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imhalfplastic · 27 days ago

Text

still, in paris

⊹ overview - pairing: mingyu x f!reader genre: slice of life · fluff · contemporary · slow burn · lighthearted tone themes: casual romance, soft humor, text-based narrative cw: brief mentions of social anxiety, implied fame context, sfw

summary: you didn’t plan to meet mingyu in paris. and you definitely didn’t plan for a blurry photo, one conversation, and a few late-night texts to turn into the internet’s favorite theory. but maybe the truth is even stranger: quiet, funny, and almost real.

from kai: got this idea after mingyu and sexyy red's moment at the pfw afterparty lol twitter wouldn't stop talking about it. started as a one-shot, but their chemistry was too good…

ps: part two’s up, you can read it already!

now playing: paris, texas - lana del rey

you’re not used to this.

the flashing lights, the screams, the chaotic elegance of fashion week in paris. sure, you’ve done premieres and panels before. your netflix series blew up way more than anyone expected, and suddenly your face was everywhere. streaming numbers through the roof. interviews. magazine covers. your face on a billboard near times square.

but this? this is dior.

they flew you out. they dressed you like a dream. they made you sit front row. you smiled, you posed, you pretended you weren't internally freaking out.

because deep down, you still feel like that girl who watched fashion shows at 2am, dreaming about stuff like this. and maybe you’re still that girl. just with better eyeliner and a driver waiting outside.

you make it through the show without tripping or passing out. success.

then someone mentions the afterparty and you’re like... okay. sure. why not. you’ll go. stay twenty minutes. do your duty. leave with grace and dignity and maybe a tiny dessert in your purse.

it’s crowded. obviously. but beautiful. soft lighting. velvet everything. a lot of cheek kisses and air-sipping cocktails. the kind of party where people look bored on purpose.

you’re standing near the back, halfway through a glass of something sparkling and expensive, when you see him. and by “see him,” you mean feel the atoms in the room shift slightly.

he walks in like it’s no big deal. which maybe it isn’t, to him. he’s mingyu. people know him. tall and glossy and casually perfect. wearing something you’re sure costs more than your rent, but it doesn’t even look like he’s trying. you’re not even a hardcore carat, but you’ve seen enough seventeen content to know that he’s funny and clumsy and surprisingly shy for someone that handsome.

you glance. once. okay, maybe twice.

you tell yourself that’s it.

until someone says, “oh, mingyu! this is y/n.”

and your heart tries to climb out of your chest.

he smiles like it’s easy. like he does this all the time. “hi,” he says. “i watched your show.”

you blink. “seriously?”

“yeah,” he says, sipping something clear. “i binged it on a flight.”

you weren’t expecting that. “you watched my show on a plane?”

he shrugs, almost sheepish. “i needed something good. ended up watching the whole thing.”

your mouth opens slightly, like your brain’s buffering.

“that’s… wild,” you say finally. “you watched me act while trapped at thirty thousand feet.”

he laughs. “and liked it.”

you manage to hold eye contact, just barely. “thank you.”

he nods. “you were great. the whole cast was. but yeah, you stood out.”

you try not to smile too much, but it slips through anyway.

“well,” you say, “i’m a fan of yours too.”

he tilts his head a little, amused. “really?”

“really,” you nod. “you’re very good at what you do.”

his gaze softens, just slightly. “thanks.”

he laughs. it’s nice. warm. and you feel oddly calm now. like maybe this is just two people who exist in the same strange world, chatting for a second.

it doesn’t last long. someone pulls him away. someone else tries to talk to you. and just like that, he’s across the room again, surrounded by people who look like they were born on red carpets.

but later, when you’re waiting for your car outside and the air is a little too cold for your dress, you catch him looking at you. just once. a glance. maybe nothing.

but you feel it.

you don’t expect the internet to feel it too.

the next morning, your name is trending.

you think: oh god, what did i say? did someone post a bad angle of me? did i spill something?

but no.

it’s a blurry pic. you and mingyu. standing close. talking. both smiling. someone zoomed in so much that it’s pixelated like a renaissance painting, but the caption says:

“what are they cooking”

another post:

“mingyu looking at her like she hung the stars HELP”

and then:

“she literally said she was a fan of him a few months ago and now they’re at the same party this is my roman empire”

you want to scream. or hide. or laugh. you do all three, kind of.

your dms are unhinged. your friend sends you a tiktok of someone doing a powerpoint presentation titled “why mingyu and y/n would make sense actually.” you text back: i talked to him for thirty seconds.

but it doesn’t matter.

people see what they want to see.

you try to ignore it. let it pass. the internet always moves on eventually, right?

you post a normal picture the next day. a croissant. the eiffel tower in the background. very chill. very “look at me being unbothered in paris.” comments are not chill.

“where is mingyu” “blink twice if it’s real” “what did you talk about PLEASE I BEG”

you don’t reply.

you just keep scrolling. wondering if maybe he saw all this too.

and then, a few nights later, it happens.

your phone lights up. unknown number.

hey. this is mingyu. i hope it’s okay i got your number from someone at the party. just saw the chaos online and thought i should say hi officially.

you sit with that for a full five minutes. you reread it like he might have changed his mind and deleted the message. but it’s still there.

you type.

hi lol yeah the internet’s kinda having a moment huh

he replies almost instantly.

mingyu i forgot how people pay that much attention to who i stand next to lol

you smile. because yeah. same.

you the internet’s wild. last week someone made a thread about how i hold my coffee cup “suspiciously”

he sends a laugh emoji.

mingyu suspicious how

you apparently i grip it like i’m about to throw it at someone

mingyu honestly that’s a power move

you both stop texting for a few minutes. maybe he’s busy. maybe you are. you don’t expect more. but then:

mingyu anyway, sorry if that’s random just made me think of it and you seemed cool

you read that twice. you seemed cool.

you don’t know why it hits the way it does, but it does. quiet, lowkey, easy.

you not random i get it you seemed cool too weirdly calm for someone being chased by cameras

mingyu lol it’s a skill built over time and mild panic

you smile, thumb hovering over your screen. you don’t ask anything else. don’t push.

later that night, when you're brushing your teeth in a hotel bathroom that smells faintly like roses and money, you check your phone one last time.

a final message from him.

mingyu just saw someone on twitter say we have “suspiciously good timing”

you what does that even mean

mingyu like every time one of us posts, the other one’s online

you we’re not special. we’re just addicted to our phones

mingyu they also said we probably have a secret handshake

you we should

mingyu something dramatic lots of finger snaps maybe a spin

you followed by complete denial that we know each other

mingyu of course professionalism

you pause for a second, then type:

you you know this only makes them worse

mingyu yeah isn’t it kind of fun though

you a little

mingyu we should give them just enough to stay confused

you like posting the same sky photo 6 minutes apart

mingyu or both pretending we love the same very specific fruit

you papaya?

mingyu chaos...

you grin at your phone.

neither of you says anything else for a while.

but you don’t leave the chat.

and neither does he.

—-----------------

you wake up to sunlight spilling through gauzy curtains and the sound of distant traffic humming under your window. your phone is on the nightstand, buzzing once with a notification, then going quiet again.

you don’t check it right away.

instead, you stretch. take your time. the sheets are soft, the kind of hotel-soft that feels too luxurious to be real. you think, briefly, about how weird this week has been. fashion week. dior. mingyu.

you smile a little. not because of him, exactly. just... the whole thing. how surreal it all feels.

you finally grab your phone. one unread message.

mingyu walked past a bakery on the way back to the hotel smelled really good made me think this city is unfairly good at mornings

you snort, already smiling.

you i haven’t even left the room yet and now i feel like i’m missing out thanks

mingyu no pressure just reporting the vibes

you noted very responsible of you

mingyu it’s a public service

you should i be worried you’re turning into a pastry influencer

mingyu depends do you think that title comes with free samples

you 100% but only if you post aesthetic overhead shots

mingyu i’ll practice with my leftover croissant though i did already take a bite i was weak

you toss your phone on the bed and head to the shower. you tell yourself you’re not thinking about whether it might buzz while you’re in there.

it’s just texting. it’s just paris. it’s fine.

when you come back out, towel in your hair, your screen lights up.

mingyu do you think the eiffel tower ever gets tired of being perceived

you deeply needs a break maybe a vacation

mingyu it should visit new york blend in for once

you take photos pretending it’s never seen a bagel

mingyu “omg first time in the big city”

you laugh out loud.

you stop i can see the caption

mingyu all lowercase. subtle filter. very aesthetic

you towercore

mingyu #tbt even though it’s live

you laugh. then leave the room and disappear into the paris streets.

you walk with no real plan. you pass tourists, locals, little dogs in sweaters, a couple arguing quietly outside a tabac. the kind of scenes that would look too scripted in any film but feel perfectly normal here.

you get spotted near the river by a girl who looks like she just stepped out of your show’s fan edits. she freezes, eyes wide, then gasps like she can't believe it's actually you.

“no way. i literally watched the entire season in two days,” she says, voice shaking slightly. “i cried. like, real tears. three times.”

you smile, surprised and touched. “that’s so sweet. thank you.”

she hesitates, then blurts, “can i hug you? i’m sorry, i just...”

you laugh softly. “yeah, of course.”

she hugs you tight. not long, but full of emotion. and when she pulls back, her eyes are glassy.

“you’re even cooler in real life,” she says.

“you’re gonna make me cry now,” you reply, still smiling.

when she’s gone, you stand there a moment longer, letting it settle. feeling a little lighter, like the day just got warmer.

how strange it is to be recognized. how stranger it is to feel... okay with it.

you’ve been walking without direction. coffee in hand, sunglasses on, trying not to overthink how quiet your phone’s been.

then, finally, you text him:

you paris keeps looking like something important is about to happen

mingyu like a plot twist?

you or a confession maybe a chase scene

mingyu i could see you in a slow-motion chase

you i’d trip over a baguette

mingyu and i’d walk past like “sorry can’t get involved”

you very realistic

mingyu very french

you pause at the edge of a crosswalk, watching the way the light turns everything peach and soft.

you every corner here feels like it has backstory

mingyu i walked past a florist this morning and got emotional

you was it the flowers

mingyu the font on the sign

you powerful

mingyu might write a song about it

you can’t wait for “bouquet in d minor”

you keep walking, grinning into your coffee, phone still in hand.

--------------------------

you have dinner plans that night but cancel.

you stay in instead. order room service. eat fries from a silver tray while sitting cross-legged on the bed in the hotel robe. on tv, a french reality show plays with no subtitles. you make up the plot as you go.

your phone lights up again around ten-thirty.

mingyu is it lame if i say tonight’s the first time i’ve actually rested all week

you extremely but also same

mingyu i feel like i’ve been smiling for cameras since tuesday

you i forgot how to blink correctly in photos pretty sure i look mildly haunted in half of them

mingyu new aesthetic unlocked

you what about you how’s your night off

mingyu very quiet i’m pretending i’m in an artsy indie movie nothing happens but the music is good

you mine’s more “girl orders crème brûlée at midnight and judges everyone on tv without knowing the language”

mingyu: i’d watch that

you: it’s a limited series moody lighting no plot

mingyu i play your mysterious neighbor with three lines

you you play the guy at the bakery who always gets the last croissant before me

mingyu oh no i’m the villain

you obviously

the next morning, you get a message from someone on the dior team. there’s a private dinner that night. low-key, mostly creatives, no press. they say you don’t have to go, but they’d love to have you there. you say yes. mostly because you’re curious. maybe also because you wonder if he’ll be there.

you don’t ask.

you show up in a long dark dress and a tired smile. the room is warm, lit low, buzzing softly. the kind of gathering where you don’t have to be anything other than yourself.

he’s already there.

you spot him across the room, leaning against a marble fireplace, listening quietly. his jacket fits perfectly. he looks like he belongs here, but like he’d rather be somewhere else.

you think he sees you at the same time you see him. he gives a small nod.

you return it.

you don’t talk during dinner. you’re seated apart, close but not close enough to chat easily. he laughs once at something someone says, and you smile without meaning to.

after dessert, people drift toward the windows, champagne flutes in hand. the city lights glow softly below.

you stand near a window, watching the blur of lights over the seine. he walks over, close enough to speak quietly.

“still holding your champagne suspiciously?” he jokes.

you glance at your glass. “yeah, it feels important. like a tiny glass trophy.”

“paris does that to everything.”

“even small talk,” you say, smirking.

he laughs. “this view makes everything feel staged, like we’re extras in a film.”

“the city’s the real star.”

“exactly.”

a pause.

“people still can’t stop spinning stories about us.”

you laugh softly. “maybe we should take a picture together. just to make things more interesting.”

he grins. “caption it ‘just met’ or something mysterious.”

“‘totally random encounter,’” you add, smiling.

“internet loses it instantly.”

“and then fifty new theories start.”

“guess we’re good at this.”

you both look out over the city, quiet between you.

“you’re easier to talk to than most here,” he says.

you glance at him. “is that a compliment?”

“just an honest observation.”

“i’ll take it.”

you share a small smile.

after a moment, you quietly say goodbye and slip out, the city’s soft hum following you.

when you get back to the hotel, there’s a message.

mingyu you disappeared like a spy no dramatic storm-off or slow-motion slap. i’m disappointed

you the lighting wasn’t right i’ll save it for the sequel

mingyu you looked nice tonight not saying that to be weird just. you did

you thank you you too

mingyu safe to say we survived paris?

you not over yet but yeah mostly intact

mingyu mostly

you don’t know what to call this.

not a crush. not a friendship. not really anything you need to label. just this... quiet, mutual thing. something that makes a strange city feel less distant. something that doesn’t ask for more than it gives.

on your last night in paris, you stay up late with the window cracked open.

the sounds of the street rise and fall, soft voices, a motorbike passing, the clink of a bottle in the distance. you sit on the bed with your legs pulled to your chest, phone in hand, but no new messages.

you open your notes app and type without thinking:

things i want to remember:

the bakery smell at 8:10am

the girl who hugged me near the river

the music in the car on the way to the dinner

the way no one rushed anything

the quiet

how he said i was easy to talk to

how i felt okay

you leave it there.

you close the app.

you sleep lightly.

in the morning, just before your car arrives to take you to the airport, your phone buzzes one last time.

mingyu i’m thinking of posting that pic of us. don’t forget to keep the mystery alive when you get back.

you smile.

you always you too

mingyu safe flight talk soon?

a pause.

you yeah. talk soon.

you don’t know what’s going to happen.

but you’re not waiting for it.

you’re just letting it be.

whatever it is.

and it started here.

in paris.

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chaacakez · 2 months ago

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This man is not stopping when you say, “just the tip”..

MDNI.

(f!reader)

To be fair. He let you say it. An attempt was made. He just smirks like it’s cute. His big hands cup the back of your neck, cradling the back of your head gently to give you the thought of the hope you're thinking you received. thumb brushing and stroking your jaw real slow and soft, like he’s being sweet.

“yeah? just the tip, huh?”

And you nod all soft, legs open, eyes fluttery and batting at him, squirmin’, your hearts pumpin' fast, already breathin’ heavy and pussy drooling like it knows he’s lying.

Pussy clenching around nothing but the effect of the cold air that comes past you as it sent shivers down your spine and straight to your core. Your hips slightly jerk upwards and your body twitches at nothing. Tightening around nothing as your body protests. You should just give in.

He proceeds in pressing the head of his cock against your drooling cunny, just like you asked right? Real thick and hot and twitchin’. Right against your weepingly wet hole. You gasp, wriggle a little, squirm and writhe under him. Whisperin' something all meek and shaky like,

“j-jus’ the tip, ‘kay? jus’ wanna feel it…nothin else...” you chirp out all soft and cute like. Your eyes flick up towards him. Hoping he’d listen this time. Gaze filled with a weak sense of plea with no signs of control at all, you could at least use your voice to tell him what you want now before it’s gone.

And then. Pop.

Tip's in. Barely.

You sigh like it’s heaven. a breath you didnt know you were holding in was released. But he’s starin’ down at your lil hole like he’s never gonna leave it again.

“…nah, bunny. you knew that wasn’t gon’ work.”

Cause now he’s pushin' in more than the tip.

Inch by inch. Sliding into your walls.

Your lil cunt’s already suckin' him in like it’s desperate, stretching so slow it stings.

You squeal, push at his chest weakly, voice all whiny and whimpery. But he just uses one of his hands and collects both your wrists together and force them above your head to keep your you there from moving. From protesting any further. His unoccupied hand moved down to your thighs and just spreads you wider for him.

“sayin’ just the tip like a fuckin’ tease. tight lil pussy's too greedy for that.”

Pushing further into you anyways. Your back arches. Your voice comes out in a scream. A cry of pleasure. He hits deep. All of him inside of you. Cock heavy, mean, hittin' that spot that makes you go all glossy eyed and useless.

You’re whining now, legs trembling, drool leakin' out the side of your lips.

“nghhh- mmn! f-full, full-can’t--s’too much!-”

He doesn’t stop. Not once. Not even when you cry.

Just chuckles, breath heavy and hot. Leaning in closer to your face as he roughly grips your face to lick the sweat off your cheek. Pulling away to look at how badly he has you ruined.

“shouldn’t talk shit if you can’t handle it, princess.”

He drags out slow, cock all thick and wet from your messy lil cunny, only just to slam back in so hard your tits bounce. Again. And again. Rhythm deep and filthy, tryna rearrange every part of you that ever thought she could say “just the tip” and mean it.

His hand on your throat now, wrapping around it just enough to warn you with the aura of his assertiveness. Forcing you to look at him.

“look so dumb like this. fuckin’ ruined off one cock. cryin’ over somethin’ you asked for.”

You’re twitching underneath him, can’t even form words. Just tiny useless gasps and failed fallen words from your tongue. “uhhnn-uhhn-fuck!” sounds that make him groan into your neck.

And when he finishes. seed running deep, full of heat, spilling all that cum in your sore lil hole. you’re still whimpering, begging for him to stop. But he doesn’t. He stays inside. Cock still hard.

“..not so fast.. m’ not done yet.”

Gojo Satoru,Toji Fushiguro,Eren Yeager,Aki Hayakawa,Sukuna,Kisaki Tetta,Aizawa Shouta,Dabi,Sanemi Shinazugawa,Tengen Uzui

#IHEARTFREAKHUZZ!!!!(absolute cinema)

they diggin in you fr fr 🌚 ….you made that mess f!reader pookie bae……

reblogs, likes, comments, any of that stuff is always appreciated.. smooches!!!! <3

ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

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puptrefied · 8 months ago

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　“so,” powder started, holding your chin and tilting it upward to examine your features under the light of her room. she didn’t want to risk any mistakes with the contouring or the symmetry of your eyeshadow.

doing your makeup for parties had become her thing now.

“do you want me to match your hair like I did with mine, or should I choose another color?” please let me match it to your hair, please let me match it to your hair… “since we're going bold tonight.”

navy melted beautifully into ocean blue across her lids, magenta lit up her inner corners, and indigo traced her lower eyelids in a soft, smoky line—softening her piercing blue eyes. berry colored lipstick and a tiny smile completed the look.

a damn sight for sore eyes—that’s what powder was.

“hm, which one would look better?”

yes! that was an answer she liked. let her do the thinking; you just sit there and let her transform your pretty face with her arsenal of pigments. glitter? the palette was already sprawled on the floor, waiting. natural colors? sure, pretty boring, but you do you! neon colors? oh boy, how she loved those.

