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shy9-29 · 6 months ago

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── just the two of us, moonstruck ☾ (l.hs)

๑ After Heeseung finally breaks off his manipulative relationship, he storms out of the house late at night without an umbrella as it’s pouring rain, then running into you. He’s never been happier after he experiences what real love is with you.

a/n: this is actually so sad but I hope you enjoy it! Heeseung’s ex goes by the name Karina | wc: 2.6k | warning: not proofread! toxic relationship, angst, manipulation, minor flirting | song: moonstruck - enhypen 🎵

—

"Break up with me?!"

Karina sneered, her voice trembling with emotion. Her gaze bore into Heeseung, her words laced with anger.

The raw intensity of her expression conveyed the depth of her pain, begging him to reconsider.

“Why are you even acting surprised? You knew this was coming.” Heeseung’s response was cold and void of any sympathy. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t expect it.”

Karina's eyes widened, frustration etched on her face as she spoke, “All I did was treat you well like the loving girlfriend I am!”

Her voice wavered with hurt, her arms crossing defensively in front of her chest.

The accusation stung, her resentment evident as she tried to convey the effort she had put into their relationship.

“Loving girlfriend? You call manipulating me, constantly gaslighting me, and never giving me space ‘loving?’” his voice rising with each word.

“You were trying too hard to be ‘loving.’ I felt suffocated and trapped.” Heeseung’s voice grew more forceful. “It was like you were constantly hovering over me, trying to control every aspect of my life. I couldn’t breathe!”

Karina's lower lip trembled, her face flushed with anger.

"Is that all I did?!" Her voice escalated in volume. "I just wanted to be close to you! Is that a crime!?"

Heeseung furrowed his brow, his frustration evident.

"It was more than that," he retorted. "You smothered me. You didn't trust me. You made me question every interaction, every decision. You controlled everything. It was like I lost myself in the relationship."

As Karina was about to speak, Heeseung interrupted, his voice firm, "We're over, Karina."

The finality in his tone left no room for negotiation, the harsh reality hitting Karina like a wave as Heeseung stormed out of her apartment.

It was pouring rain as Heeseung stepped outside without an umbrella. His shoes splashed in the puddles, his face drenched as he walked away, feeling a mix of relief and sadness. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, the rain a fittingly melancholic companion to his heartbreak.

Heeseung found himself drawn to the nearby river, the moon shining brightly overhead.

Lost in thought, he reached the riverbank and gazed at the water's surface, reflecting the celestial light.

The gentle lapping of the waves was soothing, but the pang of heartache was still ever-present.

It was well past midnight. The once bustling streets lay silent, the moon casting its silvery glow on the empty cobblestones.

Most of the city was asleep, except for the occasional insomniac or late-night worker.

The rain continued to shower down, creating a melancholic atmosphere as Heeseung stood there, soaking wet, his gaze fixed on the shimmering river.

The silence was broken only by the soft sounds of raindrops hitting the water's surface and the occasional distant sound of a passing car.

It was as if the world had come to a pause for Heeseung, his emotions swirling like the eddies in the river.

Heeseung took a deep, shaky breath as a rush of emotions washed over him. It was like the rain was washing away the remnants of his relationship, leaving behind only the memory of the moon's ethereal beauty and the cold, comforting presence of the night.

Heeseung couldn't help but dwell on the moments leading up to the breakup, replaying the harsh words exchanged. The words he'd said to Karina haunted him, but deep down, he knew they were true. He needed space, freedom, a chance to rediscover himself without the stifling grip of a controlling partner.

As the rain continued to fall, Heeseung ran a hand through his wet hair, his gaze still fixed on the shimmering water. It was then that he noticed you standing silently behind him, quietly holding an umbrella over his head.

"You’re going to get sick if you keep standing in the rain, sir," you remarked, offering a friendly reminder to the man drenched in the pouring rain. Concern etched on your face, you chuckled lightly at the scene before you.

Heeseung startled, quickly turning around to see you standing there. A mixture of surprise and relief crossed his features as he recognized your kind gesture.

"Oh. Yeah, I guess I got lost in thought..." he admitted sheepishly.

He took in your appearance for a moment, taking notice of your kind expression. There was something comforting about having someone show genuine concern.

Your concern grew as you stepped closer, shielding both of you from the rain with your umbrella. "Are you lost?" you inquired softly, your gaze filled with genuine concern.

Heeseung shook his head in response, his eyes meeting yours.

"No, not lost...just trying to clear my head," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

His drenched hair clung to his forehead as he ran a hand through it again, trying to regain his composure.

With you standing close, Heeseung felt a strange sense of comfort, despite the circumstances. The umbrella provided a welcome shelter and the act of sharing it with a stranger was oddly comforting.

His mind was still swirling with the events leading up to this moment, but the presence of someone caring enough to stand in the rain with him made his heart feel a little less heavy.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You asked as the words slipped from your lips. The tilt of your head indicated your genuine interest, an invitation to share what burdened him.

Heeseung hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering with contemplation. The weight of everything he'd been through felt raw and vulnerable.

"It's just...my relationship. It ended tonight," he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with the lingering pain of the breakup.

You nodded understandingly, your heart going out to him.

"Breakups are tough," you responded, your voice soft and compassionate. "But sometimes, they lead us to better things."

You could see the heaviness in his expression, the way his shoulders slumped slightly under the weight of his heartache.

"Do you have anywhere to go?" you asked with a hint of concern.

Heeseung shook his head, his gaze remaining fixed on the water.

"No, not really. I don't really feel like going back to my apartment right now."

There was a trace of sadness in his voice, as if he knew he should go back, but the thought of being alone in his empty, silence-filled home didn't appeal to him at all.

You studied his face for a moment, his wet hair clinging to his forehead, and the rain running down his face. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that tugged at your heartstrings.

"Would you like to come to mine? Just for the night," you suddenly offered, surprising yourself as much as him.

Heeseung's eyes widened in surprise, clearly taken aback by your unexpected invitation. He looked at you, disbelief and a hint of gratitude etched across his face.

"Really?" he asked, his voice soft. The rain continued to fall, the sound of droplets hitting the umbrella growing louder.

You nodded, a reassuring smile on your lips.

"Yeah, really. I have a spare room at my place. You can stay there tonight. Beats being out here in the rain."

Heeseung seemed both grateful and hesitant, the weight of his emotions still heavy in his eyes.

"I...I don't want to be a bother," he muttered, clearly torn between accepting your offer and not wanting to impose on you.

You shook your head, your smile gentle and understanding.

"You won't be a bother. I wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it." You moved closer, the umbrella sheltering both of you from the relentless rain. "Come on, it's pouring. You're already soaked."

Heeseung looked at you for a moment, seemingly weighing the proposition. When he finally nodded, it was with a mixture of relief and appreciation.

"Okay. I'll come with you," he said, his voice still tinged with the raw remnants of the night's heartbreak.

With that, you both braved the rain, walking to your apartment. The rhythmic tapping of the rain on the umbrella accompanied your steps, the darkness surrounding you only occasionally broken by streetlights along the way.

Heeseung followed silently next to you, the weight of his emotions still heavy on his shoulders. He found comfort in your presence, though, a stranger who had shown such kindness to him in a moment of vulnerability.

"What's your name, sir?" You asked, breaking the silence with a gentle question. The rhythmic sound of your footsteps hitting the rain-soaked puddles echoed in the air.

Heeseung turned to look at you, realizing he hadn't introduced himself. He gave you a small, slightly embarrassed smile.

"Oh, right. I'm Heeseung. And just call me by my name, please. The 'sir' thing makes me feel old."

A soft laugh escaped your lips, his remark putting you at ease.

"Alright, Heeseung it is," you responded, the sound of his name rolling off your tongue comfortably.

Heeseung looked at you, curiousity in his eyes.

"And what's your name?" he asked, genuinely wanting to know the name of the person who saved him from standing in the rain.

You smiled, feeling a warmth in your heart that he cared to ask.

"I'm Yn," you introduced, the simplicity of your name contrasting with the depth of your actions.

"Yn," Heeseung repeated, the unfamiliar name rolling off his tongue with a gentle lilt.

He found comfort in the way it sounded, like a soft melody that made his heart feel a little less heavy.

The rain continued to fall around you both as you reached your apartment building. Heeseung followed you into the lobby, feeling a mix of gratitude and relief at the thought of being out of the rain and surrounded by warmth.

You pulled out your keys, unlocking the door to your apartment and ushering Heeseung inside. The warmth of the apartment immediately enveloped them, offering a stark contrast to the cold, damp exterior.

Heeseung walked in, feeling the transition from the rainy atmosphere outside to the comforting shelter inside. He looked around the apartment, noticing the cozy, homey vibe, and he found himself relaxing a bit.

You gestured towards a door down the hallway. "You can hang your jacket in there." You pointed to the door next to it. "The bathroom's there. I'll get you a dry change of clean clothes that my older brother left behind. Make yourself at home, alright?"

Heeseung nodded, grateful for your hospitality.

"Thank you so much, Yn. I really appreciate this," he said heartfelt, his voice sincere.

He followed your directions, hanging up his damp jacket and taking off his shoes before heading into the bathroom.

As you headed to the bedroom to find something dry for Heeseung to wear, Heeseung entered the bathroom, the sound of the rain outside providing a calming white noise.

The warm glow from the bathroom light created a soothing atmosphere as he stepped inside. He turned on the shower and began washing the cold rain off, feeling a sense of relaxation wash over him.

He let the warm water run down his body, the sound of the shower mixing with his own thoughts.

He found himself reflecting on the events of the evening, the breakup, the rain, and your sudden presence in his life.

Heeseung stayed in the shower for a bit longer than usual, finding comfort in the warmth and solitude.

When he finally stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist, he felt refreshed and a little more calm.

Heeseung walked out of the bathroom, finding a fresh set of clothes laid out for him. He quickly changed into them, appreciating the simple gesture more than you could possibly know.

The clothes felt soft against his skin, the scent of fabric softener a comforting whiff of familiarity. Heeseung ran a hand through his damp hair and stepped out of the room, feeling a bit more at ease now.

As he re-entered the main living area, he saw you making hot tea. You glanced over your shoulder and smiled, seeing that he looked much more comfortable in the dry clothes.

"I hope those clothes fit okay," you stated, a hint of concern in your voice.

"And I made some tea. Chamomile, to help you relax," you said as you offered a teacup to him.

You urged gently, your words tinged with concern, "After you drink this, you should go to sleep. It's almost 2 AM."

The late hour and the worry in your words conveyed your genuine concern for his well-being.

Heeseung looked at you, a mix of exhaustion and gratitude in his eyes.

"You're right," he admitted, taking the teacup from you. The warmth of the cup felt pleasant against his cold hands.

"I don't think I could stay awake for much longer anyway," he said, a tired sigh escaping his lips.

Heeseung, feeling the weight of exhaustion, takes a sip of the chamomile tea you had made for him.

The warmth of the cup and the soothing fragrance of the tea comforted him, and he set it down on the table.

"Thank you," he said with gratitude, his voice sincere and heartfelt. "For everything. Letting me stay over, providing me with dry clothes... You've been incredibly kind, Yn."

You chuckled lightly, revealing the soft spot in your heart. "I guess I just have a soft spot for cute lonely souls who happen to be soaked by the rain past midnight," you teased, observing him delicately as he sipped his tea.

A hint of color rose to Heeseung's cheeks as he realized your teasing remark. He let out a small, embarrassed laugh, not used to such unexpected compliments.

"I guess that means I'm the luckiest, then," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of playfulness.

The warmth of the apartment, the comfort of the clothes you had provided, and the soothing tea in his hand made him feel at ease.

Despite the emotional turmoil of the night, there was a sense of peace settling in his heart, thanks to your compassionate presence.

His voice grew solemn, gratitude evident as he spoke, "But really—thank you, y/n. I felt something I haven’t felt from a long time, and I think you’re a really good person…" The weight of his words hung in the air, his genuine appreciation for you becoming apparent.

You felt your heart warm, a mix of emotions welling up within you.

"You don't have to thank me," you responded softly, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "I'm just glad I was there to help you when you needed it."

There was a moment of silent understanding between you both, the weight of his words settling in.

The late hour, the weary exhaustion, and the vulnerability of the situation created a fragile connection, an invisible bond that seemed to grow stronger the longer you shared this quiet moment.

As the silence between you two stretched on, Heeseung broke it with a question that hinted at his growing curiosity about you.

"To be honest, I don't really want our night to end here," he confessed, his voice quiet but sincere.

"I know we just met, but I'd really like to get to know you better."

The vulnerability in his voice echoed in the room. Heeseung had been through an emotional rollercoaster of a night, and in this moment of vulnerability and weary exhaustion, he was opening up to you, a stranger who had shown him nothing but kindness.

The desire for connection, for something beyond the shared moment of late-night solace, was evident in his words.

Heeseung hoped that you wouldn't dismiss his invitation, that you would give him a chance to learn more about you.

You met his gaze, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"I'd like that, Heeseung," you responded, your voice carrying a note of warm honesty.

"I don't mind getting to know you better either."

thx for reading

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subtlebloodshed · 5 months ago

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Talk to Strangers

description- After a rough day at work, you find comfort in your favorite place: your boyfriend Rudy's arms. After a steamy night, you wake up to discover more about him than you ever wanted to know.

word count- 3.6k

cw. brian moser as rudy cooper x f!reader, fem terms, drinking, drunk sex, surprisingly gentle sex, oral f!receiving, unprotected!piv sex, biting, canon typical violence, gagging/vomit mention, dismemberment, manipulation/gaslighting, domestic violence (kind of?), strangulation, brian is his own warning.

You knock on Rudy’s door with a six-pack of his favorite beer and a bottle of red wine, leaning against the frame. You’d had the worst day at work; it felt like everything went wrong or crashed around you. Nothing more in this world comforted you like him: his strong arms, warm, inviting scent, and those pretty green eyes. Being with Rudy was like being at home–entirely relaxing and soothing.

Rudy opens the door in his boxers, a smile on his face and one hand almost instantly pulling you inside.

“Hey, beautiful,” He murmurs against your temple as he plants a kiss there, his nose nuzzling in your hair, “Why didn’t you let me know you were stopping by?”

He’d barely put his hands on you and you're melting into his embrace, resting your head against his shoulder.

“I did, must’ve missed it. Were you sleeping?” You ask, pulling away enough to set the drinks down onto his desk.

He lets out a quiet chuckle as he shrugs, “Yeah, dozed off in bed, long day, I guess.”

You naturally move to the kitchen as if you’ve done it a million times before. Getting on your tiptoes, you pull out a wine glass. “Tell me about it, I cried as soon as I got in my car.” You sigh, making your way back out to grab the bottle and settle on the couch.

“You want to talk about it, doll?” Rudy asks, moving over to sit next to you after he grabbed the six-pack. He takes your bottle and pours your glass for you.

“God no, I just wanted to be with my boyfriend,” You say, taking the glass and sipping much too large of a sip from it, “Maybe get a little bit of dick.”

“Well,” That draws a grin from him, his lips brushing the top of your ear as he whispers, “You definitely came to the right place for that.”

—

A bottle of wine and six-pack of beer later, you both are tangled up on his bed. There’s a giggle between every kiss and every movement is clumsy, uncoordinated. His head is buried in your neck, peppering kisses, bites, leaving marks all over your skin. Each sense is filled with him– him, him, him. Every experience with him felt like that from the moment you met. You fell so fast, so hard. And Rudy made it so easy and so damned sweet.

“I’m so in love with your body.” He murmurs against your skin as his hands trace patterns across your bare abdomen. Most of your clothes never even made it to the bed, a trail of fabric littered its way like rose petals.

Your hand tangles in his hair, guiding his head towards yours for another kiss. The flavors of beer and menthol flood your mouth, a combination that has become familiar and addicting. You have grown accustomed to everything that is uniquely him and crave it like a drug. It's as if you stopped needing air the day you met him.

His hand pulls your thigh over his legs before sliding up to firmly grasp your ass. You grind your hips against him, feeling desire pooling between your thighs and drenching both of you. He hardly needs to touch you to elicit such a reaction anymore - just one look from him and you're ready for him.

“Please,” You whisper, pulling back and resting your forehead against his. It's tender, loving, soft– his beautiful face melting into that darling smile as he guides his fingers through your wetness. How could he still look like a Disney prince with his hand between your legs?

"Here?" He teases, rubbing slow circles on your clit and studying the way your eyes flutter closed in response. "Or here?" His voice dropped an octave as he slowly pushed the tips of his fingers into your hole before returning to your clit.

You whine in frustration, pushing your hips forward into his hand and trying desperately to gain more than he was giving, “Rudy, I need you, stop teasing…” You plead.

He knows how easy it is to rile you up and play with you. “I’ll take care of you, doll.” He smirks, rolling you onto your back. His lips find their way from your neck down to your chest, pausing to explore every inch of skin and eliciting gasps and moans from you. When he playfully bites down on your hip bone, you squeak in surprise. “Just lay back and let me work my magic.”

Rudy doesn’t have to tell you twice, you simply lay your head back and let your eyes close. The warm, wet trail of saliva followed his tongue as he traced it over your hip bones, then down to your mound, and the junction of your legs and thighs.Your grip on his hair tightens as his tongue makes contact with your clit.

“Fuck, Rudy…” You sigh as you roll your hips towards him for more contact. He chuckles softly at your eagerness, holding you down by placing his hand on your lower abdomen.

"Easy now, don't get too greedy," He mutters before biting down on your inner thigh and sucking softly. "Take what I give you."

You nod in agreement, loosening your grip on his hair slightly. "O-okay."

Rudy seems pleased with your submission, continuing to pepper kisses along your thighs. "Good doll, good…" He praises as his other hand moves between your legs to tease around your entrance and lubricate his fingers. Slowly, he slides two fingers inside of you and you let out a sharp moan, pushing back into the pillow. The pace is gentle and slow at first, his fingers opening you up and preparing you for more. His tongue continues to work its magic on your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge of pleasure.

Your body arches as Rudy's skilled fingers and tongue work in tandem, pleasure building steadily. The room fills with your soft moans and the wet sounds of his mouth and fingers. Your hands tangle deeper in his hair, holding him close as your hips begin to rock against his face.

"God, Rudy, don't stop," You gasp, feeling yourself getting close to the edge. You can barely open your eyes to look down at him, but you’re so glad you do. He looks gorgeous like this– his dark curls tangled in your fingers, eyes closed in concentration, nose brushing against your mound.

He hums against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. His fingers curl inside you, finding that perfect spot as his tongue flicks rapidly over your clit. Your thighs begin to tremble as the tension in your core builds. And the moment he opens those breathtaking eyes to look up at you, the dam breaks and you cry out, waves of ecstasy washing over you as your orgasm crashes through your body.

Rudy works you through it, lapping up your release as your body quivers beneath him. When the last aftershocks subside, he plants a final kiss on your inner thigh before crawling back up your body.

"You taste divine," he purrs, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue, mingled with the lingering flavors of alcohol.

Your hands roam over his muscular back, feeling the strength coiled beneath his skin. Rudy's erection presses insistently against your thigh, hot and hard. You reach between your bodies to wrap your fingers around him, stroking slowly.

"I need you inside me," you breathe against his lips. "Please, Rudy."

He groans, rocking his hips into your touch. "Anything for you, doll."

Rudy positions himself at your entrance, teasing you with just the tip. You whimper arching your hips to try and take him deeper. He chuckles softly, nipping at your earlobe.

"Patience, doll," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "I want to savor every moment with you."

Slowly, torturously, he sinks into you inch by inch. Your breath catches in your throat at the stretch, your walls fluttering around him. When he's fully sheathed, he stills, giving you time to adjust. No matter how many times you’ve taken him, the full length of him always left you breathless. His forehead rests against yours, those mesmerizing green eyes locked on your face.

"You feel incredible," Rudy breathes, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. "So perfect for me. You were made to take my cock."

His words send a shiver down your spine, igniting a renewed fire in your core. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. Your hands slide up his strong arms to cup his face, pulling him down for a desperate kiss. As your tongues tangle, Rudy begins to move, setting a slow, deep rhythm that has you gasping against his mouth.

"Yes," you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him even closer. "God, Rudy, you feel so good."

He picks up the pace, driving into you with powerful thrusts that make the bed creak beneath you. Your nails rake down his back as the pleasure builds, leaving faint red lines in their wake. Rudy growls, burying his face in your neck as he pounds into you relentlessly.

The room fills with the sounds of your shared passion– skin slapping against skin, breathless moans, and whispered sweet nothings. Rudy's thrusts become more erratic as he nears his peak. He slips a hand between your bodies, his fingers finding your oversensitive clit.

"Come for me again, doll," he commands, his voice rough with exertion. "I want to feel you squeeze my cock when you come, let me feel you."

His words and skilled touch push you over the edge once more. You cry out his name as waves of pleasure crash over you, your inner walls clenching rhythmically around him. The sensation triggers Rudy's own release. He buries himself to the hilt with a guttural groan, his hips jerking as he spills inside you.

For several long moments, you both lay there panting, bodies slick with sweat and tangled together. Rudy presses tender kisses along your jawline before capturing your lips in a languid, post-coital kiss. When he finally pulls out and rolls to the side, you whimper at the loss.

“Mm, come back…” You whine as you wrap your arm around his abdomen, head settling on his chest and leg strewn over his. He presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his hand running through your hair softly.

"Feel better now, beautiful?" he murmurs, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You nod, nuzzling into the crook of his neck with a yawn, “Much better.”

—

Hours later, you stir a bit, waking up with a dry mouth and a pounding headache. Maybe drinking the whole bottle wasn’t the smartest move. You turn over, hand reaching out for Rudy but he’s not in his usual spot next to you.

“Baby?” You murmur, sitting up to look around. He’s not in the bathroom– the lights off. You grab the robe you keep at his place, wrapping it around yourself as you stumble through the apartment, still slightly buzzed.

Maybe he’s in the kitchen? You make your way through the apartment, slightly stumbling since you’re still a little drunk, a frown set on your face as he’s not in any of his usual spots. That’s when you feel a cold draft hit you next to the living room with a sigh. He must have left the freezer door open, when would he even have opened it?

You creep towards the cracked door. You’d never even seen the inside…had you?

Your fingers grip the cold handle, and you pull the door open just enough to peek inside, curiosity gnawing at you. And what you’re greeted with is enough to make you sick.

