#so next up either sand children or cloud children

[starwrighter]

I am not a baby!!(Yes you are)

(Ao3) (Masterpost) (Previous) (Next)

(Chapter 18 baby!)

The hatchling didn’t stay in his nest very long. Damian had thought the little one would be exhausted after his first encounter with Grayson. He himself had been exhausted by the encounter. It had taken ages to convince the other to leave and stop stalking near the plateaus.

The constant attempts at surveillance from his siblings were irritating before he’d been assigned to watch the hatchling. They were infuriating now. He isn't an infant anymore, and he hasn't been one for a thousand years. It's annoying that his siblings thought him so incompetent that he couldn’t complete this one simple task.

They acted like they weren't guilty of losing hatchlings in their territories. Scolding him like a hatchling slipping past someone was this unheard-of act of negligence. He knew for a fact each and every one of them had lost track of a guppy at least once. At least the little one he’s guarding was still alive. Damian had managed to keep it that way. Unlike other's he could think of.

This little one was healthy, swimming around faster than a pissed-off crashfish. He clicked his teeth at the child, a call of “come here” that the child either couldn’t understand or was blatantly ignoring. The little one was desperate to explore, but as he kicked his little legs closer and closer in the direction of the crash site, Damian couldn’t help but take action.

Bolting from his spot in the sand, he crooned. A worried scolding noise. A gentle nudge from clawed hands was met with a frustrated nip from the hatchling. With puffed-up cheeks, the hatchling darted around him, dodging his attempts at blocking him with a stubborn determination.

Why the little one was so determined to make his way to the crash site was beyond his understanding. Was it a built-in instinct to head towards their “Mother”? The structure that harbored them was no doubt artificial so it was safe to assume he wasn’t straying to gain comfort from a dead parent. Maybe he thought other members of his clutch would be nearby. These little ones tended to flock towards places other hatchlings had been. Presumably, Duke had been the one to find the hatchling near the egg in the kelp forests, even if the elder didn’t realize it.

Damian followed the hatchling deeper into the sand-clouded waters anxiety flaring the longer the little one ignored his warning. The metal here was still hot enough to mutilate a hatchling who drew close enough to touch it. Wreckage everywhere the eye could see, Damian didn’t trust any of it. How could one trust something that tended to spontaneously combust around a child? You couldn’t. This biome was too dangerous for a hatchling and he hadn’t even taken the reapers into account yet!

“Owwwwww”

Damian stared at the little one. There wasn’t a scratch on him yet pain and nausea radiated of him. The child blinked rapidly, pushing through the water despite Damian's attempts to pull him back.

“Get back here!” Damian called, the hatchling didn’t even acknowledge him. He just kept swimming forward. Closer to the reaper and closer to a mother that likely was never alive in the first place. The hatchling acknowledged his own pain, his swimming staggered the hatchling struggling to keep upright but continued his plight.

Damian huffed, snapping his teeth, flaring his gills, and striking the space beside the little one. An intimidation tactic, if the child wouldn’t respond to a guardian, he’d respond to an agitated predator. Using his size to his advantage, Damian towered over him, the glowing blue slab in the hatchling’s hands screamed.

Those little slabs had to have a tracker of some kind inside of them. The children would look at those glowing screens and wander towards somewhere dangerous. Specifically, a dangerous area another hatchling had once been in. Damian couldn’t bring himself to feel bad when the screen went blank.

“No!”

Distress was clear in the little one’s cry, blue eyes fixated on the slab.

“Sad” Damian reached for the child, freezing in his spot when a bone-chilling noise could just barely be heard. A noise he could recognize in a heartbeat, but it didn’t matter how quickly he recognized the sound. He had heard it, and that meant it could see them.

A reaper shouldn’t be here! Jason was supposed to be corralling them today. They’d wandered too close, and a reaper had snuck away from Jason’s care to take advantage. The hatchling kept staring at the dead tablet, unaware of the impending danger.

Damian puffed up, taking in a breath and letting out the loudest shriek his body could manage, wrapping his body around the guppy. His clawed hands prevented escape or in this case, prevented sharp mandibles from impaling the tiny skull of an infant. The little one was silent as the reaper charged, Damian’s tail raised to smack the mindless attacker away.

Its body was all muscle, eyes hungry and irrational. The strikes from his tail made an audible crack but did nothing to deter the beast. His defenses only served to anger it further. Reapers only cared about food, it would’ve been normal behavior had it not been for the bloodthirsty way they attempted to eat anything that moved regardless of size or age. Damian was far too large for the reaper to eat on its own on the unlikely chance the creature managed to finish him off, but it didn’t seem to care.

Logically he knew the animal was driven by instinct, but his bitterness prevailed. Reapers were not a part of this ecosystem that he favored, but he could understand the crucial role they played in local population control. Even if said population control attacked everything, including each other.

Blood spilled into the sea, but so long as it wasn’t red, Damian didn’t falter. Red copper-smelling blood meant death; a sign of ensured failure that’d stick with him for the rest of his natural life. Damian glanced down at the hatchling. The little one pointed a tool through the small gaps in his claws.

The tool was easy to recognize. The little one pointed it at everything, sometimes he would eat whichever flora or fauna he used it on. Damian wouldn’t be surprised if he was taking the opportunity to check if a reaper was edible. Father told him growing babies were always hungry and this hatchling had done nothing to disprove this theory.

Damian thrashed his tail, striking the beast into the ground. They didn’t know where that fish spent its time. Reapers didn’t care if what they ate was diseased. The ultimate carrier of plague. A baby's immune system was so incredibly fragile it had only taken three hours for the child in Dick’s territory to fall prey to illness. They needed to get out of here, now.

“Swim!” The hatchling beat his tiny fist against his skin. It was only the direction he was drifting towards that reassured him the little one wanted away from the reaper. He snapped, baring his teeth at the reaper, striking it down once more before shooting off with the hatchling gripped gently in his claws.

“Speed!!” The hatchling cheered, kicking his legs like he hadn’t almost been swallowed whole by a reaper.

“We wins, next time” The little one stared at him with those expressive blue eyes. There wouldn’t be a next time so long as he could help it. It wouldn’t be long before he was lectured for allowing the child anywhere near the site in the first place.

His tail ached, as they glided towards the safety of the shallows. A tsunami of nausea struck him as lingering adrenaline slowly faded from his system. He hadn’t failed, the guppy was fine. Not a scratch on him. This was fine. There would be no need for Father to assign someone else to watch the hatchling.

He was the most competent out of all of them! A whole three days this hatchling had been alive on this planet. His siblings couldn’t even keep one alive for three hours. This little one was stubborn and tiny, everywhere was a good hiding place for him and if he wanted to go somewhere he’d go with or without a guardian. Anyone with a brain could imagine the outcome of a hatchling wandering the crash sight by themself. They’d seen what happened, and it wasn’t pretty. Damian had done everything right, and dealt with the difficult situation handed to him without any casualties.

All it would take was a few seconds of them watching him before the guppy escaped from their watch. A few seconds and they’d be swimming around panicked like a shoal of rabbit rays. Damian doubted the hatchling being passed to someone else would stop his need for exploration. With the ability to maneuver on land, it wasn’t hard to imagine the child running off to explore one of the islands completely out of their reach. Damian didn’t even want to think about the possible tragedies that could happen if he’d wandered completely out of reach. The little “adventure” they’d gone on today induced a lifetime of anxiety in just a few minutes, but he doubted this would be the last time something like this would happen.

“Free me!” The child demanded, squirming in his gentle grip as they entered the coral-filled biome. The little one pried the claws off his back, diving into the sand the moment he regained his freedom.

Thwack!

“OW!”

A peeper charged straight for the child, impacting against chubby cheeks with a loud smack! With the bravo of a biter, it slapped the child directly in the face with its body. He couldn’t help but snort, quickly batting the small blue fish away before the hatchling could take his revenge. A thin trail of glittering gold followed the retreating prey fish, leaving Damian alone to do damage control.

“Gross!” The hatchling scrunched his nose, rubbing his hands against his face. Not a mark was left on him, only the lingering sparkle of yellow clinging to his skin. An encounter with a peeper wouldn’t kill them. If anything, one might argue it's healthy for him.

“Bleeding!” The child frowned, staring guilty at Damian’s tail. Yellow oozed from long thin scratches running down the thinner parts of his tail. Minor injuries that’d do him no harm in the long term. It was the better of the many morbid outcomes that’d been possible.

“Am sorry,”

Damian chuffed, holding the child in his palm, raising him slowly to the surface. Chubby hands smacked against his forehead the moment he lowered the child into the water a brief warning before he shot off into the kelp forest.

There wasn’t a second where he took his eyes off the guppy. Stalking with his body pressed up against the ground. The biome had plenty of hiding places for the hatchling but Damian was limited. His second form was far better suited for stealth but ran a higher risk of fatal injuries from larger fauna and attracted the attention of precursor-built predators.

A Warper was the last thing anyone wanted to introduce to a child. They attacked at random, culling off populations of fish and flora. While they preferred killing those with glowing cysts on their body, it didn’t stop them from attacking perfectly healthy individuals. It wouldn’t stop them from attacking the hatchling.

Tiny flippers cut through the water. An abundance of creepvine keeps the biome a murky green. He curled around stone arches watching the hatchlings chase fish, catching them between sharp canines.

“Distraction!” The child shouted, followed by the wet thwap of a dead fish impacting against a stalker's jaw. The animal was dazed by the attack but not injured as they eagerly scarfed down the “Weapon” that struck them. Other stalkers were smarter. Slowly approaching the child with open jaws, accepting a snack without having to face the violent throwing hand of an infant.

He himself was guilty of feeding stalkers. They never became docile enough to be a pet, but were still one of his favorite animals. Feeding them was much easier for him than it was for a hatchling this tiny. The child’s method was rather violent but it was necessary to ensure he wouldn’t be eaten alongside the offered fish.

“What the fuck were you doing in the crash site earlier?” Jason questioned cutting through his observations. Concern entwined with the fury lacing his words.

“You need to be more specific Todd, everyone’s been frequenting the crash site recently,” Damian replied, an obvious dismissal of the other’s concerns.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about,” Jason seethed “You’re on babysitting duty. Why the fuck would you try to fist fight a reaper when?”

“Would you have preferred I allowed the creature to eat the hatchling?” Damian sneered. “He’s determined to wander, our excursion to the crash site wasn’t planned,” He started.

“You were supposed to keep him in the shallows,”

“If I’d managed to stop him he’d have escaped and gone on his own,” Damian reminded, his voice tense. Many hatchlings had escaped or died on their careful watch, especially when they were kept confined to a single biome.

Damian didn’t want to keep the hatchling cooped up somewhere so cramped. Not when their species was still unknown to them. What if wandering allowed them to fulfill needs crucial to their survival? Precursors were the ones who kept children as prisoners. They were the ones who’d lock a child up and leave them until they died in agony, not him! Not his family, they wouldn’t do that. “Is he okay?” Jason asked.

“He’s catapulting dead fish at stalkers so I think it’s safe to assume he’s healthy,” Damian replied.

“What about you, demon spawn?” Jason questioned

“A reaper couldn’t even dream of hurting me,” Damian huffed.

“Not what I meant,” Jason sighed, the other sounded exhausted. “Something in the crash site is making everything really fucking sick. Bruce thinks it’s the mother spilling off some nasty decomp,”

“…” Damian felt fine, a little nauseous, but he was fine. There was no need for bed rest or a break. The idea of an artificial structure spilling toxic decomp was new but not impossible. Precursors did have a morbid fascination with playing god. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch to assume this is a failure of this overconfident thought process.

In the thousand years Warpers’ had been on this planet, none of them had ever died naturally. None of them had shown even the smallest sign of degrading with age. A Warper rotting, was an unthinkable concept you’d expect to happen when the sun dies out. But these hatchlings weren’t Warpers. Warpers were put together in an intricate process that had likely been perfected over a long time. These crashes screamed of a rush job. Tim had theorized the precursors had set both “mothers” on a timer before they’d gone extinct. Since there was nobody to monitor development, they were shot down far too early.

They didn’t know whose DNA was stolen to make any of the hatchlings. Knowing the precursors, most of these hatchlings had DNA that could stem from other unfortunate planets.

Damian glanced back to the hatchling. Incredibly tiny, with dull fingers and a reliance on the technology he created. They were dealing with a premature baby. A premature baby whose egg had malfunctioned upon impact. Smaller than any of the hatchlings they’ve seen before yet twice as ferocious to make up for that.

A string of strange chirps sounded from the little one’s tablet glowing once again. The guppy spun around looking around the kelp forest before his eyes landed on Damian.

“I sees you!” The child shouted before returning to cut pieces of kelp. Damian wasn’t sure if the boy’s short attention span was a blessing or a curse.

“Will I need to be quarantined?” Damian stalked the child as he swam back to the shallows. His tail dragged awkwardly against the sand. Small piles of rock were knocked to the seabed, a cloud of dust upturned with his attempts of swift stealthy movements.

“Probably, B has me contained in the fucking dunes,” Jason complained like he didn’t spend his time there daily.

