’t change her mind at all,” he continues. “I really thought she was delirious but then, I started to deeply think about it. I analyzed how I was acting around you, and how I was feeling when you were there. I was quick to realize that she was right, I was subconsciously longing for you.”

His fingers caress your tight. Your entire body is reacting to his words, this is a heartfelt love confession, and damn, it warms your heart in a way that you can’t even express.

“I’ve been waiting for you for eight years, yn,” he confesses out loud. “And I think I might wait for you my entire life because, since the beginning, it was you. It has always been you and nobody else. I just was an idiot to have let you go twice but maybe, it wasn’t the right time for us. I know now that if you ever give me another chance, it would be the perfect time.”

You place your hand on top of his, your eyes quickly glance at them before you look up at him. Jungkook is glowing right now in a way that you’ve never seen before. You fell for this man 20 years ago and since then, you never fell out of love for him. Since the beginning, he was the one holding your heart. As he said, maybe it was never the right time and you both needed to grow up before the perfect time would come.

You know now that today is the perfect time.

The past 8 years, you built a solid friendship, you faced the hardest obstacles together and you both worked a lot on yourselves. Today, you’re both different people, and these versions of yourselves can finally fully love each other.

“I feel deep inside of me that now is the perfect time,” you admit.

And without any hesitation, Jungkook kisses you passionately. This kiss feels completely different, it feels like you’re kissing for the first time ever. Maybe it’s because you’re different now and you need to discover each other all over again. The kiss is gentle, not rushed and you can taste the wine on his lips. Being kissed by Jungkook brings you to heaven, and you always loved being kissed by him. Slowly, you fall on your back on the couch, your hands running through his hair while you never stop kissing.

For a moment, he breaks the kiss to look at you and rub his nose against yours. Soon enough, he presses his lips against yours for a languorous and fervent kiss. This could go a lot further but you both know that if you want to make it work this time, it’s not a good idea to have sex now. Sex is never the solution. So, Jungkook ends up laying next to you on the couch, a bright smile displayed on his face.

“We always finish doing something on this couch,” he playfully says. “There must be something on this couch.”

You turn your head to look at him.

“Maybe someone put a spell on it,” you answer.

“Well, you put a spell on me, that’s for sure!” He tells you before kissing you once more.

He’ll never grow tired of kissing you. Your lips are his favorite thing in the entire world, he could spend hours kissing you.

The past few weeks, you’ve been flirting with Jungkook and going on several dates. It feels like things are falling into place, you’ve been talking a lot, enjoying each other's presence and simply being in love. You’ve never been this happy in your entire life, you adore being around him. This time around feels super easy. Of course, you haven’t said anything to your children because you don’t want to give them false hopes although Arya has been suspicious of what’s going on. She already noticed something had been happening when you were leaving Leo at his place one day and she raised the question. However, you denied it.

Also for the past weeks, you haven’t had sex at all. To be honest, it surprises you a lot because you’re both very attracted to the other but you’ve been putting that aside to build a healthy relationship. You both desire to make it work this time so there are a lot of efforts to be done on both sides. Maybe more on his side than yours but still, this is something you work on together. You’re two in a relationship and it takes two to make it work.

Today is Valentine’s Day and you’re going on a date together. Arya has nicely accepted to take care of her brother, and Levi is staying with his father. Jungkook is taking you out to a fancy restaurant, and you’re honestly super excited to spend this evening with him. You put on your prettier red dress and he’s wearing a very fancy black suit. He looks absolutely hot in that suit, you always loved watching him in a classy suit.

The restaurant is obviously full but people aren’t talking too loudly. There’s a band playing some romantic songs, and it definitely creates a lovey-dovey atmosphere. You’re absolutely delighted to be celebrating this Valentine’s Day with Jungkook.

“Before we take this relationship to the next step, I really want to apologize for how I acted the last time we were trying to be together,” Jungkook starts saying and you nod. “At that time, I had spent 10 years waiting for you to come back and I never truly thought about the eventuality of it really happening. So, when it happened, it was overwhelming because I simply didn’t know what to do. But it’s also because I had never done the proper work on myself before letting you back in my life.”

This conversation is one that you have been waiting for years. You never forced it because you always judged that it had to come from him and not from you. Forcing something will always have the opposite result but you’re glad that it’s happening now.

“Well, now looking back, I can confirm that it’s true,” you jokingly reply.

“Back then, it seemed a lot easier to push you back. Having you back was so overwhelming that I wasn’t even able to properly do my job. It was never your fault, it was mine. I was immature and a total jerk. I hid behind the excuse of wanting to put my daughter as a priority when I should have made you my priority. I hurt you a lot and I’m very aware of it so I made sure to never do it again.”

You grab his hand on the table to squish it. This man right here seems to always find a way to melt your heart.

“Your happiness is the only thing that always mattered to me, and I made it my priority. Even when we were friends, I did it. That’s also the reason why I convinced you to try with Yeonjun, I saw the way he was making you happy. Also back then, I would have never been able to give you that happiness otherwise I would have fought for you. And I also didn’t deserve you, I guess I never did,” he confesses.

The last sentence definitely breaks your heart. You want to contradict him but for sure, back then, he didn’t deserve your love because when you gave it to him, he just threw it away. But today, things are different. He has shown you in many ways that he has changed and that he deserves to be loved. That he deserves your love.

“Don’t say that, Jk,” you tell him with evident sadness in your voice.

“It’s the truth, yn,” he replies. “You’re such a strong and wonderful woman, you went through so much and you’re still standing tall with a big smile on your face. I never faced half of the things you did but still managed to act like a dick. I’m proud that you’re Leo’s mom so he can have you as an example and just be wonderful like you which he’s already proving to be,” a smile appears on his face while thinking about his son. “Even if I hurt you, I would do everything the same way because I got to be Arya’s and Leo’s father and I got to grow with you by my side.”