A frozen woman’s body lies in pieces on a metal table, limbs neatly arranged as if pieces on a board. Your boyfriend stands over her, bone saw in hand, cutting through one of the limbs with a practiced rhythm.

You stagger backward, your breath hitching in your throat, eyes wide and disbelieving. The bottle of wine and the six-pack seem like artifacts from another life, the cozy intimacy of just hours ago obliterated by the macabre sight before you.

Rudy looks up at the slight noise you make, but makes no effort to move. His face flickers through a spectrum of emotions: surprise, irritation, and finally, something calm and unreadable. That calm, more than anything, makes you begin to tremble in fear.

"You're awake," he says simply, as if you’ve just caught him reheating leftovers instead of dismembering a human body. His voice is steady but there's a tension behind his eyes, something calculating, as if he’s evaluating your reaction. He doesn't stop working, the bone saw whining softly as it slices through icy cartilage and bone.

You want nothing more than to run, scream, throw up– but your feet are planted frozen to the floor in fear and disgust.

“You-you…” You mutter, heart in your throat as your hand comes to your mouth, the other wrapped around your abdomen in a guard, “What have you done?” The walls feel like they're closing in on you and you fight down the bile that seers through your esophagus, threatening to escape with each breath.

Rudy sets the saw down with precision, slipping off his gloves like he’s just working on a project. "I was hoping you wouldn’t see this," he says, his tone almost regretful. "Not like this, anyway."

It clicks together like some fucked up grotesque puzzle, “You’re the killer I’ve been reporting on for months.” You manage to croak out, pure anguish settling over you. How could you have never guessed? How many times had he fucked you in the same bed as these poor girls? How many of them sat in his passenger seat with his hand resting on their thigh like you had?

In some fucked up way, the thought of him cheating on you makes you just as sick.

But no, this isn’t real, this can’t be real. This has to be some twisted nightmare, a drunken hallucination that will disappear once you rub your eyes hard enough.

But no matter how hard you try, the moment doesn’t fade away.

“Listen, I know this is a lot to take in,” Rudy says, moving from around the table to approach you. You should run, why aren’t you running? “But I’d never hurt you, you know that right?”

His hand comes to your hair, petting it as he’s done a hundred times before but this time, it felt like a façade, his way of lulling you into relaxation.

“Don’t you trust me?” He says, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of your head. You feel disgusted, every touch from him is tainted by all the blood he has on his hands. He’s a monster—and by all means, you should treat him like one. But he’s looking at you with those forest green eyes, they’re so full of emotion like he’s begging you to trust him.

‘Trust?’ You want to scream at him, every nerve and warning sign igniting in your body. The rage inside you is boiling: you had trusted him so foolishly, how you had no knowledge of the monster you shared a bed with every night. But your frozen, mouth agape, more conflicted than you had ever been in your entire life.

This shouldn’t even have to be a conversation. The moment you saw him with that saw in his hands you should have ran, called the police, anything than stand here like you are right now.

Of all the emotions swirling within you, one nauseated you the most; you were jealous. The Ice Truck Killer only killed prostitutes. It gnaws at you, the thought of him touching them, the same way he’d touched you. His hands on their skin. His lips against theirs.

Your thoughts are a tangled mess of rage and self-loathing as you try to articulate any of it. “You’re—you’re just sick…we…we can fix it. You just need help…” You stutter out, the words even more pathetic than they had been in your head. He wasn’t some broken little boy who needed fixing—he was a serial killer. A wolf in sheep’s clothing you’ve let devour you whole.

“You think I haven’t heard that before? I spent fourteen fucking years in a ward getting ‘help’. It didn’t change anything. This is who I am.” He shakes his head, reaching his hand out to caress the side of your face.

“I-I don’t understand,” You deny, bringing a hand up to grab his wrist. You don’t pull him away, however, you just stand there in confusion holding him, “You were good, you’re…you’re good. You wouldn’t…” This doesn’t even feel real, you are trapped in a haze of fear, disgust, shock, and confusion. All you want to do is disappear or go back in time and live blissfully unaware. You’d give anything to have not woken up or let yourself get curious, you didn’t want to have to face this.

“Hey, hey, doll, look at me,” Rudy cajoled, hooking his finger under your chin to meet his eyes, “It’s going to be okay, I promise. You just have to stay calm, alright?”

You have trouble focusing on his eyes, your rationality a million miles away, “O-okay? How is it going to be okay?”

Rudy sighs, leaning his forehead in against yours, “You know I love you, right? More than anything.”

You just nod dumbly against his head, your fawning response settling over you. He says he loves you and as long as you behave, he’d have no reason to hurt you. You didn’t have to end up on the table all the other girls had. You were important to him, different– better than them.

“Good, baby, good.” He mutters, planting a kiss against your lips. He’s ice cold to the touch, the time in the freezer showing with the red on his cheeks. It’s something you would have teased him about had you seen it in a better setting. God, it’s hard to think. The sight before you eats away at every positive memory you’ve ever had– your brain feels like utter mush right now.

Your fingers tremble against his wrist, and it’s not from the cold but rather the unbearable weight of what you’d seen. The man who held you so tenderly, who made you feel safe, was the same man who had been dismembering women and arranging them like frozen sculptures in public like a gallery of horrors.

“Rudy…” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the hum of the freezer. Your grip on his wrist tightens, but you still don’t pull him away.

“I know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple as if this were any other night, as if you weren’t standing in front of proof that the man you loved was a monster. “It’s a lot to process, but you don’t have to be scared.”

The way he says it—it’s almost comforting. Almost.

But you are scared.

Terrified, actually.

Not just of him, but of yourself. Because as much as every bit l in your body is screaming at you to run, another part of you—the sick part of you that has spent nights tangled in his sheets, breathing in his scent, tracing the lines of his body with your fingertips—wants to believe him, wants to believe that somehow, someway, this isn’t as bad as it looks. You want to believe that there’s a version of this story where he’s still the same man he was a few hours ago, where you can wake up tomorrow and pretend you never saw a damn thing.

But the body on the table won’t let you forget.

Your stomach churns as your eyes flicker to it again, the pale, dismembered limbs arranged with precision. You gag, clamping a hand over your mouth, and Rudy’s grip tightens just enough to remind you of his strength.

“I need—” Your voice cracks. “I need a second.”

“Of course,” Rudy says smoothly, finally letting you go. Your body stumbles back before you catch yourself against the door.

He watches you, not like a man afraid of losing his lover, but like a predator waiting to see what his prey will do next.

You could run.

You should run.

But where would you go?

Your phone is in the bedroom. Your keys, too. And Rudy—Rudy is faster than you, he'd beat you to the front door, watching you with those green fucking eyes, as if he can hear every frantic thought racing through your mind.

“You’re thinking of leaving.” His voice is calm, but there’s a warning beneath it.

You shake your head without hesitation, even though you both know it’s a lie.

Then, with a rush of adrenaline, you’re sprinting to the door. If you could get to a neighbor's door, you could scream and someone would help you.

Your hand is on the handle and you are pulling it open, you’re going to make it out.

A surge of pain radiates from your head and your vision goes for a moment, the sound of the metal door slamming filling your ears. His hand is tangled in your hair and he’s pulling you back against his chest, then his bicep is wrapped around your throat.

“I told you to stay calm, this could have been different. Why didn’t you listen?”

The sound of his voice is distant as you can feel yourself slipping in and out of consciousness from the lack of blood flow to your brain.

You want it to stop.

God, please someone make it stop.

Stop.

“You should have listened, doll.”

Stop.

authors note- it was originally supposed to be a drabble and i got carried away. oops. hope you enjoyed! <3

taglist- @brian-mosers-cumsock, @butterbabyflapjack (wasn't sure which blog to tag)

#brian moser #brian moser smut #brian moser x reader #dexter #dexter tv series #dexter showtime #rudy cooper #rudy cooper x reader #smut #idk what happened

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emmiesoverthemoon · 3 months ago

Text

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ he’s so boyfriend: two

Pairings: choi seunghyun x reader / kwon jiyong x reader / kang daesung x reader

Word Count: 7,899

Summary: just cute little scenarios between u and each guy, the second edition! i got a little carried away this time,,, enjoy!!!

part one part three

pov: you get stuck in the rain without an umbrella

jiyong: cheesy cliché

The first cold droplets splatter against your skin, a slow drizzle turning into a full-on downpour as Jiyong tugs you by the wrist, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Come on," he grins, "what kind of lovers would we be if we didn’t have a dramatic rain moment?"

"You’re ridiculous," you laugh, half-heartedly resisting, but he's already dragging you into the open, past the overhang of the café where you’d been taking shelter. The rain hits instantly, cool and shocking, drenching through your clothes in seconds.

Jiyong doesn’t care. His arms spread out like he’s drinking in the sky itself, hair slicked to his forehead, his white shirt clinging to his frame, becoming slightly see through—which did not go unnoticed by you. He looks like he belongs in a movie—some reckless, lovestruck fool dancing in the middle of a storm, eyes twinkling as he turns to you.

You shake your head, exasperated but grinning. "You're actually crazy."

"And yet," he steps closer, looping his arms around your waist, "you love me."

You roll your eyes, but it’s true.

The world fades into soft, grey static, the rain a gentle rhythm on pavement, against your skin, the chill soaking through to your bones. Jiyong sways you, humming some old love song you don’t recognize, his laughter mixing with the music of the storm. He spins you once, then twice, and you go along with it, both of you slipping and sliding on wet pavement, giggling like idiots.

Then, he stops. Looks at you like you're the only thing worth seeing. His hands cup your face, fingers damp and chilled, but his lips—when he finally presses them against yours—are warm, sweet, lingering like he wants to stay in this moment forever.

It’s perfect.

At least, until reality smacks you both in the face.

Jiyong pulls back, blinking through the rain. “Wait—how are we getting home?”

Your eyes widen. “Oh my god, your car—”

The two of you whip around to stare at his sleek, very dry sports vehicle parked under the streetlamp. As if on cue, a fat droplet slides off the tip of your nose.

Jiyong curses. “We’re gonna soak the seats.”

You groan. “We should’ve thought this through.”

But then he’s laughing—loud, carefree, absolutely unapologetic—and you can’t help but join in. The two of you bolt for the car, jumping into the seats with a wet splat. Jiyong winces as he grips the wheel, his soaked clothes sticking to the leather.

You glance at him, half-scolding, half-amused. "You and your movie moments."

He flashes you a cheeky grin. “Worth it.”

And as the car fills with the scent of rain and the sound of your shared, breathless laughter, you think—yeah. Maybe it was.

daesung: the noble sacrifice

The afternoon rain had started softly, a gentle pitter-patter against the windows of the café. But the moment you and Daesung stepped outside, it was like the sky couldn’t hold back anymore. The downpour began, soaking everything in an instant, and you squealed, pulling your jacket closer around yourself.

Daesung, ever the charmer, paused and dramatically looked at you, his eyes widening. “You’re cold,” he stated, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, no kidding, Daesung. It's raining cats and dogs out here,” you quipped, pulling your collar higher to shield yourself from the storm.

Without a second thought, Daesung grinned, took off his hoodie, and threw it over your head. "Here, wear this. It'll keep you warm!"

You blinked in surprise. "You’re giving me your hoodie?"

“Yes!” he said with such conviction, as if he had just solved all your problems. “It’s the most romantic thing I could do for you right now.” He puffed his chest out proudly, clearly thinking he had pulled off something dramatic and sweet.

You looked at him, blinking in confusion. “Daesung, it’s a little too big for me. I’m literally drowning in this thing…”

“Exactly! It’s cozy!” He smiled, oblivious to the fact that you were now swimming in fabric, practically a human tent.

“I can barely see through this thing,” you chuckled, your arms struggling to keep the oversized hoodie from dragging you down. But Daesung was so proud of his “romantic gesture” that you didn’t want to crush his excitement.

The rain continued to pour harder, soaking your hair, your shoes, and his hoodie, which was now weighed down with water. "Okay, Daesung, let’s be honest here," you said, laughing as you started to walk, “I’m pretty sure this wasn’t the most practical choice…”

He looked down at the way the hoodie dripped water and then back up at you with the most earnest expression on his face. “No… no it wasn’t.”

And then, like a lightbulb moment, he grinned widely. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not fun!”

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Daesung skipped into a nearby puddle, splashing water up to your knees. You gasped, stepping back. “Daesung!”

He threw his hands up in victory. “Splash fight, right now!”

You didn’t need another invitation. With a laugh, you jumped into the next puddle you saw, sending water flying in all directions. Daesung mirrored your moves, and soon, the two of you were splashing around like children, laughing at how ridiculous everything was.

“Who’s winning, huh?!” Daesung shouted between fits of laughter, his hoodie now thoroughly soaked and stuck to his body.

“You’re about to get drenched even more, Daesung!” you warned, trying to dodge his next splash.

“Not if I beat you to it!” He lunged, catching you by surprise with a gentle splash straight to your face.

You gasped dramatically, wiping your face, and then, grinning like a mischievous child, threw a full splash back at him. “Take that!”

By the time you both had thoroughly soaked each other, you could hardly keep up with the laughter, dripping wet and barely able to stand up straight from all the giggling.

“I swear,” you said between laughs, “this has to be the most ridiculous thing we’ve done.”

Daesung wiped water from his eyes, his cheeks flushed from the cold and the fun. “We’re pretty amazing, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, amazing,” you chuckled, now fully drenched but not caring one bit. “Just a bit impractical, though.”

“Well,” Daesung grinned, “the hoodie still looks cute on you. Even if it’s a bit too big.”

You nodded, still laughing. “That’s because I’m wearing your impractical hoodie, genius.”

He just smiled and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close despite the water soaking into both of you. “Worth it.”

seunghyun: nice and 'prepared'

The rain had caught you both off guard. You had barely made it out of the café before the skies opened up, and now you were both caught in a downpour with no umbrella in sight. You pulled your jacket closer to your body, shivering from the sudden chill.

Seunghyun, with his usual cool demeanor, looked over at you, eyes scanning the weather. Then, with a small sigh, he glanced at you with a sheepish smile. "I... may have left the umbrella in the car," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "But hey, we’re here now."

You shot him a playful look. "Did you think this rain was going to hold off until we got back?" you teased, your voice full of amusement despite the situation.

Seunghyun raised an eyebrow, a sly grin forming on his lips. "Hey, I was the one who checked the forecast this morning, okay? You can't blame me for forgetting one small detail."

The two of you stood there for a moment, both laughing at the irony of it all. Without missing a beat, Seunghyun grabbed your hand and started to jog in the direction of the car. "Alright, let's just make a run for it. We'll beat the rain."

You both ran, your feet splashing through puddles as the water soaked you from head to toe. Seunghyun stayed close, but in that classic Seunghyun way, he was still trying to stay cool about it—one hand casually holding yours, the other wiping his wet hair out of his face.

Halfway to the car, you started to laugh, the situation completely ridiculous but somehow perfect. “I can't believe we’re doing this," you said, breathless from both the running and the laughter.

“I can’t believe I forgot the umbrella,” Seunghyun responded, his voice tinged with mock annoyance, but the playful glint in his eye told you everything. "But hey, look on the bright side. It’ll be a great story to tell later."

As you both reached the car, laughing and dripping wet, Seunghyun opened the door for you, then paused to look at your soaked state. “Well,” he said, running his fingers through his hair and smirking, “at least we’re in this together.”

You couldn't help but smile, the day’s misadventures only making him more endearing. "Next time," you said with a grin, "you better bring the umbrella."

“Deal,” he said with a wink, pulling you into the car. "Next time, we’ll be dry. Hopefully."

pov: locked in a small space

jiyong: seven minutes

You and Jiyong had somehow ended up stuck in a small, cramped pantry together. It wasn’t intentional, of course. Just a random series of events that had led to both of you being trapped in the tiny space, the door somehow locking behind you.

You leaned back against the only wall without shelving units, arms crossed, trying to make the best of the situation. "Well, this is... great," you said, laughing a little despite the light awkwardness. "Guess we’re stuck here for a bit."

Jiyong, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, the small, confined space seemed to only amuse him. He flashed that playful smirk of his, leaning in closer, and with a teasing glint in his eye, he gave you a seductive once-over.

"You know," he started, voice low and smooth, taking a step toward you, "this is like a movie 7 minutes in heaven situation, isn’t it?"

You couldn’t help but laugh at his sudden change in attitude. “Jiyong, really?”

He took a step closer, his body pressed against yours now, and he leaned in even more. "I mean," he said, his voice practically a whisper, "you know what I can do in 7 minutes?" His eyes glinted with mischief as his hands brushed lightly against the edge of your sleeve.

You froze for a second, a little caught off guard by how close he suddenly was. The small space made everything feel just a bit more intimate, and Jiyong’s teasing, flirtatious energy only amplified the tension.

“Stop it,” you said, trying to sound serious, though you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

Jiyong chuckled softly, his hands now flush to your waist, holding you against him. “What?” he asked innocently, though there was nothing innocent about the way his eyes were locked onto yours. “I’m just making the most of the situation.”

You shook your head, but an embarrassed smile tugged at the corner of your lips. "You really know how to make the best of being in a tight spot, huh?"

Jiyong grinned mischeviously, his lips just inches from yours now, his teasing energy completely undeniable. “Tight spots are my specialty.”

seunghyun: closeness is most comfortable

You and Seunghyun had been in a rush earlier that day, trying to get everything done before the storm hit. But now, here you were—stuck in an elevator, and it didn’t seem like it was going anywhere anytime soon. The storm raged outside, the rain hammering against the metal walls, but inside the elevator, it was just the two of you.

Seunghyun, as usual, didn’t seem phased by the situation. He gave you a smile that was part mischievous, part carefree, as if this was just another little hiccup in your day. And, to be fair, it was.

“Well, since we’re stuck, might as well get comfortable,” he said, his tone entirely too casual, and before you could even respond, he lowered himself to sit against the back wall of the elevator with a sigh of contentment. Without missing a beat, he pulled you into his lap, settling you there like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You blinked in surprise, but as always with Seunghyun, it didn’t take long to adjust. You were already used to his easy, affectionate nature, and the small space didn’t even faze him. He simply wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close with a lazy grin on his face.

“Seunghyun,” you started, trying to keep your voice serious, but it was hard when you could feel the warmth of his body, and he looked so comfortable already. “Is this really necessary?”

He shrugged as if it were the most logical thing. “Of course. We’re stuck in here. No point in standing around being all stiff and uncomfortable.” His hands casually rested on your waist, his fingers tapping a gentle rhythm against the fabric of your shirt. “I like being close to you anyway. Plus, I’m not going anywhere. Might as well make the best of it.”

You tried not to laugh, but the way he was acting so nonchalant about it made it impossible. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

Seunghyun only chuckled, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face before letting his hand rest there. “I’m just making the most of our time together. No point in being grumpy when I get to hang out with my favorite person, right?”

You smiled, shaking your head at his antics. Of course, he would make something so normal feel like an adventure. But that was Seunghyun for you—easygoing and always making the best of everything, even a stuck elevator.

And before you knew it, the moment had become comfortable. You let yourself settle into his embrace, leaning your head on his shoulder as the sounds of the storm outside became a distant hum. “You’re right,” you said, your voice soft, “I guess this isn’t so bad after all.”

“See?” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, still holding you close. “Stuck in a small space with you, just the two of us? Could be worse. Plus, this is the best kind of company.”

And just like that, the storm outside seemed far away, and all that mattered was being there, in that small, quiet space with Seunghyun. It was something that had long since become normal for the two of you—the comfort of being close, no matter where you were.

daesung: an attempt of an icebreaker

You and Daesung had found yourselves trapped in the cramped supply closet after a series of unfortunate events. The door had somehow swung shut behind you, and now you were both stuck in the small space, with barely enough room to breathe, let alone move.

As you shifted, trying to make yourself a little more comfortable, you suddenly became acutely aware of how close Daesung was. His shoulder brushed against yours, and the proximity between you both seemed to magnify everything. The air felt heavier, and even the tiniest movements felt like they were echoing in the tiny room.

Daesung, usually so confident and easygoing, froze. His body went completely still, as though he was suddenly aware of every inch of space between you two, or rather, the lack of it. His eyes darted to the side, then quickly down, and then up again—clearly avoiding your gaze. A nervous smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he scratched the back of his neck.

“So...” Daesung mumbled, his voice suddenly much quieter than usual, a touch of awkwardness in his tone. “You come here often?”

You blinked, unsure if he was joking or genuinely trying to break the tension. His face was slightly flushed, and the nervous energy radiating from him was almost tangible. You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at how awkward his attempt to break the silence sounded.

Daesung immediately went redder, his eyes widening as he realized what he'd just said. “Wait, no! That—ugh, forget I said that.” He quickly flailed a hand in the air, clearly embarrassed by his choice of words.

You smirked, enjoying the rare moment of seeing him flustered. “Oh my god, Daesung. Really? 'You come here often'?" You teased, trying to keep your voice light. “That’s your icebreaker?”

He fidgeted, clearly not knowing how to recover from his awkwardness. "I—I mean, I don’t really have a backup line, okay? I was just trying to say something to—y'know—ease the tension." He chuckled nervously, his fingers still anxiously twitching as he tried to regain some composure.

You were absolutely charmed by how flustered he was. There was something so endearing about seeing Daesung, the confident and carefree guy everyone knew, suddenly so unsure of himself. “You’re so cute when you’re nervous,” you said, teasing him gently.

Daesung looked at you, eyes wide, as his face turned even redder. “Stop, I can’t take this,” he muttered, trying to hide his face in his hands, but the small space made it impossible for him to escape from the situation. His fingers rubbed the back of his neck in nervous habit, as if he could distract himself from how awkward it was. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”

"Well," you said, leaning a little closer, still amused by the situation, "you’re stuck with me now. You might as well make the best of it."

Daesung exhaled sharply, trying to seem nonchalant, but the way his eyes flicked down at your hand brushing against his arm gave him away. "Right... I guess I could get used to the whole... 'stuck in a closet' thing," he said with a sheepish grin, though he still couldn't seem to make eye contact.

You chuckled, the tension slowly fading as you both stood there, practically shoulder to shoulder, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body next to yours. The awkwardness was still lingering, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was... sweet. Daesung wasn’t perfect, and it was moments like this—vulnerable and unsure—that made him even more endearing.

"You know," you said with a playful grin, "you could have at least said, 'Nice weather we're having' if you really wanted to be awkward."