“Sad,” The hatchling projected, Damian looked around, searching for anything that could have caused the child distress. Maybe he was tired? Damian wasn’t a guppy anymore, he didn’t think the same way a child would, but it was only logical for him to be tired after the day they’d had.

“Want my siblings,” the guppy cried, shaking his head with a scrunched nose. Damian frowned, reaching out for the child with a mournful croon. The child had been looking for his clutch mates back then and likely had been searching for them when he’d escaped Damian’s watch before.

“Loud, ouch, hurt” He froze watching as the little one cradled his head in his hands. A softer lower croon was sufficient for a hatchling with a developing sense of hearing. The child stared at him with utter confusion, like he couldn’t comprehend Damian could control his volume. Everything the hatchling said was either a shout or barely audible. Compensation for not having access to the bond yet.

“Mad!” The hatchling huffed, almost giving him a heart attack as he began coughing. A hatchling couldn’t die from being too mad right? No, none of his family would have made it past infancy if that were the case.

“Who will watch the hatchling while I’m in quarantine?” Damian questioned.

“Tim or Dick, they’re the only ones who haven’t gone to the crash site recently,”

Damian rested his head on his chin with a sigh. Tim being one of the only ones not to enter the crash site was a surprise. Tim was the first person you’d think would be flocking to the biome to investigate. Tim loved knowing about everything precursor-related and was especially obsessed with the tools the hatchling used. The insomniac thought they’d be able to mimic the hatchling’s abilities if they studied them hard enough. Tim had fought tooth and claw to loot the few buildings the hatchlings managed to make but Father rejected his requests no matter how he begged. Said it was disrespectful to the dead, and so the buildings were left to rust.

Tim not swarming to scavenge through the wreckage before anyone could stop him was strange. An outlier in an otherwise predictable pattern of behavior. It was an obvious plot to gain access to the only hatchling who lived long enough to build. It’s infuriating but at least the hatchling would be safe under his keen but obsessive eyes.

Dick would be a good babysitter in theory but was overly excitable. Shallow water made his emp field oppressive, and dangerous, something the hatchling had been rightfully terrified of. Dick showing up would surely stress the child out more than would be necessary. The moment he made a grab for the child was the moment he fled and they lost him forever.

“No touch!” The little one puffed up his chest darting back to his nest with ferocity kicking his legs like he wanted to attack the water itself. Damian could only assume the hatchling was cranky because they were up all day. Father said guppies needed lots of sleep but this one didn’t seem to get the memo.

“How long will I be quarantined?” Damian asked staring deeply at the metal structure.

“Until you’re better or until we figure out if what we caught is contagious,” Jason replied bluntly. Damian glared at the sand like each grain had offended him personally. What if the hatchling forgot about him? Object permanence in hatchlings is severely lacking, this one wasn’t any different. It was an unfortunate factor of harboring a brain just beginning to develop and take in information.

“Where am I quarantining?” Damian questioned, raising an eyebrow when he heard the other groan exasperatedly.

“In the dunes with me and everyone else,”

“You’re joking,” Damian accused. The dunes were plenty big enough to hold all of them but it’d be extremely unpleasant.

“Kill me,” Jason deadpanned. Damian nodded, a mercy killing was the ethical solution to this problem.

“I was screwing around earlier so now Duke and Steph think they’re dying of a new precursor plague and Cass has been playing dead in a ditch for about an hour,” Jason complained, a painful-sounding wheeze tainting his words.

“I see…” This wasn’t an ideal situation. He assumed the hatchling would be quarantined inside its nest. It was too dangerous to move him but deadlier to infect him with whatever they’d caught if they didn’t have it already.

Damian eyed the hatch of the child’s nest. The only entrance to the little building. Before he even knew what he was doing he’d curled himself around the hatchling’s base taking incredible care not to break anything. Like a boulder blocking a cave entrance Damian rested his head in front of the hatch.

Blocking the hatchling’s escape into anywhere dangerous while also preventing any physical contact with him. Now all he had to do was wait until his replacement came. Damian sneered, the thought of leaving the hatchling behind for someone else to bond with still irked him more than the pounding headache.

Maybe now the child might finally decide to sleep?

(No more tags because we're on the 18th chapter and there is both a master post and an ao3 link,)

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #subnautica au

[elmundodeflor]

Happy Birthday Hanji Zoe

✨️ Written in the Stars ✨️ - a Levihan drabble, for Hanji

•

•

The beach laid quiet that night. The low murmur of waves meeting the sand the only distinguishable sound echoing at the distance, almost like a hushed lullaby.

The kids had paid him a visit earlier that day, as they did every year when the last scraps of summer started to fade into the chill of orange trees and autumn breezes. It was nice to see them again, honestly. Levi was proud of the young men and women they had all become.

But he needed time to breathe alone, he figured. Time to be with himself in solace.

Gaby had taken him to the shores had everyone said their goodbyes, much like he'd asked of them. Then, she'd left back inside the house to finish up clearing the tables. He noticed, she had grown taller; taller than him, even, and that she wore her auburn hair in an unkept messy ponytail.

It reminded him of them.

Everything reminded him of them.

He looked over at the sea, there where the dark waters met the black night skies, and let out a heavy sigh that melted into the salty air.

It seemed forever ago when they had first reached beyond the walls. When they touched a world so new it felt they could grasp the horizon between their fingertips and nothing could ever hurt them anymore.

It was a simpler time, maybe. Even when war awaited, hidden in the shadows. The kids played amongst the crashing waves, laughing like the little children they had no chance of being, and hope painted the sky of bright clear blue. Even when fate uncertain clouded the roads ahead.

It was easier of a life, he mulled, surely, wincing at the memories flooding bittersweet. They were still warm and safe and alive next to him. And he much preferred uncertainty to the concrete and finite of death.

He exhaled. Hanji had held his hand and guided him along the shores that night, when they decided to set camp across the sand, curious and excited, like they had once explored mistery. The kids were already sound asleep in their tents, and everything else around them was drowned in silence.

"Have I ever told you about the stars, Levi?", they'd said.

He nodded, letting go of them if only for a brief second. They had stopped walking, far away from their lit bonfire, only to sit down together in the sand, facing the vastness of the universe side by side; two halves of a whole.

"You've told me way too many things, four eyes.", he admitted.

They laughed; a small sound that was ever so precious to his beating heart.

"Well, did you know they are nothing but boiling rock, pressed together by gravitational force?"

Levi shrugged. He usually had no idea what half of that scientific terminology meant, whatsoever, but still decided to listen either way. Time after time again.

"I guess it kinda makes sense.", he'd concluded, unsure. And Hanji smiled, with a fondness only reserved for moments like those they shared in the intimacy of eachother's company.

"A while back I read about them having some sort of life, much quite like us humans.", they'd explained, glaring up at the trail of specks that glimmered over the black infinity. "It's funny, you know? 'Cause when they die, it could be months or even years after they become invisible to us here on Earth."

Levi swallowed. There was a lump tightening his throat that he hadn't even noticed forming until he started struggling for air.

"Is it because of how far away they are from us?", was all he managed saying.

Hanji remained quiet for a while; a sigh of melancholy escaping them inevitable, slipping into the soft of the wind's melody.

"Sometimes, I like thinking that our fallen comrades turn into stars.", they'd confessed; dropping their weight free onto the sand immense, almost as broad as the skies above. "That we can still see them, even after they've been long gone. And that, in spite of their clear absense, their light still shines for us who're over here."

Levi had nodded, once more. He had never thought about it that way back then, but he certainly did now.

Was Hanji watching him, as he'd wished for that day? Were they still present, beating iridiscent in the shimmering of the brightest star?

He stared up; his only eye searching for signs written in the night.

It was hard to be without them, really. Desperating, even; to know a world without their shining light reaching for every corner, as fiery as the smoke that had once tarnished them whole. His heart hurt and twisted and turned, shattered to pieces with every beating day.

But specially that one.

Specially when life reminded him they should have been on Earth, by his side, and not wandering lost around the gates of heaven.

He grumbled, much to his desdain, and traced his fingers through the scars that had sewn him miraculous, back to life. Hanji's birthday week had always been difficult, but that one was specifically gut-wrenching.

September fifth, and they would have turned fourty, Levi remembered. Because, of course: how could he not?

Fourty, he thought to himself; a deep sigh, tinted of sorrow blue almost rushing through him.

He was sure, then, that they would have joked about becoming a fossil, if fate had ever given them the chance to, and that they would have smiled, evergreen as they blew out their candles; joy sealed concrete, imprinted permanent on the corners of their eyes. He was certain, also, that they would have booked a ticket anywhere right after the party was over with, and that they would have spent a lifetime following the clouds; because they were impulsive like that.

He chuckled; brief, yet audible.

It was ironic, honestly, how silver linings were starting to splatter his ever-dark hair, and Hanji would be no more, forever stuck in eternal youth.

No wrinkled smiles, no candles to blow.

They were ripped too early, for they would never be able to walk the world they once fought so vehemently to liberate.

No threads of grey crowning their head. No birthday cakes. No chances of attesting time change their skin. Nor growing old next to him.

The kids had brought them presents, though, as they did every year. Armin, a handful of titan books and a letter from sweet Mikasa, over in Paradis. Annie and Pieck a box of their favourite tea, along with a bottle of the local marleyan wine. Connie had fetched a bouquet of the lilac flowers Hanji used to love, and Jean had drawn them immortal into thick chalkboard traces: so realistic, Levi's heart had froze for over a good minute.

"You see?", he spoke, swiftly into the darkness. His chest stung with fiery anguish, much like the tears he held restrained inside his eyes. "How loved you are, shitty glasses..."

He never knew why he could never tell them such himself, back when they were still alive.

How could he be such a coward?

He had loved them, then. Loved them, still. Loved them always.

Were they ever aware that he loved them?

He exhaled, tiresome, and clutched his broken hand between steady fingers; a refugee he had built if only to savour the last of their breathing warmth, right before smoke had drowned them worlds away.

Hanji Zoe. The crazy titan scientist. A misunderstood soldier. A tornado that had spun his universe on its axis and ablazed his soul into burning flames.

He had loved them. Intense and achingly pure. He had loved them, although aware that surrendering himself to love was only condemning his emotions to the agony of eternal loss.

Maybe, that was why he had swallowed the words shut, he sought. Why he chose to explode in silence, instead of bombing wholes and make a mess of what little he had left. What would have been the diference, had he told them? Would there have been any?

Earlier that day, Reiner had given him a gift from both Flegel and Queen Historia herself: a fancy ring, of white gold and purple glimmering stones. He wondered, in his now solitude, if he would have put it around Hanji's finger had they breathed longer to keep him company. If he would have been brave enough to place the right questions, in spite of there never existing a fitting time.

He swallowed, impossible, and finally allowed himself free to cry in silence, for the suffering shaking his bones frail was just too much to bear alone.

When was the last time he'd cried like that? He figured, eventually, pain was something a soldier like him had to learn how to live with and in spite of. So he had kept it guarded to forsake his sanity, awfully convinced it would be for the best.

Even when he'd forgotten how much goodbye weighed heavy on his soul. How needed it was to set all hell loose, every once in a while.

He inhaled, sharply, and looked over at the seas through now blurry vision. The moon white reflected round over the rather calm waters; the only witness of his pouring emotion, flowing endless out of him.

Would Hanji know they were free now, thanks to them? That they had all tasted the peace they had once risked everything to discover?

Would they know he loved them, as deep as the ever-unreachable ocean?

The night was still yound and summer was slipping away and they would have been fourty. But they were gone and a piece of himself would always be missing, gone fourty times over with them.

"Four eyes...", he said; voice faltering, left fist closed tight across his chest, there where his heart remained fractured, but beating, still. "Happy birthday."

He assured, then, he was going to live through the pain, much to his terror of even trying. He was going to, if that was what would have made them joyful and content, wherever they were.

He promised, he was going to live for them.

Even when his only and biggest regret was ever agreeing to let them go that day.

"Hanji..." he glanced over at the sky, and extended his hand up open; as though he could touch them one last time, feel them laugh in the cool of the chanting breeze. "I will always love you. Did you know...?"

Stars danced and winked and sparkled blinding atop his head, attesting to the truth behind his words; purple like the stones in his ring. Precious like their favourite color.

He was going to live for them.

Maybe, because they were still watching, after all.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hanji zoe #hange zoe #happy birthday hange zoe #happy birthday hange #hangefest #hange fest #levi #hange #hanji #levi and hanji #levi x hanji #levi and hange #levi x hange #character death #post chapter 132 #post canon #angst #fluff #emotional #fanfiction #drabble #oneshot #levihan drabble #levihan fanfic #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #aot #snk

[dragoncityinteriordesign]

[This post has been sitting half-done in my Drafts for a long time, because I keep hoping that I’m going to find something more about these images, and then I just keep not being able to. If you recognize any of them, please tell me!]

It’s very hard to identify the framed works on Shen Wei’s walls, mostly because a) they’re small, and b) we never get good closeups on any of them. After a lot of squinting, here’s my best take on them.

Let’s start with the easy one: The large framed print back in the little nook is a reproduction of Leonardo da Vinci’s The Virgin and Child with Saint Anne and Saint John the Baptist, a 16th-century charcoal. This is the only piece that seems to match the Renaissance theme going on in the DCU hallways. Ignore the part where all this art confirms the existence of Christianity in the Guardian universe. The theological implications are staggering.