“i’ll take care of it. just don’t move. if you mess it up we’ll be late.” like last time.

matte lipstick is not easy to clean up after a few ( whole lot of ) kisses. things got a bit out of control, okay? it’s not her fault you looked good!

…well, technically it was her fault because she did your makeup that day, but still. she wanted to kiss you before that.

“oh, come on, it doesn’t tickle,” she pointed out as your eyes fluttered slightly at the touch of the fine eyeliner brush. experienced hands meticulously painted your eyelids, determined to follow their natural shape and bring out the color of your pupils. “look up at me, gotta do the waterline.”

maybe asking you to look directly at her the whole time was a mistake. the closeness was suddenly too distracting—your lips slightly parted as your eyes went up to meet hers, and she carefully applied the pigment.

that shade of lipstick you picked would look real nice mixed with hers…

focus, powder. just do her makeup.

“what’s with the eyes, sunny?” the blue-haired girl spoke after a while, holding your chin still, almost done with the eyeshadow.

“what do you mean?”

“those doe-y ones you’re giving me right now.”

your scoff only made it harder for her to focus on the task ahead. “pow, looking up because you asked me to doesn’t mean I’m giving you doe eyes. It’s your own thing if you get distracted that easily.”

“distracted? pft, no way. I’m completely focused here,” she argued with an unbothered shrug and roll of her eyes, as if she didn’t care. She dipped her brush back into the shimmering shade, determined to keep her hands steady despite the warmth crawling up her neck.

instead of poking fun at her, you stayed still as her delicate hands worked, her features drawn into a look of concentration that was almost as mesmerizing as the makeup itself. eyebrows slightly furrowed as she focused on making the look even.

“‘kay, done with the eyes,” she announced after a moment, pulling back slightly to admire her handiwork. the colors on your lids blended seamlessly into one another, like a miniature galaxy. “and now for the lips…”

powder reached for the lipstick you had picked earlier but hesitated with a thoughtful sigh, her eyes darting between the tube and your mouth.

“you sure you don’t want me to choose a different color? this one’s nice and all, but…” her voice trailed off.

“but what?”

her manicured nails tapped against the lipstick cap while comparing it to the lipstick she had used on herself. “I mean… this shade’s good, but mine would… y’know, match better. just saying.”

definitely not an excuse to kiss you.

masterlist

@ananas26t @b3autyist3rror

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 1 month ago

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Hard Times

Chapter Two: Navigating your day-to-day becomes increasingly less difficult with your step-dad proving, time and time again, he always has your back.

RATED X. MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY.

❥Kim Hongjoong x fem reader

"A little girl who needs her Daddy real bad."

-Ethel Cain, Hard Times ♫

♡'･ᴗ･'♡genre: yandere, angst, smut ➯disclaimer: DARK FICTION. DEAD DOVE. 18+, MINORS GET OUTTA HERE.

✫彡wordcount: 13k

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: limited short series; see general warnings in the masterlist: step-dad hongjoong, age gap (reader younger adult, hong in his late 30s), flashbacks are italics and past tense, reader calls hj dad + he's way too into it, like WAY too into it (mmmmboner-), therapy where reader talks abt ptsd from the crash: flashbacks / nightmares / anxiety, grief / survivors guilt / depression, in depth flashback of the immediate aftermath: fear / gore / death / dissociation, mentioned attempted suicide, reader is not described as religious but prays because her mother was, unhealthy attachments + extreme taboo relationship, alcohol consumption, jealousy / possessive behavior, emotional manipulation (lwk both ways), hong dresses reader in traditionally girly + cute clothes, reader kisses her friends on the lips platonically, reader has insane daddy issues + joong takes advantage of it, pet names including: (sweet, pretty, little, ect) girl, angel, sweetheart, baby, honey ಠ_ಠSMUT warning/content: hj is a pervert with a corruption kink and likes making virgin reader: squirm / cry / call him daddy / suck on his fingers, HEAVY HEAVY DDLG THEMES, dirty talk and praise, neck kisses (nnngh-), hj lightly teases reader (calls her needy, naughty, crybaby, ect), overstimulation and subsequent dacryphilia, virginity kink. 1/2: snuggle boner 1: make-out, dry humping, muffling, talk of masturbation and panty stealing 2: tipsy action, fingering, body worship, cunnilingus, hong holds reader down and overstimulates her until she squirts (NNNGHHH-), pussy + thigh job. THIS IS LOWKEY DUBCON. very explicit consent is given, but reader should not be making these decisions in her state of mind + joong blurs the lines

➯a/n: mmm dinner is served 🍽️ i cried like such a little bitch writing the crash scene and readers monologue, grab your tissues lmao ♡masterlist + navigation !♡ ୨ sweet as honey ৎ @m00njinnie @seonghwassii @tinyteezer @whyismingi @emotionallyanaemic @werewolfcrimson @ninjakitty15 @klllerwaifu @a-tiny-thing @pandyandy71 @monstacheol @aurorasjoongie @lxsunshine @peelingpaint-heavyheart @xh01bri @giiouis ₊‧⁺stardust˖⋆ @sousydive @sunnysidesins @onyxmango @devilzliaison @ateezswonderland @queenofdumbfuckery @emilysecresy @kyomiingi @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes

────୨ৎ────

It's been five weeks since the accident.

You've just sat down for your sixth therapy session. Hongjoong is waiting in the lobby for you. Just like he always does.

It's the hottest day of the year so far; but you're dressed in one of your father's larger t-shirts despite the heat. It's a stark contrast to the pleated skirt Hongjoong picked out for you, but your therapist doesn't even look twice.

She's an older woman. Greying hair sported proudly and wrinkles around her eyes from years of smiling kindly at patients — just like she does to you as you sit down.

"Good afternoon, (Y/n). How are you doing today?"

"I'm good, Ms. Cain." You say, maybe a bit too quickly. A bit too practiced.

Because it is.

Over the past few weeks, every single person — save for the brothers, Hiyyih, and Kai — have gotten that answer. When you walked to get the mail for the first time, and your neighbor offered their condolences. When you got a replacement phone and started getting calls and messages.

She looks at you pointedly, a small raise of her eyebrow making your shoulders slump.

"Not so great today..." You admit as you lean back into the plush cushion of the small couch.

"Thank you for telling the truth," she nods, offering a slight smile, "that's the only way this works. Would you like to tell me why?"

You know that you technically have a choice. You could choose to talk about something else. But you're starting to get comfortable with her. She's good at her job.

The first few times, you had to be coaxed into speaking a lot more. She even had to bring in Hongjoong to make you comfortable enough to open up about what had happened — even though she knew.

Everyone knows.

But she gave you the chance to tell her in your own words. And you appreciated that deeply. That's when she earned your respect, trust was a bit different.

You'd never had a therapist before now. You didn't know exactly how it worked. But she helped you understand when you voiced your concern. When you said that you thought it was kind of stupid when you could just talk to Hiyyih.

'Hiyyih knows everything about you, doesn't she? Won't she just say what you want to hear, even subconsciously? I can tell you what you need to hear.' And, 'imagine if she were in your position. You would only want to comfort her.'

And it's true. Hiyyih is subconsciously comforting you, so is Hongjoong. So are Bumjoong and Kai.

Ms. Cain is honest with you. Not brutally, but almost. She tells you it's normal to feel the things you're feeling. But she doesn't coddle you. She's validates you, but she never crosses the line into pure comfort territory.

That doesn't mean it doesn't feel good to talk to her. It does.

Sometimes you get tired of their unshaken kindness and care. Sometimes you start wishing Hongjoong would yell at you again, like he did the night you tried to kill yourself. Just to get you to stop pitying yourself so badly.

So, you find yourself always telling her the truth. Even when it's uncomfortable.

"I had another nightmare last night. It was kind of hard to get in the car today."

"Was this the same nightmare as you've been having?" She asks as she flips through her notebook, "of the crash?"

"Yeah- well... Yes, but it was different." You pick at the cast on your arm. It's become a habit.

"How so?"

"Instead of my parents in the car, it was Hongjoong..."

It's a reoccurring dream — a memory, really. A nightmare that your waking mind has blocked out; coming to haunt you in your sleep instead.

Of that night. In the car. The headlights blurring. The loud honk of the semi-trucks horn, trying to warn your mother that the driver had lost control.

You always wake up screaming, held by Hongjoong tightly, your arm hurting with a soul crushing pain — just like it had when the bone broke through your skin all those weeks ago.

You blink rapidly as the memory comes to you. You don't want it to. You want it to stay in your dreams. Because then, you don't really have to deal with it.

Ms. Cain told you how bad it is to do that — to try to ignore it. But you aren't ready to take that step yet.

"I see. Just you and him?" She asks as she scribbles in her book. It used to bother you, the first few times. But you got used to it after a while; when you figured out she didn't just write down bad things. She wrote down the good too — the progress.

"Yeah."

"And did he survive?"

The thought, the image your mind had conjured up last night, it makes your throat feel constricted. Tears press against your waterline. "N-no."

"Did you?"

"I always do." And it makes you hate yourself.

"I think I understand why you had this dream, (Y/n)," she begins slowly, looking to you. When you look up, urging her to continue, she goes on, "Hongjoong cares about you deeply, right?"

You nod, quickly snatching up a tissue.

"Your brain is crossing wires. Seeing him, who takes care of you, as a replacement — or sort of a stand-in for your parents. Do you have a similar relationship to him as you did them?"

"Uhm," you sigh as you think, "not really? Hongjoong is... he's just Hongjoong."

"Do you see him as a parental figure? As a father figure, maybe?"

"N-" You stop yourself quickly, eyes widening a little bit. "Not- not like my father. But... I've accidentally called him Dad a few times." You look anywhere but her. Thinking she'll judge you — thinking anyone would.

"So, he isn't like your father, but you see him as a father?"

"I guess so."

"I can see how you think of him like that. From what I gather, he's very caring to you." She gives another soft smile, but her question makes you feel like you've been punched in the gut, "how was your relationship with your father? You don't speak of him as much as your mother."

"I don't want to talk about that-"

"I think you should try."

You glare up at her, weakly. "Why?"

"You're calling a man who's not your father 'Dad'. Lots of women have issues with their fathers because of the societal-"

"I think it's just because my dad is dead." You don't really. You called Hongjoong 'Dad' a few times before the accident.

"I don't think so. Is that his shirt you're wearing?" She points with her pen, and you look down at the fabric you're swallowed up in.

"Yes."

"Why did you decide to wear that today?"

"Because..." You don't know. You have no idea. "I just... wanted to."

It's quiet for a long moment. She doesn't say anything, and you don't either. She's been in the game a long time. She sniffed out your daddy issues the second you sat in her office. She just waiting for you to catch up.

"I told him I hated him."

Now you're getting somewhere.

────୨ৎ────

"Ready, honey?" Hongjoong hops up quickly as the door to Ms. Cain's office opens.

She smiles knowingly as you quickly make your way to him, watching the way his arms wrap around you without hesitation when you hug him.

"You two have a good day. Try to work on those breathing exercises, yes?"

"Thank you, Ms. Cain," you mumbles from his shoulder.

"We're on it," he nods, returning her smile as she closes the door.

He pets the back of your head softly, "rough session, angel?" He's given up on holding back all of his nicknames for you, and you don't mind.

"I'm ready to go home." You respond simply, wiping the few stray tears from the corners of your eyes as you pull back.

"Come on," he guides you with his hand on the small of your back, nodding to the receptionist as you exit the small office building.

He opens the car door for you. It makes it easier when you're afraid. You buckle yourself up as fast as humanly possible, already clicked in when he opens the driver side door.

"Do you want to share what you talked about?" He asks as he starts the car, seatbelt similarly strapped across him before he even does so.

Once, he put the key in the ignition before he put it on and you freaked the fuck out. He didn't make that mistake again.

"Not today," you lean your head back with a small groan, "I just want to digest it."

"Alrighty." He doesn't press the matter. He knows you'll come to him when you're ready. He can't ask your therapist, because of patient confidentiality, but there's no rule about not asking you. Ms. Cain even encourages it — sharing your breakthroughs and how he can support you better.

You hold onto the seatbelt, bunching it up in your fist as he pulls out of the relative calm of the parking lot and into the street.

You focus your eyes on the stereo, flipping through the channels. "They do know that saying 'an hour of commercial free music brought to you by blah blah blah' is a commercial in of itself, right?" You groan, switching it off.

He lets out a puff of air, not quite a laugh; but pretty close when paired when the smile he has.

Looking down at your phone, you have a small grin of your own.

"Hey, Hiyyih and Kai are gonna come over tomorrow- oh, if, uhm, if that's okay with you?" You peek over to him, thumb hovering over the send button on your phone until he says it's okay.

Really, you don't have to ask his permission. You're a grown woman and it's your home as well. But you feel the need to.

"I don't have a problem with that," he hums, fingers tapping on the wheel. "Long as Kai sleeps on the couch."

"Really, Joong?" You chuckle quietly, "still with the Kai-hating agenda?"

"I don't hate him! He's a cool kid, I just would prefer that he sleep separately from you for no particular reason..." He shrugs, mumbling the last part, making you laugh harder.

"Yeah, right, no reason," you shake your head, looking back down to your phone.

You go to say something else when a loud honk makes you jump, looking to the source across the road with wide eyes.

────୨ৎ────

The pain was immediate and immense. It didn't creep up. It slammed into you with the force of a thousand suns.

The crack of your bone filled the air. Your scream was ear-shattering as it ripped through your skin.

Your mother's pained gasps. Your father's dizzy groan.

The incessant hiss of something broken in the vehicle, the metal creaking pitifully. The chirping cicadas heard through the lowered windows. The radio quietly continuing, however warbled.

When you had opened your eyes, the world was upside down. Or, rather — the car was. In a ditch, flipped wrong side up; wheels still spinning in the air from your mother's useless attempts to spin out of the way.

"Baby! Baby! Are you okay?!" She yelled through her own pain, shaky hand placed on the roof as she turned her head to look at you. She screamed when she saw you, other hand held to her bleeding stomach. She called your father's name, as if he could do something to help.

He was too busy with the internal bleeding in his head from where he had knocked it. A broken stutter of your name could have been heard if not for your sounds of Earth-shaking pain.

The driver of the truck was unscathed, thanks to the size of his vehicle. He came running, screaming. Into his phone, at you, at your parents. Begging god that you're all okay.

"Three! There's three of them!" He was still yelling as he fell to his knees in the ditch and looked into your car. "A- two women! A man. Oh my god, her arm! Oh, god! We're on —" He never got to give the dispatcher your location.

"Please, please," your mother turned to the man quickly, "help my babygirl!"

He dropped his phone into the dirt, glass crunching under his knees like ice as he crawled forward. "Oh, oh fucking god! I'm so sorry! I- my breaks!"

"Mommy!" You had cried like a blubbering child, clutching your broken arm to your chest as your seatbelt kept you tethered to the backseat, fighting against gravity. The rough fabric biting into your chest and hips.

"It's okay, baby! Mommy's here! I'm right here," she sobbed as she watched the man unbuckle you, a loud shriek breaking in your throat as your arm moved.

"I- I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," was all he could say as he caught you in the short drop. Your legs got cut as he drug you out of the car, your blurry vision catching a glimpse of your father's head rolling towards you.

You didn't hear what he said, but it looked like 'goodbye'. Like he knew he wasn't going to make it.

"It's gonna be o-okay," your mother yelled as he drug you up the ditch.

You were too weak with pain to fight back to your parents as the driver of the truck drug you out of the ditch, laying you on the side of the road. "I'll go- I'm gonna get them."

He left you there. Arm bleeding onto the cement, bone exposed to the elements. The bugs chirping loudly over the thudding of your heart.

And then there was an explosion next to you. Screams. Screams of your name.

And you didn't move. You didn't dare move.

The stars above you blinked down as you stared at them.

You didn't move. Your blood staining the road, your tears sliding down your temples.

There was silence, after a few moments.

The crackling of a fire. The singing insects. A phone ringing somewhere in the distance, going unanswered.

You were cold. You were sweating. You wanted someone to hold you.

Your eyes were drooping as flashing lights came over the horizon, catching your attention with its contrast against the darkness of the sky.

The loud sirens and the screeching of the tires against the quiet of nature made you cringe after having laid there in the calm for half an hour.

"She's alive!" The paramedic had yelled, in absolute disbelief as she ran to you. "She's alive!"

────୨ৎ────

You hadn't remembered any of that.

You only remembered the headlights coming straight for you, the honking — and then you woke up in the hospital.

Now you've just lived through it all over again.

You knew they died. But no one told you how. You were so in shock that they all thought you'd block it out completely.

They thought wrong.

You're lucky Hongjoong pulled over as soon as he noticed your shallow breathes, your far-off eyes shedding tears quickly.

Because you throw yourself out of the car just as he parks it, right into the grass on the side of the road as you scream unintelligibly.

"(Y/n)!" He yells as he unbuckles his seatbelt, not even bothering to take the time to open his door and run over. He climbs over the center console and out of your open door, kneeling beside you.

"Hey, hey," his eyes chase your frantic ones, trying to catch them, "honey! Look at me, please!"

You have tears streaming down your face like a waterfall, gathering at your trembling chin and dripping onto the Earth. You grip the bright green grass so tightly that your knuckles start to lose color. You're shaking your head, mumbling nonsense.

"Look at me!" His sternness breaks through your trance, making your eyes snap to his as he holds your face; your cheeks squished in his palms. "You aren't there."

"W-what?" You're so confused. Disoriented. Lost.

"Look at where we are." When your eyes only stay locked on his, he moves your face for you. Making you look around, "look. You aren't there."

You fall into him, grabbing his thighs as you bury your face in his chest. It seems like that's where it belongs lately. Always being cradled gently and hid from the world.

"What can you feel?"

You shake your head, breathing heavily, "I c-"

"What do you feel, honey? Right now."

Excruciating heartbreak. Unbelievable grief. Guilt. The need to throw up. The need to curl into a ball and never move again.

You push all of those thoughts away, closing your eyes and forcing yourself to breathe. "The wind."

It wasn't windy that night. You were stuck in the heat with no breeze to soothe you, the fire beside you making you sweat. But now it blows around you softly.

"Good, that's good. What else?"

"...You."

He wasn't there that night. You had dug your fingers into the concrete. His thighs are gripped tightly in your hands. You had looked up at the stars. Your face still hidden away in his chest, his hand stroking the back of your head. You were all alone.

"Yeah," he sighs softly with relief as you slump into him, "you're here with me, honey. I've got you."

His hazards still blinking, passenger door open; people slow down as they pass — but they continue on the road when they see it's you.

The local tragedy, pulled into your step-father's lap.

They know better than to interject after the amount of times Hongjoong has slammed the door in their faces when they came to offer their condolences.

"I've got you," he reassures you softly, kissing the top of your head as you slowly pry yourself away from him.

Looking towards the car, you press your lips together. He wipes your tears. He always does.

"I don't, uhm," you look to him, a bit embarrassed. Ashamed, maybe. Or like you're burdening him when you say, "I don't think I can get back in the car."

"We can wait, angel. Take your time. Lets do some of those breathing exercises, yeah?"