Daesung gave you a mock glare, but his smile was already returning. "You’re just full of great ideas, huh? I’ll keep that one in my back pocket next time."

You laughed softly. "Well, it’s always a good one for the next awkward situation."

For a moment, neither of you said anything, and the silence was comfortable now. You were close enough to feel the warmth from Daesung’s body, but the situation didn’t feel quite as claustrophobic anymore. The rain outside had picked up a little, and all you could hear was the soft pitter-patter on the windows.

“You still think we’re gonna get out of here soon?” Daesung asked, his voice quieter now, the playful edge replaced with a bit of genuine curiosity.

You smiled, brushing your hand against his arm gently. “Honestly, I have no idea. But if we’re stuck here longer... at least we’ve got each other, right?”

Daesung’s eyes softened at that, and for a moment, his usual carefree energy returned, the shy awkwardness melting away. “Yeah,” he said with a quiet smile, "at least we’ve got that."

And somehow, in that tiny, awkward space, everything felt just right.

pov: absentmindedly playing with hands or hair

seunghyun: perfect balance of collected and confident

Publicly, Seunghyun doesn’t even give the slightest indication that your touch is having any effect on him. On the outside, he’s the same calm, collected presence he always is—quiet, reserved, and effortlessly cool. But the moment your fingers slip into his hair, gently running through the strands, there’s a subtle shift. His jaw tightens for a fraction of a second, and his eyes soften, though he doesn’t dare to look at you fully. The corners of his mouth twitch just enough to show his enjoyment, but it’s so fleeting, most wouldn’t notice. He’s melting inside, completely at ease, as if the world around him has slowed to a halt. Your touch has this uncanny way of unwinding every bit of tension from his body. He feels a warmth spread through him that’s more soothing than anything else. He’s swooning, mentally, but there’s not a word spoken, no public display—just a quiet relaxation that only you can bring. In fact, he makes sure to keep his composure outwardly, so no one can ever guess just how much your simple touch is affecting him. His hand might twitch, ready to grab yours and pull you a little closer, but in the end, he just lets the moment pass, silently appreciating it.

But as soon as you're in private, everything changes. The calm and collected Seunghyun you know in public is nowhere to be found. Instead, he becomes a little more smug, a little more self-assured. He knows exactly what effect you have on him, and now it’s your turn to feel that same effect. He watches you with a teasing grin, leaning in just close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin. His eyes flicker down to where your hands are—already making their way to him, unable to resist touching him, even just for a moment. “Can’t keep your hands off me, hm, princess?” he says, his voice low and smooth, dripping with playful confidence. The words are casual, but the glint in his eyes tells a different story—one that says he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

Before you can even answer, he grabs your hand and lifts it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles with a flourish, like he’s making some grand gesture. “Are my hands that interesting?” he teases, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes growing.

You nod far too eagerly, your excitement spilling over, and Seunghyun’s grin only widens, enjoying the fact that he has this power over you. “A bit too excited, aren’t we?” he comments, amusement dancing on his features as he brings your hand back down. Then, with a soft but unmistakable shift, he pulls you closer by the waist, his arms settling around you possessively. “You’re so easy to read, you know that?” he adds, the teasing in his tone laced with something a little deeper—something soft, though wrapped in all the cocky confidence that makes him him.

His lips hover near your ear for just a moment, his breath warm against your skin. “But I don’t mind it,” he whispers, his smile turning a little softer. “I like knowing you’re mine.”

You can't help the way your heart flutters at his words, the warmth of his hands, and the complete shift from teasing to affection. He’s playful, but in moments like this, you can feel how completely he’s wrapped around you—and you around him, just as much.

daesung: return to sender

Publicly or privately, Daesung simply does not care—he is absolutely devoted to making sure you feel loved and appreciated at all times. It’s like a natural instinct for him, no matter where you are or who’s around. When it comes to you, there’s no such thing as too much affection, too many thoughtful gestures, or too many ways to show you how much he cherishes you. If you softly touch his hand, his first reaction is to kiss it. Not just a quick peck, but a tender, lingering kiss, as if he’s holding your hand for the first time all over again. He makes sure it’s clear that your touch is the most precious thing in the world to him. Then, after pulling away, he will massage your hand, gently rubbing each knuckle and the palm as if he’s trying to give you all the warmth and love he has to offer, a soft, soothing rhythm that mirrors the way his heart beats when you’re near.

If you fix his hair, Daesung is positively glowing with happiness. Instead of just saying thank you and leaving it at that, he wants to return the favor, and he does so in his own, playful, and sweet way. "Well, if you're fixing my hair, I guess it’s only fair that I try doing yours," he’ll say, his grin making his eyes sparkle. He’ll carefully take your hair between his fingers, running them through the strands with such tenderness it feels almost reverent. His fingers move gently, as though he’s trying to memorize the feeling of caring for you in this way. It’s a simple act, yet there’s so much love behind it, and you can feel the warmth of his affection in every delicate stroke. The moment is intimate, calming, and grounding—one where you can feel how much he treasures being this close to you.

And if you touch his arm, well, that’s when Daesung completely takes over. He doesn’t need to be asked twice. Without hesitation, he’s right behind you, his hands moving to your shoulders in an instant. His touch is light but strong, as his fingers knead the tension out of your muscles. He massages slowly, with so much care, making sure every inch of stress is melted away. You might have touched his arm, but now he’s the one caring for you, taking that moment to pamper you instead of being pampered. The way his hands move is almost instinctual—he’s so gentle, so considerate, it feels as if he’s giving you the world with just a simple massage. What was meant to be a brief act of tenderness towards him turns into a quiet, loving act of service from him to you.

Daesung isn’t just about the grand gestures; he knows that love is often shown through the small, everyday moments—these tiny, thoughtful acts that say everything without needing a word. And he makes sure you know, every single day, just how much you mean to him, through all the little things he does to make you feel cherished, adored, and completely cared for. To him, it’s the small moments that truly matter, the ones that prove just how deeply he loves you, because he knows that love is in the details.

jiyong: inked stories

Jiyong, always effortlessly calm and composed, never questions when you begin tracing over his hands or arms, just allowing you to do whatever you wish. It’s as if there’s an unspoken understanding between the two of you, a quiet rhythm that feels so natural. He finds solace in it, as if your touch grounds him in a way words never could. Every movement you make is met with patience and a soft smile, and he’s absolutely enchanted by the way you seem to get lost in these moments—tracing the lines of his palms, following the curves of his arms. It’s intimate in its simplicity, and it’s something he looks forward to without even realizing it.

What truly makes his heart swell, though, is when your fingers trace over his tattoos. He knows you adore them. He’s aware of how your eyes light up when your fingers skim the ink, the designs he’s carried with him through his journey. They’re more than just tattoos to him; they’re pieces of his past, each one telling a story. But seeing you trace them so reverently, with such love and appreciation, makes him feel something deeper—like those tattoos are even more meaningful because you’re the one noticing them, the one paying attention to these parts of him that aren’t immediately obvious. He treasures that you take the time to appreciate the things that define him, to make him feel seen in such a personal way.

“You always make my tattoos look so much better,” he says with a teasing grin, though there’s an underlying sincerity in his words. He catches your gaze as your fingers hover over one of the designs on his arm, a smile tugging at his lips. “I think you’re the only one who sees them the way I do.”

You glance up at him, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you continue tracing the intricate patterns. “I just think they’re beautiful. You’ve got stories etched on your skin, and I love hearing them without words.”

His heart skips a beat at that, and he watches you for a moment, his eyes softening. “I’ve got all these tattoos, but none of them mean as much as the way you look at them,” he admits quietly, his thumb brushing over your wrist.

When you’re satisfied, when you finally pull your hands away, Jiyong doesn’t rush. His fingers gently close around yours, his thumb softly running over the back of your hand, his touch warm and steady. He intertwines your fingers together without a second thought, his hand enveloping yours like it was always meant to be. There’s something tender, something almost reverent about the way he holds you, like he’s holding onto something precious. His eyes meet yours, soft and full of affection, the quiet intimacy between you both speaking volumes. He doesn’t need to say anything—he already knows. The connection is there, woven into the smallest gestures, the ones that speak the loudest, and he treasures every second of it.

pov: he walks in on you singing (you're amazing)

daesung: harmonies and vocal training

You’re mid-song, completely lost in the melody, when a second voice slips in seamlessly with yours. At first, you don’t think much of it—just an echo in your head, maybe a trick of the music. But then it grows stronger, harmonizing perfectly, the warmth of familiarity making your stomach flip.

You freeze.

Daesung.

Before you can react, he’s no longer just harmonizing—he’s belting at full power like he’s center stage at the biggest concert of his career. The walls practically vibrate with his voice, and you let out an involuntary yelp, startled out of your skin.

He yells back, louder, eyes wide, like he’s the one who’s been caught.

There’s a split second of stunned silence where you just stare at each other, and then, as if on cue, you both burst into laughter.

“I—Why did you scream?!” he wheezes, clutching his stomach, barely able to get the words out between giggles.

“Why did YOU scream?!” you shoot back, still trying to process the sheer volume of what just happened.

He grins, eyes crinkling at the corners as he takes a step closer. “Okay, but seriously,” he says, nudging you. “You’ve been hiding that voice from me? From me? I literally sing for a living, and you didn’t think to mention this?”

You groan, face heating. “It’s not like I was hiding it—”

Daesung cuts you off with a dramatic gasp. “So you mean you just forgot to tell me you’re secretly amazing? Wow. Betrayal.”

You shove him lightly, rolling your eyes, but he’s already launching into another playful over-the-top vocal run, still grinning ear to ear. Then, before you can protest, he throws an arm around you and sways dramatically, humming the melody you were just singing.

“You know,” he says, eyes twinkling with mischief, “I think I should become your vocal coach. We’ll train every day—warm-ups in the morning, practice in the afternoon. We can do duets! Matching stage outfits! A unit name! Oh, this is happening.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on,” he whines, giving you a gentle shake. “I’m Daesung! It’s literally my job to make people sing. And now that I know you have this secret talent, I have to help you unleash your full potential.”

“I don’t need to unleash anything—”

“Too late. You’ve been discovered.” He gasps again, eyes gleaming with fake betrayal. “Unless… unless you hate my singing! Oh no. That’s why you didn’t tell me, isn’t it? You’re tired of hearing my voice.”

You snort. “You are so dramatic.”

“I have to be. For the industry.” He puffs out his chest, then nudges you again. “So? When’s our first rehearsal?”

You sigh, shaking your head, but you can’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

"Tomorrow morning? Great! I'll see you in the morning baby!" He excitedly ran out of the room, causing you to laugh aloud—you live together you will see him as soon as you exit the room as well. Oh, Daesung.

seunghyun: totally starstruck

You don’t notice him at first.

You’re too lost in the song, letting the melody spill effortlessly from your lips, the way it wraps around the air like something tangible, something alive. It’s just you, your voice, and the quiet room—until the weight of a gaze suddenly makes you falter.

You glance up, startled, and there he is.

Seunghyun stands frozen in the doorway, eyes wide, lips parted slightly as if he had something to say but forgot how to speak. His entire posture—still, rigid, like he’s afraid to move—tells you everything before he even opens his mouth.

“…Do that again.”

His voice is hushed, reverent, but there’s an intensity beneath it, like this moment is something sacred.

You blink, suddenly self-conscious. “What?”

“Sing again.” He steps closer, slow and deliberate, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he moves too fast. “Please.”

You let out a flustered laugh, trying to shake off the weight of his stare. “Seunghyun, it’s really not—”

“It is,” he interrupts, shaking his head, still looking at you like he’s seeing something unreal. “Why aren’t you doing this as a career?”

You scoff, shifting awkwardly under his unwavering gaze. “Because I couldn't get up on stage in front of people! I got anxious when I found out only you were listening—”

“Ridiculous,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “That’s ridiculous.” He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair like he’s trying to process something huge. “You sound better than—” he hesitates, eyes flickering over your face as if searching for the right words. When he finds them, his voice is almost breathless. “Better than anyone I’ve ever heard. Ever.”

Your face warms under the intensity of his words, but he isn’t done.

Suddenly, he’s closer—so close that you barely register the moment his hands find yours, his grip firm but gentle, grounding. “Let me record you,” he says, almost pleading. “Sample your voice. Something. Anything.”

You laugh, flustered, shaking your head. “Seunghyun, no—”

He ignores your protest, his thumbs brushing lightly over your knuckles, his gaze still holding that same quiet, devastating awe. “I need to hear you like that again.” A pause. “Do you know what you just did to me?”

You swallow hard, unsure how to respond, because you’re the one who feels undone under the weight of his devotion.

To him, it’s like he’s falling in love all over again. And he has no intention of getting back up.

jiyong: your first fanboy

You’re lost in the music again, wrapped in your own little world, when you suddenly feel a presence behind you. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and instinctively, you turn—only to find Jiyong standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a smug grin plastered across his face. His eyes gleam with mischief, and you can already tell that he's about to make this moment so much more than it needs to be.

“You really didn’t think to tell me about this?” he teases, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “I mean, I knew you were talented, but this?” He shakes his head as if he’s genuinely offended. “I’m hurt, baby.”

You roll your eyes, chuckling nervously. “It’s not a big deal, Jiyong.”

“Not a big deal?” he scoffs, already pulling his phone out of his pocket. “You’re basically a superstar and you never even mentioned it? Unbelievable. Well, if you won’t tell me, I guess I’ll just have to do it for you.”

Before you can protest, he taps his phone screen and a playlist of your favorite songs starts playing. He uses his phone as a makeshift lightstick, dramatically waving it in the air as he steps forward, his smirk never leaving his face. “Alright, let’s do this properly,” he announces, as though he’s about to manage a full-scale performance.

You laugh, feeling completely exposed now, but Jiyong’s energy is infectious. He steps into the middle of the room, sets his phone down on a nearby table, and hits play on the next song. He starts dancing around you, pretending to be the most enthusiastic fan, fully immersing himself in the “show.” Every so often, he pulls exaggerated, overly dramatic dance moves—his “fanboy” act is too much, and you can’t help but giggle.

“You’re so cheesy,” you say, trying to hide your embarrassment, but also thoroughly entertained.

“You love it,” he grins, spinning you around like you're both part of some spontaneous duet. “You’re welcome. This is the kind of spotlight you deserve.”

As the song comes to a close, he steps back, using his phone to “judge” your performance like a panelist on some reality show. “And a perfect ten! Unbelievable! You’re incredible, but I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me all this time,” he teases, dramatically wiping away a fake tear.

You roll your eyes, but your heart is full of affection. “I wasn’t hiding it, Jiyong. I just—”

“Nope!” he interrupts, cutting you off with a hand up. “You’re a star. And I knew it.” He pauses, narrowing his eyes in mock suspicion. “I think you were just trying to keep all the attention for yourself, huh?”

You can’t help but laugh at his theatrics. “You’re unbelievable.”

Jiyong just winks, sweeping you into his arms. “I’m just the best manager ever. Now, go on, show me the next song, superstar.”

pov: returning home after a tour and finding out you missed him

seunghyun: human charger

The second you opened the door, Seunghyun was standing there, looking composed as ever—hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly, that unreadable expression on his face. But his eyes. His eyes gave him away.

“You’re back,” you breathed, a little stunned even though you knew he was coming home today. It still felt surreal after all those weeks apart. “I missed you so much Seunghyun.”

For a fraction of a second, his lips twitched—like he was fighting back the urge to actually react. Then, with the smoothest, most indifferent tone, he said, “Oh? You missed me?” He let out a soft scoff, looking off to the side. “That’s funny. I didn’t even notice you weren't with me.”

Before you could even pretend to be offended, he had already closed the space between you, wrapping his arms around you tight. No hesitation, no delay. Like he had been holding himself back for far too long, and now that you were in front of him, he wasn’t wasting another second.

You melted into him, letting yourself be enveloped in his warmth, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the weight of his chin resting on your shoulder. “Liar,” you murmured, smiling against the fabric of his jacket.

His arms only tightened around you in response.

It wasn’t until later that you noticed the real extent of how much he had actually missed you.

The next morning, when you asked about his schedule, he just shrugged, sitting comfortably on the couch with you wrapped up in his hold. “Cleared it,” he said simply, scrolling through his phone.

“…Cleared it?” You blinked. “Like—what do you mean, cleared it?”

“I mean exactly that.” He didn’t even look up. “No meetings. No interviews. No rehearsals. Nothing. I’m busy.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Busy doing what?”

At that, he finally glanced at you, expression unreadable for just a moment before he spoke, voice completely steady—like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Being here. Need to recharge. You're my charger,” His words were so matter-of-factly that you had no case if you were to deny what he said—you would be crazy to do that.

You stared at him, equal parts exasperated and endeared. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you love me.” He smirked, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he tugged you closer.

You sighed, defeated, and let yourself melt into him. “Yeah,” you admitted. “I really do.”

He hummed, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your temple. “Good. Because I’m not letting you out of my sight for a while.”

And sure enough, for the next few days, he refused to let you go anywhere without him. If you had errands? He was coming with you. If you had plans? He adjusted them so you could stay in instead. If you so much as moved from the couch, his arm would subtly tighten around you, an unbreakable vise grip that you welcomed warmly.

daesung: everything is a reminder of you

The moment Daesung stepped through the front door, his suitcase rolling behind him, his face lit up the second he saw you. He barely had a chance to say anything before you blurted it out.

“I missed you.”

For a brief second, he just stared at you, his eyes widening as if those words had flipped some switch inside him. Then, suddenly, his whole expression softened into the warmest, most radiant smile.

“You missed me?” His voice was filled with so much genuine happiness, like he couldn’t believe it even though he had been hoping to hear it. Then, before you could even answer, he closed the space between you in a heartbeat, wrapping you up in his arms. “Oh my god, I missed you too! You know that, I told you every day by text, but it wasn’t the same.”

You laughed against his shoulder, feeling how tightly he was holding you, like he had been waiting for this moment the entire tour. He smelled like airport air and faded cologne, but underneath it was something distinctly him, something that made you want to stay right there forever.

Then, just as suddenly as he had hugged you, he pulled back, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “Oh! Wait! I got you something.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Something?”

Daesung grinned. “Okay... maybe a few things.”

And then he grabbed his suitcase, unzipped it with so much enthusiasm that you swore he almost broke the zipper, and started pulling out item after item after item.

“This reminded me of you.” He placed a small trinket in your hands—a keychain shaped like a little cartoon animal, one of your favorites.

“And this one too. Oh, and this! I saw this and immediately thought of you.” A little stuffed animal, then a handmade bracelet, then a snack from one of the local markets.

You watched in awe as the pile kept growing. “Daesung, how much stuff did you buy?”

He looked sheepish but only for a second before laughing. “A lot… but I couldn’t not get them! Everywhere I went, something reminded me of you, and I kept thinking, ‘Oh, she would love this!’ And I couldn’t just choose one thing, so I got everything.”

You stared at him, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of souvenirs but also by the sentiment behind them. He had spent all that time away, traveling from city to city, but he had still been thinking of you the entire time.

Your chest felt warm, overflowing with affection. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, shaking your head, but you were smiling, and he knew you weren’t mad in the slightest.

Daesung beamed. “Ridiculously in love with you.” Then he held up one more thing—his arms, wide open. “Now come here and let me make up for all that lost time.”

And, of course, you didn’t hesitate to fall right back into his embrace.

jiyong: planning and eavesdropping

The moment you sighed out the words—“I missed you.”—Jiyong stilled. His lips parted slightly, eyes glinting with something smug. Then, his expression shifted into full dramatic mode.

“Oh?” he said, tilting his head. “Say it again.”

You blinked. “What?”

He leaned in, grinning now. “One more time. Just for me.”

You narrowed your eyes, about to protest, but then he was already pulling you forward, locking you in his arms with a delighted sigh. “Actually, forget that. You’re not going anywhere, little lady. You belong right here for at least the next hour.”

A huff of laughter escaped you, but you didn’t try to pull away. There was no point—Jiyong had latched onto you like a koala, his arms wound tight around your waist, legs tangled with yours as if to physically make up for all the lost time.

The two cats, clearly attuned to the energy in the room, jumped up onto the couch beside you both. One curled into the space between you, the other settled by your legs, their purring blending seamlessly with the warmth of Jiyong’s body against yours.

“You’re acting like I was gone for a year,” you teased, running a hand through his hair.

“Felt like it,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your shoulder. He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes scanning every inch of your face like he was committing it to memory again. “Next time, I’m bringing you with me.”

“You always say that,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, and one day it’s actually gonna happen.” He pulled you even closer, his chin resting on your shoulder. “I already planned, like… seven different dates for us in different cities, by the way.”

You let out a short laugh. “Seven?”

“Obviously. Do you know how much time I spent thinking about you?” He pulled back slightly, just enough to kiss your temple. “A lot, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you love me.”

Before you could retort, he suddenly gasped, his entire body tensing with excitement. “Oh my god, I almost forgot. You will not believe the gossip I heard.”

You blinked at the abrupt shift. “What?”

Jiyong leaned in, lowering his voice like he was about to tell you the biggest secret in the world. “So, you know how the hairstylists and makeup artists talk to each other while they’re working?”

“Yeah?”

“Well.” His lips curled into a devilish grin. “They think I’m not listening. But I am.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” He practically vibrated with excitement. “Okay, listen to this—so apparently, one of the stylists is secretly dating this one idol but no one is supposed to know, but—”

And just like that, the next hour disappeared into a flurry of hushed whispers, gasped reactions, and Jiyong acting out dramatic reenactments of everything he overheard. The cats dozed beside you, entirely unbothered, as he spilled every single secret he had collected like a gremlin hoarding forbidden knowledge.

It wasn’t until much later, when you had both completely melted into each other, his voice softer now as he murmured about places he wanted to take you, that you realized just how much he had missed you.

And how much, without even realizing it, you had missed this.

thanks for reading!

i love making these so like if u want part 3 do lmk!

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mattsstarlet · 6 months ago

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⋆˚࿔ a pleasant gift ⟢

giving chris a gift for getting his license.

“fuck, baby. Just like that, ma.” chris moaned, removing a hand from the steering wheel and grabbing a handful of your hair. the sounds of your muffled moans and slurping of his dick, mix with the engine of his brand-new vehicle.

chris had just gotten his license card in the mail, pulling up to your house in a black sports car late at night. now— the burette was driving down some road, and his jeans along with his briefs were rolled down to his thighs.

you were currently bent over the console, mouth stuffed full with his cock— seeing his photo id immediately had your panties drenched. you needed to give this man the best head ever.

he groaned, wanting nothing more than to throw his head back against the seat and shut his eyes. he pushes your head down farther, your nose making contact with his pelvis.