The wall opposite that has a lot of what appear to be certificates and diplomas that somebody familiar with Chinese higher education could probably make sense of, but that someone is not me. Look, I know trying to make sense of the Guardian timeline is a fool’s errand, but I still have to wonder how Shen Wei got all of those. He had to go through some schooling, right? Even if you have a super-absorbant brain, one does not simply pop out of the ground after 9,997 years ready to lecture on genetics at a university level. And he and the Nice Doctor are supposed to be college buddies, so unless she’s lying, he actually knuckled down and earned a couple letters after his name. I’m suspecting he magically fudged the undergraduate credentials, but calling him 沈教授 somewhat implies he’s a full professor with a Ph.D. I’m sure one of those framed certificates is praise for his groundbreaking dissertation on having there is a monster in the wo.

...Also, there’s a convenient great big blank spot right above the fish tank! Almost like it was waiting for an embarrassing spy-banner-slash-love-note!

The wall opposite the door has four images, none of which are very clear. The one all the way to the left looks like some kind of cloud formation, with a row of people all along the bottom looking up at it and either raising their fists or pointing. The next one over, the largest, looks to be an old man and a young child, both squatting on the ground and looking upward. There’s a much smaller one next to that, and that one may be two children standing in front of a group of adults. Finally, there’s a long image of something I can’t even start to identify, lines of what looks like lumps of contoured, colored ... sand? clouds? And is that a little owl perched at the bottom of the frame? Tell you what, that’s the one that’s been driving me up the wall, because I can’t even begin to tell what I’m looking at.

Finally, there’s the wall by the door. Some of them look like they might be by the same photographer, but they don’t look like they’re all by the same photographer. The cafe with the red seats has a lot of similar pieces hanging on its walls. Left to right, the images look like: at least one person standing on a street corner under a streetlight; a set of developed islands surrounded by canals, two of which are connected by a bridge; a person seated at a table, either looking at themselves in a wall-length mirror or looking at someone else through a doorway; a sky-perspective view of tall buildings; several balconies overlooking a courtyard, taken from the middle one of the balconies; a young boy on a smoky street with an old-fashioned car behind him; a person alone on a street, maybe in the rain; a man carrying rice seedlings for planting; and a seated, smiling person peeking out from behind a pillar.

I assume every art choice here (except maybe the certificates) is 100% a case of, we had a blank wall, so we grabbed the nearest framed objects we could find. But it’s kind of nice imagining these being deliberate choices on Shen Wei’s part, with no overarching theme in mind. He has no idea what’s “supposed” to go up in an office like this, but he knows what he likes.

#guardian #zhen hun #dragon city university #shen wei's office

[thesinglesjukebox]

CALVIN HARRIS FT. ELLIE GOULDING, "MIRACLE"

Some of us believe in miracles, some of us don't...

[5.84]

Taylor Alatorre: This song made me check if my computer was Y2K compliant. This song made me surf the alt.politics newsgroup to find out the date of the next WTO conference. This song made me "borrow" my weird friend's Prima strategy guide for Sid Meier's Alpha Centauri. This song made me call up my local PBS station to see if it had any plans to air episodes of Serial Experiments Lain. This song made me print out and annotate the lyrics to my illegally downloaded copy of NOFX's The Decline EP. This song made me contemplate making an "Acceptable in the 90's" pun. This song re-taught me HTML.</br> [9]

Leah Isobel: I need Kingdom Hearts AMVs set to this song and I need them immediately. [8]

Jonathan Bradley: It's vintage trance rather than blockbuster eurodance, but Calvin Harris's '90s pastiche is more dead-on than anything found on the Planet of the Bass. Precisely, it's a dead-on recreation of "Children" by Robert Miles, though perhaps Ellie Goulding has been recruited to provide a point of differentiation. It took one-and-a-half listens to remind my that the odd warpings of her cellophane voice go from novel to vertiginous very quickly; they might be more welcome here if they were either less glassily pristine or more. The breakbeat at the end is its own work of miniature history: the years going on and club trends shifting to drum and bass. [6]

Edward Okulicz: When I first heard this song I was sure it must be a sped-up remix thing a la Robin Schulz/Oliver Tree's "Miss You". How could it not have been? It's just so much. I would suggest that if they want to squeeze any more virality out of this song, they might get some mileage by slowing it down. But then it might lose that tasty early 00s UK mainstream chart dance-pop energy it's channelling so well. [6]

Hannah Jocelyn: This gets a [6] because the way Ellie Goulding sings "Oh No" makes me think of Webcomic Name. But also because Goulding sounds the most like herself she has in years, after eras upon eras of producers wasting her fascinating vocal timbre. How many vocalists have a soprano voice that husky? How many have that weird vibrato? Goulding's voice already sounds sped-up before Harris even touches it, and if it is sped up, I need to hear the version of "oh no" that sounds like "MacArthur Park." [6]

Crystal Leww: Calvin Harris is like the cat with nine lives of EDM, having gotten his start during the days of freaking bloghouse, blowing up during peak girly-ass EDM, continuing to thrive through the UK pop-house era, and sliding and funk waving bouncing through the late-aughts. I thought that finally he would retire to hitting the play button on prerecorded headlining sets in Vegas and Ibiza, but alas, he's hopped on trance during a time when it's back, baby. Trance's grand return is something that's been building with a very specific set of underground dance nerds for a while, in a bunch of different formats (see: the hypertrance crew, the hard trance pop song edits, and the latest point of arrival for PC Music/-adjacent gang), and Calvin Harris takes it all the way to UK #1. "Miracle" joins him back up with Ellie Goulding, who was one of his best collaborators during the peak girly-ass EDM era (twice). Goulding's vocals have always felt like an intimate whisper - they're there and they emote, but they never overwhelm - perfect for a track that needs to speed and glide on the clouds. This may be a sanded down, corners smoothed out version of whatever is happening in the underground but damn if Calvin hasn't always been good at making a hook. [6]

Nortey Dowuona: Fuck Calvin Harris and anyone who wants him to make EDM. [3]

Scott Mildenhall: In lesser hands, this would be a facsimile, losing all joy in a vain search for an excuse to exist. In the hands of experts, it is joy afresh. "Miracle" is at one with its euphoric essence, granting it the space to diffuse and reveal itself not as pastiche, but as a reminder of the power of piano presets. Ellie Goulding in trance alien mode is the perfect fit: human, but not distractingly so. [8]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: I listened to this song twice this year, both times in the passenger seat of my middle aged uncle after not having seem him for years, stuck in traffic in Shanghai, singing along with broken English and appropriately and awkwardly bumping our heads. He thought it bumped. [6]

Ian Mathers: I can't remember if I've ever felt dismay when the beat comes in before, but on first listen that's exactly what happened. I'm not even sure why! It's not like I was much enjoying the song before that; maybe it just suddenly seemed clear this was going to be exactly what I'd expect from the combination of these two artists, neither of whom I love. It felt like I could have predicted the rest of the song from that point, and that's kind of how it played out. [3]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: I love dumb dance pop -- My favorite Madonna song is "4 Minutes"! This is too dumb even for me. How do you even do that? [3]

Katherine St Asaph: This kind of pop-trance was already a massively guilty pleasure for me because of the accumulated secondhand disgust of trance purists. "Miracle" has an additional source of guilt in being a pop-trance track by Calvin Harris, who has been around long enough that his releasing a Robert Miles rip this hacky has to be either condescension or a bit. Clearly I have no standards. [9]

Alfred Soto: Give me more anonymous dance tracks like "Miracle," which it isn't but it will do. Jessie Ware would do well to cast off her pearls before the swine who helped perpetuate her approximation of failed euphoria. [7]

Aaron Bergstrom: We have DJ Sammy at home. [3]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: What the hell... this literally ends right as I'm starting to believe how good it is? [4]

Brad Shoup: Feels like I should be rating the progressive-trance remix in my head, one that's 12 minutes long, shamelessly milks the piano decay and pushes Goulding to match the urgency of the BPM. She's as centered as ever, despite Harris's breakneck rave tempo: nearing the end, he tosses out some breakbeat like an anchor. But in my head, it's still going. [6]

Thomas Inskeep: I know I should be accustomed to it in 2023, but when I come across someone such as Harris who clearly has zero musical integrity, who'll do anything for hits -- well, it still catches me off-guard. And no one hops from one dance/pop trend to another faster than Harris. (Allow me to remind you that his 2007 album I Created Disco was pretty good!) Which is all to say that I shouldn't be surprised to hear "Miracle" hopping on the '90s trance revival bandwagon. He's got the ability to make it sound right, but by no means does that make this good. I disliked '90s trance at the time, and find it even more loathsome now as a big-budget no-ideas Hollywood sequel. Goulding could literally be any other female singer, as generic and over-processed as her vocals are here - and she's never been the most (ahem) distinctive singer to begin with. Truly, almost impressively awful. [1]

Will Adams: In our 2022 Amnesty post-mortem, I wrote about Romy's "Strong" and how trance music had been bubbling up in the pop landscape. Fast forward a year, and now we have mainstream acts -- Tove Lo, Icona Pop, David fucking Guetta -- all dialing up the tempos and the sawtooth synths. I should've known Calvin Harris -- who has contorted himself to align with the electronic genre du jour for over fifteen years -- would hop on the train, but "Miracle" still came as a welcome surprise. I spent better part of my tenure at the Jukebox yelling about how much I love trance, and this is no different. In the tradition of euro-trance classics, there are, at most, two key elements at play: the Robert Miles piano; the lyric "are you too cynical to believe in a miracle?" The rest is routine: the accelerated heartbeat BPM, a feather-light vocal from Goulding, reverb galore, all in service of creating that dream-like state on the dancefloor, when you close your eyes but still feel the strobe lights on you. [7]

Jackie Powell: I'll preface this by saying "Miracle" was my top song this year. When Spotify wrapped told me what I predicted was true, I wasn't surprised. "Miracle" was a song that stuck with me throughout the good and the bad in 2023. It was with me when I couldn't get out of bed, when I was driving or walking to my destination, when I was exercising, when I was transcribing an interview, and even when I was writing. I'm not the only one who proclaimed that the third Calvin Harris and Ellie Goulding collaboration was an addictive listen. It's an earworm. It's meant to be looped. Calvin Harris knows how and when to introduce new sounds, something that happens from the first verse right into the second chorus. Those introductions stimulate the brain and since I've listened to the track so many times, I can anticipate each dynamic shift and new sound that arrives. I feel like a conductor when I know exactly when the "boots and cats" percussion finally hits. The lyrics aren't really groundbreaking on this track and they aren't supposed to be. To enjoy "Miracle" at its fullest, the appreciation comes in the diverse sounds, and its velocity. Hat tip to Chromatica producer BURNS who provides the listener with a similar type of movement and constant tempo changes following the drop in "Rain on Me." But that is to say, the most stunning part of the "Miracle" experience isn't what makes it the most addicting. It's Goulding's vocals. Not only does the melody written in give her the freedom to use her voice at its most natural, but this is a song that not many other pop artists could pull off convincingly. You want to know what her voice is going to do next because it's so unpredictable. This is a track that is exemplary of the fact that Goulding is a generational talent, her unique timbres and range aren't contained but rather are given a space to play. And if you can't hear that alongside techno and Eurodance beats, have no fear: Harris and Goulding put out a "Church version" of Miracle, stripping back until this version is truly all about Goulding. There's a euphoric sound when she's harmonizing with herself during the second verse. It's so satisfying and soothing. It's so stupefying and even a bit moving. [10]

#calvin harris #ellie goulding #music #pop music #music writing #music reviews #music criticism #the singles jukebox #Youtube

[hayffiebird]

Taste of Strawberries, chap. 33

Hayffie Post-mockingjay Multi-chapter, Rated M SUMMARY: Four years have passed since the end of the war when Effie returns in to Haymitch’s life once again. An old friendship is renewed. Will it lead to something more? Meanwhile Panem has entered a new era. The rebellion’s over, the borders are open but in the shadows, anger and mistrust are smoldering. Something that will affect Haymitch and Effie’s life in a way they never saw coming. Chapter 33 Clouds on the horizon Mrs. Pluckrose had a silver door knocker shaped like a wolf’s head. It shone with moist after the latest rain. Empty eyes stared into Effie’s when she lifted the heavy ring between its jaws and knocked three times. The November wind whispered in the apple tree and she wrapped her cardigan, Haymitch’s cardigan that was, tighter around herself as she waited. Almost a full minute passed and right when she thought they would simply ignore her, the door swung open. Mrs. Pluckrose’s ten year old looked back at her, startled and big-eyed, standing there in his stocking feet and red knitted sweater with blue dots on it. Then his face closed shut and he stared her down, defiantly and suspicious. “Hello, Timothy. Is your mother home?” But she needn’t ask for now Mrs. Pluckrose herself appeared in the doorway, next to her son. “Something I can help you with, Ms. Trinket?” Effie’s gaze flitted to Timothy who remained behind his mother’s skirts. “Do you want to tell her, Timothy or shall I?”