────୨ৎ────

"We don't have to do this."

"You don't... I do."

You stand in front of your mother's closed door. It had only been opened once, when Hongjoong went in to fetch some papers. You stayed far away.

He stands right next to you. "Honey, if you aren't ready-"

You grab the doorknob before you can hesitate any longer, pushing the door open quickly.

The light filters in through the open curtains. Her towel is across the back of her vanity chair. Her wedding ring to your father is on her bedside table by a picture of you as a child.

All of her belongings are waiting for her to come home and resume life as normal.

But she never will.

You swallow thickly as you step into the room. It still smells like her perfume. The one you used to steal spritzes of before school. The one that filled the room when she walked in.

"Can-" You look around slowly, eyes welling up with tears, "can I have a moment, please?"

Hongjoong hesitates, lingering in the doorway with the light shining onto him as he watches you. "Y-yeah," he nods when you turn and catch him staring at you. "I'll be, uh, just yell if you need me."

You wait until you can no longer hear him to let your tears start streaming down your face. It's like he has a supernatural sense to know when you're crying — even when you hold your head down or lay with your face away from him.

Pulling back the vanity chair slowly, you take a seat.

And you stay there.

For a long time, you stay there. Hands folded in your lap; staring down at your cast.

"God..." Your voice cracks, lip trembling.

Your mother wasn't deeply religious, but she believed in... something. Something bigger than herself — bigger than any of you.

"Are you there?"

And only the sound of the air conditioner replies.

"Fuck-" You place your elbows on the table and put your face in your hands, "this is so stupid..."

Ms. Cain said that doing something your parents used to do might give you some comfort. Your mother used to pray at her vanity.

Taking a steadying breath, you look up at the ceiling.

"I w- I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say. I should have payed more attention when she prayed out loud... I’m here? I'm here... And- and I don't understand why. I don’t understand why I lived. Why I walked away when they didn't. Why you let me breathe while they- they don't get to do anything. Why am I here and they're all buried? Why I walked away without a goddamn scratch and had to listen to them all burn?!"

You slam your hand over your mouth, tears rolling down your temples as you stare up at the ceiling.

"Why did you make me see that today? I t-tried so hard to block it out... Now, though — it won't leave my head. I keep replaying it. Is this- is this my punishment, God? For surviving? Carrying around the weight of their ghosts in every waking moment? Is that why I survived, just to suffer? Feel them ridicule me from beyond for wasting away? I can’t even take care of myself. Hongjoong is doing everything. Taking care of me because I'm too fucking broken to do it... And I love him for it, I do… But every time he looks at me like that, I feel like a fraud. He didn’t sign up for this, w-"

You swallow your tears and wipe your nose on the back of your hand; looking down and, unfortunately, catching your own eyes in your mother's mirror.

You look and feel pathetic.

"Why did you make me so weak?"

You sneer at your reflection.

"I should be stronger. I should be able to stand on my own by now. B-but I’m not. I can’t. I'm a fucking weak l-little girl and I miss my mommy..."

You sniff up the snot trying to run down your nose and stare at yourself in the blurry reflection.

"I miss my daddy... I w-want to take back all the mean things I said to him! I just want- want one more chance, please! If you do one miracle, please... Please, I've learned my lesson... Just make it stop- make- make me understand why I'm the only one who walked away. I'm so tired of feeling guilty... I don't know h-how to be the lives. I can't bear the weight of it..."

You rest your head on the cool wooden surface of your mother's vanity, sobbing freely.

"Give me a sign. G-give me anything."

Just out in the hallway, Hongjoong sits against the wall with his hand over his mouth — crying just as hard as you; having heard everything.

────୨ৎ────

"Hey, (Y/n)?" Hongjoong knocked gently on your door for the third time as he opened it slowly. "Your mom wanted me t-"

He shut up quickly as he saw you face down in a book, laid on your stomach sideways across your bed.

He pushed the door open and smiled fondly as he came up to your bed. "Honey," he whispered, leaning over and rubbing his thumb on your cheek tenderly to wake you.

"Mh?" You moaned tiredly, blinking up at him a few times while your vision adjusted. "Joongie?"

"Hey, sorry to wake you, ba- but," he corrected himself quickly when he caught himself about to call you 'baby'. "Your mom wants to know where you put the skillet, we can't find it anywhere."

"Oh," you nodded, rubbing your eyes as you lifted yourself up on your elbows.

Your sweater was too big and you looked so comfortable. You had lines on your cheek from resting it on the book. It made his heart warm. Made butterflies flutter in his stomach.

"Under the oven," you yawned, "what's she making?"

"Vegetable soup."

You looked at him confused, sleepy eyebrows pressing together. "In the skillet?"

"I don't know either," he chuckled softly; internally cooing at how you stretched out on your bed, one of your feet dangling off the edge. "You want me to wake you up if it's semi-edible?"

"Mhm, yes, please," you smiled as you closed your book, head falling back down.

"You have a good nap then, honey," he reached and patted your head gently, turning to leave when you called out.

"Joong?"

"Hm?"

"Can you pull up my blanket, please?" You mumbled as you curled up on your side, entirely too comfortable and tired to care if it's a bit of a strange request for the man you've only known a few months.

"Sure," he smiled widely even though you couldn't see it — he can't contain his happiness at the opportunity to do something, if only something small, for you.

He pulls it up slowly, and you sink your grasp into him deeper unintentionally as you smile while cuddle up under the warmth.

"Thanks, Joong~"

"Anything for you, honey."

────୨ৎ────

"(Y/n)?" Hongjoong lifts his head from his pillow and rubs his face before focusing on your figure in his doorway.

The lamp from the living room, where Kai sleeps due to Hongjoongs insistence, shines behind you and casts you in the light in a way akin to a halo.

"Are you girls ok-"

"I can't sleep."

He had thought you wouldn't be able to. He hadn't left your bed since the pill incident.

His own bed felt uncomfortable and unfamiliar as he laid down in it a few hours ago. He can never go back to sleeping alone now that he knows what it feels like to have you next to him. What it's like to fall asleep to the sound of your soft breaths. To wake up in the mornings and have your resting face be one of the first things he sees.

"Me neither." He says truthfully, sliding to one side of the bed and lifting the covers. "Come on, you can lay with me, baby."

Your heart flutters to life in your chest. He's been letting those little nicknames slip so often, like he's been saying them to you for your entire life.

"I can?" You whisper while you enter into the darkness of his room, making your way to the bed with the guidance of the far off lamp in the other room. "You don't mind, Dad?"

You can hear his breathing hitch in his throat, see his fingers twitch in the shadows as he holds the blanket up for you; balling up the fabric in his fist.

You had said it too... purposefully. Like it wasn't subconscious. And it certainly wasn't joking. It sounded like you had meant to say it — you had meant to call him that.

Because you did.

You wait at the side of his bed, swallowing thickly.

"N-no, I don't mind, honey." His response is quick and shaky, and it almost sounds like he doesn't mean it but he does. He means it. "I don't mind at all."

You slide in next to him wordlessly, turning on your side with your back to him; sliding back into him slowly until your back meets his chest. The second it does, his arms are wrapped around you tightly — tightly. Like he's never going to let go. Like he's a snake crushing its prey.

And you melt into his hold with a soft sigh. "Hongjoong..."

"Yes?"

"Do you like it when I call you Dad?"

"...Yes."

And he hopes you can't feel how much he does; his cock is stirring to life in between the layers of fabric of your pajamas separating you.

You do. And for whatever reason, you aren't utterly disgusted like you thought you'd be — like you might have been just a few months ago.

"Hm," you let out a sleepy moan, snuggling your hips back into him. He catches his lip between his teeth quickly, silencing himself as he closes his eyes and presses his forehead against you.

You have no idea what you're doing to him. He thinks with a shaking sigh.

But you do. You started putting the pieces together a few days ago. You're slow and steadily coming back to what's going on around you.

And you know you should be running as far away from Hongjoong as possible as you feel his growing hard-on from you calling him something so... innocent.

But here you are. Willingly in his bed because you couldn't sleep without him. Teasing him. Testing him. Wanting him to pass the test.

"Why?"

It's so quiet between the two of you that you can hear Kai's soft snores from his place all the way on the couch.

"Because," he finally gives in, "I love taking care of you. If you were my little girl, I'd never treat you like he did."

He doesn't have to specify. You both know he's speaking of your dear departed father. Who was so absent most of the time that he could be considered a deadbeat. Especially after the divorce.

But Hongjoong was always there. Always.

"You're so precious... I'd do — I will do anything for you. I want you to have the world. I want you to be happy, honey..."

You reward his answer with the smallest roll of your hips while you sniffle — he passes the test with flying colors; adding a cherry on top when one of his hands comes up to wipe your cheeks so softly.

"Don't cry, baby-"

"I love you, Hongjoong."

His heart is about to slam out of his chest. His blood runs colds, then boiling hot, then he's dunked back into ice. He knows you probably don't mean it, not in a normal way.

But he doesn't care.

You mean it in your way. You mean 'thank you for taking care of me'. You mean 'I wouldn't have minded if I was your little girl'.

You mean it to say, 'I am your little girl, please don't hurt me like he did'.

"I love you." He says back as fast as he can, pulling you impossibly closer; putting a leg over your hip and breathing out a soft moan, "I love you so much."

You don't know why he does. And you don't ask. You just revel in his touch. You let him press his hard length into your backside, and you relax even further into him when he doesn't do anything but snuggle and comfort you despite it.

────୨ৎ────

"I'm just saying," Hiyyih had shrugged, helping you unpack your boxes as you moved into your new home, "don't you think it's a bit weird?"

"Why?" You huffed, wiping your brow after you sat down a heavier box on the unmade bed.

"I mean... what does he get out of all this? Hongjoong seems a bit... off." He did almost quite literally jump at the opportunity to marry your mother when she had mentioned her struggles now that she had no one to split her bills with besides you — and she hated putting that pressure on you.

"I think he's cool," you replied as you looked around the bare bones room. "He's just a really nice guy. He's worked with my mom for a while."

"Maybe." She did the same, smiling over to you, whispering, "maybe you could lose your virginity to him~"

"Hiyyih!" You yelled, aghast. "He's my step-dad!" You lowered you volume quickly, slapping her arm, "don't be gross."

"Ow! Whaaaat? I'm just teasing you," she shoved you back playfully, "I know you like older men-"

There was a small fumble outside in the hall, sounding like a dropped box. "Everything okay?" You asked as you both made your way, seeing your brand-new step-father lifting a box off the floor with a small blush on his cheeks.

"Oh, yeah! Just, be careful over there," he nodded to the floor, "uhm, loose floorboard."

"I don't s-"

"How's unpacking going?" He interrupted quickly, looking into your room, "aaah. You gotta get busy, kid. See ya!"

He shuffled down the hall quickly, disappearing into what would be his room while you and Hiyyih watched confusedly.

"Yeah," you sighed as you turned back into your bedroom, "maybe he's a bit off."

────୨ৎ────

"I'm just saying," Hiyyih says softly, quietly as you sit at the table the next morning. "I would have cuddled with you." She pouts playfully, earning herself a small smile from your lips.

They've gotten more of those, slowly.

"Didn't have to leave me all alone and go to some old man. I thought we were best friends~"

"He's not that old," you let yourself laugh. Just a little. Just a small huff of amused air. But it lightens the tense sadness that's been in the house ever since you got back from the hospital.

"He's practically ancient," Kai chuckles from beside you, nibbling on his breakfast.

"C'mon, you guys," you laugh a little louder — and Hiyyih can see the light in your eyes that's been void for so many weeks. "You're acting like he's sixty years old, he's only thirty eight..."

Kai chokes on his juice, placing a hand to his chest. "What!? Oh, my god! He's way older than I thought he was. He has such a baby face..."

The genuine, light hearted sound of your giggle makes the siblings crack a mirrored grin; wide and happy.

"You guys are ridiculous." You smile — and it reaches all the way to your eyes.

"Showers open," Hongjoong says as he enters the room, wet hair pushed back and a towel hanging around his neck.

"Me!" Kai stands up quickly, sticking his tongue out at Hiyyih as she slumps back in her chair; having barely stood up. He slides the rest of his fruit onto your plate and smiles down softly at you.

"Thanks, Kai," you smile back, leaning up and pecking his lips, "save Hiyyih some warm water, don't be a jerk."

"No promises," he chuckles before heading off in the direction of the bathroom, squeezing past Hongjoong; who stands in the doorway frozen.

He stays there, still, as you and Hiyyih return to your conversation. Her asking what you would like to do today, you asking if she's okay with watching a movie you've both seen a million times, her saying 'totally!'

"Honey." His voice makes you turn around in your chair.

"Mhm?"

"Come get dressed," he says, already turning around into the hall after tossing his towel onto the couch.

"I'm still eat-"

"Now."

You're a bit taken back. After such a meaningful moment last night, why is he being so... weird? You give Hiyyih a confused look, and she returns it. "Maybe he has to talk to you about something," she shrugs, pushing around her food with her fork.

"I'll be right back, be thinking of a movie we can all watch." You sigh as you get up, making your way down the empty hallway and to your room quickly.

He's there, going through your clothes and picking your outfit out like he always does. "Close the door."

"They've seen me-"

"Close it."

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you do what he asks, closing the door with a soft click.

"What's going on with you, Joong?"

Whatever it is, you don't like it. He isn't being soft and sweet with you. He's being short and distant.

"Nothing." He hums as he unbuttons your sleep shirt, his eyes avoiding yours. "What makes you ask?"

"You're being weird."

"No, I'm not," he says shortly as he slides your shirt down your arms.

"Bullshit."

His eyes flick up to yours quickly. A staring contest ensues, neither of you backing down even as he slides down your sleep shorts; purposefully gliding his fingertips over the round of your ass.

"Tell me, I don't like how you're acting." You huff as you kick them away, trying to ignore the heat growing up your neck as you stand in nothing but your underwear under his intense gaze.

You gasp as he cups the sides of your face in his palms, quickly backing you up until your back collides with the wall softly. Just a single molecule of air between you as he looks deep into your eyes and asks, "did you do that on purpose?"

"W-"

"Kissing some little boy in front of me?" He near spits the words, like they burn his soul. And maybe they do.

You kiss everyone on the lips. He dealt with it before — shoved his misplaced jealously deep down so it never saw the light of day — because you weren't truly his to be jealous of in the first place; and they were all platonic pecks anyway.

Not anymore.

You're all his. And you should act like it.

"Did that to make me jealous? Hm? Kissing someone else in my house?"

Your eyes widen a bit, watching this all new side of him closely. "Your house? What, I don't p- jealous?" You breathe out; a sweet smelling puff of air that nearly knocks him off his feet.

He presses closer to you. His eyes keep flicking to your lips. Not an inch between you. His body against yours.

"Are you jealous? Joong, it's not like he shoved his tongue down my th-"

Your words get muffled by his lips on yours with more passion than you've ever felt before. His tongue in your mouth before you can even blink. Before you can even think. Staring at his closed eyes for a moment before you follow his lead, letting your eyes close and opening up your mouth just a fraction of an inch.

Even just those words coming from you — the very image of it shoved him off the deep end.

He's the only one who can do that. Him. Him. Only him.

Only he can touch you. Only he can taste you.

You taste like your breakfast, like honey oatmeal and fruit. He can't get enough. He licks every single inch he can reach, moving your lips against each other slowly until neither of you can breathe properly.

He presses your foreheads together, staring into your very soul.

"You- you kissed me." You stutter out through your blissful puzzlement. Eyes locked on his and nowhere else to go while he cradles your jaw.

"Have I not been giving you enough loving, is that it, baby?" He pants against your lips, grinding his hips into you. He just about fucking melts when you let out a shocked little moan, grabbing his wrists for purchase. "You want Daddy to pay more attention to you? That why you're acting out?"

He can see the cogs turning in your head, clanging against each other roughly as they try to sort how you feel about what he just said. What he just called himself.

"C'mere," he smirks to himself as you let him pull you away from the wall without a fight; still processing his words. Still possessing the way he shoved his tongue into your mouth.

"My Honey wants all of Daddy's attention?" You land on your bed with a soft thud — he throws you onto it —arms sprawling out to either side of you and fingers gripping the fabric. "Is that why you're kissing other people when you belong to me? To get me all worked up so I'll put you back in your place?"

"N-no." You gulp, finding your legs spreading with a mind of their own.

"Don't look at me like that, sweetheart... Like you're shocked~" He grins, dark and calculating, as he crawls over you; slotting himself between your open legs. "I know you felt me last night..." He whispers against your lips, holding himself up with one hand planted on the mattress next to your head — the other tracing up the side of your torso ghostly soft.

"We can't-"

"Why not?" He counters quickly, wild eyes flicking all over your face.

"Hiyyih a-and Kai-" His lips silence you again quickly, kissing you deep and rough — but fast, too. Leaving you stunned as he pulls back just as fast as he came in.

"Don't make me spank you..." He groans, hips grinding into you lightly, "say some else's name while your under me and I swear, baby-"

It's your turn to cut him off, tossing your good arm around his neck and pulling him down to your lips. Messy and less refined than his technique — but just as much passion in your movements.

He moans into you, his hand finally continuing its journey and landing on your breast. Giving it a light squeeze; he slips his tongue back into your mouth when you let out a gasp. He stretches it so far from his mouth, into yours, that the intrusion causes a soft gag to bubble up your throat.

"Fuck-" He has to pull back quickly, moving to sit on his knees as he stays hunched over you. He pulls your thighs over his, your hips hovering just over the bed and your pelvises pressed together. "You feel what you do to me, Honey?"

You can only breathe heavily in response, looking at him with... something in your eyes.

You have no idea what you're doing. All you know is that he feels so good against you — your clit is starting to throb, begging for attention.

"Make me cum, Daddy-"

"Don't say shit unless you mean it, pretty girl." He's breathing just as heavy, every fiber of his being having to be held back from yanking your panties down and showing you what else his tongue can do.

He wants to show you what a real man can do. Not all of the little boys, the men your age. The ones who treat you bad and make you come back home to him crying. He can take care of you in life and in bed.

"I mean it," you nod, rolling your hips — and only getting half way because he grabs them tightly; eyes narrowing down on you.

"I'm going to grind my cock on you until we both cum," he says lowly as he leans down to your neck, giving it a soft kiss, "and you'd better keep the volume down unless you want your friends to hear your step-dad making you cream your panties."

You don't think it will be a problem, you're never very loud when you masturbate —

"Oh~" You slap your hand over your mouth quickly as he starts rolling his clothed bulge into you. Slow and deep, pulling your hips to meet his.

"What did I say, sweetheart?" He chuckles airily into your neck, goosebumps raising on your skin. "You want to get caught with Daddy humping your little cunt?"

You shake your head quickly, planting your feet on the bed for leverage to grind into him; meeting his movements with his guidance.

You'd probably be mortified if either one of them caught you. Not because it's Hongjoong, but because it's sex. And you've never done anything like it. And you've certainly never been caught doing anything like it.

You just want him to make you cum. And he's moving towards that goal quickly.

A whine breaks off in your throat as he leaves kiss after kiss on your neck.

"G-god," he grits his teeth for a moment, speeding up as he rubs his bulge against your steadily dampening panties. "You're so fucking cute, Honey..."