“mm-hm…all of it, baby. take my fuckin’ dick.”

you moan around him, his hand slowly loosens up letting you take him out, gasping for air as you use both of your hands to pump him.

kitty licking his hard length, you look up at him through your wispy lashes— his hair around his forehead is slightly damped and small pants leave his lip.

chris locks eyes with you for a moment, smirking as he sees the tears staining your warm cheeks. “keep goin’, mama. ain’t pulling over until you make me cum.” he stated.

with a final deep breath, you take him back in, his tip hitting the back of your throat. he grips your hair trying to hold you in place as he lifts his hips— mouth fucking you.

“shiiit, baby. takin’ my dick so well.” he groaned, thrusting up and pausing for a second until he could feel you choking around him.

“careful, sweet girl,” he teased, “take it niiice and slow.” he dragged out, his hand suddenly leaving your hair and joining the other on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white.

“oh fuck,” he breathed out, his cock twitching in your mouth. “gonna cum, baby…y—yeah gonna come deep in ya throat.”

you whimpered around him, his moans were like music to your ears. your hands help you get him off, stroking whatever you could no longer fit in your mouth.

you can’t help but press kisses onto his sensitive tip, knowing it’ll only get him closer. swirling his precum around with your tongue, your hands slightly tighten their grip around his cock— pushing him to fall over the edge.

a loud moan leaves his lips as he throws his head back, coating your mouth with warm, white ropes of cum. cleaning him up and somewhat tucking him back in, you pull away, licking the corner of your bottom lip where his salty fluid managed to spill out.

you grin, placing a wet kiss on his neck, “so proud of you, baby.”

chris’ chest heaves as his heart slowly goes back to resting rate. the car comes to a stop, it's only then that you realize he pulled out of the road and into an empty lot.

he unbuckled his seatbelt, the soft ‘clink’ stealing your attention. “backseat, baby. now.”

note ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ hot move.

#𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐬𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐭© ˚ ༘ ೀ #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo imagine #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo

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mikkomacko · 26 days ago

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Him and I - 14

Famiglia

Mob Boss! Nico Hischier x reader

Warnings: smut, cursing, mentions of death

Previous chapter

Masterlist

A/n: Ok this chapter is a lot shorter than I usually do but it’s because sort of a transition chapter. I promise to be quicker about getting the next chapter out. Thanks for reading!

____________________________________________

Nico’s got way too much on his mind.

In the months since Switzerland, it’s like he can never catch up. Updates on Luca attempting to track down Rino come in, though they lead nowhere. The wound on his arm from Vancouver heals and Jack and Luke move on like nothing happened. The Pinterest board for wedding planning grows and grows, lists of vendors and themes get tacked up to the fridge or left in the drawer of his desk. You fully take up your role with Hischier Enterprises, settle into the spot in the Devils that’s been waiting for you. And that night you saved Nico from the Rangers? The one that sealed your readiness for said role comes back to Nico more than he’d like.

Small rumors of contracts and deals that he doesn’t like, the paranoid behavior of Trouba, all of it putting Nico on edge. Even though nothing has really happened in months, he knows something is off.

Something he should be looking into right now.

Except he can’t look through Haula’s last report of the Rangers with you like this. Because no matter how pressing work is, how direly he needs to focus on that, you’re always first, always on the forefront of his mind.

You come first.

In every way possible.

“I’ve got you baby, come on.” He grunts, splaying his hand over your belly, thumb stretching down to your puffy clit. He starts drawing tight little circles, groaning when your pussy tightens around him, both of you so close to the edge. You first though, you come first.

“Supposed to be a reward for you,” you pant against his mouth, heavy eyes filled with laughter underneath the arousal darkening them. “Didn’t stall once today.”

Nico laughs, breathless and rough and kisses you again, his left arm pulling you in closer. Not that you weren’t already close to him, cramped in the backseat of the new Camaro that goes parked in the garage at the house.

His learning car, you’d called it. Even if it’s far too nice and expensive to be a car one learns to drive in. You loved it at the dealer, said it was just like the one you learned to drive and how could he say no to the sight of you in the passenger seat, smiling all pretty for him.

“M’not going to now either,” he promises, puckering a line of wet kisses to your jaw, following a path to the sensitive spot under your ear. “So you better fucking drench me first baby.”

You moan at his biting tone, the command a low rumble in your ear and you wrap your arms around his neck, head tilting forward to press against his temple. You bounce on him only a handful more times, grinding into the pad of his thumb with it before your whole body goes taut.

Still pulsing on him, Nico buries his face in the crook of your neck, arms around your waist and holds you still as he fucks up into you, chasing his own high. You go all soft and limp in his hold, fingers stroking through the hair at the nape of his neck and your voice is sweet in his ear when you speak.

“Please come for me Nico, need it baby, please.”

He comes with a shudder, chest arching into yours as he trembles with it. You keep combing through his hair, the other hand running down his back that grew damp with sweat against the leather seats. Not the most comfortable of feelings, but in his defense he didn’t think about the interior of the car for this purpose when he bought it.

“That’s it Neeky,” you coo, kissing at his hairline all tender and warm, like him painting your pussy white in the back of a car is the most romantic thing he’s ever done. “Feels so good.”

He hums in satisfaction, brain still a little too fuzzy to say anything right now. Instead he presses his lips to your neck and shoulder, passing over your slipping bra strap as he goes.

If you’d told Nico weeks ago that his new car would have more miles in the back seat than on the road, he wouldn’t have been shocked, but he probably would’ve laughed. At least before thinking practically about the fact that his legs are a little too long for the backseat and unlike the bigger SUVs, he can’t lay you down in this one.

“Mmm need to head home soon,” he sighs, slumping back into the seat, his hands holding your waist lovingly. You shift back on his thighs, sucking in a breath at the drag of his softening cock on your sensitive walls.

“I don’t want to go home,” you mumble, trailing your hands down his chest, one pausing to catch the pendant resting there. “Want to stay here with you.”

Nico smiles, cupping the side of your face and drawing you in for a kiss. If there’s one thing you haven’t liked about how packed Nico’s schedule has been lately, it’s that the downtime you used to spend getting lunch with him or dropping off coffee or checking in after jobs is now filled.

It’s been rare that he’s gotten to see you during the work day and even if he’s been lenient with allowing you to make him late in the mornings, it doesn’t make up for it. He misses you, you miss him, and it’s obvious now why you want to keep him in this abandoned lot for as long as possible.

As soon as he returns the car home, he’s gotta get in the other one and head to work for the day. And you’ve got to get ready for your packed day too. He thought that these late morning driving lessons with you would quell some of that, that spending a couple hours teaching him stick and then riding him in the backseat for a job well done would be enough.

Even if this has become your new routine, and he does look forward to having you on his dick after sitting there and acting like you reminding him to hit the clutch doesn’t turn him on beyond belief, it’s not the same. For either of you.

“I’d take you with me if I could baby,” he promises, pecking at your lips again “carry you around in my pocket all day.”

You give him a girlish giggle, cheeks blooming with color as you fiddle with his pendent. “Yeah? Which pocket?”

He nudges your nose with his, humming in thought and his heart swelling in his chest when you excitedly bite at your bottom lip. “The one right here,” he decides, laying his hand over yours and dragging it over until your fingers rest over his left pec. “Nice and safe, right next to my heart.”

“What about when you’re not wearing your flannel?”

He scoffs with disbelief, “I’d wear it everyday to keep you right there baby.”

Laughing delightedly, you lean in to kiss him again, pressing your palm into his beating heart like you’re trying to reach in and physically pet at it.

“Are you really busy today?” You ask him after a beat, lips pulled down a bit as you trail your fingers over his happy trail, almost shy with it.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “gotta a meeting with Lee out on the island. Then some stuff with Haula and Jonas about the Rags.”

Dejectedly, you hum. He tucks your hair behind your ear, cupping the back of your neck until you blink up at him, apprehensively still fiddling with the patch of hair on his stomach. It would tickle if he weren’t so worried about you, about how you deflated at the mention of him leaving Jersey for the day. Maybe it’s Timo being gone too, your old habits coming back and making you insecure about being without the two of them for the day. Or maybe it’s just personal, the clinginess you’ve both been trying to fight since Vancouver making you like this.

“You can call me if you need anything, you know that right?”

You nod, chest rising as you inhale deeply and puff out a strong breath of air that warms his skin underneath you.

He squeezes your neck, waits for you to melt into his hold the way you always do. “I mean it baby. Anything. Trip will be quick, S’just basic stuff and then I’ll be here all day for everything else. Here for you.”

“I know Nico,” you nod, lips twitching into a grateful smile and he draws you in so he can brush kisses the corners of it.

“Keep Moose with you all day,” he reminds, just to make himself feel better. “and Dawson too. Know you have a couple things to do without him but he stays with you for the rest, got it?”

“Yes boss,” you purr, words hot when they hit his mouth and you kiss him again. He pats at your hip in praise, nodding towards the door.

“We gotta go baby. Before I start getting hard again.”

Your eyes light up with interest, glinting mischievously and you pout your bottom lip at him. “Or we stay and have another round?”

He groans when you drag your hand over his chest, fingers brushing his nipple and you sink a little lower on his lap. “You’re gonna get me in trouble, ya know that?”

“With who?” You say teasingly, “Because the only person in charge of you is me and I really want to make you come again.”

Nico can’t argue with that one.

~~~~

A crystal glass of orange juice and champagne in hand, you sink back into the oversized chair of the nail salon, eyes fluttering shut as the mechanism massages at your upper shoulders.

“Oh you’re so right,” Nola hums, her feet swishing around in the hot water. “We did need this.”

You look over at her, smiling lazy as she clinks her glass of just orange juice with yours. The man working on your pedicure nudges your feet out of the water, resting them on a fluffy towel as he begins to file your nails down.

“When Timo’s away, the girlies will play.” You sing, the two of you giggling and sipping your drinks again. Timo’s been away for a week and a half now, off in Switzerland with Amelia again, and you’ve been distracting yourself from him abandoning you with absolutely no training and just fun.

Which works for Nola too because as the baby in her belly gets bigger, she’s gotten lax about sticking to the routine with you and Timo.

“I hope he knows he’s missing my 20 week check up,” she says, dramatically sighing. “Now he’ll never know what fruit the baby is at.”

You and Timo don’t go to Nola’s check ups with her. That’s strictly a her and Jonas thing, not that you really mind or even would want to go. Sitting in a plastic doctor’s chair and seeing something living inside of her makes you feel a little squeamish, but you’ll take any updates you can get on the fruit ratio of the baby’s size.

“What fruit is the baby at?” You ask curiously, and she laughs, twitching a little as her pedicurist takes the pumice stone to the bottom of her foot.

Proudly, she say, “This month we’re at a banana.” Her hands cup her barely there belly, whatever bump she may have hidden by the oversized linen button up she’s wearing today.

Either way it’s cute, and you’re about to tell her just that when another voice pops up from over your shoulder.

“Oh a banana sounds so good right now!”

Johnny is slumped in his chair, jeans rolled up to his calves and feet soaking in his own bubbling bath of hot water and salts. Like you, he’s got a mimosa in hand though it seems must be stronger than yours because his eyes already look heavy and a little delayed.

“We’re talking about my baby not an actual food,” Nola chimes in, narrowing her eyes at him. “You want to eat my baby John?”

He’s so relaxed, an easy smile on his lips as he simply giggles. “Nah I’m hungry,” he replies, “but for real food. Not babies.”

You can feel your own pedicurist looking from John to you, and sure enough when you peer down his eyebrows are raised.

“He doesn’t eat babies,” you explain, laughing awkwardly. “He’s new to the whole pedicure and mimosa thing.”

“And the massage chairs, holy…” he adds, practically purring as he presses into the vibrating back rest. You roll your eyes, trying not to laugh at him and making a mental note to not tell Nico about Johnny’s day with you.

He’s been filling in for Timo, switching with Mercer in backing you up on day-to-day stuff and acting as body guard of course. You’d imagine the sight of him slumped and buzzed on champagne, giggling every time they touch the bottom of his feet doesn’t exactly scream body guard though, especially not to Nico. Or Jonas who has also gotten weary about Nola going out with you so often the further along she gets.

Not that she cares. Jonas would have to sedate and tie her down probably to get her to stay home.

“We still have work after this Johnny,” you remind him when he requests a refill on his drink, though your tone is more amused than warning.

“Aye aye boss,” he clicks his tongue, peering down at his toes in excitement as they add a clear gloss to his pedicure. “Ooo that looks clean.”

“Who’d have thought that washing your feet works?” You joke, and he gives you a pout before looking at your own drying white toes.

“Basic color,” he comments thoughtfully, “but cute. Goes with everything so that’s cash money.”

Nola snorts. “Very cash money. Unlike my bright pink ones, huh?”

Johnny leans over you to look at her pedicure. “I like it,” he compliments, settling back in his chair and upping the massage timer.

“Figured I’d enjoy bright colors before I can no longer even see my toes.” She jokes, sipping the last of her orange juice. “What do you two have planned for the rest of the day?”

Humming, you mentally go through the list in your head. “Left the boys organizing projects at the penthouse. So I’ll take Johnny back there and leave him, pick up Luke for his appointment, then we’re all meeting around Newark for business check-ins.” You relay, checking them off on your fingers as you go.

The past few months of getting to run the legal side of the Devils has been fun. You like having more to do with your day than just train with Timo and doing odd chores around the house. Not that it wasn’t work per se, but it never felt like you were actually doing anything, actually pulling your weight.

With this though, you get to sort through project files and research on local businesses, put together potential deals. It’s almost the same process you went through with Timo to get Johnny and it’s fun, exciting.

Your little team of Devs is great too. Dawson and Luke, Alex and Johnny, Timo and you. Like you expected, they all work together well and they seem to enjoy the business side of things. Plus it’s safer for them to be on this side with you. Most of them are still young, we’re given busy work or behind the scenes stuff with Nico because he didn’t want to put them in direct danger.

They’ve got real work now, still sticking to the obligations Nico gave them of protecting you, but also getting to see the city in a new way. Face time with the people you’re supposed to be helping, looking into businesses they have an interest in.

Luke had just about died at the file Nico had half put together on a local animal shelter and while you haven’t had the chance to finish up any deal pitches yet, you know that one will be his.

“Wow, a real business gal,” Nola murmurs flirtatiously. “Nico better be careful before you get too smart for him.”

“She’s already too smart for him.” Johnny laughs, struggling in his chair to get his socks back over his feet.

“We’re equally smart,” you defend, ignoring the look Nola gives you in favor of swinging your legs to the side of the chair and slipping your sandals back on. She does the same, Johnny now yanking his jeans down his calves and shoving his feet into his sneakers.

The three of you get up, heading towards the front desk to pay. Johnny is giving you a look too, like he’s trying to tell you to give it up and admit you’re a rocket scientist compared to Nico. It’d be a lie though, so you can’t. They don’t often see all of Nico’s planning and preparations behind closed doors, see how his brain works a million miles an hour the way you do. Sure some simple stuff slips under his nose, stuff that would be considered stupid but he’s by no means dumb.

“Mr. Hischier has already paid for the services on his tab,” the receptions tells you when you approach the counter, smiling warmly. “He also left a message for John, saying next time no drinking on the job.”

Looking up from her sticky notes, she glances at Johnny who looks a little stricken.

“I’m guessing that’s you?”

Dumbly he nods. You nudge him towards the door, Nola laughing as she follows and you offer a final thanks before leaving too. The bell overhead rings as the door shuts, the warm spring air light on your skin as you step onto the sidewalk.

“Yeah alright,” Johnny huffs, “Nico is pretty smart.”

~~~~

It’s odd being back in your therapists office, especially when you’re not the one being checked in at the front, not the one filling out the mental health questionnaire, not the one being led back into the actual office.

Like you, Luke’s leg had bounced the whole time he sat waiting with you, head hanging low in that same way it had on the jet a few months ago. Today is his first real appointment, his first time genuinely coming to speak to the professional.

It’ll end up mostly being background stuff, about his childhood and what are his goals for being here. You know that from experience. And you’d told him as much, told him it’s scary and it makes you feel like shit at first but nothing he ever says in there will be held against him. The same thing Nico had told you first time he walked you in here.

When he was the one holding your trembling hand, checking you in with the receptionist, filling out forms for you because your hands wouldn’t cooperate. He even walked you to the door when they called your name, left you with a kiss on the forehead every time and a promise that’ll he be right out here.

You sit in the same spot he always sat, right up against the window that looks out onto the street. He never really people watched from what you remember, always had an AirPod in or a book with him, but you just stare out the window, watching the cars drive by and the clouds overhead move. Texting Nico about any cute dog you see walk by, let him know that Moose hasn’t once reacted to them as he lay by your feet.

Of course he was trained to not react to other dogs when he’s out with you like this, but it still makes you swim with pride when he obeys.

You spend the next 20 minutes of Luke’s appointment switching between texting Nico and watching the people outside the window. Not that you’re really seeing them, more focused on your own thoughts.

He’d come up to you only a week after you all returned from Vancouver. Him and Jack spent every night at the house, sharing the room next to Alex’s that Jack usually sleeps in himself. On the other side of the Jack and Jill bathroom sat Luke’s usual room, empty of its typical occupant.

They acted normal. Went to work every morning with Nico, hung out with the boys, bitched when you assigned them dish duty after dinner. The only thing out of place was how quiet they both were. Like their internal volumes had been turned down.

And then one night Luke found you by the patio door, waiting in the dim light for Moose to go potty so you could send him to bed and join Nico upstairs. You’d thought Luke had gone to sleep himself, maybe he had by the way his curls were sticking up but all he did was come stand next to you, take one deep breath and then speak.

“I think I want to trying seeing someone,” he murmured, gazing out the patio door even when you turned to him. “Like a doctor or whoever you saw. To talk about what happened.”

You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to hug him, wanted to cry because after all this time he was finally looking inwards. He had seen what you’ve been carrying for him, as Nico had said, and he was ready to try carrying it himself.

Instead you nodded. “Okay, whatever you want to do Luke, I’ll make it happen.”

He nodded, lips pursing and then Moose came pattering back inside, tail flicking lazily and Luke leaned down to scratch at his ears while you locked up.

“You’ll call?” He questioned, staring a little too intently at Moose. “For me? To make an appointment.”

“Of course.”

“And you’ll go with?”

That urge to cry burned at the back of your eyes, made your throat feel dry. Luke still wasn’t looking at you, hiding behind the pretense that he just needs to examine the inside of Moose’s ear right now.

“Yeah,” you choke out, “I’ll be there.”

Then he’d straightened out, gave Moose one last pat and met your gaze. It was fleeting, just a moment of those pale hazel eyes silently thanking you before he turned back towards the stairs. You watched him go, heart thumping rapidly in your chest and once he disappeared back in his room, you tucked Moose into his bed by the couch, and practically ran upstairs to tell Nico.

You have no idea what made Luke decide that, what finalized his decision. All you know is the next morning you and Nico woke to the two brothers loudly yelling at each other and banging around in their bathroom. Completely back to normal.

The door back to the offices creaks open, Luke dragging his feet as he steps through the frame and lets the door softly click shut behind him. He heads straight towards you, shoulders a little slumped but not as downtrodden as you’ve seen him before.

“Hey,” you greet him with a soft smile, climbing up from your seat. Moose follows eagerly, tail wagging as Luke comes to stand across from you. “How are you feeling?”

He purses his lips in thought, eyes roaming around the room for a moment before he shrugs. “Fine I guess. I kinda liked it.”

“Yeah?”

He nods, leaning down to pet at Moose’s head. “At least today I liked it. It was nice to talk to someone who doesn’t know me or us.”

A wide smile breaks out on your face, the dread of waiting for his reaction finally lifting from your shoulders and you feel about 10 pounds lighter.

“That’s good!” You say cheerily, and he offers a little smile. “I’m so happy for you Luke.”

“I talked about Jack,” he murmurs, glancing over his shoulder like he’s expecting someone to come rushing out and drag him away for mentioning what he revealed behind closed doors.

You don’t know what to say so you simply hum. He straightens out again, looking a little sheepish as he scratches at his hair. “Just how I love him but sometimes it’s hard having a brother like him. Like I always have to owe him something or compensate because he got us here.”

His statement shocks you a bit. You don’t have siblings, don’t know what it feels like to have another version of you basically, running around and having free will and all that. It’s easy to see why Luke would feel that way though. Jack did raise him pretty much and even with them working separately now, you’d imagine he still feels a little like he’s under Jack’s umbrella. It must be hard, feeling like you never do enough to make up for everything an older sibling did for you.

Hell, sometimes you still look at Nico and think you’ll never be able to show him how much you appreciate what he’s done for you, the life he’s given you. It’s different than siblings obviously, but it’s a similar guilt.

“You felt good talking about it?” You ask him, “Comfortable and everything?”

Certain, he nods. “Yeah I did. Thanks for coming with me.”

Reaching for him, you wrap your fingers around his wrist and tug him forward, taking a step closer so you can wrap the arm not holding Moose’s leash around him. “Thanks for letting me,” you reply, rubbing at his back.

He hugs you back for a moment, chin on top of your head. Moose nudges at his knee, pushing him back and you both part with a laugh.

“Wanna get something to eat?” You ask, already knowing the answer. Luke smiles, eyes bright and happy as he motions for you to leave first.