When there was no response her attention returned to Mrs. Pluckrose. “Your son has been harassing my children. Calling them names.” “I didn’t! I just…” “Today wasn’t the first time either and I will not stand for it.” Mrs. Pluckrose turned to her son. “Have you said anything inappropriate, Timmy?” Timothy worried his bottom lip. Looked surly from Effie to his mother. “No. I only said what you…” “In!” Mrs Pluckrose snapped, pointing. “Go to your room!” The boy shot one last glance at Effie and walked off. With him gone Mrs. Pluckrose turned to her neighbor again, smiling a smile sweet as a lemon. “I’m sure this is nothing but a big misunderstanding. You probably just heard him wrong, that’s all. I know how tiresome the baby years can be.” “I heard him perfectly clear, Mrs. Pluckrose.” “Our Timmy is a good boy. And this is a good neighborhood. Nothing like what you said has ever happened before. Not until you moved here.” “Oh, my dear Mrs. Pluckrose,” said Effie and shook her head. “If you are bent on playing this obtuse, then can I at least talk to Timothy?” The neighbor flashed another sweet-sour smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “That is never going to happen, Ms. Trinket. Pardon me for being so frank but if you feel like the Capitol isn’t agreeing with you then there’s always the option of moving. Why don’t you just heed my advice and take your family back to District 12. You’ll be happier for it.” xXx “I should’ve gone.” More rain tapped against the glass ceiling of the roof terrace while Effie poured coffee for them both. “Goodness no.” She checked on Amy sleeping in her baby bouncer before settling into the sofa with her cup, her feet tucked underneath her. “I’m way too exhausted to wipe that woman’s blood off the walls.” Ian moved sleepily against his father’s chest but with the rocking of the old hammock he didn’t wake up. Haymitch rubbed his free hand against his aching eyes. Felt like someone had poured sand into them. Effie was probably right. A few weeks ago she wanted fresh tulips to celebrate the fact that the house was now hers. Later, when they pushed the stroller out of the flower shop they crossed paths with an elderly couple. 80 years old or more. Him leaning heavily against a cane and dressed in a pearl gray suit and matching hat. Her, petite and viciously laced up with a dead Eastern bluebird on top of her elegant hairdo. “Oh, don’t mind about them, dear,” the old lady said and patted her husband’s arm. But the man had halted to a stop and when Effie met his frosty stare with her head high he spat on the ground. “Filthy half-breeds!” “Hey, pal!” Haymitch shouted after them. “If you don’t want me to knock those false teeth out you’ll keep your opinions to yourself!” So yeah. Haymitch had always fancied himself a level-headed man. Someone who could keep his cool under pressure. Even be diplomatic when the situation called for it. But with Amy and Ian… If something threatened them, he saw red every time. “Do you want me to take him?” Effie asked when Ian let out a long whine and bumped his mouth into Haymitch’s shoulder. “No, it’s alright.” He kissed the top of his son’s head. “Boy’s just determined to have his father jump off the fire escape. Aren’t you, sweetheart?” In response, Ian hiccupped and the next moment something warm ran down Haymitch’s shoulder. Effie burst out laughing and covered her mouth with her hand. Haymitch shot her a look. “You gonna do that every time they spit up on me?” Effie cleared her throat to try and contain herself but her eyes glittered with mirth as she helped him with the paper towels. “At least you have a burp cloth,” she said. “If you could just remember wearing it. That’s more than I had when you puked on me during the Games.” Down bellow, the door bell suddenly rang in a fury, followed by a thunder of feet and distant laughter. Haymitch sighed. In the weeks and months that followed their first visit, they’d spent a lot of time in the Fountains of Youth. Other places too. The river Theseus, Cupid’s Garden. Always in the morning when the least people were up and about, giving them a hard time. But it was only kids who advanced like this. Who dared more than looks and whispers. And Timothy Pluckrose wasn’t the only one. Far from it. It got so bad that Haymitch and Effie would probably have kept to the roof terrace with its bullet proof glass as much as possible, if it was all up to them. It wasn’t a bad place for someone who needed a break from the world. If not a safe haven, then at least a quiet, peaceful hideout, overflowing with potted plants. A comfy couch, armchairs. Soft carpets. A small book case stood in the corner filled with children’s books and glossy magazines and a family of Effie’s origami frogs. In here they fed and changed and cuddled the twins. Read them bedtime stories and played records for them on their grandfather’s old gramophone. Even enjoyed a good lunch or a catnap, when given the chance. It was a good house. No matter what his feelings were toward the rest of the Capitol, he had to accept that it really was. The rooms, the roof terrace, the little garden with the tree and the wishing pond. A good place for children. And with each memory built that included them, the more it became their house. Amy and Ian’s. And that made it the one place in the Capitol he could actually stand. But Amy and Ian loved being outdoors. They loved riding in the stroller. Especially through the Fountains of Youth. Haymitch didn’t know if it was the sound of water or the wind chimes or simply the soft bumps and bounces of the stroller itself but it was the single best way to make them fall asleep and sleep hard. Overall, their sleep cycle was out of whack, despite Effie’s careful planning. When she was still pregnant, it had seemed like a non-issue – staying up with a newborn at three in the morning – since he’d be awake anyway. But what he didn’t take into account was the fact that Amy and Ian needed him just as much during the day. Every day. 24 hours a day. No wonder sleep deprivation was used as a torture method. He’d confess anything at this point. The crying was another matter. Effie said it was all normal but he’d be damned if her genes hadn’t given them a head-start in the voice department. Because how else could someone so small be so fucking loud? He’d be deaf in one ear before their first birthday. His entire existence had narrowed down to just recognizing what the twins needed and give it to them. Course, his life hadn’t exactly been chockfull of ambition prior to them either. Or any kind of meaning, for that matter. xXx ”Tattletale! District breeder! Twelve Whore!” Hands banged on the windows and the twins shrieked, startled awake just minutes before being put down. “Goddamn punks!” Haymitch hauled himself out of bed. Seeing him coming, the kids fled, giggling hysterically. He slammed the window open. “Come back here, you ignoramuses!” Their laughs echoed as they all scattered to the wind. “Go back to District 12, traitor!” one of them piped. ”It’s OK. It’s OK, baby girl. I’m here. Mama’s here.” Amy wailed in Effie’s arms. Ian too, alone in the crib. That’s what finally moved Haymitch from the window. “Come here. Don’t cry, little ‘un.” He lifted his son up, holding him close. “I ain’t never gonna let anyone hurt you. Not ever.” Haymitch knew his children’s cries. Had heard plenty of it since the moment they were born. He’d even started to recognize some of them, able to tell what cry meant what, with Effie’s help. But he had never heard anything like this and he never wanted to again. The wrong cries. Frightened cries. Like they were scared out of their minds. He cradled Ian close to his chest, rocking him. With his hands clutched into fists the baby wailed from the top of his lungs. Amy did too and all they could do was waiting for it to pass. Ian calmed down first. With his little face buried in his father’s sweater, the safe and familiar smell comforted him. Amy had a worse time. Sometimes there was a pause in her cries with nothing but the occasional whimper but then it was like she remembered it anew and it set her off all over again. Effie rocked her and kissed her and whispered a soft lullaby. Wonderfully out of tune, yes, but the sound lit an idea in Haymitch’s head. “Come. Imma try something.” Holding the twins, they headed for the living room. Haymitch laid Ian down on the couch and Effie had a seat next to him with a crying Amy to her chest. June and Annabel’s piano went with all the rest of the furniture when the moving van rolled out of the Capitol but Effie had one herself. One that belonged to her parents, though not nearly as fancy. Now Haymitch pulled out the music stool in front of it and had a seat. With his fingers on top of the ivories, slow and sweet music filled the air. His first performance since before they were born. It was one of her absolute favorites. Haymitch had played it to her as many times as she liked during the pregnancy. Baby Mine. That’s right. Or Babies Mine as Effie’d come to call it. A mountain air as old as the hills. Haymitch even taught her the lyrics when asked. She heard the words in her mind now, just as clearly as she did the music. Amy quieted down as the music registered. With tears shining on her cheeks her cries turned to sniffles and then nothing at all. Ian nibbled on his knuckles, blinking up at the ceiling. Both the twins listened, in wonderment over the sounds. Then, almost immediately, their eyelids started drooping. “Oh,” said Effie in a hushed voice. “I think they remember.” Haymitch’s dirty blonde hair fell into his eyes as he kept playing the soft lullaby. Effie kissed Amy’s temple, holding her with one arm; her other hand rested against Ian, throughout the rest of the song. xXx “You should’ve let a Capitolian knock you up instead of me.” Haymitch lay on his side, watching Amy and Ian’s chests rise and fall with each breath. They slept soundly now, lying in the middle of the bed, safe between their parents. Effie met his gaze from the other side, caressing their hair. “What kind of rubbish is that?” “I’m serious. You wouldn’t be having this problem if they weren’t my blood.” “Don’t start that again. I don’t care what people think. Amy and Ian are yours and it’s exactly how it should be. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. You know that.” “OK,” he said. “What about them? What will their lives be like?” An hour later the cab pulled up to the curb. The glowing sun was on its way down, setting the world ablaze. Just the kind of orange Peeta loved. Mrs. Pluckrose stood in her doorway, watching them lift the last of their bags into the car. So giddy she was practically flying on her feet. “We’ll be sorry to see you go,” she thrilled. “Oh, just let it be, Effs,” said Haymitch but Effie had already turned around and left him there with the twins, slumbering in their child safety seats. “We’re not moving, Mrs. Pluckrose,” she said, coming face to face with the neighbor. ”We’re going to District 12 to visit our other children.” Mrs. Pluckrose snorted a laugh. “Your children?” “That’s right. And while we’re being this neighborly, let me just inform you that if you don’t teach your son some decent manners until I get back I might just tell your darling husband about the gentlemen you enjoy spending time with while Timothy’s at school.” Mrs. Pluckrose’s face turned an ugly red. “That’s a filthy lie! And even if it wasn’t, my Carl would never believe the words of a fallen woman like yourself!” “Maybe he will and maybe he won’t. Do you really want to take the chance?” Mrs. Pluckrose’s teeth were clutched so tightly it was a miracle they didn’t shatter like dinner plates at a tourist attraction. Her pale eyes stared into Effie’s who looked straight back, steadfast and unwavering. ”Twelve Whore,” she murmured through pressed lips. “Capitol cunt,” said Effie, loud and clear. Mrs. Pluckrose gasped, gaping like she couldn’t even believe the words. “You!” was all she got out. “You… you!” Effie didn’t stay to hear the rest. She turned on her heel, back to Haymitch and their children. Mrs. Pluckrose wasn’t the only one who stared. Haymitch looked at Effie like he’d never seen anything so magnificent in all of his 40 odd years. “Did you just…?” “Oh, shut up, Haymitch!” She lifted Ian into the car. “Let’s go.” Author’s note: And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why Effie is boss! Baby Mine is from the movie “Dumbo” of course. The 2019 version. You can listen to it on Youtube: “Disney Piano – Dumbo Baby Mine – Relaxing piano.” I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Leave a review if you wanna make my day and make for faster updates.

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #hayffie twins #the hunger games

[iamapoopmuffin]

Naruto OCs

Alright some people showed interest so here’s some of my ninja brats! Starting with one of my 3-man cell groups!

This particular group is from Amegakure and are all named after penguins - the Rockhopper, Humboldt and Gentoo penguins specifically.

Iwatobi - Iwatobi is considered the leader of the three penguin lads. He has light skin, dark green hair that’s short and spiked with some yellow parts at the front to resemble the feathers on a rockhopper’s head, and red eyes. He doesn’t really have any special abilities or unique jutsu, and primarily uses water and lightning release and taijutsu. He’s around the same age as Konohamaru.

When he first appears in my little storyline, where he takes part in his Chunin exams, Iwatobi is rude, self-absorbed and a total pervert - something Funboruto is openly annoyed by and Jentsu encourages in part because he finds people’s reactions funny. His early behaviour suggests he is bisexual, but also ignorant in regards to the LGBT community and that he will quite happily objectify any attractive person - his interactions with Sabaku are the best example of this. His flirts with Sabaku are always very strong and sexual, both when he thinks Sabaku is female and when he knows he’s male, but he also shows disgust when he first finds out he was wrong and seems to believe the reason Sabaku didn’t like him flirting was because they’re both boys, and not because Iwatobi’s behaviour was rude and inappropriate. Despite his nastier behaviours, he is later seen to be friends with the other main Konohamaru-era team leaders (Sakyu, Iyashinote, Ichigo and Tsuyoi), though he may have joined the friendship group a little later.

Thankfully, Iwatobi does do some serious growing up and learns to be a lot less gross with people and a lot more respectful towards others. When he interacts with Tsuyoi he still openly flirts, but he’s a lot more gentle and respectful with her. He also learns to look out for others more and be less selfish following a mission where his actions almost result in the loss of one of his teammates. He’s still full of himself and sees himself as a bit more skilled than he is (he’s a competent shinobi, but dear god does he think highly of himself) but he’s still made great strides in self-improvement.