"I- gonna-" You grab at his shoulder, meeting his eyes as he looks up from your neck; whispering so needily that he can't help but smirk.

The sight of his lips curling into that dark grin makes you moan — his hand cupping over your mouth as your jaw drops.

"Gonna cum for me, angel? Yeah?" He leans his forehead on yours, practically fucking your hips into the bed now; keeping you pinned as he drowns you in pleasure. His eyes might as well be sparkling as he looks into yours while you nod. "Aww, yeah you are~ My sweet virgin is so needy-" His eyebrows press together, his cock aching for release. "I bet- oh, fuck~ I bet your little pussy is so wet for me..."

Your back arches off the bed, his voice sending you into a shivering mess of muffled moans as you cum — his dirty words paired with the massaging pressure of his clothed cock making your clit tingle. Your eyes roll into your head, so you miss the way he grins like a maniac as he starts grinding into you harder; chasing his own peak.

"Fuck- This is so much better than I ever thought, baby..." He whispers breathily into your ear, "you're so fucking gorgeous when you cum~ I could never have imagined it. Oh-" His hand quickly slides up from your twitching hips, grabbing your waist tightly as he moves to lay completely on top of you — all of his weight in his hips as he grinds into your overstimulated cunt like he's trying to fuck you through the layers of fabric.

You grab his arm tightly, toes curling into the blanket, sounds still quieted by his hand as you start to tremble underneath him.

He laughs softly, cheeks flushing with a blush as he teases himself; dragging the moment out and stopping himself from cumming because he wants it to last forever.

"Do you know how many times I jerked off while thinking of you?" He says it before he even realizes. The words roll off his tongue without hesitation — and apparently he doesn't have to worry about it because you only moan louder behind his hand.

"Oh, naughty little girl~" He kisses your forehead shockingly soft for the situation, "you like that idea? T-thinking about it going to make you cum again? Fuck, what if I told you I did it with your panties? That I wrapped them around my cock and came all over them-"

You know that's incredibly perverted. It's a violation of your privacy.

But it makes you cum so hard you blank for a good few moments, vision going white and entire body spasming.

He isn't far behind; replacing his hand with his lips and muffling your sounds with his tongue in your mouth as he cums into his boxers with a deep whine.

When you've finally stopped moaning every other second, he pulls back slowly and licks your lips gently.

Your vision is blurry when you come back down to your body, and for a moment you wonder if he's fucked you so good — without even taking your panties off — that you've gone cross eyed.

"Shhh," he coos softly as he swipes up your tears with his thumbs, "shhh, Daddy's got you, pretty girl~"

And he's not letting go.

────୨ৎ────

You were sad.

Hongjoong could tell. Anyone who looked at you could have guessed by your slumped shoulders and the large hoodie you hid yourself in as you waited for your food at the microwave. Arms crossed over your chest and leaning against the counter.

"Do you want to talk ab-"

He barely got to ask before you went off, gesturing wildly and rambling about what had you upset.

You'd come to trust him in all these months of him being in your life.

"I don't understand why men are such jerks! No offense, you're chill- but, like... damn! It's like you're the only man I know that isn't a complete asshole! I asked my father to come over and watch a new movie with me and he's like, 'not tonight, I'm going to a friends place to watch the game', like —" You yanked the microwave open to stop it's incessant beeping, "hello!? I'm your daughter! I'm trying to spend time with you and you'd rather go and watch a stupid game!"

You slammed the microwave shut again after you got your food, leaning your hands on the counter and looking down with a sigh.

Hongjoong just watched for a moment; let you vent all of your frustration — anger in his heart but love in his eyes.

"What movie did you want to watch, sweetheart?"

You looked up slowly, unshed tears in your eyes and your chin trembling slightly. You didn't say anything, but he could tell you were asking why he'd asked.

"I could watch it with you, if- if you want me too. I know I'm not your father, but if you want some company-"

You crashed into his chest so fast he didn't even see it coming. Wrapped your arms around him so tightly it made his heart melt for you all over again.

"I'd love some company."

────୨ৎ────

A week later, you sit on the couch beside him in complete silence while he works on his laptop. He doesn't mind the silence.

You, though, can't stand the silence. It leaves you with nothing but your thoughts.

"Hongjoong?"

He looks up quickly, eyes on you within the second, "yes?"

"Do you think... you- uhm," you hesitate a bit, slightly embarrassed, but your need to do something outweighs it. "You think you could come on a walk with me?"

"A walk?" He raises his brow slightly before nodding, "of course." He saves his work document before all but throwing the device onto the recliner across from you.

"Really? Right now?" You ask as you stand, eyes slightly wide.

"Yeah," he smiles, pulling you towards the door by your hand gently. "It's good to get out of the house! I'm glad you finally want to go somewhere, angel," he pulls your shoes from the rack and kisses your head, "we can go for as long or as little as you want to. Can go wherever you want~"

A smile tugs its way onto your lips as you take in his words. "Maybe- maybe just around the neighborhood a few times?"

"Deal," he hums as he kneels and pulls your sneakers over your socks.

The white shirt and colorful shorts he'd picked out for you this morning felt a bit... strange to go out in. But, maybe it's just because you haven't been anywhere besides therapy.

He ties the laces up and pats your foot softly before pulling his own shoes on.

"Come on, Honey," he holds your hand gently as he opens up the door; leading you as you step into the outside world.

────୨ৎ────

A few days pass. You go on a walk with Hongjoong at least once a day.

You start feeling better. More and more each day.

You have less nightmares. Sleep through the night, for the most part. Your arm doesn't have phantom pains anymore. The scars on your legs don't make you want to scratch your skin off when you look at them. You can't take your pills without being reminded of when you swallowed two whole bottles. You feel good.

You feel good enough to cook your famous ramen. Good enough invite Bumjoong and your friends over.

Hongjoong watches you with the biggest smile on his face as you set the pot of noodles at the table with the chicken and beer Bumjoong brought with him.

Bumjoong leans next to him on the wall, similarly smiling as they watch you check your phone; excited for the first time since the accident.

"Good job, Hong," he whispers to his brother.

"With what?" He tears his eyes away from you and looks at him, still smiling as he hears you hum to the music you're playing.

"Taking care of her. Helping her through everything. I know it's been rough..." He tilts his head, looking at Hongjoong intently.

"You love her, don't you?"

The words make him freeze, staring at him blankly; eyes slightly wide.

Bumjoong isn't blind; and he isn't stupid, either. He sees the way his little brother looks at you when he thinks nobody is paying attention. He notices when he places his hand on your lower back while passing behind you — even when there's enough room. He hears the love in his voice when he speaks about you.

He could sense the pure panic the night of the accident, when he got the call from the hospital because you put him as your next emergency contact. Before your own father, it was Hongjoong.

Panic like he'd never seen in his brother before panic. Not something that someone would have when they got the news that the child of the person they married out of convenience was in the hospital with a broken arm. No —

It was axiety like the love of his life had just been shot to bits.

"Hongjoong?"

He swallows, feeling like the world is about to collapse around him.

"It's okay."

"Jesus, fuck you," Hongjoong sighs, relieved, as he hugs him tightly, "you sacred me. I thought you were going to try and scold me."

Bumjoong chuckles as he hugs him back, patting his shoulders. "I get it, man, you've been through alot together. And she's sweet," they both look over to you as you run to the door when the bell rings; the fastest you've moved in weeks. "You, uhm, does she know?"

"Yeah, she does," he grins as you greet the siblings with a kiss — to their cheeks.

────୨ৎ────

"Hey, honey!" Hongjoong yelled over the pouring rain, passenger side window rolled down as he pulled up to the grocery store you work at.

"You came?" You asked, genuinely surprised, "I could have waited for my mom!" You leant a bit further away from the wall, under the awning and protected from the downpour for the most part.

"Nonsense! You'll catch a cold out here, come on," he leaned over and cracked the door open, rolling the window back up; leaving no room for argument.

You ran quickly, and were in the safety of his car within thirty seconds. But you were soaked to the bone nonetheless, your work shirt clinging to you. "Shit, I'm dripping all over your seat, I'm sorry, Joong."

"It's okay," he laughed as he started driving, looking over to you as you buckled your seat belt. "Did you have a good day at work, honey?"

"Eh," you smiled, "same old, same old." You kept pulling the soaked fabric from your chest and torso just for it to cling back onto it.

"Are-" He cleared his throat, fingers drumming on the wheel, "you should take that off." When you looked over to him quickly, eyebrows raised, he hurried to say, "if it's making you uncomfortable! I mean, I don't- I have, uh, a blanket in the back seat you could cover up with."

You relaxed in the seat, letting out an amused huff of air, "sorry. I thought you were being a pervert again."

He laughed, genuine and taken off guard.

He'd been married to your mother for almost ten months now. You'd gotten comfortable with him, enough to joke and let your own guard down. He'd been slow and steadily worming his way into your life.

"God, that's what you think of me? I'm hurt, honey~"

"Yeah, don't get too worked up, old man~" You returned his joking tone as you peeled your soaked shirt off, setting it by your feet, "you might have a heart attack."

He might actually, catching a glimpse of you in your bra with his peripheral vision; forcing his eyes to stay on the road. The little bow in the middle of it caught his attention as you leaned and reached into the backseat.

He could pull over. He could just pull over and tell you to take your pants off as well. He c-

"Why do you have a blanket in your car anyway?" You asked as you pulled it around you, cuddling into the warm fabric.

He swallowed before he answered, taking a breath. Thankfully for the casual conversation to get the image of you in your cute bra out of his head. "I get cold when I work from the office, they keep it fucking freezing in there."

"Ah," you nodded in understanding, "it's comfy... Smells like you." You hummed contentedly as you closed your eyes, bundled up in the dry blanket and feeling so cozy and safe.

"S- what? What do I smell like?" He felt a blush creeping up his cheeks.

You know what he smells like.

"Like that one fancy cologne in the bathroom," you smiled, subconsciously nuzzling your nose deeper into the blanket, "and like... something Earthy. It's nice. I like it."

He could pull over. He could park on the side of the road and h-

"Thanks..." He bit at his thumb quietly while focusing solely on the road, hoping you don't open your eyes and see his blush.

He was starting to get impatient with the more time that went on; and you were starting to get more comfortable with him; and it made him want you more — an inescapable loop.

He doesn't know he won't have to wait much longer.

────୨ৎ────

Your body is warm with the effects of the alcohol, head pleasantly fuzzy as you hug Hiyyih and Kai goodbye; waving to them the entire time while they get into her car and back up before Hongjoong finally pulls you inside with a laugh.

Bumjoong left a little bit before them, giving Hongjoong a knowing smile and you a hug before he did.

"Come on, sweet girl."

"Bye!" You shout with one more wave as he shuts the door.

It's quiet for a moment after the loudness of the small gathering. You turn to him with a smile. "Thanks f-"

His lips are on yours before you can even finish thinking of your sentence. Cradling your jaw and moving against you slowly.

It takes you a moment before you come to your senses, slightly inebriated and lagging behind. You open your mouth against his, following his movements.

He licks at your bottom lip as he pulls back, opening up his eyes slowly. When you do the same — you see his are fully dilated as he says, "you're so pretty when you smile."

"Shut up," you laugh shyly; like you didn't just have his tongue in your mouth.

"I mean it, baby~" He hums, trailing his hands down the straps of your tank top slowly — the one he picked out in the morning.

He can't get over the fact that you still let him dress you even as you're healing and placing yourself back to a somewhat functional human. He hopes you'll never stop. He'd probably cry. And then you'd probably keep letting him.

"You're my pretty angel," he whispers sincerely, making the heat in your face multiply quickly.

"I w-" You scan his expression, searching for any hint he might be lying and finding nothing. Pure adoration in his eyes.

At least, that's what you think it is.

"Will you touch me, Daddy?"

His eyes snap back to yours. "What?"

You hadn't called him that in more than a week — not since he had gotten jealous and made you cum twice in five minutes.

It makes his face just as hot as yours is. One simple word and he's about to rip your clothes off.

You step forward, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Touch me, Daddy." You say again, more confidently as you watch him nearly fall apart from the sound of your voice.

You yelp in surprise as he pushes you against the door, pressing his forehead to yours. "Have you ever been fingered before, baby?" His question, the nonchalant way he asks it, catches you a bit off guard.

"No," you breathe after a moment, "I only... I only ever played with my clit."

"Good god-" He moans, burying his face in your neck and kissing at it just as passionately as he does your lips. "Fuck, Honey," he says between his heated kisses; his hands roaming all over your torso, "you have no idea how perfect you are..."

He certainly flipped the script quickly, making you fall apart with his words and the utter desperation he whispers them with.

"I want to ruin you so badly," comes from his lips as a low whine while he presses his hips against you. "Will you let me? Let me show you how good I can make you feel."

You want nothing more than to feel good; and you don't want it from anyone else, either.

"Yes," you seal your fate with a soft moan as he sucks on your neck. "Please, I wan- I want you to show me..."

"Come on, sweetheart," he lands another kiss to your jaw and takes your hand in his, "Daddy will make you feel so good, promise~"

"Promise, promise?" You swallow thickly as he guides you to your room.

"I promise, promise." He smiles over his shoulder at you, "I'll make you cum so good, pretty girl. Don't you worry, I'm gonna take care of you."

"And we- we don't have to..." You squeeze his hand tightly as he twirls you to be in front of him, sitting you down on the edge of your bed. "Go all the way, right?"

He spreads your knees with his, standing between them and looking down at you — with unadulterated lust, something dark shining in his eyes. "Not until you're ready, Honey," he grins wide before leaning and placing a kiss to your forehead. "I can show you lots of other things in the meantime~"

"Thank you, Daddy," you let yourself smile as you place your good hand on his hip; touch soft as a feather.

Your touch and your voice and the trust you put in him — he's already so hard. He can't stop imagining how warm your cunt must be, how it might taste, what he could do to make you squirm and beg for his cock.

"Be honest with me, angel," he hums as he kneels between your legs. His hands find the hem on your shirt and you quickly lift your arms to allow him to rid you of it. "How much do you know about your own cunt?"

"Wh- huh?" You blank, staring at him with slightly wide eyes; eyebrows raising.

He laughs softly, sliding his hands up your back and undoing your bra quickly. "I mean... You've really only ever played with your clit? You've never got curious?" He trails off slowly while pulling your bra away.

You suddenly feel very exposed. He sees you naked everyday. He has for a while. But this feels different.

You have so much spit in your mouth, swallowing so much; but your throat is bone-dry.

"You've never put... anything inside?" The way he says it is hopeful, but you don't lock in on it. Nor do you realize the smirk that tugs on his lips as you say —

"No... I've thought about it, but- I'm just scared it will hurt."

"Aw, sweet girl," he rests his head on your thigh, looking up at you, "you don't have to be scared when I'm here. Okay? I know what I'm doing, baby. I'll make it feel so good you forget you're even a virgin~" You can't help but moan when he places a tender kiss to your inner thigh. "You trust me, Honey?"

Despite the little skip of your heart that tells you not to — you nod. "Y-yeah."

"Lift your hips." And when you do, he pulls your shorts and underwear down in the same slow, fluid motion; tossing them to the side. Leaving you completely bare and him still fully clothed.

The both of you try to speak at the same time, leaving you to let out an airy giggle. "Sorry."

"You first, sweetheart." He says gently while rubbing your thighs, eyes locked on you like you might disappear if he looks away.

"Can you take your clothes off, too? Just- just a little?"

His eyes crinkle as he smiles, nodding quickly, "of course. How selfish of me~"

You feel like your entire face and neck is sunburnt as he stands up and pulls his shirt over his head. You're so hot you might as well be sweating —

"You're sweating, baby," he coos, swiping the sweat from your brow with his knuckle and feeling how heated you are. "Are you still nervous?"

"No," you say a little too fast, giving yourself away if the way he bites his lip to conceal his laugh says anything. "Just hot in here..."

He turns away and pulls the fan closer to the bed, turning it onto you. "Lay down, pretty girl. Don't be shy."

It's hard not to be when a man who's so clearly aroused is taking off his pants. A handsome man, at that. And one who takes care of you so good.

"Do you want me to tell you what I'm going to do before I do it?" He asks as he crawls over you, straddling your hips.

"Mh, please," you lean into his palm as he cups your cheek. You're starting to be more than wet with all the soft touches he's been giving you. Starting to get more needy.

Just how he wants you.

"I'm going to eat you out, yeah?" He smiles so innocently for the words he speaks, making your breath catch in your throat.

"Y- fuck, please?" You beg, eyes soft and pleading as you look up at him.

"How could I say no to that?" He chuckles as he moves down, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses in his wake. "Spread," he says; even though he moves to do it for you before you register his words. He pushes your thighs apart, staring down at your wetness.

"Quit it-" You squeal as you quickly cover your heat with your hand, "you- you're staring."

"So?" He deadpans, grabbing your wrist gently and placing your hand over your stomach; out of the way. "I'm about to lick it, baby, and you're shy about me looking?"

Yes. You can't help it. You huff embarrassedly, tossing your head back into the pillow.

"God, you're so cute~" He groans to himself as he lays on his stomach — truly face to face with your cunt now. "Don't hide from me, angel," he says while he lets go of your wrist; trailing his fingertips along your arm. "Let me see my pretty girl."

"Sorry," you bring your hand up to your face instead, rubbing your face. "I'm nervous, still."

"Don't be." His lips graze your mound, kissing just above your slit. "You said you trust me. Were you fibbing, little girl?"

Your hips move with a mind of their own, fidgeting to get closer to his mouth. "No, Daddy..." You whisper without even thinking about it. Aching for his touch which is just inches away, rubbing your legs.

"No? Then relax, Honey~ Daddy will take perfect care of you."

"M'kay," you nod, looking up at the ceiling still as you take a deep breath.

You really have no reason to be so nervous. You trust Hongjoong. You know he won't hurt you.

But it's the first time anyone has been so close to you — had you so exposed. So vulnerable.

Your shoulders relax the second his tongue meets your slit. "Oh, fuck..." You bite down on your knuckle as he drags his flattened tongue all the way up; over your clit so warm and gentle that it makes you shiver. A full body twitch running through you as he points his tongue and circles it slowly.

He's almost as blissed out as you. Your arousal on his tastebuds is sending his mind into overdrive — a million thoughts running through his mind, and none at all at the same time.

"D-do that again," you whine as you roll your hips towards his mouth, "again, Daddy~"

He has to take a deep breath, closing his eyes to stop staring at your chest as it rises and falls. "Again, Honey?"

"Y- oh!" Your hand flies down and grips his hair as he does it again — and again, and again. "Oh my god!" You cry out, fingers curling into the sheet and into his scalp as he licks at your slit; bobbing his head slowly.

The second he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks — your back arches off the bed and your jaw is dropped in a silent scream as you suddenly tumble over the peak of your pleasure.

An unintelligible moan falls past your lips as you slump back onto the mattress, panting softly and clinging to his hair like a lifeline. Your hips twitch as he gives one more slow, steady lick up the length of your slit.

"Didn't that feel so good, pretty baby?" He chuckles, licking his lips and squeezing your thighs gently from where his arms are wrapped under your legs.

"Holy shit..." You respond with a gulp, slowly letting go of his head and letting your arms falls.