“Fuck yes I do.”

~~~~

Paws pattering on the sidewalk, Moose prances his way up to the water dish outside the deli, not hesitating to stick his snout in the bowl and start drinking.

You fiddle with his leash on your belt loop, laughing when Mercer’s eyes widen at the loud lapping noises coming from the dog, water spilling out onto the concrete. Over his shoulder you see Johnny and Alex head into the open door of the boutique across the street, the little Devil horn logo decal on the front window glinting in the sun.

Lazily, Moose lifts his head, shoelaces of drool and water hanging from his snout.

“Putze, Moose.” You call lightly, his head tilting comprehendingly and then his leaning down to wipe at his face with his paws, the drool now soaked into the fur of his feet.

“That dog is stupidly smart.” Mercer says, and you beam with pride, patting the top of his snout affectionately. Then he’s pulling open the door to the Italian deli, the bell ringing overhead.

The tables are mostly empty inside, caught in the lag between lunch and dinner. You try to do monthly check-ins around this time, that way any lingering messes from early in the day can be spotted but you’re not interrupting the lunch rush.

Mrs. Sposato waves from behind the order counter, eyes brightening when she sees Moose at your feet.

“Oh there they are!” She greets, her accent still thick even though she’s one of the few in the shop that will speak English all the day. The boys in the back, including her husband, are strictly Italian. They don’t try English and they never will, at least that’s what Mr. Sposato told you. Italian is too beautiful a language.

Moose perks up, tail wagging and eyes lifting as he pretty much pulls you through the dining area and up to the counter. She rounds the edge of it, crouching down with open arms to greet the dog and he happily presents the underside of his neck to her for pets.

Mercer, standing behind you, sweeps his eyes over the place, examining the few patrons still hanging around.

“Come stai?” You ask her quietly, in case there’s listening ears. “Tutto bene?”

If anything was ever actual wrong at the shops the Devils protect, you and Nico would know immediately. They all have a direct line of contact to Nico in case of emergencies, but that’s strictly for life or death situations.

You want them to know though, that you’re invested in their well being. That there’s genuine care and interest when you come here to check-in. If anyone were threatening or harassing them for the Devils mark on the front window. If a cop or someone higher up is sniffing around and chatting about said logo on the front. If they’re unhappy with working with the Devils, this is how it’s fixed.

We keep them happy, is what Nico had told you. If they’re happy, we’re happy, and everyone’s wallets are happy too.

So you put in the face time and the personal touch, the petting of dogs and admiring graduation photos of kids. And you and Johnny conquer and divide the Italian speaking places because there’s nothing more personal than bonding over a shared mother tongue.

“Yes we’re good,” Mrs. Sposato assures you in Italian. “Getting busier now that it’s warm and everyone’s out again.”

“Best time of year for subs,” you agree, and she rises to her feet again. For a moment she disappears back behind the counter, sliding open the glass case and fishing out a little napkin placed in the corner of the refrigerated display.

“Always a good time for subs,” she corrects you, the two of sharing a little laugh as she opens the napkin, laying it out on the counter to reveal little chunks and scraps of meat.

Already knowing and eager, Moose sits politely, thick tail swishing on the tiled floor. She makes a soft sound of endearment before feeding the pieces to him, Moose taking the food from her fingers with delicate teeth.

“I don’t think very many people have our taste for good food year round.” You admit, leaning on the counter to catch a glimpse at Mercer. He’s still looking around, though a bit more lax now, two hands shoved in his pockets.

Mrs. Sposato hums. “That could be true,” she nods, petting at Moose’s nose as she wads up the empty napkin and tosses it in the trash. She wipes her fingers on her black apron.

“You and Nico?” She questions, sitting back on her stool. Her eyes fall to your ring, eyebrows raised. “No wedding date yet?”

You shrug, unable to hide your giddy smile at the mention of the wedding. All these months later and it still makes you swell with love when you look at the pretty diamond.

“We’re thinking summer. He loves the beach and water but it’s so hard to decide.”

She laughs with you, smacking her hand on the counter top and her own ring clacks on the hardwood. “Tell me about it. It took me two years to figure out a date for mine and by that time everyone was saying just go to the court house already!”

Two years is a while you suppose, but not long enough to abandon any plans of a ceremony and party for the court house. It’s a wedding, something special and hopefully for life. If it takes time to plan and get right, you think that’s ok.

“Where did you end up marrying?”

She gives you a shy smile, thumbing at her wedding band. “His parents back yard in Sicily. It was where we first met, where he said he loved me. And no where is more beautiful than Italy.”

You nod in agreement, even if the statement is unknown to you. Sure you’ve seen pictures and videos, can attest that through a screen it’s beautiful. But you’ve never witnessed it in person. After your parents left Italy, they refused to return. Any relatives you ever saw came here to visit.

“I know he’s Swiss, but I’m sure Mr. Hischier would marry you anywhere you’d like. Even your home country.”

Her words make you go warm, the reminder that Nico loves you so much it’s obvious to everyone around you. He’s not easy to read but he’s never hid that his heart beats for you and you alone.

“Yeah he would,” you agree, though you don’t know if it’d work out. Johnny still hasn’t returned to Europe since his father was killed. You’ve never been to Italy, don’t even know where you’d start looking for places to marry. And you’ve since lost contact with any family still remaining there.

It seems like a fruitless dream, even if you know Nico would make it happen.

“Whatever you end up doing,” she continues, laying her hand over yours and smiling with warmth. “If you need any subs or help, let us know, yeah?”

You laugh, lifting your hand to squeeze your fingers around hers. “I don’t know about sandwiches but hopefully there’s a table with your name card on it, right?”

Mrs. Sposato’s eyes go a little misty with surprise and something like honor, the dark brown of them growing shiny and she nods. “Right.”

At the entrance, the bell rings announcing new customers so you and her let go of each other, offering smiles in goodbye.

“We’ll be back soon to check in. And just call if you need anything ok?”

You take a step back with Mercer, Moose easily following you as you wave. “Yeah yeah,” she agrees, “tell Nico to stop by next time. I haven’t seen someone so good looking in awhile.”

It makes you giggle, especially when she winks and then worriedly glances into the back rooms to see if her husband has heard her. When she deems he hasn’t, she’s smirking devilishly and waving you out the door.

Turning around, you follow Mercer back into the maze of tables, glancing down to make sure Moose’s leash is still secured. You tug on the clip, double checking nothing is twisted and then look up to watch Mercer bully through the newest group of people to enter the deli.

You want to call his name, tell him to wait next time because low profile here means not shoving his way through customers, but your entire throat has gone dry at the sight before you.

A family of three, the middle aged couple standing stiff and poised next to an older lady. Her hair is white, styled in salon curated puffs on top of her head that her make her skin appear darker, her green eyes brighter. You could convince yourself you don’t know her if you really wanted to. It’s been long enough without seeing her you could say you forgot.

You can’t say the same about the other two. It may be three years since you’ve seen them but you can recognize the woman’s dark and unruly hair anywhere, her almond eyes and sharp nose. The man’s tan skin and mannerisms, from the way he stands to the way his face rests. After all, they’re the exact same features as yours.

They freeze at the same time you do, your eyes locked on your mother’s. It’s like the space between you and them freezes, everything moving around you. Mercer has noticed, quickly moving back to your side and Moose must have picked up on something too because he’s standing at attention in the space between you and your parents.

“Y/n,” the older woman finally gasps, the words barely audible over the blood rushing in your ears. You take a step back, give yourself more space and Mercer steps into it, half shielding you from them.

“Can I help you?” He asks gruffly, tone short and clipped as his hand creeps towards the small of his back, ready to grab the gun in his waistband if needed.

Shocked, your grandmother’s mouth parts and she looks at him defiantly but must think better of it because she stops. Blinking timidly, she looks over his shoulder at you, eyes shining with tears.

“Nonna?” You murmur, your voice hollow in your own ears though it’s hard to hear anything over the pounding of your heart, the way it feels like it’s slowly beating away at the bone of your ribs, aching and cracking.

Mercer glances back at you, holding his other hand out in front of you. He’s waiting for instructions, for silent commands, for any hint on what to do. You should leave, you need to leave. Get away from them as soon as possible.

But you haven’t seen Nonna since you were 13, the last time she ever got to visit New Jersey before they all claimed her health was too bad. You never got to go see her either. Italy was forbidden.

“With someone new already?” Your mother cuts in, her Italian just as sharp and formal as you remember it. She was always the one to demand perfection. Even when it came to a language you could hardly use outside of the house.

She gives Mercer a mean once over, her eyes narrowed in disapproval and it rattles you, hits you painfully in the gut. It enrages you that she’s seeing you after all this time and her first words to you are about a boy. An assumption that you’re no longer with Nico, that he’s thrown you out the way she did. Already replaced and moved on from with Dawson apparently.

“No actually I’m not,” you reply, making your tone mimic Nico’s, carrying the same authority and confidence he always has when interacting with anyone but you. “He’s with me.”

Her expression doesn’t change, still unimpressed, still cold, still unrecognizable as the mother you grew up with. That look isn’t foreign though, it’s the same one she gave you when you told them you were picking Nico.

“Where is the knight in shining armor then? Shouldn’t he be with his little piece?”

Your jaw clicks, teeth sinking into the soft skin of your cheek and the taste of blood floods your tongue. Even so, you let the comment roll off, looking away from her and back to your Nonna.

“I didn’t know you could travel again.” You tell her, softer and kinder. There’s no way of knowing her knowledge or compliance in your parents cutting you off, so there’s no reason to be spiteful with her.

“Yes, yes,” she nods frantically, her fingers coming up to touch at the cornicello necklace she always wears. “I’m here again. But you-“ she shakes her head, making a choked cry sound and pressing her hand into her chest. “You’re alive.”

“What?” You ask, dumbly. “What are you talking about?”

She swallows shakily, motioning to your parents. “They told us all it was an accident. Something after graduation. That you’d got in with a bad crowd and they hurt you. Killed you.”

There’s been two times in your life when the ground has given out beneath your feet. The first was that night the Flyers took you, when the lights in the bar had gone out and everything went pitch black. The only thing grounding you was Nico’s hand in yours, his fingers tightening in panic. You heard him call for you, could feel him moving to wrap you up in his hold and in that brief moment of feeling like you were dangling over an abyss, secured only by him, two pairs of hands had latched onto you.

They grabbed you by the waist, yanking you back and you yelped Nico’s name as something wet clamped over your nose and mouth, stung at your eyes. He was still struggling to hold your fingers when you lost consciousness, slipping from his grasp.

The second time is now. You stumble back, elbow hitting one of the tall tables and making your pinky tingle. Moose follows you, pressed tight to your side protectively. You want to be the person that stands up tall and ignores them, that walks away as if totally unaffected but you can’t. You’re not Nico, you’re not as capable or as strong.

Dead. Your parents have been explaining your absence by saying you were dead. Life taken from your body at the hands of the Devils, of Nico. They’ve been claiming that the man who loves you more than life itself is responsible for taking everything from you, even your breath.

When this whole time it’s been them.

You can’t even look at them, can’t stand to meet the pathetic faces of the people you used to call family, the people you used to love. Grabbing at Moose’s collar, you wrap your fingers around it to steady yourself, swallowing down the rising heartbreak that is filling your chest, pressing onto your spine and lungs.

Blinking, you wait for the ground to stop look like it’s moving, peering up and Mercer and giving him a curt nod. He towers over your parents and grandma, pushing them back until there’s enough room behind him for you to slip towards the door. Staying between you and them, Moose follows, his fur soft and soothing under your fingers.

“Wait y/n please,” it’s your father, the first words he’s said this whole time. Tears flood your eyes and the effort it takes to force them down makes the back of your throat ache. You can hear him move for you, trying to follow you and Mercer so you do the only think you know will always work.

The best protection Nico’s ever given you.

“Moose,” you whistle, unclipping his leash from your belt loop “protect.” His leash clatters to the floor and he spins around, snarling and barking at the feet of your father. You don’t bother staying to watch.

Shoving at the handle to the door, it springs open and you step out onto the sidewalk, still fighting to see clearly, to feel the ground beneath your feet. Mercer is only a beat behind you, Moose trailing behind him with low growls still rumbling out of him. You rush away from the front of the window, trying to appear calm as you move out of sight, pausing in the entryway of a closed shop.

Moose immediately finds you, nudging his nose into your leg and you crouch down to hug him, burying your face in his neck as Mercer covers you.

“Y/n?” He calls softly, his fingers just barely touching the top of your head. It makes you think of Nico, how he always goes for the soft spot on the back of your neck when you’re upset, how he knows just the right way to lay his hands on you so they feel safe

“I’m ok,” you croak, taking a few deep breaths. You just need a minute, a minute to collect yourself so they don’t freak. Except you don’t feel better, no matter how much you breathe or hold Moose, it still hurts. Your chest aches, your stomach feels tight with nausea.

“We have to move, come on.” Mercer finally says, kind fingers grabbing your elbow and he helps you stand back up. You grab the dog’s leash, holding it tightly as Mercer practically marches you up the sidewalk and back towards the car.

You know he’s lost, has no idea who those people were or what they said to you. He still stood in front of you, shielded and protected you. Obviously it’s what he’s been trained for but to know he does his job well enough to pick up on the silent cues makes you glow with pride, at least under all the bad feelings swelling inside of you.

This little team you put together is good. They’re all really good.

After a few steps you manage to shake out of your stupor, wiping under your eyes in case any tears escaped and clearing away the last of the sobs stuck in your throat. Mercer lets you go then, watching you carefully out of the corner of his eye.

Head high, you follow him back towards the car, relieved that you managed to get yourself together before meeting up with Johnny and Alex on the corner.

“Mrs. Sposato chatty again?” Johnny asks you, the two boys falling into step. “You were in there for a while.”

It takes you a moment to think. “Yeah kind of,” you respond, looking over your shoulder at him. When you continue, it’s in Italian now. “I saw my parents.”

Johnny trips over his feet, stumbling as he rights himself behind you. “W-what? In the deli?” Blankly staring ahead, you nod. He lets out a low whistle, glancing at Mercer.

“Does he know?” He asks, “who that was?”

You shake your head, puffing out a breath of air as the car beeps to life on the curb. You pull open the door to the backseat, whistling for Moose to hop in. He does, curling up in the space between the two bucket seats.

Alex sits in the back with you, eyeing you worriedly as Mercer and Johnny buckle into the front. He shifts into drive but doesn’t pull away from the curb. You realize he’s waiting for your instruction.

“The bar,” you croak without hesitation. Mercer pulls out onto the street, easily slipping into the Newark traffic. Moose lays his head on your thigh, big droopy eyes blinking up at you. It helps, seeing his sweet face, always a reminder of how much Nico loves you, how he’ll protect you no matter what.

“Braver hund, Moose,” you coo, scratching at his ears and he wiggles closer, tail wagging at the praise. You tuck your hand back into your lap, peering out the window.

The car rolls by the deli shop, your gaze searching through the glass for any sign of them, any indication that maybe they followed you out, maybe they’re just as shaken as you.

They didn’t, and your heart shatters at the reminder that even know, they don’t regret letting you go. They don’t regret writing you out of their lives.

You press you fingers into your collarbone, rubbing at the aching spot and willing yourself not to cry. Not until you see Nico.

A hand slips into your lap, careful fingers taking a hold of your wrist, pulling your hand free and Alex slots his fingers through yours.

You glance up at him, meet those dark and comforting eyes that have always reminded you so much of Nico. The one person in this car with you that knows about it all, knows about your family and the way they treated you. How much it broke you to lose them just because you had met the person you loved most in the world.

“S’okay,” he murmurs, his other hand patting at the back of yours. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

They’re the words. The ones he overheard Nico swearing to you when he first got to New Jersey, when Nico would wrap you up in his arms and squeeze you so tight you couldn’t cry. The same ones you used when he came to your bedroom in the middle of the night, fighting to breathe through whatever nightmare he’d just woken up from.

The words that made you three a family. One that’s far better than whatever you left behind in the deli, now growing smaller in the rear view mirror.

~~~~

Halfway to the bar, you change your mind. Not because you've realized that Nico might not even be there right now and not because you've chickened out on telling him what happened, but because something else has popped into your mind.

It's sudden, the memory of the will your parents showed you when you had turned 18, listing out their estate and setting guidelines for their affairs. As their only child, you'd be in charge of handling everything after their death. Or at least you would've been.

"Left up here," you instruct Mercer, peering around his seat to look out the windshield. He takes the turn, pulling onto the gravel driveway and slowly inching forward. You keep directing him down through the cemetery, passed the old crumbling headstones at the entrance until you’ve gotten to the newer plots in the back.

“Stop here,” you murmur and the car comes to a soft stop, pulled off to the side so others can drive by if needed. Waiting for him to put it in park, you release your seatbelt, reaching for the handle when Johnny stops you.

“Do you want us to go with you?”

Half out the door, you pause. They’re all looking at you, Mercer tangled in his seatbelt and head craned awkwardly to try and meet your eye. While it’s sweet that they want to come with you, want to support you when they don’t even know what’s going on, you can’t let them.

If what you think is here actually is, Nico needs to be the first to see it with you. There’d be no way of explaining to them without crying and you don’t want to do that. You’re supposed to be their boss, to be strong.

“No I’m okay,” you promise, slipping the handle of Moose’s leash to Alex. “I just I think I need to call Nico and talk to him by myself, yeah?”

They all murmur out variations of agreement, watching you with sympathetic eyes as you climb all the way out. “Stay Moose,” you instruct, petting his neck in goodbye before closing the door.

You cut across the grass, slipping your phone out of your back pocket as you go. By the time you find the section of the cemetery you’re looking for, Nico’s contact is already pulled up on your phone. You hit call before you’ve even seen the front of the headstone. You don’t need to read the name, it being there in the midst of the two empty plots next to it is enough.

Nico picks up on the third ring, just as your coming face to face with the front of the marble headstone.

Y/n Y/l/n

September 13, 2000 - June 15, 2022

Loving daughter, friend, and person

May she rest in God’s arms

~~~~

When the screen of Nico’s car lights up with your contact, he knows not to answer it hands-free. He scoops his phone out of the cupholder, sliding the answer bar and ignoring the peeved look Jack gives him from the passenger seat. Little does he know, Nico is probably saving him from having to hear something inappropriate or cringingly sweet.

“Hey baby,” he answers, “what’s going on?”

He’s expecting you to say nothing, that you’re just calling because you finished up on wellness checks and missed him. Maybe beg him to come home early if he can or to let you come hang out in the office with him.

What he’s not expecting is the overly neutral tone of your voice when you ask, “hey are you busy?”

He pauses, listening to the background noise for any hint of where you’re at or what’s going on. It’s almost dead quiet from what he can tell and it makes his heart stutter in his chest.

“Just heading to the Rock,” he says, voice light and calming. “You okay? Do you need something?”

You clear your throat, voice trembling a little when you speak. “I’m okay I just- could you maybe come here?”

He has no idea where you even are but he still slows the car down, pulling into the slower lane until he can figure out exactly how to get to you. “Yeah of course. Where are you at? Are you safe?”

“Yes, yeah I’m safe. The boys are still with me too. But I’m at the cemetery in Jersey City, the one by my old neighborhood.”

His blood goes cold, panic seeping in. The cemetery? What are you doing at a cemetery by your family’s house? You haven’t been to that neighborhood since graduation and Nico hasn’t been since the month you and him were broken up. When he was tailing your father to make sure you hadn’t gone back to them, that you weren’t back in that house with those assholes.

“Are you-did something happen?” He asks, mind flashing with a million different scenarios. Your father dying, your mother dying, maybe both of them died. Maybe there was an accident and they’ve been gone for awhile, no one thinking to reach out to you even though you’d be the last of kin.

“Kind of. It’s really not that big Nico I just… I need you I guess. If that’s okay? I know you had a lot today and I can wait until later if that’s better.”

He deflates, chest aching at the thought of you standing in this cemetery, clearly shaken by whatever is going on and fighting with the decision to call him. Or worse, feeling guilty for it.

“Always okay, baby,” he assures, Jack gesturing wildly as Nico navigates towards Jersey City rather than Newark. Nico shoots him a warning glare, Jack slumping back into his seat and pouting out the window. “There’s a reason I’ve got so many of the boys with me. They can cover anytime, anytime you need something from me. Don’t ever question that, you hear me?”

A small laugh comes out of you, airy enough to make him smile too. “Yeah boss,” you murmur, “I hear you. I’ll send you my location, okay?”

“Mhm,” he agrees, “you need me to stay on the phone?”

Nico knows the answer. It’s the same one you always give him when he’s driving, when you get that mama bear tone in your voice and tell him absolutely not.

“No just drive safe.”

Laughing to himself, he promises you he will and that he’ll see you soon, then waits for you to hang up before dropping his phone into his lap. Impatiently, Jack stares at him.

“Where are we going?”

Nico glances at him, pressing on the gas a little harder as a text from you lights up the screen. “Y/n needs something.” He clicks it, your pinned location popping up. All he has to do is tap it and the map takes over, the estimated time of arrival showing 13 minutes from now.

“Something like serious or something like you’re going to leave me in the car while you go canoodle her?”

Making an offended face, Nico huffs at him. “Serious, you clown. Now sit back and make sure I don’t get us lost, ok?”

Taking his duty ever so seriously, Jack sits up straighter in his seat, gaze methodically shifting from the map to the road ahead. Nico doesn’t tell him that he knows what area he’s heading to, what exit to take and street to turn down. Mostly because he doesn’t want to talk to Jack about where they’re going and why, but also because none of them know how much time Nico still spent watching out for you after he’d broken your heart.

He doesn’t need to voice how much he’s always cared for you. That he’s been this pathetically and hopelessly in love with you that even when he knew you hated him, he was still tearing himself apart to be the one between you and all the bad things.

And he might be running a little behind getting there right now, but it doesn’t change the fact that he will be there.

~~~~

Mercer, Johnny and Alex are all standing outside the SUV when Nico pulls up behind them, Moose rising from where he was laid out in the shade of the car by Alex’s feet.

“A graveyard?” Jack asks, “Who died?”

Nico shoots him a look, shutting off the engine and pulling the key out. “I thought you were gonna start using that thing that rattles around in your head before speaking?”

Wounded, Jack grabs at his chest. “Ouch. I’m telling y/n that you’re being mean to your second hand man.”

“Just get out.”

He shoves open the door, squinting into the afternoon sun as him and Jack approach the boys. Mercer is already waiting for him, arms crossed impatiently and by the harsh line of his jaw Nico knows the kid already thinks it took him too long to get here.

“What’s going on?” Nico asks, glancing down the line of headstones. He finds you, almost dead center in the middle of all them, just standing there. Your turned just away from him, enough that he can barely make out the profile of your face, much to his dismay.

“John,” Mercer grunts, elbowing him forward. Before he can speak Alex is pushing into Nico, grabbing at his bicep and eyes wide with concern as he rushes out.

“It was her family,” he rushes, “she went into the deli and then came out all panicked.”