Funboruto - Funboruto is basically the team’s voice of reason and 85% of their impulse control. He’s smaller than the other two, short and lithe, and has a more feminine facial structure. Like Iwatobi, he’s light-skinned and red-eyed. His hair is light purple and not quite shoulder length. Funboruto has a few more release types in his arsenal than his leader, and is capable of water, earth and fire releases, as well as the mud release bloodline limit. Supposedly, users of mud release are seldom treated kindly, so he has almost certainly been treated with scorn for this ability. This stigma means he won’t dare use this ability aside from as a last resort, at least in his early appearances.

The stigma and stereotypes of mud release users being unclean, mixed with his mother’s behaviour, mean Funboruto is also borderline obsessed with staying clean. He strongly dislikes getting dirty, possibly even fears it or the consequences of it, especially his hands, and feels compelled to clean up as soon as he can - this is another reason he avoids using mud release when he can, as it actively dirties his skin. The others? They can be as dirty as they like as long as they don’t touch him. Despite at times being a grump and a nag, Funboruto’s position as the team mum and the one who looks out for them despite his squeamish nature is something the others both appreciate, though they don’t let on and tend to bully him a bit.

In adulthood, Funboruto is targeted by a man named Eien who, similarly to Hiruko from that one movie, is looking to capture shinobi with bloodline limits in order to somehow gain these abilities for himself. His methods tend to result in the death of the subject, so if captured, Funboruto will likely not survive.

Jenstu - Jenstu is a happy go lucky little asshole. Like Funboruto, his hair is just shy of shoulder length, maybe a lil shorter and a lot messier than the team mum’s, and he’s light skinned, though a little darker than the other two. His hair is a sort of duck egg blue colour and his eyes are a dull teal. He carries more muscle on his arms than either of the other two, and tends to carry big, bulky weapons with him. He also knows a thing or two about poisons.

Jenstu is a high energy person, the type who rarely shuts up and is a little too physical when interacting with others, and loves having a good laugh. His favourite sources of entertainment are, of course, his friends and teammates, hence his encouragement of Iwatobi’s less savoury habits. He’s not outright mean, but doesn’t always realise when he’s gone too far. He also clips his toenails in the middle of mid-mission campsites and collects interesting rocks. If he gives you an interesting rock, it means he considers you one of his closest friends.

All three of them wear their forehead protectors in the normal place.

#According to the Naruto wiki Ame is abandoned in the Boruto era #Meaning these lads likely live elsewhere #and also potentially meaning Funboruto can be abducted completely under the main villages' radar #naruto oc #Of my Konohamaru-era kids I'm doing the Iwa ones last #because they all have significant family to mention and those family have their own teams and- #anyway it's a lot #so next up either sand children or cloud children #Jentsu existed in name only until just last week #so he hasn't been built on as much as his teammates #He's really new

[joyofkinoko]

You grew up with Kim Sunoo. You were best friends with Kim Sunoo. You’ve always loved Kim Sunoo. But what do you do when Kim Sunoo comes knocking at your door with a bullet in his leg and a black eye? Who on earth have you been in love with this whole time?

.: 10.5k words .:. female reader .:. childhood friends to lovers .:. fluff, angst, drama, hurt/comfort :.

.: tw: graphic descriptions of physical injuries and blood :.

.: masterlist .:. belift underground :.

You know that thing that all children have tried at least once in their life?

That thing on the swings in the local playground, where the kids, ever so naive and unknowing of what the future could possibly hold, swing their legs back and forth in the air, hair flowing in the breeze, hoping to leave the world behind and catch the wind beneath their imaginary wings because maybe one day, just one day, if they can swing hard enough, maybe they can swing all the way around in a full circle.

And maybe, just maybe, they could even launch themselves up into the sky, flying away into the clouds and leaving all their silly little childhood worries behind.

That’s how you met Kim Sunoo.

Ever idealistic, ever bright, and ever-loving Kim Sunoo.

You’re no stranger to seeing a kid fall off some monkey bars and crying to their mom about it, but when Kim Sunoo fell off the swings at your neighbourhood playground and into the sand underneath him, you watched him huff, stand up, and get back on them again without hesitation and without a tear in his eye.

“I saw you fall. Are you okay?” You had asked with curiosity in your eyes, tugging at your pigtail braids with a fear of being told off by the boy.

“Yup!” He smiled; in the way that he still did the last time you’d seen him. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, when I fall, I go to my mom for help,” you answered. “Don’t you need your mom?”

Continuing to swing back and forth, he shrugged. “I don’t have a mom.”

You were too young to understand the gravity of his answer and his circumstances back then, but now, even without a motherly figure, he became the sweetest little thing you’ve ever loved. You were too young. And he was too.

The worst part of it all is that you’re both still young.

“What about your dad?”

“I have a dad, but he’s not really my dad either.” Adopted by a family friend of his real parents, you later learn. It was some unfortunate car accident that happened when he was way too young to comprehend it, and without any other living relatives, he was adopted by a friend of his dad’s. Someone too busy himself to be much of a present father figure as well.

“Are you here alone then?”

“No,” he shook his head with all the confidence of a young boy. “You’re here.” His smile was so bright back then. It’s almost funny how it managed to still be so bright for years to come. Things change, you knew that, but you’re glad that this one thing hasn't.

“Then I’ll have to stay with you then,” you responded with a resolve so unlike yourself today, but so unsurprising of a young girl who loved to make new friends.

Sunoo stopped swinging his legs for a moment as he watched you struggle to climb onto the swing beside him, though the momentum of the swing continued swaying him in the air. “Why?”

“So that you’re not alone.”

And in a twist of events reminiscent of a silly little story you’d only ever see on television or read about in a novel, Sunoo and you became bonded at the hip. You’d only just moved into the neighbourhood, and there you were, making a new friend who also just happened to be your next-door neighbour. It’s one of those gated communities for the wealthy, with your own parents working in international business and therefore rarely around. Sunoo himself was always surrounded by bodyguards, but after meeting his adoptive father (an surprisingly warm but honestly terrifying man), you became the only stranger allowed in Sunoo’s inner circle.

You can’t lie, you’ve always worried about him to the point where Sunoo’s joked about you being his motherly figure. But how can you not worry when his bodyguards encircle and suffocate him without release? When even his meals are scheduled and regulated by a hired dietician? When the only other friend you know he has is the son of his dad’s coworker?

It’s a miracle honestly.

How bright he still smiles despite the lack of light in his life.

“It’s because I have you, Sunshine,” he’s said once or twice or ten times before.

And you have him.

Because in that moment, when you swung so high you felt like you could touch the clouds, he called you Sun Ray, claiming that you had blinded him just like the real sun up in the sky. Sun Ray evolved into Sunshine later on, amongst a few other variants of the exact same nickname. In essence, you became his warmth and safety in the same way that he was yours.

Because with Kim Sunoo, you felt like you could swing back and forth with such a strong force that you could soar through the clouds and into the stars where your dreams were designed. All the way up in the stars where maybe, just maybe, neither of you wouldn’t have to be so lonely anymore.

Sunoo’s strict father and (in your opinion, suffocating) lifestyle led to you being unable to hang out too often, especially not without the ears of his bodyguards and butlers (as well as your own) within a few feet away. So as you two grew and began keeping secrets together, having more to talk about as the hours grew later into the darkness of the night, you bought yourselves sketchbooks, communicating through your bedroom windows that destiny seemed to align with your houses just next to one another. You wrote with markers, scribbling endlessly in large handwriting in order to communicate your silly thoughts through the glass.

Because even fifteen feet away, through two panes of glass, the dead of night, and tight surveillance, you still had one another.

Even at the end of that first day when you’d met, though you didn’t quite touch the stars with your little hands as you swung back and forth ever so endlessly, neither of you were so lonely anymore with each other. And stars aside, you at the very least touched sunshine with your blossoming new bond.

But winter seems to have lasted a little too long this time around, because while the sun still beats down on you from its place in the sky, Kim Sunoo hasn’t been around for two years and you were beginning to forget how much you loved him at all. You had gone to elementary and middle school together, so high school was gonna be yours to take together as well; or at least, that was the original plan.

However, one day, he just disappeared, a handwritten note written on a page torn out of his sketchbook taped on his bedroom window to you, reading:

Dad wants me to go to boarding school. I’m sorry I can’t say goodbye. Let’s meet after graduation.

And four words underneath, appearing smaller, as if rushed and written last-minute. As if he’d been careful writing the first half, hesitating to include the last little bit until he had to go.

I love you Sun.

And you love him too.

As a result, you forced yourself to push away any doubts or worries regarding whatever happened to your longtime best friend. If he says he’s at boarding school, then he’s at boarding school. His father was always rather strict anyways, it’s a wonder he hadn’t already been sent away. You yourself attend a rather prestigious private academy; you just happened to stay in Seoul.

Kim Sunoo just kind of disappeared and you haven’t heard from him since.

Every curtain of the Kim household is drawn, though you hoped to peek in for a sign of life. Not even the bodyguards and butlers who previously always seemed to swarm in and around their lot were present. It was as if they completely moved out without choosing to sell the lot. You force yourself not to blame him. You have other friends anyways, you tried to tell yourself, but though you truly loved everyone else in your life, particularly your butler, K, who has been by your side since your childhood just like Sunoo, you knew that no one else could compare to the boy who called you Sunshine.

Let’s meet after graduation.

After graduation it is then.

That’s what he promised you after all. He couldn’t have forgotten. You have a year left until then. You can wait.

But you don’t have to.

You hear a frantic knocking from downstairs, and you get shocked awake from your slumber. The clock on your bedside table tells you that it is way too late at night (or early in the morning?) for you to be having visitors, and then as you rub the sleep from your eyes, you realize it’s impossible that anyone is knocking at your door at all. Living in a gated rich community meant that each mansion was individually gated as well, which means that anyone who wanted to drop by needed to ring the buzzer at your gate first.

So despite the unfortunate hour of the morning, and your first class in the morning scheduled for eight, you crawl out of bed and wrap a robe around your body. Creeping down the stairs, you immediately note that the knocking has stopped and that the knocking appears to not have come from your front door. With frosted glass adorning the centre of the double doors, you should have seen a silhouette of some sort unless tonight’s intruder just chose to leave.

Turning towards the kitchen, you see a figure there, although thankfully, this one is familiar. It seems you weren’t the only one awoken by the sudden noises. K, your live-in-butler, was only in his early-twenties when he’d first been hired. With your own parents frequently away on business trips, K was your chauffeur, chef, housekeeper, and older brother figure, and tonight, he was also a bit of a bodyguard, armed with a large kitchen knife as he faced the back door into the yard.

He makes eye contact with you, warning you to stay behind him silently with the look in his eyes, because when you peer over his broad shoulders, it’s plain to see that there is an odd figure slouched and leaning against the frosted glass of the door. Someone is here and you aren’t sure how they are and why they are.

K tiptoes closer towards the door, knife pointing cautiously. The silhouette seemed to be sitting on ground with their back against the door, and only then, with the moonlight shining through the glass did you notice the faint splatters of liquid up against the glass and the pool of something red oozing through the bottom of the door.

Whoever this is is injured.

You make your way around the kitchen island as K directs, watching closely as he carefully unlocks the door, turning the knob and pulling the door open to a most horrifying scene.

There on the tiles of your kitchen floor lies the body of the boy you’ve always been in love with. Kim Sunoo is bleeding from a million places and in the quiet of the early morning hour, you can hear him struggle to catch his breath.

“We need to get him to a hospital,” you whisper faintly as you watch K crouch down by Sunoo.

You hear his voice for the first time in two years, and it is the most heartbreaking thing you have ever heard. “No. Don’t.”

And when your butler looks up at you with a level of conviction you don’t think you quite recognize in him, you realize that you have to comply to get answers and to hopefully save the poor guy’s life. Having watched you two grow up together, K just about loved him the same way he did you.

So despite the fact that this was clearly the worst idea you’d ever shared, you had no time to lose.

Thankfully, your parents were particularly thorough when it came to hiring someone to watch over you, so together, you make haste. Flicking the lights on in the house, you assist K, a former emergency paramedic (amongst a multitude of other odd jobs he’d never bothered to fully explain), as he brings Sunoo’s near-lifeless body to the closest guest room.

Sunoo looked as if his last breath was just within minutes, and only K, hired by strong recommendation from Sunoo’s own father, could save him. And, of course, you, with no choice, have now become his nurse, scrambling about the house, collecting fresh towels, pails of water, and the first aid kit as K requests.

There’s glaringly obvious bruises on his skin and on his left eye but there is a bullet in Kim Sunoo’s thigh and you are too afraid to let your mind wonder about who could have done this to him and why. K manages to use a pair of your tweezers, sterilized with rubbing alcohol, to pull the bullet out according to a quick google, but the worst part about the whole ideal was hearing your childhood friend’s groans of pain.

It’s a miracle that your head manages to maintain a semblance of clarity, what with the tears clouding your eyes as they slip onto your cheeks. Two years of nothing from Kim Sunoo, and then, here he was, three in the morning on a Friday, barely breathing and bleeding onto the sheets of a guest bedroom in which no one ever really stayed. All you hoped was that he would at least wake up.