He kisses your inner thigh softly, slipping one of his hands down; making you gasp as he slides a finger up your slit. "I'm gonna go slow, baby," he coos as you fidget a bit.

"Mmh," you relax again immediately as he places a kiss to your sensitive clit — and his finger slips right into you. It's a strange and foreign feeling, but pleasant as he slowly thrusts it in and out of you.

"My god..." He moans from between your legs, "you're so h-hot." He takes his lip between his teeth, resting his head on your thigh and watching closely as your hole swallows up his finger.

When he adds a curling motion to his leisurely thrusts — your brain all but short circuits. You shake your head, confused by the sudden rush of intense pleasure that hits you every time his pushes his finger in and curls it. "W-what the fuck- oh!" You whine, bucking your hips into his hand before he places his forearm over your pelvis and holds you down. "No, no, please, it feels so good!"

"Yeah~? Feels so good, Honey?"

"Yes!" You nod quickly, finally brave enough to look down at him; lifting yourself up on your elbows. "I th-think you're touching my g-spot."

His eyebrow raises quickly, "I am?"

"I th-" A groan breaks off in your throat as he slowly sides another finger into you, curling them both right into the same spot that has tingles spreading through your body. "Definitely! Oh, fuck, definitely!"

He curses under his breath, torn between watching your faces little twitches of pleasure and watching his slick fingers disappear inside of you. "I want you to cum again for me, angel," he moans, sliding a bit further down to lick around his fingers; making you squeal and fall right back down into your back.

"G-gonna!" Your hips still squirm under his arm as he presses you to the bed, unsure of what to do with the all new pleasure.

When he spreads his fingers inside of you; you lose your mind. Clenching involuntarily around his digits as you cum, hand slapping over your mouth instinctively as you let out a broken scream. Thighs tightening around his head and eyes squeezed shut.

"That's it, that's it, sweet girl," he rubs your hip softly as he keeps your trembling form held down. "Keep cumming~"

You whine loudly from behind your hand, your cunt tender with ecstasy and he isn't stopping; not even slowing down his steady pace. "Hongjoong!"

"One more, pretty baby," his voice is muffled as he kisses your clit. He chuckles deep in his throat as you cry out — slapping the bed and writhing below him.

When he wraps his lips around you again and sucks rougher than before — you have no choice but to cum again.

You swear you black out for a few seconds, completely taken over by mind-numbing pleasure as you moan incoherently and kick your legs weakly.

He just about cums in his boxers as a small splash of liquid hits his jaw and neck. He moans loudly, vibrating against your overstimulated cunt and making you wail; fingers dug in the sheets tightly. "Daddy!!"

He pulls his fingers away quickly, another low rumble in his throat as another gush comes with his rough motion. He shoves your thighs open and climbs back up quickly, his chin dripping your own arousal onto your body. "Open, baby," his breathes heavily, all but shoving his fingers into your mouth.

"Fuck-" He looks down at you, awe-stuck, as you start sucking on his digits immediately; your eyes closed blissfully and your breath uneven. "Look at my girl~"

You only hum around him, your pussy buzzing and your mind fuzzy.

He's so enamored by you that he can't help but grind on your stomach, a needy whine stuck in his throat. "Suck 'em clean, sweetheart." He rolls his hips onto you as he rubs between the valley of your breasts softly.

Swirling your tongue around his fingers, slipping it between them; you can taste yourself and you don't find yourself minding one bit as he continues to coo soft praises towards you.

"There we go, angel," he smiles as you finally open your eyes, dragging his fingers out slowly. "Feeling good?"

"So good, Daddy," you smile back up at him dizzily, "did-" You try to sit up, falling right back down, "did I squirt on you?!"

He laughs at your sudden realization, nodding, "you did, Honey."

"I've never done that before," you mumble with wide eyes; letting him maneuver your legs and press them together. You've never done any of these things before.

"Aww, really?" He asks with a fresh wave of lust in his eyes, grinding his bulge on your stomach softly. "Daddy was the first one to make you squirt?"

You nod with a whimper as he moves lower, pressing himself against the front of your sensitive cunt.

He cups your cheek in one hand, the other placed by your head; soiling your pillowcase with your spit. "You're such a good girl for me, you know that? Daddy's perfect little girl~"

"Fuck-" You wriggle as the fabric of his boxers drags along your puffy clit. "Sen- I'm sensitive..."

"Shhh, I know, baby," he grins before leaning down and pecking your lips softly. "Can you take just a little bit more for me?"

"Are you gonna... put it in?"

Fuck, he might if you keep looking at him like that — eyes all wide and shiny with unshed tears.

"Not today, Honey," he shakes his head to reassure you, but his next words make you shiver. "I'm gonna have to stretch you out a lot more before I do, or I'd split you in half."

"What?" You stutter, hands going up and fingers clinging to his sides.

"Oh, not really, sweet girl," he chuckles as he pulls his underwear down past his hips. Giving you another kiss before he sits up and rids himself of them completely.

"Oh my god- yes, really!" You gasp as you look down. "What the fuck, Joong? You have a fucking monster cock- that's never going to fit inside me, no fucking way-" You curse as you push yourself up, making him laugh even more.

It is slightly intimidating, especially because it's the first one you've ever seen in person.

"I'm sorry-" He says as he covers his mouth to hide his amusement, "sorry, Honey. You're just so cute... C'mere." He yanks you back down by your ankles suddenly, making you yelp.

"Don't worry, baby," he moans as he kiss your neck, slowly jerking himself off above you. "Daddy will make sure you're all soaking wet and stretched out before you take it~"

"You're h-huge, Daddy..." You sigh as you melt under his lips, "I bet-" You giggle breathlessly, "I bet you could really make me squirt with your di- hmmph~" You press your lips together tightly as his tip meets your aching clit, an embarrassingly loud moan muffled.

"Don't tease me, sweetheart..." He groans as he rubs the head of his cock on you. "Might not be able to stop myself if you say those things."

"I'm sorry," you whine quickly, "I'm sorry, don't!"

He eases your panic before it can fester, "I'm not going to, angel. I'm not. I'm not one of those little boys you've hung out with — I have some self control. Just don't- don't tease, m'kay? I already want you so badly..." He whispers as he glides his cock against your wet slit, looking down at it intently.

"S-sorry," you bite back another whine as he grinds his bare cock against you. "A-"

"Close your legs," he says quickly, helping you bring your wobbly legs together. "Gonna fuck you one way or another," he groans impatiently, fisting his length more roughly as he straddles your thighs.

"How are- oh," you blink up at him with soft shock written on your face as he slots his length between your thighs; right against your wetness.

"So warm..." He pants as he starts a steady pace — laying above you and fucking into your thighs; his cock sliding against you. "G-god, you're so wet~ Making a little mess of yourself, baby."

He buries his face in your neck, sucking at your skin roughly and making you gasp. His arms wrap around your shoulders; pressing you chest to chest. Yours find their way around his neck, clinging to him as another orgasm creeps up on you.

Tears start streaming down your face, your thighs trembling around him and your volume impossible to control as you moan.

"Such a needy girl, aren't you~? You love it, angel?"

"Yes!" You pant out quickly, "yes, yes, please!"

His hips are slamming against yours, filling the room with the sound of skin colliding. If he was inside of you — you're sure you'd actually split in half from his sheer force.

"Fucking hell, baby," he licks up your neck, digging his fingers into your shoulders and pushing your legs together tighter with his own. "I need you to cum," he says as he leans up and presses his forehead to yours.

"Honey," he smiles widely as he registers your tears, "you crying for me? Yeah~? I bet your virgin cunt is so overwhelmed~"

"Sh-shut up," you whine embarrassedly, slapping his back weakly.

"Oh, yeah, it is~ Needy little crybaby never had someone make her feel so good before, don't know how to handle it," he laughs airily, slowing down his hips and pressing closer to your slit; making you sob. "Shhh," he squeezes your shoulders, kissing up some of your tears, "don't try to fight it. I know, it's so much for my sweet girl... But you can do it~ Give me one more, one more, sweetheart. Do it for Daddy-"

You let out an unintelligible yell, trembling like a leaf in the wind below him and crying your eyes out as the overwhelming pleasure washes over you.

"F-fuck, oh, fuck~" He moans loudly, rubbing against you for just a moment longer before he sits up quickly; straddling your thighs and holding your waist tightly with one hand while stroking his length quickly.

His noise is almost as needy as yours as he cums all over your stomach, his fingers digging into you as his eyes roll back. More low whines and mindless praises before he finally lays back over you with a long, contented sigh.

His mess is still on your stomach, and it gets on him as well as he hugs you tightly; but neither of you mind or notice. "My Honey..." He moans breathlessly, rubbing his head against yours gently.

"Good fucking fuck me..." You babble as you hold onto him tightly, "how are you so good at this?"

He presses a kiss to your cheek and smiles, "older men just do it better."

────୨ৎ────

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lloydskywalkers · 1 month ago

Text

the water is fine

writer's block get OUT it's Kai time (spoilers for Monstrosity!)

In a childish, naïve kind of way, Kai had thought getting home would fix it.

Would fix him, whatever pieces are left of the person he used to see in the mirror that he managed to drag out of that place.

Looking in the dusty monastery mirror his first night home, still cracked from where Cole had fallen over laughing too hard at Jay’s terrible haircut, hollow eyes and gaunt skin and a stranger staring back at him—

Maybe, Kai’s forced to realize, it isn’t that easy.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door — the barest grazing of knuckles, as if Lloyd’s afraid he’ll knock him down, too, if he’s loud enough.

“You okay in there?”

Kai shakes his head, blinking rapidly. The stranger still stares back him, skin reddened where he’d scrubbed hard enough to sting.

He’s not quite sure he remembers who okay Kai even is.

But Lloyd’s voice is hesitant in a way he hasn’t heard since Harumi, fragile in a way that could shatter, so Kai swallows.

“Yeah. Just gotta — fix my hair, and I’ll be out.”

There’s a beat of silence, thick with suspicion. Kai winces, fighting the urge to disappear. The months — years? — spent apart may loom between them, but it’s hardly an insurmountable chasm. Kai still knows his little brother like he knows himself. Knows what the dark circles and faded bandages mean, knows what all the other broken mirrors and blast marks across the training course mean.

He'd be stupid to pretend Lloyd won’t figure out what the slight tremor in his voice means.

But Lloyd is also endlessly kind, even now, and he’s always had a knack for understanding when someone’s on the edge of breaking.

“Okay,” Lloyd hums quietly. “I’ll be in the kitchen, when you’re done.”

Kai opens his mouth to reply, but his voice strangles somewhere in his throat.

I’m not broken! he wants to scream. He’s not. Not bruised or bent or shattered, he’s Kai, he fought tooth and bloody nail to stay that way and he’s not broken.

Cracked and peeling fingernails, crusted blood still stained beneath them, bite hard enough into the faded ceramic rim of the sink that it threatens to crack.

Staring back at him from the mirror is gray and red. Endless monochrome, dull shapes that twist and skitter, gray and red and gray and red and gray and—

A sharp snap, and pain blossoms in his finger. Kai stares blankly at the sharp line of crimson that beads from his index finger before dripping down, leaving tiny splatters on the now-cracked, dingy white sink.

Red burned into his retinas, scorching across his palms, devouring the warped faces of his family until there’s nothing left.

Kai leans forward, bracing himself against the cracked sink, and tries not to throw up.

If he turns the water on now, he can clean the sink before the tiny splatters of blood turn to copper stains. If he pulls the stopper, fills the whole sink with water, maybe in the warped reflection he’ll see—

Kai pulls back with a shuddering breath.

He’s not broken.

But he thinks, maybe, he might’ve left a few pieces behind in that place.

He remembers the way to the kitchen, at least.

Remembers too much, years and years of memories in the halls, of people he’d all but killed himself to get back to, and now that he’s here—

The halls are empty, dark, and the shadows that flicker across the walls look gray and red.

Kai swallows, and flees for the dim light ahead.

Three of the lightbulbs in the monastery kitchen are out, leaving the two left to flicker valiantly. Lloyd is still a beaming spot of brightness where he fusses over the stove, absently tapping a wooden spoon against the countertop. His hair is longer, Kai notices, curling past his neck in neglect. He might be taller — he’s definitely thinner.

His smile is still bright, though, still Lloyd, even if his eyes are tired, and Kai finds himself trying to burn the image into his brain, to replace the watery illusion of his brother’s flawless, watery smile with the real one.

“Thought I might have to drag you out of there,” Lloyd says, his tone light. “Hungry?”

Kai’s stomach growls, twisting painfully in answer. Lloyd’s lips press together, concern etched across his face.

“Guess that’s a yes,” he murmurs. “Good thing I made a lot.”

“Nah, I’m—” Kai’s tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth. He’s what? Not hungry? Kai’s so starved he could be a hollow husk, if he wanted. Anything nice, anything soft, anything warm — he can’t remember what that feels like, he’s so starving.

Pathetic, his brain screams at him. Lloyd shouldn’t be making him anything. Kai’s here, now — he needs to be taking care of him. What kind of useless brother lets things go the other way around?

“I can help,” he says, lamely.

Lloyd cuts him a look. “You can sit,” he says, and ooh, there’s a spark of the sass Kai knows. “Butt down, there. Now.”

“Bossy much?”

“You look like you’re gonna collapse,” Lloyd says. “I’m pulling Master Lloyd on you.”

As light as his tone is, Kai catches the bitter irony in his voice, the inside joke Lloyd’s only been sharing with himself. It stirs something in his chest, a dull ache that’s been scabbed over too long.

So he does, in fact, sit his butt down.

“Tada.” Lloyd slides a steaming bowl in front of him, fingers immediately knitting together in nervous enthusiasm. “It’s — it might not be super good? Definitely not on your level of cooking, or anything. But it’s something.”

Kai stares blankly. The soup looks like soup — not burned, not boiled half to death, and the smell leaves his ravaged stomach roaring.

“You cooked,” he says, dumbly.

Lloyd flushes, rubbing the back of his head. “Uh, yeah.” The duh is left unspoken, but Kai hears it all the same.

“Like, actually cooked?”

Embarrassment gives way to exasperation. “It’s just soup, cut me some slack.”

Any memories of Lloyd’s previous disasters in the kitchen are easily forgotten by the promise of food, and Kai almost drops the spoon at the explosion of heat and spice and flavor on his tongue. Humiliation stings in his chest as his eyes burn hot. He can’t remember — the last time he would’ve had something like this, had a warm meal that someone made for him, would’ve been—

“I’sh edible,” he rasps out, before the burn in his eyes can overflow.

“Uh-huh.” Lloyd rolls his eyes, but there’s a dim flicker of pride across his expression. “Had to finally learn how to cook something without burning it. Necessity is the best teacher, and all that.”

Lloyd’s voice trails off, and the reminder sits like a bruise on Kai’s heart. Lloyd’s been, as long as Kai has, alone. Haunting an empty monastery full of memories, nothing but echoing rooms and empty corridors. He pictures it briefly, Lloyd’s lonely figure in the place they all called home, drowning in the same hopeless despair Kai’s lived with, and the bruise feels a little more like he’s been stabbed.

“It’s good,” he finally says, when he can speak past the lump in his throat. “Real good.”

Lloyd beams, and for a moment, he looks like the brother Kai remembers grinning at the morning the Merge swallowed them all whole.

Then the dull light from the last two lightbulbs catches his eyes just so, turning familiar green into the lurid shade that crackled and popped from the Guardian Dragon’s mouth, and everything goes gray and red, gray and red—

Kai shoves another spoonful of soup in his mouth, and pretends he only hears the dull thrum of the monastery’s air unit instead of hundreds of legs skittering across the floor.

It takes him a minute to recognize his room.

It feels like walking into a tomb, untouched and frozen in time. There’s a book he can faintly remember having left splayed open on the table, though he can’t remember what it’s about. There’s a spare gi caught on the edge of his bed, where he’d tossed it after a moment’s deliberation the morning the Merge struck. The photos on the wall all feature someone else shoved between his teammates — some person that looks like him but also doesn’t, some person with bright eyes that look so unfamiliar Kai wants to tear them all down.

He hates that person, a little bit — that stupid, stupid Kai who doesn’t realize what he has. Who doesn’t realize what he’s about to lose.

Swallowing back nausea, Kai turns to his bed. The covers are still pulled back, the pillows askew, and the worn red blanket he’s had for years is noticeably missing.

He frowns. Apart from the blanket, his room looks untouched — unless Lloyd sprung for laundry, which would be extremely unlikely considering the state half the monastery is in, he doubts anyone’s done much in here. Had he done something with it, and he just forgot?

Kai bites the inside of his cheek. Frustration sparks in his chest, itchy and useless. It’s just a blanket. In the grand scheme of things, he should be grateful he’s even got a room left, much less one that’s intact.

But still. It’s something missing. Something amiss, and knowing that it’s absent — it makes his room a little less colorful, that’s all. More gray. Gray and red and gray and red and—

Torn fingernails bite painfully into his palm, and Kai squeezes his eyes shut.

He likes to think he’s a pretty resilient guy. He’s gotta be, to survive the combined attempts at something that could be passingly called as breakfast from Cole, and sometimes Nya and Lloyd during their more enthusiastic younger-sibling days. On top of, you know, surviving all the other horrors.

But a guy’s got his limit.

Kai just…didn’t think his was that close. Ninja don’t have limits, right? They never quit. Kai never quits — not once all through that place, he never once—

Murky waters flood his vision, laughing faces just a step beneath the water away.

Idiot, Kai curses himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. If the others had seen him, what would they say?

The thought haunts him as he fights to fall asleep, right up until he actually succeeds and his thoughts turn to awful flashes of gray and red, water that seeps into his lungs and eats him alive from the inside, hundreds of bugs that chew through his skin and blood and bones.

He doesn’t wake up screaming, but it’s a close call.

“Screw this,” Kai mutters into his hands, sweat-soaked blankets strewn across the floor.

He’s so tired.

But it’s not like the universe has bothered to care about that at all, and he doubts anyone else’ll start caring anytime soon, so. Trudging steps back to the kitchen it is.

In the darkness of the monastery, the hallways warp. Kai steadies himself with a hand against the wall, nausea bubbling up in his throat. He doesn’t — this is his home, it’s not—

He knows the way to the kitchen, he thinks desperately, as frustration burns behind his eyes. He knows his home. It’s just — the hall looks gray, without any of the lights, and the shadows from the thin moonlight waver like he’s underwater, and—

Kai stumbles into the living room with little to no idea of how he’s managed to get himself there.

Lloyd stares up at him, startled, Kai’s missing red blanket wrapped around his shoulders where he’s curled up on the couch.

“Oh,” he says, blinking. “Um. I was gonna return it.”

Kai lets out a shaky, hopefully not hysterical laugh.

“If you’re gonna steal it, you can share, at least.”

Lloyd brightens, scooting over to make room on the couch beside him. Kai collapses into the cushions, tugging the edge of the blanket Lloyd’s deigned to share over his lap.

Lloyd’s elbow nudges against his side. “Want tea?”

Kai squints at the offered teacup, then nods. His hands tremble as he takes it, and humiliation burns hot in his throat. Before he can give himself away anymore, he gulps down about half the cup, the familiar taste of peppermint threatening to bring a different kind of burn to his throat.

He raises an eyebrow instead. “Still microwaving tea?”