Simultaneously they all gawk at him, caught off guard that he’s apparently picked up some Italian in his time here in New Jersey. They all know that when you get emotional you switch to your first language, Johnny being the one to usually translate for Nico when you’re too upset to stop and explain. For years he’s been the only one, especially since Nico’s knowledge has remain limited even if he’s capable of picking up a few words here and there. He thinks it’s how fast you speak, the words bleeding together ever so slightly and he gets lost trying to decipher.

But Alex didn’t.

“What?” The youngest boy scoffs, eyebrows pinching together as he releases Nico’s arms. “She’s my mom. And I’m not stupid, I’ve listened to her speak Italian for years.”

Shaking his head, Nico blows off that topic in favor of focusing on what’s more important now. You went into the deli, has some kind of interaction that made you think of your parents, and has now lead you the graveyard you grew up near. The only explanation he can think of is that one of them has died. That you’re standing a family plot right now, confirming that you have in fact fully lost family.

“Oh fuck,” Nico mutters, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He points a finger at all the boys. “Don’t move, okay?” Comfortingly, he pats the top of Alex’s head, offering him an impressed smile. “You are smart kid,” he compliments, “thanks.”

Alex has just enough time to smile all shy at him before Nico is turning and crossing the grass to you. He doesn’t exactly know the etiquette of walking through a cemetery, if he’s supposed to be doing an odd little hop around all the graves so he’s not stepping on the dead. That seems kind of impossible though so he just marches along, gaze locked ok you.

You must hear him coming because he’s only a few steps away when you turn, glossy eyes meeting his. As if his absence were the last thing holding it all together, your whole face crumples at the sight of him, lips quivering and eyebrows frowning as your mouth parts, forming what he thinks is his name. Instead a heartbreaking sob bubbles out of you, your hand reaching up to clamp over your mouth and Nico rushes forward, catching you as you take a stumbling step towards him.

“It’s okay baby, you’re okay.” He shushes, cupping the back of your head protectively as you cry into his shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

Hugging him around the middle, you hide in his chest with his muffled sobs, Nico unable to do much except hold you. He manages to walk you back a few steps until he can finally see the name on the headstone, expecting to find either your mother or father’s name carved into it.

What he finds instead makes his heart drop into his stomach. It’s your name and birthday on that stone, scraped into the marble under an intricately carved catholic cross. The most concerning part is the date of death. Nico would know it all too well. The day of your college graduation, the day you picked him forever.

“Baby,” Nico gasps, fingers slipping into your hair. “Why does that grave have your name on it?”

Still sniffling, you pull back, wiping at the smears of mascara under your eyes. “I saw them,” you mumble, voice raw. “I saw my parents, at the deli and they had my nonna with them.”

He balks, “your nonna? The one from Italy?” You talked about your grandmother a lot when Nico first met you, all those nights he laid naked in your bed back in your college apartment, too excited to be listening to you talk to even think of sleep. Story after story of her visiting when you were a child, how much you looked forward to it every year. Until she’d gotten too ill to travel and your parents, unwillingly to return to Italy, left her there to be cared for by relatives. Relatives you never really knew or cared for, not like your nonna.

“Yeah, I- I guess she’s better and all but Nico, you should’ve seen the way she looked at me. It was like she had seen a ghost. They told them all I died. That I wasn’t around because I had been with the wrong crowd and got into an accident or something.”

He’s never been a man of many words but for maybe the first time ever he’s actually rendered speechless. Your family quite literally killed you off from real life. Instead of claiming no contact or personal reasons for your absence they shifted all the blame of their faults to something else. To this accident that supposedly killed you, to the bad crowd-

“Me,” he realizes, “the devils and me, we’re the bad crowd aren’t we? Your parents told your family I killed you?”

The date makes even more sense now. They chose the day he took you from them, at least that’s how they saw it in their eyes. The big, bad mafioso that charmed you with money and a life of excitement, that needed arm candy more than he needed love and you were the prettiest option. He knows that’s what they told you, the lies they spewed to try and deter you. They had already made him a villain in their lives, so making him the one that killed you probably wasn’t a reach.

“I mean I guess.” You croak, more calm now that you’ve cried and gotten to speak to him. Flakes of mascara stick to your cheeks, the concealer under your eyes marred with tear tracks and Nico cups your face in both hands, gently clearing them away with his thumbs.

“The date,” you whisper, “I’m sure they’re saying it’s you that did this since the date is-“

“The day you left them for me.”

“The day they made me leave.” You correct, leveling him with a scolding look and Nico’s whole chest warms at it. You’ve always gone out if you’re way to make sure he knows everything with your parents wasn’t his fault, that he didn’t force you into picking him. He already knew that, always thought maybe it was you’re way of trying to make yourself hold them accountable but to be doing it even know, after seeing the fake grave your parents have created for you, it’s just nice.

This should all be about you right now, and yet you’re fussing over him.

“Are you okay baby?” He asks, tracing the tip of his thumb under your swollen bottom lip, trying to ignore how beautiful you always look even after crying.

He’s always liked the glossiness of your eyes, the flush to your cheeks and mouth after you’ve gotten emotional. Not in the sadistic way like he’s enjoys seeing you hurt and crying, but the vulnerability. He really likes that you let him see you like this so openly. You’ve never hid from him.

“I don’t know,” you shrug after a beat, sliding a hand up his chest until your palm is over his heart. “I mean, I guess it’s nice that at least they buried me in the family plot.” You laugh dryly.

“Baby,”

You let out a breath, more earnest this time. “I can’t believe they’d go this far and it sucks but also like it doesn’t matter.”

Nico pauses, frowning in concern. This would terrify him. If he one day walked into a cemetery and saw his own grave, his own headstone, it’d make him sick. Seeing your own potential plot, bare of any markings, is already unsettling enough, but seeing an actual marker for your death? Even if it is fake, it’s nightmarish.

“It does matter if it makes you feel badly.”

You slip out of his hold, turning to look down at your own grave again as if trying to gauge how it actually makes you feel, like underneath your name a sudden carving of instructions on what to think will appear. Nico wraps his arm around your shoulders, urging you into his side and you slip a steady arm around his waist.

“I think I cried because I saw them,” you finally mumble, “but I don’t care about this. It just makes me angry, makes me hate them. Like I never want to see or think about them again hate.”

He squeezes your shoulder. “Hate like you hate Lena?”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly. “I want to ruin their lives, I want to take them away from their family, I want-“ them dead.

For the first time in years, Nico brightens at you finally seeing eye to eye on this. He’s been wanting to kill them since the day they abandon you, used to spew all kinds of nasty things about them and while you never disagreed, you never held that rage or contempt for them.

He turns to you, gazing at your side profile as he speaks. “You know I can make that happen right? If you wanted me to.”

You don’t so much as flinch. “You’d do that for me?”

“Thought I told you I’d do ungodly things for you already? Besides I already killed you it seems, might as well add the rest.”

Looking to him, you examine his face for a moment, eyes narrowed in the questioning and innocent way you always give him when you need more. Words he doesn’t even have to say, holding your gaze firmly and knowingly, tilting his head as if to say ‘come on baby, it’s me’.

Relief floods your eyes, a little smile curling at your lips and Nico chuckles at the sight, jumping in to smoosh kisses to your cheeks and nose.

“At least let me get rid of the headstone,” he pleads, “they don’t deserve to be laid next to you, whether it’s fake or not.”

You hum, laying your head on his shoulder and looking back down at your marble name. “They won’t be laid next to me,” you assure, “that’s not the last name I’ll be buried with.”

It’s the smugness of your tone, how haughty and pleased you sound to be saying it that makes Nico smile, body alighting with adoration for you. Everyday he thinks he couldn’t possibly love you more and then you prove him wrong, looking so enamored at having his last name, at being with him forever. Even in death.

He presses a kiss to your temple, burying his nose in your hair and squeezing you so tight you make a little squeaking noise.