“This is about all I can do,” K admits, his eyes cast down towards the wound he’d done his best to stitch up. You nod silently next to him, too drained out of energy to respond with anything more as your mind swirls and debates and breaks. Seeing the heartbreak in your face, K sighs. “You should get to bed. You still have school in the morning, you know.”

Mornings.

And to think that just hours prior, in the morning before this night, you had stared out of your window and into the sketchbook page still taped on Sunoo’s. The marker had since faded from exposure to the sun, but you still read those words clear as day.

But once more, you have no energy to answer. How could you think about school when you didn’t even know if Sunoo was going to wake in the morning?

You could never forgive yourself if you never saw him smile again.

“I’m gonna find some new bedsheets and clothes for him,” K announces, pushing himself up to stand. “If you decide you don’t wanna go to school tomorrow, I can call in sick for you, but you still need to get some rest okay?”

And with that, K left the room, leaving you behind with your thoughts and with your old best friend. No words in any language could possibly describe the emotional anguish and physical exhaustion of your body, heart, and mind with the fact that you might never know how much he must have begged and cried and struggled against the person or persons who could have hurt him like this. The Kim Sunoo you have always known was nothing but a ray of sunshine, a candle lit ever so brightly in the darkness. He was oftentimes scared, shy, and occasionally careless with his naivete and kindness.

But here he was, near lifeless and drenched in his own blood drying against the once untouched white sheets. You have too many questions and you’re not sure if you’ll ever have answers. You’re all too worried, all too scared that he might never even wake up. All that you’re sure of at this point is that K is a miracle worker of a butler and you need to ask your parents to give him a raise.

The next morning, just a few hours after K and you finally cleaned up a new space for Sunoo to rest, you force yourself to go to school despite your lack of sleep, energy, and focus. You spend the entire day regretting it, tired of thinking, of having to pretend that you were fine, and of stopping yourself whenever someone asked what you did last night. But you couldn’t exactly just sit and wait by Sunoo’s bedside all day either.

What could have possibly happened in the two years that you didn’t have him? In the two years that he’d been gone and away from you?

And for the following weekend, all you did was do your homework by his bedside, forgetting to shower in those few days as you made sure to keep him warm and hydrated. You were simply grateful that K had agreed to keep the injured boy a secret from your parents. He had called Sunoo’s father after he got your permission, the man promising to send over generous financial compensation for the medical care and additionally sharing that he’d have his people pick Sunoo up as soon as possible. While you weren’t fond of the man’s word choice, you knew that Sunoo trusted his dad and that if he could provide the proper medical attention he needed, then you were making the right call.

Anything to make sure that Sunoo would be okay.

You’d promised to be there for him after all. And you were.

You are.

On Sunday morning, a hand to your shoulder wakes you, and the first thing you realize is that you’d slept with your head by Sunoo’s, body still on your chair beside his bed. Wiping the bit of drool by your chin, you look up to see K by your side. “Good morning,” he greeted, handing you a glass of water.

Taking the cup, you sit up and lean back in your chair. “Thanks,” you take a sip.

“How do you feel?” K asks, essentially already knowing your predictable answer.

“Couldn’t really sleep and then just passed out after a certain point.”

“Well,” he starts, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at you with a tired look in his eyes that you’re sure you mirror. “You should at least shower.”

Rolling your eyes, you set the glass down on a coaster on the bedside table right beside the closed first aid kit that you’ve become way too familiar over the past several days. “Are you saying I smell?”

“Implying,” he replies teasingly. “But seriously, go shower and maybe take a nap in your own bed. I’ll be here.”

“But-”

“No buts. Do yourself a favor and take care of yourself a little,” K interrupts you, a look of concern on his face as he pushes himself up and towards a cabinet against the opposite wall. Sometimes, you forget that K cared for Sunoo lots himself, having chaperoned you both over the years. So though you almost argue with K about it, he turns around with a fresh set of bandages in his hand, heading straight towards Sunoo’s bedside with the intention of caring for him for the day. “He’d want you to take care of yourself too.”

And with that statement, you succumb to your weariness and make your way upstairs to take a quick shower and a power nap. You pretty much fall straight asleep too, what with all the tears and all the speeches you made to the sleeping Kim Sunoo over the past two days. You had so many questions, so many things to say and learn and share with Kim Sunoo that you came to the conclusion that you’d be satisfied if you never found out what happened to him that night he bled at the steps of your back door as long as he woke up.

That’s all you needed.

To hear his voice no longer in agony and see his smile light up the way they always used to.

You wake up to the doorbell resonating throughout the house. The sun is still up, seeing as its rays still stream through the curtains of your windows, but the clock on your bedside table quickly indicates to you that it’s already just about dusk. Tugging on the sweater hanging off your desk chair, you rush out of your room and down the stairs to see K already pressing the button to unlock the gates at the security tablet by the front door.

“Who’s that?” You ask, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Hoseok’s men.” Men. So they’re already here for Sunoo, and his dad can’t even come pick him up in person. “Sunoo woke up a little while ago so I called his dad. I didn’t think they’d get here so early though.”

You don’t even catch the last half of his response to you. “Sunoo’s what?”

“Sorry I didn’t wake you,” is the last thing out of K’s lips when he unlocks the front doors to let two boys in - both surprisingly young, and one of them a little too familiar for your liking. One bombshell after another, you suppose. “Welcome. Tea?”

The one you know, whose baby fat has been sustained in his cheeks throughout the years, smiles with the deepest duo of dimples you’ve ever seen. “If you’re offering, then yes please.” There’s no mistaking it - he’s Yang Jungwon; a classmate from elementary and, as far as you know, Sunoo’s only other friend. You haven’t seen him since sixth grade as you’ve heard he was sent to a boarding school abroad. From the looks of it however, he’s back and he’s on mutual trusting terms with Kim Sunoo’s dad.

“Got cookies?” The deeper voice snaps your attention to the taller of the men, someone who’s at least a few years older than yourself and, you’ll have to admit, is a bit of a looker. He carries himself with a quiet intelligence and a charisma that isn’t overbearing. And when he catches you staring, he smirks. “Heeseung. Lee Heeseung,” he stretches a hand out for you to take.

You indeed take it, a small grimace that you can’t help appearing on your features. Too much is happening all at once, and all that your mind is on is that Kim Sunoo is awake in the other room and you don’t even have time to talk. Heeseung’s got a strong grip.

“It’s nice to meet you again, Sun,” Jungwon smiles, and though kindness indeed grace his features, you’re not sure if it reaches his eyes especially with the conscious choice to greet you with a nickname he never really used.

“You too,” you reply anyway, shaking his hand awkwardly as well.

“Please follow me,” K says, motioning towards the living room and giving a look that implies to you that this is your only chance to speak to Sunoo. And though both of the boys are hesitant, K doesn’t really leave any room for them to protest. “And Sun, I helped him take a bath earlier so he’s already dressed in new clothes. Just help him get out of bed and stuff.”

Understanding that K was doing his best for you, since he clearly regrets not telling you he was awake earlier, you nod and walk the other way down the hallway towards the guest room, with your heart beating right out of your chest with the growing tension of the situation. What will you say? What will he say? Are you angry with him? Or are you just happy he’s alive? You unconsciously comb your hands through your hair, tugging on the hem of your sweater because even though this isn’t the priority, you can’t help but feel the need to look not bad in front of your childhood friend.

This is a bit of a reunion after all.

Thoughts aside, you push through the door slowly, and there he is, sitting up, leaning against the pillows against the headboard. His hair is a mess, his face is pale, his lips are cracked, and the scars and bruises you did your best to treat still adorn his skin. Nonetheless, his eyes are wide open and a look of hope flashes across his eyes when he makes eye contact with you.

You mirror the hope.

“Hey there,” you whisper, unsure if he even caught the words since he’s still visibly exhausted. The corners of his lips turn up to a small smile, but he seems too tired to respond quite yet and you let it slide, just happy that he’s awake. “I’m sure K told you but I was asleep earlier so…” It’s an awkward start but it’s all you can say considering the combination of relief and heartache in you at the moment. “Your dad sent Jungwon and someone named Heeseung over to pick you up. They’re outside right now,” and with that, you step closer to him and away from the door.

Sunoo flinches, and you stop just a few feet away from the bed. Your breath hitches, too afraid that you might seem too forward or talkative considering the possible overstimulation of his pained senses, and you hold your breath up until you see him try to push the blanket off of his lap.

“Can I… Do you want me to help you?”

He doesn’t respond, eyes flicking down towards the sheet across his lap as he continues trying to inch it off. You don’t wanna press any further, but at the very least, you had hoped he would say something. Anything.

“K and I were really worried about you,” you tried to continue, carefully watching as he did his best to swing his legs off of the side of his mattress. “I’m glad you’re okay.” You doubt he even caught the final word, your voice having faded out along with your lack of confidence.

Sunoo is standing at this point, shaking as his hand holds onto the bedside table to stabilize his still weakened legs. But when he tries to take another step forward, you can see his knees buckle underneath his weight and you rush over in your worry, holding him up with an arm wrapped around his waist and your hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m fine,” he mutters out, but you hold your ground.

“You’re not,” you reply firmly, helping him swing his arm around your shoulder. You’re not quite sure why he’s so hostile towards you, but above any disagreements or tension, you promised yourself you would be there for him regardless. So here you are.

You help him sit back down on the side of the bed and tell him, “Stay here,” as you go towards the dresser to grab him a pair of socks. “Can you put these on by yourself?” Sunoo nods when you ask, so you toss them over, going back to the dresser to take his laundered and neatly folded clothes from the day he’d bled at your back door and place them in a paper bag from some high-end store. Your mind briefly drifts back to when you asked K if Sunoo would even want his formerly bloody clothes back, but he insisted on washing them anyway.

With the lack of words or response, you sigh internally. You have so many questions with your frustration rising by the moment, but you can’t allow yourself to be angry. You know this person isn’t Kim Sunoo. At the very least, he is not the Kim Sunoo that you know.

But he’s in there somewhere, right?

You tell yourself to be patient with him as you move to sit next to him on the mattress, both of you facing the window towards the backyard though the curtains are drawn, failing to provide you both with a good view to look at. You’re also careful to leave a few inches in between you. Something about the Kim Sunoo here in front of you is so drastically different and it scares you because what on earth could have happened over the past two years that his eyes no longer glint with the same brightness as it once did before?

But amongst the millions of questions buzzing around in your brain, the only three words you bring yourself to say are “I miss you.”

You sat there in silence together for what felt much longer than the few minutes that it actually lasted, staring out through the window with nothing and everything to say to one another. And then, you break it.

“I’m angry with you, you know?”

He doesn’t respond.

“I haven’t heard from you in forever and now that you’re here, barely alive, you won’t say anything.” When he doesn’t reply or even respond with a facial expression or a change in body language, you continue your honest dialogue. “But it’s okay. I don’t know what happened to you or why you’re being like this, but I promised you that I would stay with you so…

“Here I am.”

And with those three words, you turn to him for the first time, but to your dismay, his face still holds no emotion and for that, you cannot blame him. Your eyes beg silently, pleading for even a microexpression or a grunt of acknowledgement, but at this point, you’re just thankful you were able to say your peace. Whatever’s happening with Kim Sunoo, you are no longer a part of it though every part of you wants to save him from whatever horrors plagued his current life.

At the very least, you know Jungwon can be there for him, and you trust Jungwon. Just a little bit, but you do.

Pushing yourself up, you blink back the tears that are threatening to spill down your cheeks. “Let’s go, Sunoo. Your friends are waiting.” And yet the word ‘friends’ didn’t include you.

Thankfully, though he opted to continue remaining silent, Sunoo complied as you helped him stand up and walk out of the guestroom with the paper bag with his possessions tucked underneath your shoulder. He limps so slowly, gripping onto the sleeve of your sweater without much strength, but you remain patient with him.

When you get to the living room, Jungwon and Heeseung were drinking tea across from where K was sitting with his own teacup. You don’t notice they’ve gotten up at the signal of your presence with Sunoo until Jungwon is right next to both of you, eyes filled with concern as he helps share Sunoo’s weight while you make your way together towards the couch. It’s a little surprising, you think; both Jungwon and Heeseung had quite the air of confidence and composure earlier, but in the presence of an injured friend, they too are worried. You could only imagine how they might have reacted if they saw Sunoo’s original state of injury.

No other words aside from a few common pleasantries were exchanged afterwards as Jungwon and Heeseung escorted your childhood friend away. No other words exchanged between you and Sunoo as you saw him leave for what you had believed then to be the last time you would ever see him.

And the following little while is quiet. Simple. As if nothing had happened at all. Just school and dinners with K and walks to the park by yourself like life was like before during your time apart from Sunoo.

Only a few days pass when K takes a detour away from the usual route home from school to take you to the Belift Lab Club & Casino. You've never really been, considering you're a minor, though you do know it's where Sunoo's dad works. You are, at first and understandably, confused, but you don't question it as K wordlessly takes you to the club and up to the eighteenth floor. He's normally talkative, open to joking around with you and eager to gossip about your classmates. However, ever since your weekend with Sunoo, you haven't really exchanged many more words than necessary.