Lloyd makes a face. “It’s faster.” Then, wilting a bit— “I don’t know how to steep it in the pot.”

Kai fights back a smile.

“It’s the stupid — the leaves to water ratio, and the timing’s always wacky — and it doesn’t help that Wu’s stupid pot is from the dawn of time, so — shut up.”

“Good to know you haven’t morphed into a total stranger who knows his way around the kitchen while I was gone,” Kai snorts.

“I make a whole soup for you, and this is the thanks I get?”

“Surprised you didn’t try to microwave that, too.”

“You suck.”

Kai laughs as Lloyd wallops him with a pillow, scowling. There’s a crackling of paper, and Lloyd startles, grabbing for the sketchbook that’s spilled onto the floor. He glances at Kai, eyes panicked. A beat passes, then—

“No!”

“Give me—”

“Don’t look, don’t look—”

“C’mon, I wanna see your art—”

“No, it’s embarrassing — Kai!”

Lloyd’s cry strangles off as Kai stuffs a cushion against his face, snatching the sketchbook triumphantly. Lloyd wrestles himself free with an irritated snarl, but Kai’s already flipped it open, skimming the pages.

He blinks. His own face stares back at him, again and again — sketches of his face and Nya’s and Cole and Jay and Zane’s, Sensei’s and half-abandoned drawings of Garmadon, patterned wolves and four-headed dragons and them, their team, over and over and over.

Lloyd sinks into the couch, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“I got bored,” he mutters. “They’re — it’s just practice sketches, they’re not…you weren’t supposed to look.”

There are some people, Kai thinks, who might glance at the near-manically repeated drawings, the heavy marks of ink and pencil smudges, and worry.

Kai, however, feels a crushing sense of relief. It’s nice to know you’re not alone, when you’re drowning.

“I miss them, too.”

He doesn’t mean for the words to slip out — they’re weak, pathetic, and nothing like the brother he needs to be.

Lloyd doesn’t reply, but he’s doing that thing where he stares intently at him but pretends he isn’t again. Neon green glances that are painfully obvious in the dim light, all capped off by furrowed brows and aching concern.

He tries, very hard, not to take the bright bursts of green he knows like the back of his hand and see the lurid pops of color across that place instead, the Guardian Dragon’s strained voice as she’d lit the unending grayness up with the only other color he’d seen besides his own.

Gray and red and gray and red and gray and green. It’s all that lives in Kai’s head, in his nightmares, and he hates it.

He hates the concern in Lloyd’s eyes a little more, though, so—

“Something crawl under your skin, bud?”

Bad, bad, bad choice of words. Kai’s stomach churns.

Lloyd’s nose wrinkles. “No. Was just thinking—”

He cuts off, staring at the cooling tea left on the coffee table. For a moment, Kai fears he’ll ask — fears he’ll dig his fingers into the fragile mask Kai’s wearing and tear it open, exposing all the rotting, ugly core beneath to the world, leaving the rest of him to shatter into pieces of whatever Kai is supposed to be.

“I don’t want to go back to sleep,” he finally says.

“Oh.” Kai blinks. That’s — that isn’t good, really. The dark circles beneath Lloyd’s eyes are starting to look as if someone’s scored two lucky hits to his face, bruising purple and black and reminding him horribly of the days after the Oni invasion. Lloyd needs sleep so badly Kai wants to roll him up in his blanket and shove him in bed for a month.

But—

“Me neither,” he admits.

“Wanna play video games?” Lloyd says. His mouth pulls into a wry grin. “If you crank the volume up loud enough, you can’t hear yourself think.”

Thank FSM, Kai thinks. For Lloyd.

He doesn’t know what he’d do if he’d turned up and the monastery was empty. Doesn’t know if he’d survive, if the crippling worry and terror over his four missing people was over five instead. Nya is near-killing him as it is, a bleeding wound in his chest, a screaming in his head. If he’d come back to silence, with nothing to break up the gray and red in his eyes—

The blanket rustles as Lloyd shifts, knee bumping against Kai’s own as his head slumps against his shoulder.

“You pick the game, okay?”

Kai glances at Lloyd, concern pulling at his own brow. But he isn’t about to pull at any masks, either.

He picks the little game Lloyd likes where you build a house on an island. The music isn’t quite loud enough to drown out his thoughts, but there isn’t a hint of gray in the game’s bright colors.

It takes him three days of failed attempts at sleeping to crack.

Gray and red swims in his vision as he stumbles through the damp sand of the Ninjago coast. Lloyd’s out on patrol, so Kai won’t worry him, if he’s fast about it.

Gray and red and gray and red and gray and red.

The waves crash, louder now that he’s mere feet away, and fear chokes him so violently Kai thinks he really will be sick this time.

Pathetic, screams through his brain. The Kai that was afraid of water died back in the tomb of the First Spinjitzu Master, where his fear almost got Lloyd killed.

That Kai should have died, when his sister turned to seawater and he did nothing—

His knees ache as collapses, breathing raggedly. Anger pulls tight in his chest, fear and anger and fear and anger. Gray and red and gray and red.

What use is he if he’s afraid? What use is he, if he’s always jumping at nightmares and screaming at the slightest flicker? What use is he, if his head’s always there and never here?

Red and gray, gray and red.

Through bleary eyes, Kai dares to look.

In the waves before him, faces dance beneath the water, smiles that slip through his fingers.

Nya, he thinks.

Just a few steps. Just a few steps, is he really that afraid? A few steps, a little water, just to prove—

“Come back,” he croaks, as the current pulls against his legs. “I need you.”

He can’t stand it anymore. Can’t see the gray and red, can’t live in fear and anger like this — he’s better than this, he’s stronger, he’s—

Bubbles erupt around him, gentle fizzles that brush against his numbing skin. He’d hated the water so much, when the sea took Nya. Hadn’t dared set foot in it, had yelled and shouted at any of the others if they got too close.

How silly, his mind scolds. Nya was in the water all along. How could he fear it? How could he fear the path back to his sister?

Sound comes muffled, quiet, watery echoes filling his ears. It’s weightless underwater, the heavy weight crushing down on his chest finally easing. There’s nothing to fear, down here. Nothing at all.

Nya, I’m coming.

The bubbles are thinning, far and fewer in-between. The swimming shadows before him grow fuzzy, splotchy patches of black eating away at his vision. His lungs ache again, howling dully at him.

I’m coming—

Hands fist in his collar, blazing hot and furious as Kai’s yanked up, up, breaking the water’s surface and wheezing through cramping lungs.

“—hell, Kai, breathe, c’mon, please—”

He responds in short, hacking coughs as what feels like half the Ninjago ocean pours out of his mouth. This is why he hates swimming. This is why he hates water. This is why he hates—

Pain erupts square in the middle of his shoulders as he’s struck bluntly, and the rest of the salty seawater is expelled from his suffering lungs.

“If you make me give you mouth to mouth, I’ll kill you.”

Lloyd’s voice is as watery as the seawater Kai inhaled, trembling nearly as badly as his hands where they hold tightly to his shoulders. Guilt bursts in Kai’s chest, and he shakes his head.

“Cool.” Lloyd’s grip around his shoulders tightens, then Kai finds his head snapped back and forth once, twice, as Lloyd shakes him. “Then I’m gonna kill you.”

Even through his blurred vision, Kai can see just how pale Lloyd is, just how terrified his eyes are.

He can also see just how incredibly pissed he is.

Understandably so, Kai realizes, as the reality of what he just did starts to filter in.

Oh, no.

Oh, idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot—

“I didn’t—” He coughs violently, throat stinging. “I didn’t mean — I was just—”

He sounds as pathetically desperate as he feels, voice nearly lost in the sound of crashing waves nearby. Lloyd is trembling, sand sticking to his hair and cheek, his lip an ugly purple where he’s bitten straight through it.

He takes a long, shaky breath, as if bracing himself. It doesn’t seem to do much good, as he slumps over halfway through.

“Please.”

Kai’s chest constricts so painfully, he could be drowning again. Lloyd sounds broken, his voice horribly frail and desperate.

“Please,” Lloyd repeats, dangerously close to a sob. “I don’t know — I don’t know how to help, if you don’t let me. I know you’re hurting, Kai, I know. Please, please, just — I know I’m bad at it and I know I’m — I know I’m not who you’d want, but—”

His voice cuts off strangled, as if Kai’s knocked the air from his lungs with the force he grabs him with. Pulls him close, clutching at his brother as if he can fix that awful brokenness just by holding tight enough.

“Don’t say that,” he says fiercely, his voice finally steady. “You’re always who I want.”

Lloyd stiffens, shoulders painfully rigid — then collapses, fingers fisting in his soaking gi as he finally clutches back.

“Then please,” he croaks miserably. “Let me try to help.”

Kai’s throat constricts. That’s not his job — Lloyd doesn’t need to help him. Kai is here for him. He’s the — he’s supposed to be—

Lloyd pulls away, enough that he can meet Kai’s gaze. In the darkness, his eyes are gaping wounds in his head, the same anguished green stare the Guardian Dragon wore.

“I can’t do this without you,” he rasps. “I won’t do it without you. I need you.”

He swallows, brushing away the damp sand beneath his eye. “You mean the whole world to me. So please. Please, let me try.”

Kai’s breath comes out shuddering, leaving him to flounder. He swallows, choking it down.

“I think I’m just. Just a little—”

The sob tears out of him as if it’ll rip him in half.

He crumples over, fist stuffed over his mouth as if he can stop himself from overflowing — but Lloyd is there first, tugging his hand away before his teeth can bite down. Kai jerks away, prepared to run, to lash out, to flee, to hide from it all before it devours him whole—

Lloyd’s arms are open, but untouching. Every line in his posture screams hesitation, but he meets his gaze, eyes determined and utterly absent of pity.

And Kai—

Kai is so tired.

He’s better. He’s better than this, he’s stronger, he’s—

He’s finally found a face that isn’t running, that isn’t shimmering beneath the waters, that’s staying, and Kai is so, so tired.

Lloyd catches him before he collapses, arms wound tight around him as Kai wails into the soaked fabric of his gi, all the anger and loneliness and pain and despair, bleeding out of him in howling gasps as hot tears stick to his eyelashes and cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Lloyd’s murmuring, familiar and solid where he holds back every bit as tight as Kai’s clutching at him. “I’m sorry. It’s okay now. I’m sorry.”

It’s not fair.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

He’s so tired, he’s so tired, he’s so tired—

“I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Utterly and totally defeated, Kai lets himself trust that, then himself fall apart.

“It used to be easier. Didn’t it?”

Kai winces as his voice ends on a cracking cough. It’s going to take a whole lot of microwaved tea to get the taste of the ocean out of his throat.

“It sure feels like it,” Lloyd says. He drags his finger absently in the sand, drawing tiny squiggles. “I mean — it always feels worse when you’re in it, but…”

He lets out a heavy sigh. Kai stares at his hands.

“We’ve always had each other,” Lloyd finally says. “Even at our worst — we’ve had someone, at least. So without them…”

Gray and red, gray and red. The crushing weight of silence and loneliness. Kai swallows.

“We never really trained for that one.”

Lloyd shakes his head. “Not like this.”

“We’re not cut out for the solo life, are we.”

“I guess we’d have to ask Zane,” Lloyd murmurs, then winces.

It lies unspoken between them — regardless of how many years Zane survived on his own in the Neverrealm, the state he made it through in is…

Well, it doesn’t give Kai a whole lot of optimism.

“Okay.” Lloyd shoves himself up, standing abruptly. He turns to Kai, eyes a bright green against the night sky. He holds a hand out. “Let’s go home?”

Kai stares at his hand. Behind him, the sound of the waves is almost deafening, the call of the water sliding down his spine like ice.

He clutches at Lloyd’s hand, letting himself be pulled up alongside him.

“Probably a good idea, before you freeze. Sitting outside in soaked clothes is bad for you, y’know.”

“You — I wasn’t the one who took a midnight swim, dumbass.”

Kai opens his mouth, then closes. He’ll let Lloyd have that one. This time.

Lloyd pulls the worn red blanket up over both their shoulders, tucking the edge beneath his hands like he used to do when he was smaller.

Sandwiched between the wall and Lloyd, and Kai lets his own fingers curl around the blanket.

“We lost them.”

Lloyd’s eyes close briefly. Tightly.

“Yeah. For now.”

Kai bites his lip, copper staining his tongue.

“It should’ve been me.”

Selfish, so selfish, after all this time.

Lloyd squeezes his hand so tightly his bones ache.

“I’m glad it wasn’t.”

It’s quiet, whispered, but it nearly knocks the breath from his lungs all the same. Kai blinks, straining to stare at Lloyd in the lack of light.

The warped faces of his family stare back at him, shining and blissful and flawless in the stillness of the water.

Lloyd stares at him, busted lip purpling and sand still stuck to the edges of his hair, mouth set in stubborn selfishness of his own.

His eyes are bright green in the darkness, but it’s not the lurid shade that colored gray skies in bursts. It’s the softer color of training and late-nights and battles in familiar places. It’s the color of his brother, of a child spared from a different kind of monstrosity Kai left behind in the simmering fires of a temple long-lost.

He can leave this behind, too.

“Go to sleep,” Lloyd says. “I’ve got everything else. If anyone — anything — breaks in, I’ll take care of ‘em.”

Kai should fight it. Should insist that he’s the one that’s got it.

But he’s so, so tired. And if Lloyd says he’ll watch, then Kai trusts him to watch.

Sleep takes him before he can even mumble a goodnight, the soft glow of green the last color burned into his eyes.

He dreams of faces in the water, always changing.

#ninjago monstrosity #ninjago #ninjago spoilers #my fic #is this just crying over kai? yes #lloyd its ur turn to take of your brother hop to it pal #in other news i might need to quit one of these jobs #before i lose my ability to write anything with Life in it

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onlyangel4 · 10 days ago

Text

helping hand. cody rhodes.

single dad!cody rhodes x wrestler!reader

synopsis: you never expected a brand switch to smackdown to change more than your wrestling schedule, but then you met cody rhodes. a top star struggling to juggle life as a single dad after his divorce, and his five-year-old daughter liberty often waited backstage, wide-eyed and quiet. you hadn’t planned to step in, but you did. without thinking. without asking.

what began as small gestures, helping with snacks, keeping liberty company, offering cody a moment to breathe, quickly grew into something deeper. you saw the cracks in his armour, the exhaustion in his eyes, the love he carried like a weight. and somewhere between ring entrances and hotel check-ins, your lives interwine

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you stepped through the smackdown locker room doors with your gear bag slung over your shoulder, heart pounding just enough to remind you this was real. the air smelled like fresh sweat, sports tape, and the faint sting of disinfectant. home, in its own weird way. the switch from raw had come fast, barely enough time to say goodbye, barely enough time to think. but you were here now, and this was where you were going to make your mark.

a few nods greeted you as you passed through the narrow corridor. a couple of the women you’d worked with before offered polite smiles bianca gave you a quick hug, and zelina vega threw a wink your way but most faces were new. different energy, different hierarchy. you liked that. you liked the challenge of having to carve out space again.

you made your way to the board where the run sheet was posted. your name was on the card, tucked into a mid-show tag match, you and zelina vs chelsea and piper. decent slot. good start. you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, then turned on your heel to head toward the locker room.

that’s when you saw him.

cody rhodes sat on a production crate across the hall, half in gear, half still in civilian clothes. his daughter, liberty, you remembered her name from somewhere was sitting beside him, feet dangling, a pair of oversized headphones covering her ears. she was hunched over a tablet, quietly focused, her tiny fingers smudging the screen as she played some game with cartoon animals and lots of glitter.

cody didn’t look like the confident, polished face of smackdown you saw on tv every week. he looked tired. not just post-match tired, but bone-deep worn out. his brows were drawn together as he scrolled through his phone with one hand and rifled through liberty’s backpack with the other, clearly trying to multitask and failing.

you hadn’t meant to stare, but something about the image rooted you. he looked like every overextended parent you’d ever known, doing too much with too little time and pretending it wasn’t weighing him down. the glitter on his forearm didn’t exactly help his case.

liberty looked up suddenly, catching you watching. she blinked once, then offered you the shyest, smallest smile.

you smiled back without thinking, soft and instinctive.

and cody finally looked up too.

your eyes met, and for a second, he looked surprised, maybe even embarrassed but he gave you a quick nod of recognition. you returned it, then turned away politely, not wanting to linger too long.

but something about the way he shifted on that crate stuck with you as you kept walking. something about the way he gently adjusted liberty’s headphones before returning to his phone. you didn’t know it yet, but that image would be the start of everything.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the hum of production echoed through the backstage halls as you wrapped your wrist tape a little tighter, adrenaline still humming through your veins after your smackdown debut. the match had gone smoothly, your timing was sharp, the crowd had reacted well, and the agent had clapped you on the shoulder when you walked through the curtain. a solid start. not flashy, not headline-grabbing, but strong. and that was exactly what you needed. consistency, reliability, groundwork.

you were rounding the corner toward catering, hoping for at least one protein bar that wasn’t completely pulverized, when you caught a snippet of conversation near gorilla.

"he missed his queue again", someone muttered. "second time this month. i know he’s got the kid, but still, timing’s timing."

you didn’t have to ask who he was. there was only one he in this building right now who had that kind of pressure riding on him, and only one who showed up everywhere with a five-year-old shadow.

you peeked around the edge of a lighting rig and, sure enough, there she was. liberty. sitting cross-legged on a folded gym towel near the monitors, oversized headphones on again, cradling that same tablet like it was a lifeline. alone.

the show kept moving around her, wrestlers walking past, camera operators adjusting angles, agents barking notes but she was untouched by the chaos. still. quiet. watching.

you frowned. no one was doing anything wrong, technically. she wasn’t in danger. she wasn’t crying. but something about it unsettled you. maybe it was the way her eyes followed people who didn’t notice her. maybe it was how small she looked in the sea of adults.

you leaned against a nearby crate, arms crossed, debating whether to step in. you didn’t want to overstep. you didn’t want to assume cody couldn’t handle it.

but then he came flying down the corridor, jacket half-zipped, expression tight.

"libby, there you are", he breathed, crouching beside her immediately. "i told you to stay by the case, remember? sweetheart, i was freaking out."

she nodded wordlessly, pulling her headphones off. "sorry, daddy."

cody ran a hand down his face, then kissed the top of her head. "it’s okay. just stay close next time, yeah", he glanced around, visibly frustrated with himself. his gear bag was slung over one shoulder, and now that you were watching, you noticed the disarray, his shoelaces were untied, his hair uncharacteristically messy, a smear of what looked like applesauce on the hem of his shirt.

he looked like a man stretched too thin.

you didn’t say anything. not yet. you just stepped away quietly, giving him back a little bit of the control he clearly didn’t feel like he had.

but still, you glanced back once as you walked away. liberty was clutching her dad’s hand now, smiling faintly as he wiped a smudge off her cheek with the corner of his sleeve.

you didn't know it yet, but something in you had already decided: if it came down to it, you’d help him. you wouldn’t ask. you wouldn’t wait.

you just would.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

you were balancing a bottle of water and a plate of grilled chicken on your forearm when you heard the unmistakable sound of a cup hitting the floor, followed by a gasp, then a high-pitched, "uh-oh."

catering was quiet for once. most of the roster was still wrapping up their segments or packing up to leave, so the only ones in the room were a couple of crew members, a road agent making a sad salad, and liberty rhodes, now standing in the middle of a sticky puddle of apple juice, eyes wide and guilty, a crushed cup at her feet.

she looked like she was about two seconds away from crying.

you didn’t hesitate. you set your plate down on the nearest table and walked over, grabbing a stack of napkins from the counter as you went.