“No it’s not.”

~~~~

Nico’s boot thump on the tiled floors, heavy and bulking as he shuts the front door behind him. He’s never fully learned how to keep his feet silent, unable to ever move without making a sound. No matter how many times he’s watched you sneak around, the way your shoes always seem to melt into the ground in careful and noiseless steps, he can never mimic it.

Not that he really needs it right now. The house is empty, its occupants away for the day and even if they weren’t, he has every right to bully his way in here. It is his city after all and he’s been lenient with who he lets run around it.

It’s not a very homey place, more so than the house he grew up in, but still not light and welcoming. Not like the home you’ve made with him. Dark wood furniture, all of it freshly polished and matching. Fancy china dishes in them, rosaries and crosses, knickknacks he couldn’t even begin to identify.

There’s photos though, dozens of them everywhere. Framed neatly, tucked into the duvets of curio cabinets, on side tables by the living room furniture. All of them of the same little girl, from photos of her as just a pink bundle in a hospital crib to ones of her crossing the stage at graduation.

Documenting her life up until the moment she received her college degree and then stopping abruptly. It’s bullshit, Nico decides, jaw clicking as he examines them.

He should take them. They shouldn’t be here, pushing a false narrative of what’s actually happened. Yet there’s too many to take even if he wants to.

Blatantly, Nico shifts around the photos, moving the angles of them and crunching to the rug under his boots. He stomps his way into the kitchen, cracking open a kitchen cabinet just because he can. Shifting around more photos on the fridge, switching magnets and wallet sized school photos.

Angry about it, fingers moving with a purpose. It’s not fair that all these photos are here, photos he’s never gotten to see and you’ve never gotten the privilege of having. The familiar curve of your smile, the shape of your nose, the brightness of your eyes always the same no matter the age and size of you in the photo.

They all make him ache, make him so vengeful he might just plant his ass at the kitchen table, gun in hand and wait for your parents to return. You didn’t tell him not to kill them but you never answered him either. I want to ruin them, that’s what you had said. Ruin their lives.

Nico can make that happen, easily. Starting with this, planting that uneasiness, make them scared. They need to know that he’s been here, that he knows everything and he isn’t happy. Everything they said about him before is going to look like nothing after he’s done here.

He’ll make them spiral. Make them paranoid and anxious, vulnerable. Then he’ll take away everything familiar to them, make sure whatever security they thought they had is gone. Hell, maybe he’ll even let them know that he’s been watching them for years. All this time they’ve never actually been safe. Not like you have been with him.

Nico pauses on a 4x6 photo on the size of the fridge. Held in place by a magnet from the Jersey Shore. He has no idea how old you are here, what year it could possibly be. The photo is slightly blurred by smears of white, big snowflakes turning to fuzzy flashes in the camera. But the large tree behind you is still visible, bright and colorful on Rockefeller center. You’re just a tiny thing of a girl in front of it, a white fur coat and black shiny boots peaking out under it.

It’s so you, smiling that wide and pretty in a winter wonderland at Christmas, dressed like the mob wife you were meant to be.

Nico’s never thought about it very much but looking at this photo now, the happy wrinkles by your eyes and the rosiness of your cheeks, the way you shine even brighter than the most famous Christmas tree in the world, Nico hopes that one day he can give you this all back.

That you’ll let him give you a little baby girl, her smile and personality as beautiful as yours, a mirror of her mother’s. That the childhood depicted here can be restored with a family of your own. He already knows how healing it is for you to care for others, to be the safe space you didn’t have in your parents.

He thinks that maybe getting to love babies of your own would fill that last bit of you that still aches. And he thinks it’d maybe fix him too. Let him prove himself, show that he can love more than just you. He doesn’t think he could ever love anyone or anything as fiercely as he does you, but he can still love them wholly and entirely.

He can love in the way only a father can. He’s sure of it.

Plucking the photo off the fridge, he traces his thumb over your smiling face, chest flooding with warmth. Carefully, he slips out his wallet and tucks the photo in there, cautious as to not bend the corners. Shoving it back in his front pocket, he takes one last glance at the fridge, faltering when he realizes what the other papers stuck to it are.

Condolence cards. So many of them displayed, handwritten sympathy for the loss of you. Nico swipes those off the fridge too, gathering them in his hands until the metal is startlingly bare. Dumping them in the empty kitchen sink, Nico digs through the drawers until he comes up with a box of matches.

He leaves the drawer slightly ajar, lighting the head against the scratch on the back and dropping it onto the pile of cards. Then he waits, watches them light up in flames, curling and melting away into ash, the air turning warm in front of him.

Once they’re all ruined, half burnt and charred, unsalvageable, Nico dusts his hands off and heads back towards the front door.

Satisfied with his work, he leaves, locking the door behind him just to make them wonder how he got in and if he’ll get in again. Let them know what this little visit was for. Not an act of intimidation or revenge, but one of war.

#mob boss nico hischier #him and I #nico hischier #Nico Hischier x reader #mob boss Nico x reader #Nico hischier fanfic #nhl fanfic #devils mafia au

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gojoluvs · 1 year ago

Text

Secret & Sacrifices

Toji zenin x reader

summary, "Y/N, a famous actress, fell in love with Toji, a regular civilian who works as a mechanic. They had a baby together, but Toji ended up breaking up with her because he wanted her to live her life to the fullest and was tired of keeping their relationship a secret. Years later, Y/N is engaged to someone else, but she still loves Toji, who now has a new girlfriend. Despite their past, their love for each other remains.”

Tags; Toji x reader, Actress au, Actress x Mechanic, Lovers to Strangers, Hollywood, Celebrity, Parenting, Romance, Drama, Heartbreak, Reconciliation, Fame, Secret Relationship, Working Class, Taboo, Sacrifice.

Warnings; 18+, fluff, angst, smut, actress au, partying, drinking/alcohol, drug usage, romance, jealousy, cursingz

Notes: the tag-list is open! also sorry for any spelling erors too lazy to proof read…

WC; 7k words!

You had everything you could ever want in life.

A successful career as an actress, a beautiful child, and a loving boyfriend, Toji Zenin. He was the one who made you feel like a normal person, treating you with kindness and respect.

He was your pride and joy, the man who swept you off your feet and gave you the most precious gift of all - a child. Despite your parents' disapproval of your relationship, you never let that affect your love for Toji. He was the man of your dreams, the mechanic who came to your rescue when your car broke down one night. It was love at first sight, with his tall and muscular frame and that alluring scar on his face.

This man was the love of your life. The mechanic who you met when your car broke down in the middle of the night. No other cars were passing by except his and he had the courtesy to stop by and help you fix it. When he first came out of the car you were star struck. His tall and well built frame catching your attention and that immaculate scar of his.

The man who came to fix your car in the pouring rain was not only kind and nice, but also considerate. Despite being drenched himself, he made sure you didn't get wet and even told you to wait in your car while he worked. You were skeptical of the idea of love at first sight, but when you saw him, you knew it was real. He was handsome and had a charming smile that instantly caught your attention.

He recognized you immediately, as anyone would. After all, you were the famous face of Japan in the acting world. He spent hours working on your car, determined to fix it without charging you anything. You insisted on at least buying him a drink or paying him for his time and effort in the cold rain.

He refused to charge you anything for his services, but you insisted on buying him a drink or at least paying him for his time and effort. He kindly declined your offer and simply smiled before leaving in his own car.

Days went by, even years went by and you still hadn’t found out who he was. You were 23 when it happened and now you were 25. Sitting down in the park you read your book, sunglasses pinched between your nose and a black hat on top of your head.

These days were your quiet days, the days you could sneak out and sit in the park. Watching kids play and families have a day out with their kids. You drank your water, watching people run past you or jog with their dog. Smiling, you were grateful for this time to relax and escape the hustle and bustle of your busy life as a famous actress.

Suddenly, a dog came bounding towards you, its tail wagging excitedly. It jumped up on you, licking your face and wagging its tail even more. You couldn't help but laugh as you petted the friendly dog. Just then, the owner came over, apologizing for his dog's behavior.

"Ah, excuse me, is this your dog?" you ask as the friendly golden retriever jumps up and licks your face. You wipe the slobber off and look up to see the owner, a man with kind eyes and a familiar face. Suddenly, it hits you, this is the guy who helped you with your car two years ago.

"Oh my gosh, it's you!" you exclaim, standing up and removing your sunglasses. "I can't believe it, I've been wanting to thank you for so long. You really saved me that day."

The man's face lights up with recognition. "Yes, I remember now. You're that famous actress, aren't you? The one who was stranded on the side of the road?"

You nod, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Yes, that's me. And you're the kind stranger who helped me. I never got the chance to properly thank you."

The man bows his head in respect. "It was nothing, really. I'm just glad I could be of assistance."

You smile, grateful for this chance encounter. "Well, I would love to repay you somehow. Can I buy you a coffee or a drink sometime? I'd love to catch up and get to know you better."

The man hesitates for a moment before giving in. "Sure, that would be nice. Here, let me give you my number."

As he scribbles down his number on a piece of paper, you can't help but feel excited for the possibility of a new connection. Who knew that a simple act of kindness years ago would lead to this moment? You thank him and promise to reach out soon before he bids you farewell and walks away.

You had gone out for drinks with him, catching up after not seeing each other for a while. As the night went on, you found out that he had recently broken up with his girlfriend. Despite the heartbreak, he still maintained his belief in kindness and treated you with nothing but genuine care and generosity, not even charging you for any of the drinks.

As you talked, you couldn't help but admire his posture and the way he spoke. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him, especially when he wore that black button-up shirt with a few buttons undone, revealing his toned chest.

The club you were in was one of the hottest spots in town, filled with A-list celebrities and no paparazzi in sight. Feeling bold, you decided to flirt with him and he reciprocated, flashing his charming smile and cracking jokes that made you even more intrigued by him.

As the night went on and a few more drinks were consumed, he placed his hand on your thigh and complimented how stunning you looked in that tight red dress. Your cheeks were flushed with a rosy hue, and his were as well, both of you feeling a bit buzzed but still aware of the intense chemistry between you. It was clear that you both wanted the same thing - each other.

Before you knew it you were walking hand in hand through the city streets, the anticipation and excitement grew between you and your mystery man. You couldn't wait to get back to their apartment, knowing that this was going to be a night to remember.

His hands were exploring every inch of your body, sending shivers down your spine. You couldn't resist the intense desire you felt for him, and you were desperate for him to take you.

As you stumbled into his bedroom, he asked for your consent, making sure you were comfortable with every move he made. But you were beyond caring about anything else but him. You gave him permission to do anything and everything he wanted with you.

He wasted no time in fulfilling your desires. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses and gentle bites. Your moans filled the room as he moved lower, his hands exploring every curve and dip of your body. As he reached your core, he teased you with his tongue, making you squirm with pleasure.

You couldn't hold back any longer and you begged him to take you. With a smirk on his face, he entered you, filling you with pleasure and ecstasy. The two of you moved in perfect rhythm, lost in each other's touch and moans.

After that day, you both couldn't get enough of each other. Every day, he would come to your house after you finished work, his hands clutching a bouquet of beautiful flowers and a box of chocolates. You could see the excitement in his eyes as he saw you waiting by the door, smiling and inviting him in. As he entered, he would throw the flowers down on the counter and practically pull you into his arms. You could feel his strong hands squeezing your ass, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

The soft skin of your ass was no match for his strong grip, and you couldn't help but moan as he devoured you with his kisses. It was like a ritual, but one that you never got tired of. His disheveled hair, evidence of a long day at his shop, only added to his charm as he rushed to see you. You were his drug, something he couldn't keep his hands off of. And you were more than happy to let him have his way with you, losing yourself in the moment as he fucked you numb.

You couldn't believe how much your sex life had improved in the past few months. It was like every time you were together, a new position was unlocked, as if you were collecting new ways for him to pleasure you. And he was an expert, his hands always finding new ways to make you moan and writhe in pleasure. Whether it was squeezing and fondling your breasts or using his long, skilled fingers to fuck you senseless, he knew exactly how to make you scream his name.

But it wasn't just about the amazing sex. You two also went on dates constantly, whether they were small and private or extravagant celebrity parties. You loved showing him off to all of your friends, feeling proud to have such a handsome and charming boyfriend by your side. And everywhere you went, people couldn't help but stare and admire the two of you together.

Life was good, and you couldn't imagine being with anyone else. This was your perfect relationship and you were living your best life with your amazing boyfriend.

The two of you had been in a loving relationship for a year now, and the idea of starting a family together had been on your minds for quite some time. After much discussion, you both felt that the timing was right and decided to have a child together. You even took a break from your busy filming schedule to fully focus on this new chapter of your lives.

You remember spending countless days tracking your ovulation and planning out the perfect time to try for a baby. And eventually, all of the hard work paid off and you were blessed with a beautiful baby boy, Megumi. The joy and love you felt in that moment was indescribable.

Toji was by your side the entire time, never leaving your side as you went through the labor pains. He held your hand tightly, tears in his eyes as he shared in your pain and wanted to take it away from you. He was your rock, constantly reassuring you that you were doing an amazing job and that he was there for you every step of the way.

As you pushed and struggled to bring your baby boy into the world, Toji never left your side. He kissed your forehead, stroked your hair, and whispered words of encouragement and love. And when you finally heard your baby's first cries, tears of joy streamed down both of your faces as you held each other and your newborn son. It was a moment that you would never forget, and one that only strengthened the love between you and Toji.

Crying as he heard the babys cries and watching as you sighed in relief. Staying with you the whole time as the doctors took your baby to clean him up.

“Mm so tired,” You said whispering, you felt pain all over you and your body was sweating profusely. You were in the verge of dying and the doctors immediately took you to the emergency room. Watching as your boyfriend held your child and had tears brimming in his eyes as you were rolled away in the bed.

When you brought your child home it was like a dream, Toji by your side and a beautiful baby boy aswell. People knew about your baby but not about the father. You wanted Toji to have privacy and not get harassed by paparazzi.

You spent your days in bed cuddled up with your boyfriend and your baby. He would always take care of him, changing his diaper and feeding him the breast milk you froze prior. He would cook for you, even thought all he knew what to cook was soup or making a simple sandwich.

He was the one taking care of you, making sure you got everything you needed. Extra blankets, medicine and helping you shower. The first time he saw you, you were terrified. Scared that he wasn't going to find you attractive since you just had given birth.

He treated you with kindness, taking days off work when you were feeling sick. He was like an angel sent just for you.

Monday picnic days were your favorite, going out in the park with your boyfriend and baby. Megumi cooing on your leg as you ate the sand while prepared hy Toji. His arm was wrapped around your waist, peppering kisses around your face.

As you spread out the blanket in the park, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. The warm sun was shining down on you, the birds were chirping, and your boyfriend Toji was setting up the picnic basket. You laughed as Megumi excitedly crawled towards the basket, trying to grab a sandwich before it was even unpacked.

"You're just like your momma, always hungry," Toji joked, ruffling Megumi's hair as he handed him a sandwich. You smiled at the sight of your two favorite boys, a perfect day for a picnic.

As you sat down to eat, Toji wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you in for a kiss. "I love you," he whispered against your lips.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with love for your little family. As you took turns feeding Megumi and sneaking bites of food for yourselves, you couldn't help but feel grateful for these simple moments.

"Hey, let's take a family photo," Toji exclaimed, pulling out his phone. You all huddled together, making silly faces and capturing the joy of the moment. As you looked at the photo, you couldn't help but feel grateful for these Monday picnic days. All of you, Toji, Megumi, and yourself, were smiling and laughing, enjoying each other's company.

Little did you know, paparazzi were lurking nearby. They snapped pictures of your little family, capturing the love and happiness that radiated from all of you. But these photos would later be used in an article that would ruin your relationship with Toji.

Life was good until that article was released. You had just come home from an award ceremony, feeling proud and accomplished. As you placed your bag down and kicked off your heels, you walked over to your baby's crib. You checked on Megumi, watching him sleep soundly. He was the one good thing that came out of this relationship with Toji.

But lately, things had been tough. You were constantly fighting, and you were tired of it. It seemed like every time you made plans to go out or have a date night, something would come up and you would have to cancel. Toji was tired too, the baby was stressing him out, and not having his girlfriend by his side was making it worse. It seemed like the paparazzi were the only ones benefiting from your relationship.

Your friends had been asking why your boyfriend hadn't proposed yet, even though you had been together for two years and had a child together. But the truth was, your relationship was struggling. Work had been overwhelming, with the stress of balancing your job and being a new mom. Your maternity leave had caused your contracts to pile up, adding even more pressure to your already hectic schedule.

You rarely had time to see your baby and Toji, let alone spend quality time with your partner. And when you did come home, you would often find him already in bed, your son sound asleep. His once playful and loving demeanor had turned distant and cold, his eye bags getting worse from the lack of sleep. And to make matters worse, you hadn't been intimate at all, adding to the growing divide between you two. It was hard to accept, but it seemed that having a child had caused problems in your relationship with your boyfriend.

The final straw for Toji was the day he saw you on TV, snuggled up with Megumi while the baby slept peacefully on his chest. His hand instinctively went behind his head as he reached for the remote, turning up the volume to watch your speech as you accepted the award for best actress of the year. You were stunning in a white silk dress, no doubt from a high-end designer. A wide smile graced your face as you thanked everyone, including your family and your "Babyboy" Megumi.

But Toji couldn't help but feel a twinge of hurt as you failed to mention him. It wasn't because you didn't care, but because he had asked you not to. He didn't want the world to know that he, a simple mechanic, was dating the most famous actress in Japan. He didn't want you to be judged or ridiculed for being with someone of lower status. As he watched you on TV, he couldn't help but wonder if he had made the right decision in keeping your relationship a secret. But in that moment, he couldn't deny the love he felt for you, even if it meant sacrificing his own pride and happiness.

And as he watched the tall, white-haired man wrap his arm around your waist and hug you tightly, Toji could feel a twinge of jealousy and anger bubbling up inside him.

He recognized that man all too well - the asshole actor who had come to Toji's mechanical shop and demanded a refund for his car's motor, claiming that Toji's work was subpar. And now, he was your co-star in a romance movie, which made Toji's blood boil even more. He hated the idea of you filming intimate scenes with someone else, even if it was all just acting.

But what angered Toji the most was the fact that the public saw you and Satoru as the "It" couple, even though you weren't even dating. The movie had made millions, and the audience was convinced that you and Satoru were the perfect couple, solely based on your on-screen chemistry. It was ridiculous and infuriating to Toji, who knew that no one could ever come close to loving you as much as he did.

So yes, Toji was fucking jealous. Toji knew that Satoru was a successful and well-known actor, and he couldn't help but feel inferior in comparison. He looked down at his son, Megumi, and thought about how different their lives would be. Megumi would grow up with a celebrity mother and most likely follow in her footsteps, while Toji would always be just a small mechanic working on cars.

But it wasn't just jealousy that consumed Toji's thoughts. He also felt guilty for feeling this way. He knew that you deserved to live your best life and be with someone who could offer you more than he could. You were a beautiful and ethereal actress, loved by fans all over the world, and he was just a simple mechanic. As he watched you on TV, he couldn't help but admire your talent and grace, knowing that he could never be like that.

But as much as it pained him, Toji knew that he had to let go of you. He couldn't keep holding onto the hope that one day you would choose him over someone like Satoru. He knew that you deserved someone who could give you the world, and he couldn't be that person. So with a heavy heart, Toji came to terms with the fact that he had to let you go, even though it broke his heart to do so.

As you walked up the driveway, your heels clicked against the pavement, the sound echoing off the nearby houses.

You couldn't help but feel your heart beating a little faster as you held the hand of your fiancée, Satoru Gojo. You were both carrying a handful of gifts for your son's 3rd birthday, your first time back at your ex's house since your split 2 years ago.

You were dressed casually in jeans and a tight black top, but your fiancée looked effortlessly stylish in a white polo and jeans, with a Versace belt adorning his waist. As you approached the front door, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You knew that this meeting was important, not just for your son, but also for your ex-boyfriend, Toji.

Satoru was the perfect partner, always treating you with love and affection. He would surprise you with thoughtful gifts and take you out on romantic dates consistently, making you feel loved and appreciated. When he proposed, you were overjoyed and eagerly said yes, excited to spend the rest of your life with him.

However, as time went on, you couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy and sadness whenever your son mentioned his father's new girlfriend. You tried to push these feelings aside, but they only seemed to grow stronger with each passing day. Maybe it was because she was just a regular person, working at a flower boutique across from Toji's mechanical shop. You couldn't help but compare yourself to her and wonder if she was better suited for Toji.

You decided to do some digging, wanting to know more about this woman who would now be a part of your son's life. But to your surprise, you couldn't find anything negative about her. In fact, she seemed like a genuinely kind and caring person. She spent her free time volunteering at charity events, using her earnings to donate to various organizations. You couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for her, and maybe even a bit of guilt for feeling jealous in the first place.

Walking into the house that was once yours and Toji’s, the house were you raised your son until he turned one and a half years old. You felt tears brimming as you continued to walk into the house, passing by the picture frames, pictures of only your son and Toji. Your face no where to be found at the home were you used to wake up every morning, your son and boyfriend cuddled up with you.

The house that was your only source of peace and freedom. The house were you weren’t judged from. Now that you were engaged to Satoru you couldnt help but wonder what it wouldve been like, to be engaged to the father of your son Toji.

You immediately noticed the changes in the house. The once familiar couches and rug were gone, replaced by new, modern furniture. The house that used to bring you comfort now felt foreign and unfamiliar, much like your relationship with Toji.

As you made your way to the backyard, you saw everyone seated at different tables, chatting and enjoying the food that Toji's new girlfriend had cooked. Your heart sank as you realized that you were no longer a part of this family gathering. But then you saw your son, your beautiful baby boy, running towards you with a big smile on his face.

"Mommy!" he exclaimed, his arms open wide for a hug. You couldn't help but smile as you bent down to embrace him, feeling his little arms wrap around your neck. He was getting taller and it pained you to know that you were missing out on so much of his life. Toji had taken custody of him, claiming that you were too busy to raise him, and it broke your heart.

"Hi my love," you whispered as you lifted him up, his head resting on your shoulder. Satoru, Toji's brother, stood next to you and gently patted your son's head before going to place the gifts on the table. As you looked around at the happy faces of your former family, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness and longing for what used to be.

You walked with your son, feeling but feel a pang of sadness and nostalgia as you saw Toji's back facing you. He had his arm around his new girlfriend's waist, the sun casting a warm glow on both of them. You couldn't deny that they looked good together, with their matching black short hair and easy smiles.

It had been months since you last saw Toji, and while he still looked the same, there was something different about him. He didn't have that same look on his face that he used to have when he was with you, the one that made your heart skip a beat. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as Toji's girlfriend turned to face you with a bright smile.

"Hello! Nice to finally meet you," she said, extending her hand towards you. You hesitated for a moment, staring at her in disbelief. Taking her hand, you shook it firmly before responding,

"Hello, I'm Y/N. And you are?" Your gaze then shifted to Toji as he turned around, his smile never faltering as he introduced her

“This is Saori, my girlfriend.” He smiled at her before looking back st you watching as your gaze turned to something else not wanting to watch your ex boyfriend be all happy about his new girlfriend.

She was absolutely stunning. You couldn't help but admire her, even though you wanted to hate her for being with your ex. As Toji smiled at her and then at you, you couldn't help but look away, not wanting to see him so happy with someone else.

But as you stole glances at Saori, you couldn't help but notice how she seemed to light up the room. She was wearing a beautiful yellow sundress, adorned with delicate flowers, and it suited her perfectly. Her hair was styled in a cute and carefree way, showing off her flawless facial features.

You wanted to say something, anything, but your words were stuck in your throat. Your fiancé, Satoru, wrapped his arms around you possessively, a smirk on his face as he looked at Toji. "So this is the father of my step-son," he said, his tone slightly mocking. You could feel Toji's eyes on your hand as Satoru interlocked his fingers with yours, rubbing his thumb over your hand.

You stood there, watching your ex with his new girlfriend, you couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. But at the same time, you couldn't deny the fact that Saori was absolutely beautiful and seemed genuinely kind. You couldn't bring yourself to hate her, even though you wanted to.

Toji didnt know why he hated seeing you with him, maybe it was because he called it, he knew this was going to happened or simply because deep down he knew saori could never be you.

You smiled at them and excused yourself walking towards the table where all your friends sat. Satoru followed you like a lost puppy, not knowing anyone who came to the party besides his soon to be step son

Toji was so fucking jealous and he didn’t know why. Maybe it was because he had always called it, predicting that this would happen, or maybe it was because deep down he knew Saori could never be you.

Making your way to the table where your friends sat, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. They were your closest companions from acting school and they always knew how to make you feel better.

"Y/N!" Utahime practically jumped on you, squeezing you so tightly that you felt like you couldn't breathe. She was your pride and joy, your best friend who you had met during acting school. Despite the awkwardness of the situation with Toji and Saori, being with your friends made you feel at ease.

You smiled warmly at your friend, Utahime, she was beaming with excitement as she saw you, and you knew it was because of the news you were about to share. You motioned for your fiancé, Satoru, to come over and he smiled back at you before making his way to your side.

Utahime gave him a quick once-over before her eyes landed on your left hand. "Not let me see that ring!" she exclaimed, giggling as you held out your hand to show off the stunning engagement ring that Satoru had chosen for you.

As Utahime oohed and aahed over the ring, you couldn't help but feel a sense of happiness and contentment wash over you. Satoru was the love of your life, and you were grateful to have him by your side. He placed his hand on your back and pulled you closer, kissing the top of your head affectionately.

Utahime's expression turned serious as she looked at Satoru. "I swear, Satoru, if you ever hurt her-" she started, but he cut her off with a laugh.

"I would never do that to her," he reassured her, his eyes filled with love as he looked at you. "She's the love of my life." You playfully hit his arm, scrunching your nose at him before leaning into his side.

From afar, the heartbroken man watched as you and your fiancee stood together, admiring each other with love and happiness. He couldn't help but feel a sense of longing and pain as he saw you both, knowing that he could have had that kind of love with you.

Toji gazed at you, remembering the days when he would come home from work and see you with your newborn son. He would watch as you read a book for new moms, taking in every moment with your child. He could still hear your laughter and see your smile as you cuddled with your son, a sense of warmth and contentment radiating from you.

His mind then drifted to the times when you would surprise him with his favorite chocolate chip pancakes, your laughter filling the room as he devoured them with delight. Your joy and love were infectious, and he couldn't help but feel grateful to have you in his life well at least before he ruined everything.

But now, as he stood there, he could hear your laughter once again, but this time it was directed towards your fiancee. Saori handed a piece of cake to your son, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

Saori's eyes followed Toji's gaze until they landed on you, the woman he still loved. She couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy and insecurity as she watched the way he looked at you. It was obvious that he still had strong feelings for you, despite their relationship.

She had always known about your past with Toji, but she never brought it up. It was like the word "love" was forbidden in her household. From the moment she met Toji, she could tell he was kind and sweet, and he still was to this day. But lately, she had noticed a change in his behavior. Maybe it was because of the announcement of your engagement that made him realize he was truly losing you.

She watched as Toji's gaze lingered on you, his eyes filled with longing and regret. And for a brief moment, he caught your gaze and the intensity of his stare made Saori feel like she was intruding on a private moment between the two of you. You glanced at him for a split second before looking back at your fiancée

His heart skipped a beat, a feeling that he had almost forgotten. It was a feeling he used to get when he saw you, and now, inexplicably, it was happening again. As you stood in front of him, he couldn't help but notice the softness in your eyes for a split second. It was a look he had not seen in a long time, a look that gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, you still loved him.

But he knew he couldn't hold onto that hope. He had made his choice when he let you go, and now he had to live with the consequences. As he walked into the house, his footsteps echoed in the empty hallway. It was the same hallway he used to walk down with you, hand in hand, laughing and talking about your future together.

Stopping himself, he placed a hand on his face, trying to push away the memories that were flooding back. He had to stop thinking about you and let you go. He had moved on, started a new relationship with Saori, someone who brought happiness back into his life after he broke up with you.

But deep down, he knew that he would always have a special place in his heart for you. You were his biggest regret, the one that got away. He regretted letting you slip out of his grasp, and now he was left with only memories of what could have been.