It's on the eighteenth floor where you are welcomed into an empty and minimalistic office. Just a desk, a computer system, a few chairs for the office owner and his guests, and a singular large abstract painting along one wall to the right. No shelves nor plants, just floor to ceiling windows proudly boasting a view of the Seoul skyline in the late afternoon.

The sky is painted orange and pink like the few shades on the art on the wall. It's pretty.

And there, you wait silently as K takes a seat in the waiting room just past the door. It's not an uncomfortable or long wait, but when Kim Hoseok enters the room with his aura of wealth and intimidation, you suddenly wish you were still waiting.

"Sunny, right?" He greets you with a firm smile, sat across the desk from you. Ignoring the fact that he's referred to you by your nickname, you nod. "I just wanted to extend an apology in person for what you had to deal with over the weekend."

Deal with? "Well, it's not like I was just gonna leave him like that, so it's alright," you answer honestly. "Besides, why apologize if what happened to your son wasn't your fault?" It's a little vindictive of you to ask, but you've never really liked how strict Sunoo's dad was and you want him to know you're not gonna back down.

He pauses for a moment before letting a breath out. "I can promise you with certainty that I was not the reason Sunoo was bleeding on your doorstep. Does that ease your mind?"

"I just wasn't expecting an apology."

"What were you expecting then?"

You deadpan, "A 'thank you'?"

He grins. "Then thank you."

You resist the urge to point out that you and K are the reason that his son is alive at all and just look down on your twiddling thumbs on the surface of your lap. Sunoo must get his heart from his mother. "Will I ever be told what happened?"

Hoseok shrugs, leaning back to relax in his seat. "Probably not," he admits. "Not knowing is what will keep you safe."

"Safe from what?"

"From bleeding on someone else's doorstep."

Another moment passes by with your eyes fixed on your fingers, now unmoving on your lap. And then, you look up. "He didn't go to boarding school." You don't phrase it like a question because it isn't one. It's a realization.

Hoseok once again sighs, glancing towards the screen on his desk before refocusing back on the conversation. "Sunoo always described you as smart and I always agreed," he starts, and your heart warms at the thought of Sunoo talking about you with his father. "So if you want to keep that impression, be smart and stop asking questions. It will save you."

You’re not an idiot.

You know exactly what you’re not supposed to ask about.

You’ve heard the rumors about Belift Lab and their alleged underground empire. In your childhood, you just brushed off the idea, but the more you learn about Sunoo, his friends, and his father, you’re starting to believe that maybe Sunoo’s fate at your doorstep was inevitable. That the Belift Underground mafia is real and dark and powerful and that your best friend Kim Sunoo was born into it all.

The first and only time it crossed your mind in serious consideration was several months prior to Sunoo’s disappearance, at a school dance held to celebrate the end of the school year. You had accepted a date offer from Han Jeongin, an upperclassman who you haven’t spoken to since, and so you’d left Sunoo on an out-of-character argument that morning when he found out.

“You’re just gonna go to the dance with some guy you barely know?”

You’d never seen him this frustrated but you stood by your decision, continuing to braid your hair as an excuse to keep your attention on the mirror instead of the wrinkles on his bunched forehead. “He’s nice, Sunoo, and it’s not like we’re gonna get married or anything. It’s just a dance.”

“I haven’t even met him, Sunny,” he complains quietly, leaning against his window pane. You realize he probably didn’t even mean for you to hear his comment, across the facing windows of your houses. You can’t help but think to yourself well, should he have to? It’s not like he’s your dad or anything.

You don’t say it out loud, but you do feel guilty. If the roles were reversed, you would feel the same way.

Dressed in yellow and all dolled up for the night ahead, K drove you over to the school for the evening, and it didn’t even take ten minutes before you found Han Jeongin swapping spit with another senior whose name you never learned.

And when you called Kim Sunoo in tears, sat on the steps of the entrance of the building, he rushed over dressed in an uncharacteristic all black outfit that you didn’t question at the time. And within the hour, you’d both ended up walking over to the Han River, talking about anything and everything and planning out how you would spend the following summer together. You didn’t know then that it would be your last summer with him.

And at two in the morning, which admittedly was irresponsible for both of you, you were back on the swings in a playground by the river. With a view of the skyline and the stars in the sky, you felt one again like a child, swinging up to reach the heavens with your best friend.

“Do you think if I swing fast enough, I can jump off and fly away?” You joked.

Rolling his eyes, Sunoo responded, “We take Physics together, stupid, so I know you know that you’d get yeeted into the water and I know for a fact you can’t swim.” Ever so cheeky and sassy. Your Sunoo.

“Can too!” You retort with a goofy little smile that he returns.

Something about that night just felt perfect to reminisce. “We always talked about flying away back when we were kids.”

“Well,” you sighed, “we’re not kids anymore.” And as the silence engulfs your ears, you know it’s a hard pill for him to swallow. And for a moment, you sit together on the swings with only the wind, the waves, and the leaves in the air. It feels nice. “But if you do find a way to fly away, take me with you, okay?”

“I would never leave you,” he smiled.

But he did.

If only that moment could have lasted.

It was only another half hour or so after when two black vans appeared and your heart almost dropped at the prospect of possibly being kidnapped. You only saw the face of one of the drivers, probably in his early twenties despite the age and experience in his gaze. Sunoo was calm, a solemnity in his face you’d never seen before, as he approached the stranger and whispered words you wish you’d overheard.

And without an introduction or an explanation, the stranger drove you home. You noticed that Sunoo didn’t get out of the van at his house as it drove away afterwards but you didn’t think much of it since he seemed to know the driver.

A friend of his father’s, Sunoo explained the week after.

You should have pried more, you berate yourself. At least now, you know your suspicions were correct.

Clearing your throat, you sit up in the uncomfortable chair, forcing yourself to make confident eye contact with the man trying to intimidate you into silence. “If the roles were reversed, if our roles were reversed, would you not be angry?”

“Angry about what?”

“About being left out of a conversation I didn’t even ask to be a part of but am,” you respond, firm in your words and in your resolve.

“I’d be angry, of course. I might not be his biological father, but Sunoo is my son,” and though he claims it with conviction, the thought that he’s never really acted like it doesn’t escape you. “I can’t fault you for your feelings but I asked you here to remind you to be rational.”

And though the first half of his statement still bothers you, you know you have to agree with the last part. You clear your throat, resolute in your stance against him. “Sir, I-”

“I’m not the enemy here,” Hoseok reminds you. “I’m doing my best for Sunoo too.”

It doesn’t take another few minutes for you to bid your farewells. The room felt like it was beginning to choke you to death and Hoseok had his own meeting right after yours.

Waiting for the elevator with K, you feel suffocated, all thoughts only on going home and crying yourself to sleep. “Sunny, I don’t know if I’m supposed to do this, but would you like to visit Sunoo?” K suddenly offers to you.

“I- What do you mean?”

K clears his throat, taking a hand to adjust the tie that seems to have grown tighter around his neck over the past few seconds. “I used to work around here, you know? I’m sure you’ve already figured that out,” he starts, and you nod in agreement. It wasn’t too hard to piece those two together considering his extensive history and experience with first aid and combat. “The infirmary’s on the sixth floor.”

You didn’t think you’d have the opportunity to see Sunoo today. “Just for a moment?”

“Just for a moment.”

And off to the sixth floor you go. The hallways there are so all-white that it takes you a while to gather your bearings with all the hallways K takes you down, but regardless, you arrive just outside a room with a window into the hallway.

Peering through the pane, you see that Sunoo is still pale, still bruised, and still in pain, but he is surrounded by a few boys your age, including Jungwon. He may be hurt but you see now that, at the very least, he’s awake and with company. Good company, it seems, by the way his cheeks round out as much as they used to when he used to laugh with you.

You don’t even realize the tears have escaped your eyes until K wordlessly hands you his handkerchief, and hoping to not catch attention, you turn away to wipe your silent cries. You’re happy he’s smiling. It may not be with you, but at least he still is at all. His dimples and half-moon lids are all you need before leaving, but before you’re able to go, the door to the room opens.

“K?” A boy you don’t recognize says. When you turn around, you make eye contact with him; blonde and tall and stern in his stance. “Ah, you must be Sunshine.”

But before you can answer, Jungwon pushes himself out the door behind the stranger. “Oh, hey! Didn’t realize you two were visiting,” he smiles and waves. “This is Ni-ki.” And after introductions are made and hands are shaked, Jungwon purses his lips. “Did you wanna come in and say hi or-”

“I don’t think that’s necessary actually,” you answer.

“But you’re already here,” he replies with a shrug, going back towards Sunoo’s room door and saying, “Jakey, get out of there. Sun’s here.” And with that, you don’t have a choice but to go say hi. The aforementioned ‘Jakey’, who you assume is named Jake, steps out of the room soon after, waving awkwardly towards you before facing the other boys in the hallway. This Jungwon kid may be kind, but he sure is inexperienced with reading the room. 

With Sunoo’s friends muttering about whatever to the side, you take a deep breath as you prepare to step into Sunoo’s room. “I’ll wait out here for you,” K whispers to you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

You swore to yourself that if you had the chance to see him again after that weekend, at a time when he was no longer in physical pain, you would have your moment to be strict and angry and honest. But you’re conflicted, you’re human, and you love him. You don’t know if you could ever bring yourself to be angry with him.

You swing the door open.

“Hey there,” he croaks out in a weak voice. You try your best to avoid eye contact, being too afraid to even take a step closer to his bed. “Come sit over here.” And so you do, and with the increased proximity, you are faced with the tubes stuck in his body and the loud beeps of the machines surrounding him. It’s too much for you, but you hold back the tears.

“How are you?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but what else can you say?

“I’m alright,” he mutters shyly. “Thanks to you and K.” You nervously gulp down the tension. “How are you?”

Not alright. “I’m fine,” you answer.

Silence. “I’m sor-”

“Are you bedridden?”

Sunoo blinks once or twice before answering. “The doctors say I can probably walk again by the end of the month, but I’ll probably be limping for a while,” he admits quietly, toying with the ends of his hospital blanket. “I’ve always had health problems though, so I’m used to all of this pain. Don’t worry.”

“Are you used to being shot?” You’re aware it’s a bit forward and cynical, but you’ve said the words before even thinking them.

“I’ll admit. No,” he shrugs, and though it isn’t a particularly funny statement, you can’t help but feel the corner of your lips tug up. “But I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

“Ah yes, the first time of being the victim of attempted murder,” you say, mostly to yourself although he definitely hears you. “Ugh, I’m sorry if I’m coming off angry and immature. I know it’s not like me.”

“I don’t…” Sunoo starts. “It’s okay. I understand. You deserve to be.”

More silence.

“I really am sorry, Sunshine,” wow, that nickname hurts to hear. “That I didn’t tell you anything and that I left and that when I did come back, I was literally unresponsive.” You want to yell at him but you let him continue, continuing to stare at your lap. “All I can think about is how you must’ve felt throughout all of that. I never stopped thinking about you.”

You inhale sharply. “It’s okay-”

“But it’s not,” he insists.

“But it is,” you state with a firmer conviction. “I just… wish I could’ve at least known. I wish that you could have given me more than just a sketchbook page taped to your window, or at the very least,” though you know it isn’t his fault, “You could have come back without bleeding on my back door.”

You know you’re getting a little victim blamey but you can’t help it. Just like you can’t help the tears streaming down your cheeks, and though you don’t recognize it, Sunoo’s pain right now isn’t coming from his physical injuries but from his realization that he’s broken his promise to you. The promise that he’d never make you cry like this.

“I know it might be a little late now, but do you want to hear everything?” Your vision starts to get blurry from the cloud of moisture in your eyes. “I’ve never wanted to keep anything from you, but I had to Sun… We used to share everything with one another and if… If you’d let me, I’d like for us to go back to that.”

And so you let him tell you what happened over the past several years of his life. It apparently started with rigorous combat and business training, all for Belift. As the son of the head honcho’s right hand man, he was meant to succeed Hoseok’s legacy and become Jungwon’s second-in-command when the time came one day. The physical endurance was already difficult enough for him, especially considering Sunoo’s history of bad health; but physical training combined with every mental hurdle made the whole thing worse for him. Strict teachers, diets, responses; endless attempts to refresh his morals and combat instincts; applications of violent tactics to change his ways…

Endless pain.

“And god, you didn’t even know,” Sunoo quietly shared. “At first, I didn’t want you to. I knew how you’d react.” Like this. “But even then, I felt so guilty that I never told you, and now… I feel like if I wasn’t forced to leave you behind, training wouldn’t have gone so badly, you know?”

You gulp, still too afraid to look up at him. “Who shot you?” Should you have not asked? “Who made you like this?”

“I was supposed to go back a few months ago,” Sunoo replied honestly. “I think everyone knew that I wasn’t cut out for this world. Hose- My dad ended up realizing that too. But when you are the loved one or, I don’t know, prized possession? A weakness? If you are the weakness of someone significant, especially in this world… You end up as collateral. Bait.”

“Ransom…”

You look up for the first time since entering the room, looking at Sunoo’s face and making eye contact for the first time in years. He may seem bruised and broken but his eyes are just as sparkly as ever, you can’t help but notice. Even after everything, he still looks so kind and full of hope. Your Sunoo.