"it’s okay", you said gently, crouching beside her. "happens to the best of us."

liberty sniffled but didn’t say anything, just stared at the growing mess like she could will it away if she stayed still enough.

you smiled and started blotting up the spill. "let me guess, grape juice would’ve been worse?"

that earned you a tiny giggle. "it’s apple", she whispered, like it was a secret.

"phew. we’re safe, then."

you kept chatting quietly while cleaning up, asking about her tablet game, if she’d seen any dogs today (she had, a french bulldog named kevin), and if she liked being backstage. she relaxed a little more with every word.

you were just helping her dab the juice off her shirt with a clean napkin when a rushed voice cut through the doorway.

"libby?!" cody’s voice rang out, tense and breathless.

he appeared a second later, eyes flicking from her to you, to the floor, then back again. his expression shifted from panic to relief to embarrassment.

"i’m so sorry", he said quickly, stepping forward. "she, she usually doesn’t..."

"it’s fine", you interrupted calmly. "really. no harm done."

he knelt beside liberty, inspecting her shirt and running a hand through his already mussed hair. "i turned around for five seconds."

"she’s five", you said with a small smile. "five-second disasters are kind of her job."

liberty grinned at that, and cody let out a soft breath that was probably the closest he’d come to a laugh all day.

"thank you", he said after a moment, quieter now, sincere. "for helping."

you shrugged. "didn’t think about it. instinct, i guess."

there was a beat of silence between you then, just long enough to notice the way his shoulders were still tense, the faint crease in his brow that hadn’t quite left yet. he looked like someone constantly waiting for the next thing to go wrong.

you weren’t sure why, but that stuck with you.

"well", you said, standing, brushing your hands off on your joggers, "if she ever needs backup, i’ve got decent napkin reflexes."

cody’s mouth twitched like he wanted to smile, but it didn’t quite make it all the way there.

"duly noted", he said.

you left before things got awkward, grabbing your plate again and heading to the far corner to finally eat. but out of the corner of your eye, you saw liberty wave at you with her juice-damp hand as she walked out holding her dad’s.

you smiled back without thinking.

again.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

a week passed in a blur of travel bags, late-night flights, and tapings that ran long. smackdown was beginning to feel less like foreign territory and more like familiar ground. your face was showing up in more backstage segments. your name was getting mentioned on commentary. You were finding your footing.

and still, somehow, you kept finding them.

cody and liberty had a quiet rhythm. you noticed it from the periphery at first: she always had the same sparkly lunchbox, always wore mismatched socks, always carried one of those little plastic ponies in her hand like a good luck charm. cody, for his part, carried a different kind of weight. the kind you couldn’t see unless you were really paying attention.

you were.

tonight, it was after the show. you’d finished your match, hit the showers, and were sitting on one of the storage cases near the loading dock, nursing a sports drink and stretching out your sore legs. most of the roster had cleared out. you liked that part, when everything got quiet. It gave you space to breathe.

you looked up just in time to see cody wrestling with liberty’s car seat in the back of his rental suv.

it was a losing battle.

she was half-asleep, clinging to his neck, her sparkly pony squished between them. cody was trying to hold her with one arm while latching the seat with the other, cursing under his breath just loud enough for you to hear.

you hopped off the case before you could second-guess it.

"need a hand?", you asked, voice light, careful not to startle them.

cody looked up, surprised. "oh no, i got it. thanks."

you didn’t budge. "you sure? she looks like she’s got you in a sleeper hold."

liberty let out a sleepy giggle, nose buried in her dad’s shoulder.

cody cracked a smile at that, but it didn’t last. "really. we’re good."

you hesitated. he wasn’t being rude, just closed off. guarded.

you held up your hands in surrender. "alright. just thought i’d offer."

he finally got the latch to click, exhaled like he’d been holding his breath, and gently eased liberty into the seat. she murmured something and turned her head toward the window, eyelids already fluttering.

cody closed the door softly, then turned to you.

"she’s out cold", you said.

"yeah. she usually crashes right after shows. too much noise, too much sugar." he ran a hand through his hair, then leaned against the side of the suv. "i'm trying not to mess it up."

you tilted your head. "mess what up?"

he gave a short laugh, humourless. "everything."

there was a pause. you let it hang there, not rushing to fill it.

"she’s got no idea," he continued, quieter now. "she just wants her dad. she doesn’t care if he’s late to gorilla, or if he forgets her extra socks, or if he’s got juice spilled on his boots. but i care. i care that i can’t give her everything. that Iim one bad match or missed spot away from looking like i don’t belong here or at home."

you stepped closer, not invading, but grounding the space between you.

"she has you", you said softly. "and that’s already more than a lot of kids ever get."

he looked at you for a long moment, something unreadable in his expression. you could feel him deciding, whether to shut down or let you in just a little more.

then he pushed off the car and gave a quick nod, like he was locking something back into place.

"well", he said, voice suddenly lighter, "thanks for the offer. but i’ve got it handled."

there it was.

the wall.

you gave a small smile, the kind you didn’t expect returned.

"sure, cody" you said, backing away. "see you next week."

and as you walked toward your own car, you couldn’t help but wonder why that quiet little family had started to matter to you more than you’d meant them to.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

by now, it was routine.

you arrived at the arena, scanned the run sheet, found your match slot, then made your way to the locker room. familiarity had started to settle in, the kind that came with recognizing production crew by name, knowing which vending machine never worked, and getting good at ducking under lighting cables without thinking twice.

and then there was liberty.

she found you before you even finished lacing your boots.

"hi", she said with a gummy grin, sparkly pony in hand, her backpack bouncing with every step. she had a piece of hair sticking straight up like static had gotten into her curls.

"hey, superstar", you said, squatting down to her level. "what’s the game plan today, ponies or dinosaurs?"

"both", she said seriously, and opened her bag to show you. sure enough, there were at least two plastic ponies and one tiny green t-rex nestled between a juice box and a crumpled fruit snack wrapper.

you laughed. "bold choice."

you didn’t even question why she’d come to you. it just happened now. somewhere between last week’s spilled juice and that late-night car seat struggle, you’d become part of her circle, even if cody hadn’t exactly said it out loud.

speak of the devil.

cody appeared around the corner, holding his phone to his ear and a gear bag over his shoulder. when he spotted liberty with you, he paused mid-sentence, lowered the phone slightly, and gave you a small nod. the kind that said thank you and i see you all at once.

you nodded back.

he mouthed, just five minutes, and ducked into one of the production offices. you turned back to liberty, who was already offering you one of the ponies like it was a sacred treasure.

"here", she said, placing the pink one in your hand. "this one has powers."

"oh yeah?" you made your voice drop dramatically. "what kind?"

"she makes everything better."

you blinked, thrown for a second by how casually she said it. like she meant it. like it was obvious.

"i think i need one of those", you said softly.

the two of you sat on a storage case near the loading dock, pony and dinosaur in hand, while the chaos of pre-show prep buzzed around you. It wasn’t a big thing. not dramatic. not something anyone would write home about.

but cody came back eventually, a little less frantic than before, and found liberty laughing as you made the dinosaur try to sing a taylor swift song in a growly voice.

"she’s not bothering you, is she?" he asked as he approached, voice low.

you didn’t miss the way he said it, like he expected the answer to be yes.

"she’s good company", you said. "better than half the locker room."

liberty grinned and leaned into your side like it was the most natural thing in the world. cody watched the two of you for a moment, that unreadable expression flickering across his face again, caught somewhere between gratitude and guilt.

"i appreciate it", he said. "i know i haven’t really said it, but i see how she looks at you."

you raised an eyebrow. "like i’m a jungle gym?"

he huffed a quiet laugh. "no. like she feels safe."

you didn’t know what to say to that. not really. so you didn’t say anything at all, just nudged liberty gently and asked her if the pony could fly.

cody didn’t move for a long moment.

then he sat down beside the two of you.

not far.

not close.

but closer than last week.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

you were halfway through rolling out your shoulder with a lacrosse ball against the wall when cody found you.

it was later than usual. most of the roster had already cleared out, the post-show rush replaced with silence and half-drunk energy drinks left behind on crates. you had one earbud in and one out, just enough music to distract you from your sore elbow, but not enough to tune out the world.

he approached quietly, no liberty this time. just him, hoodie half-zipped and hands tucked into his pockets.

"hey", he said.

you looked up, surprised. you hadn’t seen him since earlier in the night, he’d been running around, chasing segment changes and pre-tapes. the last time you saw liberty, she was curled up in one of the makeup chairs, asleep with a fleece blanket draped over her.

"hey", you replied, pulling your earbud out. "she crash early tonight?"

he nodded. "out like a light. i’m lucky she didn’t face-plant into the catering table."

you smiled. "i’ve seen grown men do worse."

that earned a quiet laugh from him. one of the real ones. he leaned against the wall beside you, not touching, but not keeping distance either. just there. steady.

there was a beat of silence between you. comfortable. unspoken.

"i’ve been thinking," he said finally, staring at the far wall like he couldn’t quite look at you yet. "about all of this. about you."

your muscles tensed slightly, unsure where this was going.

"you’ve been showing up. for her. for me." he glanced at you now, just a flicker of eye contact. "and i’ve been acting like it’s temporary. like you’re just being polite."

you tilted your head. "i mean, i am polite. sometimes."

that made his mouth twitch, but he didn’t look away this time.

"i didn’t want to owe you anything", he admitted. "didn’t want to get used to the help."

"why?"

he exhaled slowly. "because the last time I leaned on someone, she left. took everything except liberty."

you didn’t say anything. you let the moment breathe.

cody looked down at his hands like they held answers he didn’t want. "but you, you didn’t wait for permission. you just started caring. and i didn’t know what to do with that."

you swallowed, throat tight. "you don’t have to do anything."

"i know." he paused. "but i want to. i want to say thank you. and i want to stop pushing you out when you’re already in."

that last sentence hung there between you. quiet. real.

you nodded once, slow. "okay."

and it wasn’t just an okay to his words, it was an okay to everything. to being in. to staying in. to whatever this thing between you was slowly becoming.

he stepped back after that, like the conversation had reached its edge.

"i’ve got a day off this weekend", he said. "thought i'd take her to the zoo. she’s obsessed with flamingos."

you smiled. "good choice. bold colour palette."

he hesitated. "if you’re not busy..."

you blinked, surprised, but not shocked.

"i like flamingos", you said. "and i’m not busy."

he smiled. a real one, soft and a little tired.

"cool", he said, backing away. "i’ll text you."

and just like that, he left. no over-explanation. no awkward backpedaling. just a man slowly figuring out how to let someone in again.

you leaned back against the wall, the lacrosse ball forgotten in your hand.

you were in. whether you meant to be or not.

and honestly? you weren’t planning on leaving

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

you weren’t sure what you expected when cody invited you to the zoo.

part of you thought it might not happen, that he’d change his mind, call it off at the last minute, keep his walls intact. but he didn’t. on the sunday morning, you got a simple text:

we’re heading out. you still in?

and without hesitation, you were.

the sun was already bright when you pulled into the parking lot. You spotted them instantly, liberty in tiny denim overalls and sparkly pink sunglasses that were too big for her face, and cody in a black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, already carrying a backpack and what looked like an empty juice pouch.

"nice timing", he said as you approached. "we haven’t even hit the flamingos yet."

"she’s been asking about them since breakfast", he added, with the tired amusement of a man who had been shown the same youtube flamingo video three times before 9 a.m.

"i’m honoured to be included in the flamingo pilgrimage", you said.

liberty beamed up at you, slipping her hand into yours like she’d been doing it forever. you weren’t prepared for how natural that felt.

cody noticed. you could tell. he didn’t say anything but his gaze lingered just a second too long before he cleared his throat and gestured toward the gates.

"let’s get inside before she sprints to the giraffes."

the morning passed in a soft blur.

you fed goats. liberty rode a tiny zoo train twice in a row, and cody bought cotton candy even though he grumbled about sugar. at one point, liberty asked if the penguins ever got jealous of the flamingos. you and cody both stopped walking and blinked at her like she’d unlocked a philosophical door neither of you was prepared to open.

"she’s five going on socrates", you whispered to him as she ran ahead to the sea lion tank.

"don’t i know it", he murmured, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

and it was like that all day, easy, soft, slow. no cameras. no backstage chaos. Just you, cody, liberty, and a bubble of calm in a life that rarely allowed it.

it was late afternoon by the time you reached the flamingo enclosure.

liberty pressed her hands against the glass, nose nearly touching it, pink sunglasses crooked on her head.

"they’re so weird", she whispered reverently. "but pretty."

you stood beside her. "i think that’s the best kind of animal."

cody hovered just behind, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. he looked lighter. not carefree, but unburdened in a way you hadn’t seen before. maybe it was the sun. maybe it was the sugar crash. maybe it was you.

"she’s been smiling all day", he said softly, only loud enough for you to hear.

you glanced over at him. "so have you."

he met your eyes then, really met them. and for a moment, the rest of the zoo, kids screaming, birds squawking, liberty humming under her breath, faded into a low hum. there was something in his expression you hadn’t seen before. not guarded. not cautious.

open.

that scared you more than it should have.

he looked away first, clearing his throat. "thanks for coming. really."

"i didn’t come for you", you said lightly, nodding toward liberty. "she’s the better rhodes anyway."

cody huffed a soft laugh. "no argument here."

you left the zoo with cotton candy stuck to your sleeve, a plastic flamingo keychain liberty insisted you had to have, and something unspoken curling quietly in your chest.

when you hugged liberty goodbye and promised to see her soon, she whispered, "you’re one of us now."

and when you looked up, cody was watching.

he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

the look said enough.

you were in.

and neither of you were pretending otherwise anymore.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

you didn’t realise how much time you were spending with them until it stopped feeling unusual.

at first, it was one ride. then two. then cody started sending a simple "you want to ride with us?" text before every loop. somewhere along the way, it became automatic, his bus, his daughter, and now you with liberty in the back, usually singing taylor swift at the top of her lungs.

you got good at predicting cody’s order at starbucks. he got good at remembering you hated gas station sandwiches. liberty insisted on picking the music unless she was asleep, which happened more often than not once you hit the highway.

it was becoming routine.

and routine, you were learning, was where intimacy lived.

one friday night, after a long smackdown taping and a post-show dinner that turned into liberty falling asleep face first into a grilled cheese, you all piled into the car for a two hour drive to the next town.

cody glanced at the mirror as the car pulled out of the lot. "she’s out."

you turned to look, her cheek was pressed against a stuffed dinosaur, one shoe missing, hair a tangle of little curls and glitter.

"she fought it hard", you murmured. "but grilled cheese won."

cody smiled faintly. "grilled cheese always wins."

the car settled into a quiet rhythm. streetlights painted gold lines across the dashboard, and the road hummed gently beneath the tires. You had one hand curled under your chin, the other fiddling with the soft hem of your hoodie.

cody didn’t play music this time.

you just drove in silence. peaceful. still.

eventually, your eyelids grew heavy. you let your head rest against the window, the motion of the road lulling you under without realizing how tired you were.

you woke up to stillness.

the engine was off. the headlights dim. you blinked slowly, the haze of sleep clinging to your thoughts.

cody’s voice was low, careful. "didn’t mean to wake you."

you sat up groggily. the car was parked outside a modest hotel, the kind wwe booked for overnight stops. liberty was still out cold in the back seat, now tucked under a small blanket.

there was a jacket over your lap.

cody’s.

you looked at him.

he stood outside the car now, door open, watching you with that quiet gaze he always gave when he wasn’t sure how close he was allowed to get.

"you fell asleep", he said.

"i do that sometimes", you replied, your voice rough with sleep.

"i figured", he said softly. "didn’t want you to be cold."

you clutched the jacket for a second too long before folding it and climbing out.

the night air was cool. the parking lot was empty. everything about the moment felt strangely suspended, like a snow globe waiting to be shaken.

you both moved in tandem, he pulled liberty gently from the back seat, her little arms instinctively curling around his neck, and you carried her backpack and blanket without needing to be asked.

in the elevator, you stood in silence.

when she stirred, her eyes half-opened, she saw you first.

she didn’t speak. she just blinked sleepily and tucked her head closer to her father’s shoulder, as if she already knew everything was fine because you were there too.

cody’s room was at the end of the hall.

you helped pull back the bedspread while he laid her down. she mumbled something about flamingos, then rolled onto her side with her dinosaur in a tight hug.

cody pulled the blanket over her.

when he straightened, he found you standing by the door, ready to leave. not wanting to overstep.

but he stepped in your direction instead.

close. not touching. just close.

"she asked if you’d be here tonight", he said.

you looked up at him. "and what did you say?"

"i said i hoped so."

the quiet between you stretched long and full, and you felt the words in your throat that you weren’t ready to say.

instead, you offered a soft, "i’m glad i was."

he didn’t stop you when you reached for the door handle.

but as you stepped into the hallway, his voice followed you.

"goodnight."

you turned, met his eyes.

"goodnight, cody."

and something about the way he looked at you, like maybe you were becoming something he needed, settled right into your chest and stayed there.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

it started with a meltdown.

not yours, though after that match and the three hours of press, you were close.

no, this one belonged entirely to liberty.

she’d been an angel all day, until she wasn’t.

the second cody disappeared for a brief meeting with producers, she started crying. not a tantrum. not fake tears. real, overwhelmed sobbing, the kind that made her little shoulders shake as she sat curled up in a backstage folding chair, arms crossed tight around her knees.

you knelt in front of her slowly, giving her space.

"hey", you said softly, crouching down until your eyes were level. "what’s going on, liberty?"

she didn’t answer right away. just hiccupped through her tears, her face flushed and eyes shiny.

"i want daddy", she mumbled.

you nodded, gently brushing a bit of hair away from her damp cheek.

"i know", you said. "he’ll be right back. but until then can i sit with you?"

she didn’t say no. that was enough.

you sat cross-legged on the floor beside her, close but not too close. let her cry it out for a few minutes. didn’t ask questions. just kept your presence steady and warm, like a lighthouse.

eventually, her sniffles slowed. she reached out, grabbing your pinky with her tiny hand.

you squeezed it once, careful. "feeling a little better?"

she nodded without looking at you.

"wanna colour?" you asked, nudging her backpack with your foot.

another nod. you pulled out the crayons and a half used notebook she always carried, flipping to a blank page.

by the time cody returned, brow furrowed, steps quick, you and liberty were lying on your stomachs in the hallway, colouring in a flamingo with matching sunglasses.

he froze when he saw you.

"randy told me she was crying, what happened?"

you looked up. "she was just tired. overstimulated. she needed a minute."

cody’s eyes immediately went to his daughter.

"you okay, bug?"

liberty nodded again, then held up the drawing. "we made you something."

cody blinked, clearly trying to process the emotional 180.

you stood slowly, brushing off your jeans. "she’s good now. we just needed a little quiet.”

cody took the picture a smiling flamingo, pink sunglasses, three stick figures at the bottom: one tall with blond hair, one shorter with a ponytail, one tiny with hearts around her head.

he looked at it for a long moment.

then he looked at you.