Walking into the kitchen, he opened the fridge and grabbed a glass bottle of beer. Popping the cap open, he took a sip of the sour liquor. It was a taste that he associated with you, as it was your favorite drink. He couldn't help but think about how much he missed you, how he would wake up in the middle of the night wishing the one he slept with was you and not Saori.

But he knew he couldn't turn back time. He had made his choice, and now he had to live with it. He took another sip of the beer, trying to drown out the thoughts and memories of you that were constantly haunting him. He had to let you go, for his own sake and for yours. It was time to move on and accept that you were no longer a part of his life.

Placing his half-empty beer down onto the cool marble of the kitchen cabinet, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. His motivation was slipping, and he knew it. He hadn't been working as hard as he used to, and it was starting to show. The only thing that still drove him to push harder was you. The thought of coming home earlier and seeing your beautiful face was the one thing that kept him going.

He was lost in his thoughts when he heard the loud stomps of heels approaching him. As he turned to see your body charging towards him, he couldn't help but feel confused. That confusion quickly turned to surprise as you slammed a piece of cake down on the countertop in front of him.

You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow at him, your eyes locking onto the beer in his hand. "Really, Toji?" you scoffed, "Are you letting your fucking girlfriend feed my child cake now?" Your tone was accusatory, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. But as he looked at you, he couldn't deny how fucking beautiful you looked in that moment. Despite being upset with him, he couldn't help but admire the way the light caught your features and the fire in your eyes.

"It's cake?" he asked, a glint of confusion his eye. You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly where this was going.

"Sato-," you began, but stopped yourself before saying his name. "Toji," you corrected, your arms falling to your sides. "You know how Megumi gets if he eats too much sugar," you reminded him.

Toji's heart broke when he heard you refer to your fiancée instead of him. "Did you just say his name?" he asked, trying to cover up the pain with a chuckle. A small grin curled onto his face, but the hurt in his eyes was hard to miss. "Didn't know you two were fighting so much," he teased, trying to lighten the mood.

But you weren't in the mood for jokes. You scoffed and shook your head, "Believe what you want, Toji. But please tell your girlfriend to not give my son sugar unless I say it's okay," you said, your voice firm. You couldn't help but give him a once-over, taking in his figure with a mixture of longing and sadness. Then, without another word, you turned to leave.

But before you could take another step, you stopped in your tracks. You turned back to face Toji, wanting to say one last thing. "And you should really stop drinking," you said, your voice softer now. "I don't want Megumi to have an alcoholic father, like I did," you confessed, before turning and walking away, leaving Toji alone with his thoughts and regrets.

He walked out back to the party, the sounds of laughter and music filling the air. As he made his way through the crowd, he couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness inside. But then, he saw his son running towards him with a big smile on his face, and he couldn't help but feel a spark of joy. As he knelt down to hug his son, he couldn't help but notice the familiar features in his face.

He saw a glimpse of both of you in his son's face - the same eyes as yours, the same smile as his. It was like a piece of both of you were still together, living on in your son. Tears welled up in his eyes as he placed his hand on Megumi's chubby cheeks, feeling the softness and warmth. In that moment, he felt a wave of emotions .

He may not have you by his side anymore, but he had your son - a reminder of the love you shared and the memories you made together. And for that, he was grateful.

He may have lost you, but he still had a piece of you with him, and that was enough to keep him going.

Notes; was listening to Glimpse of Us by Joji and it inspired me to write this mini series.. It’s prob gonna have like 5 chapters max since it’s a small series! anyways wrote this at like 3 am welp.. Dividers by @/cafekitsune !!

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muniimyg · 9 months ago

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𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!jk (18) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ *nsfw*

series m.list // taglist request: closed

note: some angst ?? but it's heartwarming... smut ofc because we are so back ! jk and oc finally kiss again (and can't stop) and so he fingers her. they sort of... talk things out??? def on the right path to their happily ever after <3

one thing jungkook and zion have in common (aside from being each other's splitting image) is that they’re both grumpy when sick.

last night, when zion slept over at jungkook’s, he was whiny and snappy. he cried a few times, sobbing for you (he's also been going through separation anxiety with you regardless. being sick just makes it feel extra awful). it worried jungkook since whenever zion was sick, you were always around. you were always the one to take care of him, and even if jungkook wanted to help, zion would throw a fit and refuse to let him near.

he can’t blame his son, though.

jungkook is the same.

when he’s sick, he only wants you. only you could nurse the sickness away. only you could make him feel better.

as the sun came up, zion woke up in a tired, slow mood. he wasn’t snappy or grumpy per se, but he was definitely out of it. jungkook checked his temperature (it was normal) and even added oranges to his snack box for the extra vitamin c. it’s a little chilly today; the sky looks like it has plans to cry soon, so he dresses zion in an extra layer. then, he lets you know what’s going on, drops zion off at daycare, and tells zion’s educators that he’s feeling a little under the weather.

jungkook repeats over and over again: "please call me if he’s really not feeling up for it today. he doesn’t have to be sick sick, okay? just call me if he even tells you guys he’s tired. i have a meeting, but i’ll come right when it’s over… that’ll be around 11 a.m."

at 11:28 a.m., zion’s daycare calls jungkook to say that zion spent the entire morning sleeping and then woke up to throw up.

at 11:31 a.m., he texts you.

by 11:45 a.m., he rushes into the daycare, grabbing zion’s backpack and holding him with his other arm.

… and holy shit, is it awful.

zion is kicking and screaming, bawling his eyes out because he doesn’t want jungkook. he’s uncomfortable and running really hot. jungkook is trying to sign zion out as his educators quickly update him on the details of zion’s morning.

jungkook can’t hear a thing.

he just keeps thinking to himself: fuck, i wish ___ were here.

hustling to leave, jungkook’s feet come to a halt at the door.

it’s pouring rain.

he hisses, feeling like he will lose his mind in the next five seconds. everything is so overstimulating and heavy. zion’s sobs grow louder with each passing moment he’s in jungkook’s arms. zion’s backpack isn’t even zipped up properly, so some of his things are falling out—and holy fuck, why is it raining so fucking much?

then, it gets worse.

jungkook’s car is parked four blocks away. he suddenly remembers this as he scans the area and feels even more helpless.

he takes a deep breath and accepts his fate. he accepts that zion will be crying in the car the whole ride long. he accepts that the backpack he’s carrying will be empty by the second block. he accepts that he and zion will be drenched in rain and probably get sick soon, too.

he accepts his fate.

“zion, daddy parked the car far away. i’m really sorry, buddy. can you take some deep breaths for me before we go? we’re going to get wet, and it’s hard for daddy to focus if you’re crying like this—”

zion hits jungkook’s shoulders and sobs even harder. “no! i don’t want to get wet! i don’t want you! i only want mommy—”

“she’s coming, zion. mommy will be at the house—”

“no!” zion cries, shaking his head profusely. “i want mommy now!”

jungkook can’t help but tear up. zion is burning up. his small hands clutch onto jungkook’s shirt, and his face is flushed with fever. he shifts slightly in jungkook’s arms, letting out a tired whimper. jungkook’s heart twists.

he stares at the rain pouring down, watching it hit the pavement in heavy sheets.

just 4 blocks.

he’d done it a hundred times before—walked this exact route, held zion in his arms when things got tough. but for the first time in his whole fatherhood, he doesn’t know how to be one. not that he’s a pro and has known what to do for the past three years—but he was usually better than this. he knows how to calm zion down. he knows how to hold his son and walk four blocks. he knows tough days… but for some reason, right now feels impossible.

it feels like he’s stuck.

it feels like shit.

he takes a deep breath, his mind racing as he prepares to step into the rain.

“we’ll be okay,” he murmurs, more to himself than to zion, who is now resting his head on jungkook’s shoulder. every muscle in jungkook’s body is tense, ready to sprint through the storm if that’s what it takes. “daddy’s fast. okay, zi? but i’m going to need your help for extra speed. can you take a deep breath and count with me? let’s go in three, two, one—”

just as jungkook is about to step into the rain, there you are.

“zion!” your voice calls out.

you appear out of nowhere, stepping into view with an umbrella in hand. your eyes lock with jungkook’s; they’re filled with concern but somehow steady, reassuring. it’s like you know exactly when to show up, like you always do.

no call, no texts—just… there.

thank god.

jungkook exhales, feeling the weight of everything lift just a little. maybe timing isn’t something you can plan or force, but somehow, it always feels right when it comes to you. truth be told, you have this way of arriving just when everything feels like it’s slipping out of control—like the universe is telling jungkook he’s destined to wait for you.

to live life with you.

to be with you.

to love you.

zion gasps, quickly wiping his own tears.

“mommy!” he exclaims, his voice thin but full of excitement. “mommy! come here, please! i want you! okay? daddy—it’s mommy! see? over there? yellow umbrella…”

jungkook follows zion’s gaze and watches as you cross the street.

“yeah,” jungkook sighs softly, brushing a hand through zion’s damp hair. “look at that… mommy came for you, zi.”

zion smiles tiredly, his face softening despite the fever’s flush. “cos she loves me.”

“she does,” jungkook chuckles, pressing a light kiss to zion’s forehead. “i love zion too.”

zion huffs, crossing his arms weakly before whining in that small way only toddlers could. “no. i only want mommy’s love—oh, oh, oh! my mommy—” he wriggles in jungkook’s arms, reaching out towards you.

jungkook feels the shift in zion’s body, the way his little arms reach out desperately for you. it’s as if you are the only thing that could make the world feel right again.

finally, beside them, you step forward, and jungkook loosens his hold. gently, he transfers zion into your waiting arms. zion nestles against you instantly, his tired body finding comfort in the way you hold him—the way only you could.

jungkook stands there for a moment, watching you two. a small pang of something—loss, maybe—passes through him. but it isn’t about that. it isn’t about pride or who could soothe zion better.

it’s about the way zion relaxes, finally at peace in your arms, and how the pouring rain is nothing compared to the sunshine you radiate.

then, jungkook sighs. his heart is heavy and warm at the same time. with his parents taking zion over the weekend, jungkook only really had him for one cranky night and this hectic morning.

now, it’s noon, and it’s crystal clear that he isn’t enough for zion.

today, he failed.

… and that’s okay.

as much as parenting is about getting things right, it’s also about getting things wrong. this? this is what parenting is too—knowing when to step back, to let someone else be the safe place. as much as it stings, it is also filled with relief.

zion is safe.

zion is loved.

… and in the end, that’s all that matters.

as zion settles into your arms, jungkook takes the umbrella from you. he steps into the rain, holding the umbrella for you two. patting zion’s back, you whisper reassuring things into his ears. he giggles and begins to babble about how much he missed you. he requests noodles and to sleep on the couch tonight. you tell him no, that his bed is better. he doesn’t fight you. instead, he asks if he can get a lollipop for his sore throat. you grant that request.

“nam joon just sent me here by uber… but i think it left already. where’s your car?” you ask jungkook.

“it’s 4 blocks away. should I go get it—”

“it’s fine,” you decide. “let’s walk there together. are you okay? you look kind of—”

“mr. and mrs. jeon?”

you both turn your heads to see zion’s teacher come out. she has two small containers in her hand and zion’s water bottle. she jogs over despite the rain.

“oh! thank goodness i caught you two. these are zion’s—” she hands the items to jungkook. he opens zion’s bag and puts the things inside. “... and i just wanted to remind you we have show and tell next week. i meant to mention it earlier when mr. jeon was signing zion out but forgot. anyways, get home safe and get well soon, zion!”

“thank you,” jungkook nods. “thanks for calling too.”

zion’s teacher smiles warmly. “no worries! zion is so precious to us. even when he has his days… i don’t think i’m supposed to say this, but—he’s our favorite. he’s always curious and funny. he’s kind and organized for a 3-year-old… probably gets that from you two, huh? he always talks about you two. he loves you guys so much and always draws family pictures of you at home.”

your heart melts.

“... and honestly? i’ve never seen you two pick zion up together, and my colleagues and i all talk about how much you two suit each other… seeing it in person—together? wow. you look like you were destined to be a family.”

jungkook’s heart melts.

you two laugh and thank her for her kind words. they don’t make you feel awkward… if anything, they make you smile. to be known and loved—to have people believe in you two… it’s different. it’s something else.

it’s something real.

as zion’s teacher bids her goodbye, you and jungkook share a look.

“let’s go?”

jungkook nods, follows your lead, and trails a few steps behind you.

he holds the umbrella high above you and zion, making sure the rain doesn’t touch either of you. you glance back, catching a glimpse of his shoulders already soaked after just a few steps in, his hair dripping with rain while yours and zion’s remain dry.

suddenly, you feel a rush of warmth and frustration all at once.

he does this every time—always putting himself last, always making sure you and zion are okay first. it’s one of the ways he loves; you know that. quietly, without asking for anything in return. but right now, as you feel the warmth of zion’s little body against yours, dry and protected under the umbrella, something twists inside you.

fuck.

you hate it so much.

“jungkook…” you start, your voice soft, but he shakes his head before you can say more, a small smile playing on his lips.

“i’m fine,” he says, like he always does, eyes darting briefly to zion nestled in your arms, then back to you. there’s something so gentle in that look, and it’s enough to silence you. because you know—he’s doing this because he wants to, because this is how he loves. he won’t let you carry the weight alone, not even for a second.

still, it frustrates you.

watching him like this, so selfless and soaked, makes you want to pull him under the umbrella, to wrap him up and shield him the way he does for you. but you know he wouldn’t let you. you sigh, biting back the urge to protest. instead, you adjust zion in your arms and glance back at him, hoping he knows.

and he does.

because when your eyes meet his, there’s a moment—unspoken, quiet—where you don’t have to say a word. in the way you look at him. he can feel it: the gratitude, the love, the quiet ache of wanting him to take care of himself, too... and maybe he feels it too because the smile he gives you is softer this time. a little more knowing.

you wish you could pull him closer, but in your own way, you love him back. you hold zion a little tighter, taking care of what he holds dear to his heart, just as he takes care of both of you.

as the rain pours harder, he stays a step behind, soaked but steady, and you walk together in the silence, knowing without words that love isn’t always about who gets wet and who stays dry.

sometimes, it’s about who’s willing to stand in the rain for you.

the car ride was quiet.

you sat in the back, holding zion’s hand the entire time. zion fell asleep but would shift and murmur, “mommy, mommy…”

jungkook drove carefully and often glanced back at you two. he isn’t sure why, but he kind of really loves this moment. it reminds him of the day you two were bringing zion home from the hospital.

he loves the way you are with his son.

he loves you so much.

when you get home, zion is attached to you by the hip. he throws a tantrum when jungkook pulls him away from you so he and zion could go take a bath together while you get started on chicken noodle soup for lunch. jungkook struggles and feels bad for ripping zion away from you, but doesn’t take it to heart.

zion is just like this when he’s sick.

once their bath is finished, zion comes running to you from the washroom. jungkook follows along, drying his hair with a towel. you pick up zion and set him on his chair, prepared to feed him.

from the corner of your eye, you see jungkook put his jacket on and search his pockets for his keys.

“are you leaving?” you ask, feeding zion a spoonful. “i made you lunch too. please stay—”

“i’m gonna go buy some medicine for him,” jungkook says. “and those lollipops for sore throat? does he even have a sore throat?”

you laugh. “don’t think so. we got into a bad habit of giving him them every time he’s sick though… might as well go along with it. at least they make him feel better.”

jungkook chuckles, “whatever you want, honey—”

he clears his throat.

“sorry.”

you shrug. “don’t be.”

he offers you half a smile and ruffles zion’s hair before heading to the door. as he puts on his shoes and opens the door, you call for him once more.

“drive safe, okay?”

“i will.”

“go to the pharmacy on 11th. it’s the closest and they sell the apple flavour cough syrup he likes.”

“i will.”

“the lollipops are usually hidden behind their stash of kids tylenol. so look behind the tylenol.”

“i will.”

“honey?”

“mhmm?”

“go and come back quickly.”

jungkook doesn’t turn back. instead, he smiles to himself and lets his heart flutter. biting his inner cheek, he attempts to act cool.

“i will.”

the day goes by fast.

jungkook came back with everything zion could possibly need. after giving zion his medicine, jungkook scrafed down the lunch you made him. it didn’t take long for zion to fall asleep. in fact, he fell asleep right away.

as you place zion on his bed, you kiss his forehead and take his temperature again. his fever is still high but it should get better in a few hours. you’ll check on him again in a bit. shutting the door to his door, you take a deep breath and head to the living room where jungkook is on his laptop, finishing up a few things for work.

“how’s his fever?” jungkook asks.

“still high,” you reply, taking a seat next to him on the couch. peaking over, you notice the pharmacy bag jungkook left on the coffee table. you lean forward and take it. bringing it to the kitchen with intentions to throw it away, you notice another box left inside.

reaching your hand in, you take it out thinking it’s just another type of medicine jungkook got for zion. to your surprise, it’s a box of condoms.

condoms.

you and jungkook don’t fuck with condoms.

quickly, the feeling of betrayal kicks in. how could he do this? what does this even mean? was he sleeping with someone else? or worse… does he not want more babies with you? that’s fucked up. it’s so fucking fucked up. seriously, what the actul fuck—

“sorry, i was submitting something. what did you say?” jungkook calls out.

you snap out of your thoughts and put the box back inside the plastic bag. you set it on the kitchen island and go back to join him on the couch. sitting yourself down, you inch closer to him.

“his fever is still high… but i’ll check again after an hour or two. the medicine probably just needs to settle in… i hate sick season. not only is everyone around us sick, but zion can be—”

“mean?”

“i was gonna say needy…”

jungkook laughs sarcastically and shuts his laptop. placing it to the side, he sighs.

“he hated me today.”

“that can’t be true—”

“oh,” jungkook snickers. “he hated me. he only wanted you. i felt so helpless when i went to pick him up. i’m glad you came… i’m guessing they contacted you too?”

you nod. “yeah. i was about to start this new case when i got the call. told nam joon i had to leave and have someone else take my client—”

wide-eyed, jungkook shifts. “you lost a client today because i—”

“no,” you say sternly. “that’s not what i meant.”

jungkook pauses.

then, it hits him.

it’s been like this for a while, hasn’t it? constantly miscommunicating and assuming things between you two rather than spending the time and effort to figure things out.

“... is it okay if i stay the night? i know we’re broken up or whatever but i’d really like to stay and help out as much as i can. i know he doesn’t want me around and you probably have this shit handled—”

“stay,” you tell him, reaching for his hand. you hold it tight and run your thumb across his knuckles. you press on the little letter ‘z’ on his hand. “... and i hate this. i need you to know that i hate this.”

“what do you—”

you don’t know what comes over you, but something does. it just does and you can’t help it. maybe it’s the box of condoms. maybe it’s the fact that this is the first time you’re alone with him in 2 weeks…

maybe it’s just time.

“i don’t want to be broken up,” you confess, eyes glossy. “i fucked up. you fucked up. this? this is so fucking fucked up… i miss you, jungkook. i know i’m confusing and i’m a pile of broken parts—but all i know is that even though we’re not together; i don’t want to be broken up. i can’t—i don’t want it. i can’t live without you, jungkook. this is so hard. i don’t want it to be this fucking hard—”

“okay, okay—”

“and i hate that you walk in the rain for us,” you choke on your own words. “next time i’m not bringing an umbrella. we’re a family, honey. either we all walk under the umbrella or we walk in the rain together.”

“okay—”

“and why do you have a box of condoms?” you blurt out. “do you not want to have babies with me anymore? or are you sleeping with—”

“don’t even fucking finish that sentence.”

jungkook glares at you, eyes piercing and heart racing.

you gulp.

“why do you have a box of condoms?”

he shrugs. “yoongi called and asked me to pick him up a box. he’s going through his slut era.”

your shoulders slump.

“i’m sorry i—i shouldn’t have looked and i shouldn’t have assumed��”

jungkook shakes his head. “no, no… it’s okay. this is good. i want you to talk about stuff like this with me. to say anything to me, really. i wait for your texts and calls all day… you have no idea how much i cried after we took zion to the kids cafe. how—for a moment—it felt like we were us again. god, ___… i want us again—mmhpfftt—”

on your bed, you and jungkook make out.

he’s on top (sort of. you two are laying together) and he uses one hand to cup your jaw. his lips feel soft and slippery as you reach and deepen the kiss.

jungkook slips his tongue in every now and then, exploring your mouth as if it’s his first time kissing you… and by how he does this; it truly does feel like that. he kisses you so good, it’s hard to pull away. you don’t need air. you need him and his fucking kisses.

“missed you,” he murmurs against your lips.

you smile and pucker up.

he kisses you again.

“love you.”

you giggle as he digs himself into the crook fo your neck.

“yah, i’m gonna be bad if you don’t say you love me back.”

“bad?”

“bad.”

you laugh and shift.

he pops his head back out and gives you a playful glare. staying silent, he takes that as a sign. before you know it, you feel him tugging your pajama shorts and underwear down. you gasp as he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucks on them, and then slips them between your fold without uttering a warning.

“w-wait—”

jungkook crashes his lips onto yours. he kisses you tender and soft, distracting you from the fact that he just shoved a finger inside you.

you moan as you feel him curl inside. he pumps his fingers in and out, then uses his thumb to circle your clit. you pull away from him, and he smirks as he watches your facial expressions change.

your eyebrows furrow, then they don’t.

your mouth parts and tiny moans escape your puffy lips.

the corner of your lips twitches every time jungkook hits the right spot.

it’s all just so beautiful. he loves seeing how pretty you are when you take him. he can’t help but lean in and kiss you every so often.

jungkook continues to finger you. your pussy is so wet, it’s a breeze finger fucking it. jungkook also can’t fucking look away. god, he loves watching you. he loves how you shut your eyes and murmur his name. he loves that you pout every time you want him to kiss you… which he does. he gives it to you. all the kisses in the world—he gives you his.

“what’s the matter?” jungkook teases you. “why you making that face?”

you gasp as jungkook fastens his speed. he rubs you like there’s no tomorrow.

“h-holy sh-shit!” you cry, reaching to hold onto his wrist. "uh, uh, mhmm! f-fuck..."

he lets you.

jungkook cups your jaw with his other hand and looks into your pretty eyes. your eyes sparkle with desperation—a plead if you will.

make me cum.

“cute,” jungkook hisses. “so fucking cute.”

you mimic his hiss as he continues to finger you. your stomach twitches and your hips jolt. he lets out a light laugh when your body reacts like this.

“d-don’t laugh. takes y-you like 5 seconds t-to cum when i suck your d-dick—”

as your lips meet again—this time—time stops.

the world around you two fades into a soft blur.

the warmth radiating from jungkook ignites something deep within you. it’s a gentle exploration at first, a soft brush of lips that sends a thrill coursing through your veins. You can feel his breath against your skin, warm and inviting, urging you closer.

the kiss deepens, transforming from hesitant sweetness to a fervent dance of longing. he adds another finger, earning a moan from you. he snickers against your lips. regardless, there’s a softness to the way he holds you. there’s a tenderness that belies the heat building between you two. every gentle press of his mouth is like an unspoken promise, a connection that draws you in, making you forget the rest of the world.

making you forget about time.

you responds eagerly, leaning into him, feeling the pulse of their shared rhythm. his lips are a perfect fit against yours. it’s intoxicating. the way he kisses you is a mix of passion and reverence, as if every moment spent in this embrace is sacred.

the taste of him lingers—sweet and a little bit electric, leaving you craving more.

soon, his hand on your jaw slides down to the hem of your frilly top. you comply to his hints and slide your spaghetti straps off. he then tugs your top down to your stomach, revealing your breasts. eagerly, he brings palms them. then, he brings his hand back to your jaw, tilting your head to deepen the kiss further. you can feel his heartbeat matching yours, a silent conversation between their souls.

in this moment, there’s no past, no future—only the here and now.

“f-fuck—” you pull away, feeling the rushing burn and intensity of your climax. "honey—"

“what’s wrong, honey?” jungkook messes with you. “what’s the matter?”

“i’m gonna—nghhh!”

jungkook finishes you off. he fingers you fast and hard. you lose your breath, trying to soak in this orgasm. as you reach your high, you feel it. as much as you want to tell him to slow down and stop; you can’t. you can’t because you know what’s coming—

you squirt.

“oh my god, oh my god, oh m-my—”

“fuck. yeah? that’s it, mama.” jungkook mumbles, taking his fingers out and gently rubbing in between your folds. your pussy tightens and you honestly see stars all around the room.

jungkook catches this look and chuckles. he leans in, kissing you once more. you chase after his lips when he pulls away. catching your breath, your foreheads touch. both slightly dazed, you pucker your lips and kiss his cheeks and neck. then, you catch his gaze, a mix of mischief and sincerity in his eyes, and know they’ve crossed a threshold.

it’s more than just a kiss; it’s a promise of what’s to come, something profound that lingers in the space between them.

“love you.”

“love you too.”

jungkook wakes up as he feels zion climbing into bed with you. sleepily, he places the back of his hand on zion’s forehead, but zion shifts away, groggy and fussy, swatting jungkook’s hand aside before snuggling closer to you.

you shift and reach over to feel zion’s forehead; he lets you.

“still has a fever,” you say, your voice dry and half-asleep. with your eyes still closed, you decide, “no daycare today.”

jungkook hums in agreement, feeling the warmth radiating from his son. he then moves closer to you two, putting his arm around zion. but zion huffs, grumbling in annoyance, and moves jungkook’s arm away, throwing his own over your body instead. you wrap your arms around zion, feeling his small frame relax against you.

jungkook sleepily opens his eyes and can’t help but feel left out.

“i hate you,” he groans, a playful pout forming on his lips. “why does he hate me so much when he’s sick?”

you let out a sleepy laugh, glancing at zion's scowling face. his little brow is furrowed, and he mutters, “daddy, stop. i don’t like you.”

the comment makes you chuckle. you hold zion tighter and kiss his cheeks, but he scrunches his face in irritation, clearly only wanting you to soothe him.

jungkook huffs, sitting up in disbelief. “you know he loves you—”

“i’m making breakfast,” jungkook mumbles, leaning over to kiss the top of your head. “want some coffee?”

you hum, your eyes still heavy with sleep. “i’d love some coffee,” you tell him. “... but i don’t have a coffee maker.”

jungkook nods, fully gaining consciousness now. “that’s fine. i’ll go out and buy some. i’ll be back.”

“okay,” you yawn, smiling at him. “sounds good, honey.”

as he gets up, zion whines softly, shifting closer to you, his little body still grumpy and unwilling to be touched by anyone but you. he buries his face in your side, and you can’t help but smile at the way he clings to you, seeking comfort while remaining stubbornly resistant to jungkook’s affection.

by the time you and zion wake up and wash up, jungkook has a whole breakfast spread ready on the kitchen island.

“wow!” you say with excitement. “zi, look! daddy made so much breakfast—”

“no.” zion turns his cheek. "no thank you daddy."

“no? no thank you daddy?” jungkook chimes in, approaching zion. he offers his arms and zion turns his cheek at his own father.

“no daddy. only mommy.”

jungkook hisses. “yah, zion… it’s a little much now. i’m beginning to take it personally.”

you laugh and reach for him. placing your hand on jungkook’s cheek, you run your thumb against his lips. “hi, honey. good morning. thanks for breakfast.”

jungkook smiles and leans over to you, ignoring zion being trapped in the middle. he kisses you softly.

“good morning, beautiful—”

“no!” zion pushes jungkook’s chest. “stop it. my mommy. no kissing my mommy.”

jungkook rolls his eyes. “zi, do you know you wouldn’t exist right now if i didn’t kiss mommy?”

“honey!”

jungkook laughs and playfully pokes zion. at first, zion doesn’t like it but he breaks character and cracks a smile. soon enough, he begins to laugh and reaches for jungkook. happily, jungkook takes his child and shows him all the food he prepared.

you watch them and can’t help but just feel… good. relieved and happy.

it’s been a long time since you felt this way.

jungkook hands you your coffee. you thank him and sip it. it tastes good. it tastes familiar, it tastes comforting… it tastes like it’s exactly what you need.

“oh,” jungkook reaches inside his pocket and takes a box out. “this is for you.”

tiffany and co.

you look at him, eyes wide and throat dry.

jungkook bounces zion a few times before swinging him around. he then puts him down and points to his toys on the living room floor. zion smiles and runs to his toys. while jungkook is bent down, he changes his position and settles on one knee.

he looks up at you.

“when i said that your career got in the way of us—that’s not what i meant to say. what i meant to say is that i missed you. back then, it felt like every time you came home; you just came home. you weren’t coming home to me—”

“jungkook, please understand that—”

“no,” he sniffs. “part of me fears that if i understand, i’ll agree with you—that we’ve messed up too much to fix this, that this is where we end. but i refuse to accept that. so, here’s my conclusion: even when i don’t understand you, i’ll love you through it. i will see through it. as crazy as it sounds, i believe in you more than myself. you won’t let me down, okay? i want to understand, even if i keep failing. just let me try—for the rest of my life. i love you, ___. i want to come home. i want to come home to you.”

he then opens the box and reveals the ring.

it’s beautiful.

“___, will you marry me?”

yes.

you want to say yes.

instead, you say; “what about new york?”

jungkook swallows.

“the offer is mine for one more week,” he explains. “new york is mine if i want it… but you’re what i want.”

“jungkook…”

“please,” he begs. “i don’t want to choose.”

you take a breath.

“are you asking—no—telling me to?” you ask, your heart racing.

he doesn’t answer, and silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken words. each second feels like a lifetime, the weight of his gaze pulling you in. you can feel your pulse quicken, a mix of excitement and fear swirling inside you.

“is it really one or the other?” you finally ask, breaking the tension.

“i don’t know,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

what does it mean to choose?

to say yes to one dream over another? the prospect of new york glimmers like a distant star, bright and promising, yet here in this moment, everything else fades. it’s just the two of you, the air is thin (as my waist).

you want to say yes, to embrace all the hurt and finally take it all... but doubts creep in—what if you choose him and he regrets it? what if you both lose everything? the future looms ahead, uncertain and daunting, but there’s also a warmth in your chest, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, love is enough because timing is on your side. that maybe, after all these years falling asleep next to him; you two dream the same dream.

“jungkook,” you finally breathe, feeling the weight of your decision. the world outside blurs as you focus on the man in front of you, the man who has laid his heart bare. can love really be enough to hold you both together?

his eyes search yours, filled with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. in this moment, every hesitation fades. you know that whatever you choose will shape not just your future, but both of yours.

you take a deep breath, the anticipation heavy in the air, and feel the gravity of the moment.

as you look into his eyes, you see a reflection of your own uncertainty mingled with hope. there’s something electric between you, an unspoken understanding that transcends words. the way he holds your gaze makes your heart race, a silent promise hanging in the balance.

time seems to stretch like a taut string, each heartbeat echoing in the silence as you search for answers in each other’s eyes. the world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you in this suspended moment. in this stillness of you and jungkook, you two want the same things;

for time to be on your side.

for love to be enough.

for the choice to be right.

#bts fanfic #bts angst #jk smut #jk angst #jungkook dilf #jungkook smau #jungkook series #jungkook x yn

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