Jungkook changed a lot, that’s sure. You’re not sure he would have said that 8 years ago but things are different now. Leo really changed everything but in a good way. Without him, you’re not sure you’ll be sitting in this chair today. Maybe you’d still hate Jungkook but you’re sure of one thing. You would have found your way to him. You never truly believed in things such as destiny but with Jungkook, it’s different. You always knew that you were destined to be together.

Jungkook could be saying all those words in vain without meaning them but the way he’s been acting lately ⏤ and also since Leo’s birth ⏤ proves that everything he’s saying now is the truth. You believe him.

“If you were saying this right after you had hurt me, I would have never believed you,” you start saying. “But it comes years after and I got to witness your growth. However, it doesn’t mean that it’s going to be easy. Like you said, you hurt me and ever since, I struggle a bit to trust you. I feel like at any moment you could do it all over again,” Jungkook nods. “We’ve been having a very good time and I really want to keep doing it because I always loved you as well.”

A smile appears on his face.

“I promise this time around you won’t regret it,” he whispers.

The rest of the time in the restaurant goes well. You laugh a lot, speak a lot, drink a lot, and eat a lot. This is a wonderful moment. One that you won’t easily forget. Afterward, you both decide to spend a little extra moment alone in your apartment. It won’t last long because you'd rather not leave Arya alone with Leo for too long. Well, honestly speaking, you simply want to have sex because the physical attraction together with alcohol isn’t quite a good combination. You just can’t resist the other like you’ve been doing for the past weeks.

As soon as you pass the entrance door, you jump on each other’s lips in a very fervent and needy kiss. Jungkook’s hands lift up your dress, definitely not wanting to waste any second. His fingers directly find their way to your panties, and the mere contact of his cold fingers with your warm pussy sends shivers through your entire body. When you sense him, you realize that you’ve been desperately craving this moment for a while already.

His fingers rub against your pussy, causing a trail of moans to leave your mouth. Your moans are a melody that he’s been longing for a while. Just the sound of it makes him grow harder in his pants. In the rush of desperately desiring to have sex and not leave the kids alone for a long time, you walk backward until reaching the dining table and you fall on it. You’re now laying on top of the table. Jungkook removes your panties and simply pushes down his pants and underwear. By reflex, you open your legs and Jungkook instantly places himself in between.

None of you speaks during this moment, there’s just the sound of your heavy breathing echoing in your apartment. He doesn't need much prompting to start thrusting into you. The two of you moan like crazy, you definitely don’t hold back since you’re alone. There’s absolutely no need to withhold.

Your baby daddy thrusts deep inside you and it causes the table beneath you to squeak. But to be honest, you couldn’t care less about that. You’re simply enjoying this extraordinary moment together, and it’s wonderful to feel him deep inside you. Everything feels wonderful with him. Quickly, an intense orgasm hits you, provoking your entire body to shake. The man you love senses it, a greedy smile appears on his face but he keeps going. When you have an orgasm, it simply brings him closer to the edge.

However, the orgasm + the pleasure clearly makes you orgasm even more. It’s orgasm over orgasm, you can’t stop yourself. You’re overwhelmed with pleasure and you don’t ever want to stop it. You just let it go. The feeling of it makes him desire to completely explode inside you but for sure, he needs to ask you first if you’re okay with it.

“Can I come inside you?” Jungkook asks.

You can barely say ‘yes’ but you still manage to say it. In the moment, you don’t care where he comes, it’s the least of your problems. And with your simple answer, Jungkook lets it go. His orgasm hit him violently, this little quickie was what he badly wanted.

For a brief moment, you stay like that. He goes to the kitchen to grab tissues for the two of you so you can clean yourselves from all the juices that come out from your bodies.

“That was intense,” you say while cleaning yourself.

“More than intense,” he replies, a little laugh escaping his lips.

“We should do that more often,” you suggest.

Jungkook shakes his head while still laughing. For sure, he won’t be the one complaining about having more often sex with you.

“Maybe I should head home so Arya doesn’t go too crazy with Leo,” Jungkook adds.

Obviously, you won’t go with him. Things need to be done slowly and even if Arya has some suspicions, it’s best she doesn’t know yet. This time around, there are three children involved and there is no space for acting like idiots. This brings a lot of happiness to you but they should know when you’re both confident that it will work.

“Yes, you should,” you reply with a little smile.

You stand up and rearrange your dress before walking in his direction to be closer to him. He’s zipping his pants and looks up when he notices your presence. His arms wrap around your waist, bringing you closer. He presses a gentle kiss on your forehead, your eyes automatically closing for a brief moment.

“This night was wonderful, yn,” he whispers. “I adored the moment spent at the restaurant, and I want nothing more than to repeat it.”

You press a soft kiss on his lips.

“There’s nothing more I’d love to do,” you answer.

A smile of true happiness appears on both of your faces. This night will for sure be a moment you’ll forever cherish. None of you will ever forget because this night is the night where things finally took the right turn. After this night, your relationship kept blossoming and turned into the most wonderful thing in the world. Of course, when you told the news to your children months later, they were extremely ecstatic. Seeing them that way made you realize that this was all you ever needed.

It took you 20 years to find the right time but eventually, you found it. You were the right person for each other but it was never the right time. Timing is such a complex concept, however, it was time that allowed you to grow and fall in love all over again. You were each other's right person but it was too soon. You needed to experience all the things you lived before being brought back again. Leo’s 8th anniversary was the moment you both realized that it was finally the perfect time for you. Since the beginning, it was simply a matter of timing.

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