"you’re good with her", he said, quieter than expected. no bravado. no buffer. just truth.

you shrugged, trying to soften the weight of the moment. "she makes it easy."

"she doesn’t let most people in", he said, glancing down at liberty again. "i mean it. since the divorce, it’s been hard."

you stayed still, your arms crossed loosely, trying not to push him but not pulling away either.

he stepped a little closer. "she talks about you all the time now. like you’re..." he stopped himself, brow furrowed. "like you’re part of this."

you swallowed. "do you want me to be?"

his jaw flexed. like he wasn’t used to being asked what he wanted. not lately.

"i don’t know what this is yet", he admitted. "but it’s real. that much i’m sure of."

there was a pause. heavy but not uncomfortable.

"just don’t disappear", liberty said, her small voice breaking the silence.

both of you turned.

she looked between you like she knew exactly what she was doing.

cody crouched to kiss the top of her head, then looked up at you with something raw and uncertain in his eyes.

"i won’t" you said softly, more to her, but you saw the way cody reacted.

like it was a promise he didn’t know how badly he needed to hear.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

it was supposed to be a one-off.

a fun little mixed tag match, announced last-minute for the live show. you and cody teaming up against candace larae and johnny gargano, the two heels known more for cheap shots and eye rolls than serious threats. nothing too high stakes.

but from the second your names were announced together, the crowd popped louder than anyone expected.

you didn’t have time to think too hard about it. cody just gave you that half-smirk of his backstage, tugged his wrist tape tight, and said, "you ready to be on my team officially?"

and you, cool, calm, totally unfazed, absolutely did not blush.

"only if you can keep up", you shot back.

he grinned like he liked that answer way too much.

in the ring, something shifted.

you’d been in a hundred tag matches. thousands of moments, dozens of partners. but nothing ever felt quite like this.

cody had your back like he’d done it for years. quick tags, seamless transitions, shared momentum. he knew where you were without looking. and when you hit that springboard elbow and heard liberty cheering from the front row, arms waving, face lit up with joy, you felt something click hard in your chest.

home.

that’s what it felt like.

and when cody tagged in and pulled off a clean cross rhodes for the win, you were already stepping into the ring, breath caught somewhere between adrenaline and affection.

the crowd roared as the ref raised both your arms. cody didn’t let go of your hand right away. his palm was warm in yours, calloused, steady.

he looked at you, not just as a partner, not just as a friend, but like he saw you.

you felt it all the way down to your spine.

you tried to play it cool. a nod. a soft smirk.

but then liberty climbed onto the ring apron with the help of a crew member, and all bets were off.

"daddy!" she shouted, arms out.

cody immediately crouched, lifting her into his arms. she clung to his neck, giggling.

then she turned to you. "we won!"

you laughed, brushing a sweaty strand of hair from your face. "we really did."

she grinned so wide her cheeks squished. "you should be on our team forever."

cody’s eyes flicked to yours, quick, unreadable, but not indifferent.

"maybe she already is", he murmured.

you looked at him, really looked and suddenly, the crowd didn’t matter. the lights, the cameras, the noise. it all faded out.

just him. just her. just you.

and something so close to real it scared the hell out of you.

later, backstage, cody handed liberty off to brandi, who was in town visiting for the weekend. You watched from a few feet away, not sure whether to give him space or wait.

he came to you before you had to decide.

"you were great out there", he said, toweling sweat from the back of his neck. "crowd loved you."

"they loved us", you said, lips twitching. "good team."

he nodded. "yeah. we are."

and that silence came again, the charged, almost-something pause that always happened when the words you could say felt bigger than the space you were standing in.

cody stepped just a little closer. not enough for anyone to notice. just enough for you to feel the pull.

"you make it easier", he said softly.

"make what easier?"

"this", he murmured. "all of it."

before you could say anything back, liberty called out from down the hall, something about juice boxes and colouring books.

cody smiled, small and quiet, then gave you one last look before turning away.

and that was the moment you knew.

you weren’t just part of the team.

you were becoming part of the family.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

it was a random sunday night when he knocked.

you had just stepped out of the shower, your hair still damp and curling at the ends, wearing a soft t-shirt and shorts that had definitely seen better days. you weren’t expecting company.

but when you opened the door and saw cody there, baseball cap backwards, hoodie unzipped, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, you didn’t think twice about letting him in.

"everything okay?" you asked as you stepped aside.

he nodded, but not like he meant it. he looked tired, more than tired. the kind of exhaustion that sat behind the eyes and in the heart. the kind that didn’t always come from travel or matches.

"brandi took liberty for the night", he said, walking slowly into your room. "thought it might be good for them to spend some time. just the two of them."

you grabbed a water bottle off the desk and passed it to him. "and you didn’t know what to do with yourself."

he let out a small, tired laugh. "yeah. pretty much."

you sat on the edge of the bed. he didn’t sit right away, just stood there for a moment, looking around like he wasn’t sure he belonged.

"cody", you said gently, "you can sit down."

that’s all it took. he moved slowly, settling beside you. not too close. not far either.

it was quiet for a long stretch. just the hum of the air conditioning, the distant sound of a car outside. you let him take his time. he always did when it mattered.

"she asked me today if you were gonna be her new mom", he said eventually.

your breath caught before you could stop it.

"she just blurted it out", he continued. "no warning. no filter. like kids do."

you looked at him carefully. "and what did you say?"

he gave a tired half-smile, eyes fixed on the floor.

"i said i didn’t know. that i hadn’t even let myself think that far."

you nodded slowly, heart thudding behind your ribs. "that’s fair."

then he turned to look at you. really look at you. like the ring lights and noise and masks had all dropped away.

"but i’m thinking about it now."

the silence after that wasn’t awkward. it was full, heavy with something so real it almost hurt to touch.

you didn’t know what to say. and maybe you didn’t need to.

because then he reached for you.

slow. careful. like he was afraid too much weight would ruin it. his fingers brushed your cheek, light as breath. you didn’t move. couldn’t.

his hand cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing just below your lip.

you leaned into him, just an inch. just enough to feel the pull.

your eyes flicked to his, and for the first time in all of this, he didn’t look away.

Ii would’ve taken nothing, half a breath, for your lips to meet.

but then he stopped.

not out of fear. not out of regret.

just restraint.

cody drew back slowly, hand falling to his lap, exhaling like it took effort to let go.

"i don’t want to screw this up", he said.

you nodded. "me neither."

you sat together a little longer after that, shoulders close, fingers barely brushing. the almost of it all lingering in the space between.

eventually, he stood.

"i’ll see you in the morning?"

"yeah", you said. "you will."

and when the door closed behind him, you stayed exactly where you were, pulse steady but loud in your ears.

it wasn’t a kiss.

but it was something. something that promised the rest would come, when you were both ready.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

you didn’t expect her to show up.

not at the arena. not backstage. and definitely not with a vip pass around her neck and a familiarity in her smile that made your stomach twist.

brandi.

you knew of her, of course. everyone in the company did. even though she and cody had been separated for over a year now, she still carried herself like she belonged to his orbit, head high, shoulders squared, every step calculated and confident.

you weren’t threatened by her. not exactly.

but it still rattled you when you saw her hugging liberty in the hallway, brushing back the little girl’s curls with a tenderness that felt practiced. comfortable.

like it hadn’t all fallen apart.

you stood there for a second too long, watching the scene, cody off to the side, arms crossed, looking somewhere between cautious and weary.

then his eyes met yours.

he straightened almost instinctively, like he hadn’t expected you to see them together.

"hey", he said as you walked up.

liberty’s face lit up. "look! mama's here!"

you smiled, careful and warm. "i see that."

brandi turned then, finally noticing you.

there was a pause. not cold. but not warm either.

"so, you’re the one liberty’s been talking about", she said, her tone light but her eyes sharp.

you extended a hand. "nice to meet you."

she took it. briefly. her grip firm.

"cody’s told me some things", she said. "not much."

cody shifted beside her. "we’re still figuring it out", he said quickly, but you heard the edge in his voice, an apology he hadn’t said aloud yet.

brandi raised an eyebrow at that. "right."

you excused yourself a few minutes later. there was nothing dramatic about it. just a nod, a polite smile, and the feeling of a thousand questions trailing you as you walked away.

later that night, cody knocked on your hotel door.

you didn’t answer right away.

when you finally let him in, your arms were crossed, your voice quieter than usual.

"she’s still around? at work?"

"she’s liberty’s mom,” cody said, rubbing a hand down his face. "she asked to visit. i said okay."

"is she always gonna drop in unannounced?" you asked. "just show up and act like, like nothing’s changed?"

"no", he said. then softer, "i don’t know."

you looked at him, and for the first time in weeks, the space between you felt fragile.

"she looked at me like I was a placeholder", you said. "like this thing with us, whatever it is, is temporary."

"it’s not", he said immediately.

"then tell me what it is, cody."

he opened his mouth, then stopped. and that hesitation was louder than anything he could have said.

you nodded, the sting sharper than expected.

"i should’ve known", you said quietly. "you’re still figuring it out. you said that."

"it’s not about her", he said, stepping forward. "it’s not."

but you were already pulling back. just enough to protect yourself.

"i need some space"

"don’t shut me out", he said, voice tight.

"i’m not", you said. "i’m just giving you space to figure out if you’re ready for this. for me."

he didn’t try to stop you as you left. he just stood there in the doorway, like he didn’t know what to say that would make it better.

and that was the problem, wasn’t it?

because you weren’t asking him to fix it.

you were asking him to choose.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

it had been two days.

two long, quiet days.

you didn’t avoid him outright. there were brief nods in hallways, short exchanges when liberty was around, a few words during a post-show meeting. but the rhythm you’d fallen into, the texts, the late-night talks, the way he used to look at you like you were steady ground, that was gone.

and you weren’t sure if it was coming back.

you were in the locker room after your match when it happened. you’d just peeled off your gear and were halfway through tying up your hair when a soft knock sounded on the door.

you opened it and found him there, hoodie zipped up, ball cap in his hand, looking more nervous than you’d ever seen him.

"hey", he said, quiet.

you didn’t move to let him in right away. "hey."

he held up something, liberty’s drawing. the one she’d made after your first match together. the three of you, stick-figure smiles and all.

"she made me bring this", he said with a soft huff. "said i had to say sorry with the picture or it wouldn’t count."

your heart pinched. but you stayed still.

"i messed up", he said, voice low but certain now. "not because brandi showed up. that wasn’t the issue. it was the way i froze when you asked me to define this. you deserved more than that."

you crossed your arms. "so what is this, then?"

he stepped forward, slow but steady.

"this is me realising i’ve been holding you at arm’s length because i didn’t want to risk getting hurt again. because after the divorce, i didn’t think i could balance being a dad, a wrestler, and someone’s partner without failing at one of them."

you swallowed hard.

"but you came in and made it look possible", he said. "you didn’t just help with liberty. you didn’t just win matches or keep me sane. you fit. into all of it. into us."

you felt your breath catch.

"and i realised", he added, voice tighter now, "that i’ve been scared of choosing you out loud. not because i didn’t want to. because it felt too good to be real."

there was silence then. heavy and full.

then, quietly, you asked, "and now?"

he didn’t hesitate.

"now i’m sure", he said. "i want this. you. her. all of it."

you didn’t say anything at first. just looked at him, really looked. at the weight in his shoulders. at the hope in his eyes.

then you reached out and took the picture from his hand.

and pulled him into your arms.

he melted into the hug like it was something he’d been waiting for. like your arms were the only place he could finally exhale.

"i’m not brandi", you murmured against his chest.

"i know", he said. "you’re mine."

your lips found his, slow, certain, no hesitation this time. no missed moments. no almost.

just yes.

and when he kissed you back, it wasn’t rushed. it was deep and warm and full of all the things he hadn’t said until now.

when you finally pulled apart, foreheads still touching, you whispered, "so are we doing this?"

he smiled, hands cradling your face. "we’re doing this."

and this time, when he said we, it sounded like a promise.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

it wasn’t a grand announcement.

no dramatic sit-down. no awkward scripts.

it was a quiet sunday morning, in a sunlit hotel suite, with cartoons humming softly in the background and cereal crunching between liberty’s teeth.

you sat cross-legged on the floor with her, helping her line up her tiny plastic wrestlers in a perfect little royal rumble scenario. she had you booked to win, naturally. cody was still asleep on the couch, arm tossed over his face, chest rising and falling in the slow rhythm of real rest.

"okay", liberty declared, holding up a mini version of you, "you eliminate roman and bayley."

"both?", you asked with a mock gasp. "that’s aggressive."

"you’re the strongest. duh."

you laughed, poking her side until she giggled. you were so focused on her that you didn’t hear cody stir behind you.

but then you felt it, his hand brushing against your back, fingers gentle.

"hey", he said softly, voice scratchy from sleep. "we ready?"

you looked up at him. nervous. hopeful.

he gave you the smallest nod. you knew what it meant.

he moved slowly to sit next to liberty, pulling her close with one arm while you stayed just a few inches back, heart suddenly racing in your chest.

"bug", he said gently, "can i tell you something kinda important?"

she nodded, her curls bouncing. "you’re gonna let me have ice cream before lunch?"

he snorted. "no. something else."

she waited, curious eyes flicking between him and you.

"you know how you really like when she comes around?" he said, tipping his chin toward you.

liberty smiled wide. "yeah! she’s my favourite."

you tried not to melt.

cody nodded. "well she’s my favourite too."

liberty blinked. "like, favourite, favourite?"

"yeah", he said. "like she’s my girlfriend now."

she stared at him, then turned to you.

you braced for something. anything.

liberty gasped, loud and dramatic, and then threw her arms around you.

"YES! i knew it!"

you froze in place for a second, shocked by how fast she jumped into your lap, hugging your neck like it was the best news she’d ever heard.

"you’re gonna be with us all the time, right?" she asked, eyes wide with hope. "like family?"

you glanced at cody, who looked just as moved as you felt.

you smiled, heart full. "if that’s okay with you."

she nodded so hard her ponytail hit your face.

"can you still wrestle too?" she asked.

you laughed. "of course."

"good. i need you to beat nia again. she was mean to tiffy."

cody chuckled, pulling both of you close.

and just like that, it wasn’t complicated anymore. it wasn’t delicate. it wasn’t scary.

it was simple. it was soft. it was real.

it was love.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

you didn’t remember the last time you had a sunday like this.

no early flights. no boots to lace up. no last-minute creative changes or gorilla positions or camera cues. just you, cody, and liberty on a shaded patch of grass in a quiet park two hours outside of town.

there was no plan. that was the plan.

liberty had found a pair of butterflies to chase about twenty minutes ago, darting between wildflowers and clumps of grass with a shriek of joy every time one got away. cody lay stretched out beside you on the picnic blanket, one arm behind his head, the other loosely resting against your leg.

"she hasn’t stopped moving in an hour", he murmured, watching her with a tired kind of awe.

"five-year-old cardio", you said, smiling.

"she could outlast roman in a last man standing match."

you laughed, head falling back against the soft curve of his shoulder. his hoodie smelled like the citrusy detergent he always used and something uniquely him, warm and familiar, like sun and sawdust and home.

cody shifted slightly, letting his hand slide into yours, fingers finding yours like they’d always belonged there.

you didn’t say anything for a while.

just watched liberty, her laughter echoing in the quiet, open air. she was covered in grass stains and had two pigtails sticking in opposite directions, her shirt half untucked from a game of make believe that had spun wildly off course, but she was happy. genuinely, visibly happy.

and so were you.

cody turned his head, brushing his lips to your temple.

"you know", he said softly, "i don’t think i realised how much i needed this."

you glanced up at him. "needed what?"

"this", he said, squeezing your hand. "you. us. a day that’s not about keeping it together or fighting to prove something. just breathing."

you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding.

"you think this’ll last?", you asked, not quite meaning to say it out loud.

but he answered without pause.

"i’m gonna make sure it does."

you didn’t need a ring or a promo or a main event pop to believe him. it was in his voice. in the way liberty ran straight to the two of you moments later, collapsing in a heap between your legs, cheeks flushed with sunshine and triumph.

"you see that butterfly?" she panted. "i almost got him."

cody ruffled her hair. "almost. you’ll get him next time."

she nodded confidently, already reaching for the juice box by your side.

you helped her unwrap a granola bar, and when she leaned her head on your arm like it was the most natural thing in the world, you felt it again, stronger this time.

this wasn’t just a day off.

it was the beginning of something real.

not perfect. not easy. but good.

and yours.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

EPILOGUE - EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER

the nursery still smelled like fresh paint.

soft sage green on the walls. tiny gold stars dotting the ceiling. a half assembled crib in the corner. you’d only just finished folding tiny onesies into the dresser drawers when your lower back gave out and cody caught you mid grumble with a hand on your hip and a kiss to your temple.

"you’re not supposed to be doing heavy lifting", he teased, rubbing slow circles against the small of your back.

"it was a onesie, cody."

"still. looks dangerous."

you rolled your eyes but didn’t fight him when he steered you toward the living room. you were nearly eight months along now, your belly round and firm beneath one of his old nightmare family t-shirts, your feet swollen and aching after what felt like your fifth nesting spree of the week.

the moment you sat down, liberty appeared like she’d been summoned.

she clambered up beside you on the couch, knees pressing into the cushions, eyes wide and fixed on your belly. "can i talk to her now?"

"she’s probably sleeping", you warned gently.

"i’ll be quiet."

you smiled and nodded, and liberty leaned forward, pressing her little ear against your bump like she was tuning into a secret radio station.

"hi" , she whispered. "it’s me again. your big sister."

cody leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her with the softest look you’d ever seen on him. he didn’t speak, didn’t need to.

"i picked your name", liberty went on, her voice still hushed. "well daddy and me picked it. mommy liked it too."

you blinked, your heart stuttering.

mommy.

liberty had started calling you that a few months ago. there’d been no announcement, no dramatic moment, just one sleepy morning when she’d crawled into bed and said, "mommy, i had a dream", like it had always been true.

cody reached out and gently tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.

"she’s gonna love you", liberty added, nodding sagely to your belly. "but not more than me. ‘cause i was first."

you laughed, tears already pricking the corners of your eyes.

"she’s got a point", cody said with a grin.

"i’m still the boss of the little stuff", liberty insisted, pulling back and crossing her arms. "like bedtime stories. and snuggles. and if she cries too much, i’ll just give her my monkey."

you placed a hand on her knee. "that’s a very big sister thing to do."

she beamed, proud and serious all at once.

cody dropped onto the couch beside you and reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, then looked at liberty.

"you ready for all this, bug?"

she nodded confidently. "yep. we’re a tag team now."

you felt the baby kick then, just once, soft but certain.

liberty gasped. "she heard me!"

"she’s already listening to her big sister", cody said, smiling.

the three of you sat like that for a long time, wrapped in quiet joy, in love that had taken its time, that had grown from the ashes of something hard into something unbelievably soft.

and when liberty curled up beside you, head on your lap, little fingers brushing the curve of your belly, you realised something:

this was the life you’d never even dared to dream of.

a family that wasn’t perfect, but was absolutely yours.

and a love story that had only just begun.

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