If it wasn’t for K, you think you would’ve spent the rest of the night there at Sunoo’s bedside, sharing stories about the past few years and occasionally reminiscing on a shared childhood one. At the very least, you get the chance to spend one more hour together in a way that feels like your time apart has been erased. Forgotten.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he had said.

“And I never stopped loving you,” you answered, and he smiled. And though his arms were weak and limp, he held your hand in his and brought it up to his lips to plant a soft and loving kiss on your fingers.

“I love you too, Sunshine.”

It’s another few weeks when you see Sunoo again. It took such a long while that you even entertained (not that it was at all entertaining) the possibility that you would never hear from him again, but here you were on a Wednesday, getting picked up by K like normal and getting dropped off at your neighborhood playground. The very same one where you first met Kim Sunoo on the swings all those years ago. The memory is so faint now, and yet, it still remains to be as precious.

And while there are a few kids running around the area, bubbles blowing in the wind with a dog and a few parents, all you can see is Kim Sunoo swaying slowly but surely on the swings in the playground. There’s crutches on the ground by the swings, and when you turn, you catch a glimpse of two suited men watching closely by the trees. But even then, even with their surveillance and the implication of Sunoo’s injuries, you feel free and grateful and happy that he still came here to see you.

Swinging away.  Back and forth. Under the sun.

The seat beside him is empty.

You take it.

And for a minute or so, you quietly acknowledge one another’s presence, simply basking in the atmosphere of the clear skies and the children’s laughter. The sun shines where Kim Sunoo is, and here, in this playground, as you swing up, up, and away, you know you are safe. While things may never go back to the way they were when you were simply innocent children without a clue of what the world could really be, you still have Kim Sunoo by your side and you know here that he is all you need.

The silence between you breaks with a comment from him. “Isn’t it funny?”

“What is?”

“That even after all this time, you and I are still desperate to swing up into the clouds?”

You chuckle a little, looking up at a clear sky. “There aren’t any clouds today though.”

“You think that’s why we’ve been unsuccessful all this time?” Sunoo ponders aloud.

“Yeah, maybe,” you answer. “Maybe we just needed the right weather.” He laughs at that, and you can’t stop yourself from swooning. He laughs so prettily and you miss it.

“I always thought all I ever needed was sunshine,” he responds mindlessly. “I was right. All I needed was you.”

You feel your heart stop.

“Are things ever going back to normal?”

Sunoo laughs again. “Hate to break it to you, but I don’t think they ever were.”

“Okay, but…” It’s wishful thinking, you know, but you have to ask. “I mean, between you and me. Are things ever going to be the way they used to be?”

Sunoo pauses, allowing his legs to fall so the momentum of his swing slows down with him and you do the same. He turns to you. “Do you remember our last conversation?”

“The last one in person? Or-”

“The one the night before I went away.”

“Through the windows?”

“Through the windows.”

Of course, you remember.

It was over sketchbook and notepad pages again, scribbling excitedly with your lamps on, turning the pages and showing them through your windows in fear of waking anyone or alerting his guards.

The conversation that night started off simple enough, just laughing over some silly story from school that feels so insignificant now. Some kid picked on your braids and, while you remained largely unbothered, Sunoo had gotten incredibly defensive and protective for you. It wasn’t even a significantly horrible experience, just awkward and annoying, and yet, Sunoo stood up for you and called you his to protect. Even the night of, hours after the confrontation had already passed, he was still pissed for you.

It was rare that you ever got to see him actually upset, so to see him act like that over you… It’s like all the colors and the lights of the world seeped into every dark crevice of your heart and life.

Because while you don’t think you could ever pinpoint when you fell in love with Kim Sunoo, you think you, at the very least, realized you were in love with him the night before he went away.

You realized you fell in love because of the reminder that he’d fight for you. You realized you fell in love because no one else made you feel so safe. You realized you fell in love because even during the darkest of nights, he was as bright as ever.

And the following morning, he was just unable to say goodbye.

“What about that night?”

It takes him a moment, but eventually, he musters up the courage. “I didn’t know I was leaving the next day,” Sunoo shares. “I figured I would leave for training soon, but I was never given an exact date. I didn’t even know how long I’d be gone.”

And to that, you find yourself chuckling a little. “You can stop explaining yourself. I understand. You’re… You've been through enough.”

“I really love you, Sunshine.”

You sigh, incapable of stopping a smile from creeping onto your face. “You… You’re here now. With me.” You reach over and grab his hand. You haven’t intertwined your fingers together in so long, but it suddenly feels as if you never stopped holding him. “And I’m here now. With you. So, it’s alright.”

Sunoo holds your hand tighter.

“I really love you too Sunoo.”

It’s only been a mere few weeks, but the past already feels a million lightyears away. And every day for the past few weeks, you’ve made an effort to visit Kim Sunoo at the Belift Lab infirmary right after school, especially now that you have permission. You never failed to be by his side up until his recent physical therapy sessions considering the severe leg injury.

It’s been a lot of adjusting, coming to realize your own butler’s involvement with the Belift Underground and now being friends with (and even in love with) the son of the mafia��s own second-in command. You think you’re starting to adjust though, with Heeseung and Jungwon keeping their eye on you and answering any questions you pose about their occupations. Jungwon is indeed the sole heir to Belift’s operations as RM’s son, the next mysterious Godfather, while Heeseung works on the business side of things. And after another tense meeting with Hoseok, you accept that his way of loving Kim Sunoo might not be to your liking, but he does care enough to pull Sunoo out of the business. At least, as much as he can be.

“Don’t tell Sunoo,” Hoseok shared. “But he honestly fared alright during all the training evaluations. Nothing special, but he would’ve made it out okay, at least on paper.”

“So why are you removing his involvement from the business?”

He sighed, afraid to admit what he was about to. “Because unlike what you seem to think, I do love Sunoo like a son. He’s already been kidnapped and shot. What else does he have to endure because of me? I’m not even a fraction of a real father and yet…”

Let’s just say that you saw a different side to Hoseok that day. Sure, he really wasn’t much of an ideal father, but there was definitely a kind of love there. That even in this business, he had the heart to let his sole successor go.

“He deserves normalcy,” Hoseok admitted. “Just like all the other kids roped into this world.”

You had a lot of questions. You wanted to ask to let all the other kids go, but you knew it wasn’t your place. Maybe you’d be able to ask in the future.

Much discussion was had about Kim Sunoo’s fate after being discharged.

With your continued and frequent visits to Belift, you come to meet many others. Young, young people who owe their lives to Belift, but manage to find themselves capable of withstanding what this whole world has to offer. Young people who don’t have guardians to turn to, or do, but have essentially no one anyways. The young people Hoseok compared his adoptive son to.

There’s Ni-ki, who you’d met previously. An orphan who can kill. There’s also a girl they all call Key, who, just like you, was dragged into the Belift Underground without warning and without protection. You learn, at least, that she feels safe with her new home at Belift thanks to her hacker boyfriend, Jake. And with their love story, you are reminded of your odd one with Sunoo.

To feel safe because of a person. That’s all you need.

It’s a little heartbreaking, you have to admit. The boy you once fell in love with will never be the same; but you know, in these past few weeks, that your heart hasn’t changed because you love him all the same. After all, what’s the point in loving someone if you only love them for one thing?

He’s alive, he’s breathing, he’s here, and he loves you in return and that is all that matters.

And after every horror he’s had to live through, after much discussion, K agrees to take upon the responsibility of becoming Sunoo’s sole guardian. You can’t say it’s much of a surprise, really, since K’s essentially raised Sunoo just like he did you. And as a former Belift agent, he also possesses the appropriate amount of skills to protect him, just in case his name still gets roped in despite now having zero paper involvement with Belift.

It also escapes your realization until the day he is discharged, but Sunoo’s adoption into K’s life makes it so that he officially moves in with your family. Your parents, of course, were made aware of the situation, already fully knowing what the Kims next door were involved with since first moving in. Sunoo takes the second bedroom in the basement nearby K, who insists you two aren’t allowed into each other’s rooms if the doors are closed.

And with time, things become normal.

For a while.

And things still hurt.

For a while.

And Kim Sunoo is different.

Forever.

And your world is changed.

Forever.

Things will perhaps never go back to the way you wanted it to, but you have Kim Sunoo back and you love him and he loves you and you are safe.

For now.

Soon enough, a new family moves into the Kim mansion, a family of four with young kids that you and Sunoo offer to babysit for them. And when they trash whatever remaining belongings were in the house, you and Sunoo go over to the bins to look for a particular crumpled piece of paper.

“I don’t know why you’re so attached to that,” he frowned, unsatisfied with the memory it brings. “The writing’s all faded now too.”

“It’s not about the memory it brings or the quality of it,” you explain, holding it in your hands like it’s a fragile creation you’re afraid to drop. “It’s the first time you told me you love me, you know.”

Dad wants me to go to boarding school. I’m sorry I can’t say goodbye. Let’s meet after graduation. I love you Sun.

“But I’ve said it, like, a million times since then!”

You laugh a little at his blushing cheeks and the way even the tips of his ears have reddened in bashfulness. “Yeah, but think about keeping this as a reminder of how far we’ve come.”

He rolls his eyes in the way you’ve grown familiar with and fond of. “Elaborate.”

“Well,” you begin. “Your dad has let you go. You never have to say goodbye again, at least, not if I can help it. We’re graduating next year together, and we love each other loudly and proudly.”

Sunoo smiles, taking your hand in his and eyeing the crumpled paper in your hand with a new sense of warmth. “It’s ugly and it’s been in the trash though.”

“Who cares?”

“I guess not us.”

“Exactly.”

“So…”

“So?”

“Should we frame it?”

“Put it above the dining table?”

“K’s gonna hate it.”

“He’s under my family’s payroll.”

“He’s also my new dad. He’s gonna cringe if he reads this.”

“And if he makes us take it down, I’ll fire him. Easy.”

“Sun!”

“What?” You respond, giggling madly with your jokes.

He licks his lips, scrunches his nose, and shakes his head. “Nothing. I just love you.”

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen sunoo #kim sunoo #sunoo imagines #sunoo scenarios #sunoo fluff #sunoo angst #enhypen mafia #mafia au #w: bu

[thisisawonderfulusername]

a lifetime of firsts

first friend

tasm! peter parker x reader

summary: peter parker, a young boy you meet who quickly becomes your first and best friend. he's with you for everything.

warnings: just pure fluff honestly. i can't think of anything that would need a warning lol

word count: 2k

a/n: okie dokie i'm so excited for this series. it's going to be a bunch of different parts, some shorter than others. when i first got the idea i sat down from 12-6 just watching youtube and spitting words out onto a document lmao

i was originally going to post it as one, but then i was nearing 7k words and i was like maaaaaaybe it would be better split up. with that i could also add a lot more to each idea i had. the masterlist for this isn't set in stone either, the orders might change or i might add some more sections, but that's not really anything to worry about.

first day of daycare

your hands shook as you stood at the entrance of the daycare, staring up at your mother. “do you really have to leave me?”

sighing, she crouched down to your height, looking into your teary eyes. “i’ll be back before you know it, sweety.” she tells you softly, thumbs wiping away the stray tear that trailed down your cheek, “you can make some friends while you’re here! wouldn’t it be fun to play with some kids your own age?”

sniffling, you nod your head. her smile never fails to calm you down. she holds your hands, “i’ll miss you. when i get back, you can tell me all about your day.”

“okay…” you look down at your feet, pulling one of your hands away to wipe away a few more tears that fell.

“i have to go now.” she squeezes your hand, placing a kiss on your cheek before standing back up.

as she turns her back, another adult takes your hand. you look up. she’s an old woman with graying hair and wrinkles carved into her skin. “hello, darling!” she speaks gently, “i’m mrs linda. what’s your name?”

you glance back at the door your mother disappeared through. “y/n.” it only comes out as a whisper, and it’s surprising that such an old person could hear it.

“well, y/n, i think you’ll love it here. there are plenty of kids for you to get to know, ” she brings you through a door that had been painted a sky blue, the sun and some clouds decorating it. the room behind it holds giggling children filling it’s space. some held toys, flying planes in the air and driving cars on a carpet road. others sat at some tables, crayons in hand as they try their best to stay within the lines of a coloring book.

almost immediately, it seemed, your mother had slipped from your mind.

“hi!” you hadn’t noticed the little boy who ran up to you until he spoke. he had brown hair that drooped over his eyes, a lopsided smile on his face. “i’m peter. what’s your name?”

the old woman seemed to take that as her queue to slip away, and you didn’t notice that her hand was no longer in yours. “y/n.”

his eyes light up, “y/n. can i call you y/n/n?”

a smile graces your face. “i like that. y/n/n.” the nickname feels right as you repeat it. nobody had ever called you that.

“do you want to color with me, y/n/n?” he asks, holding up a box that was barely holding crayons inside, trying not to let them fall.

“yeah!”

after only a few weeks, your friendship with peter blossomed. every day at dinner, you would tell your parents all about what you had done with him.

you went on the swings with him when you got to play outside, or dug holes in the sand box. sometimes you would play tag with some of the other children. when you were inside, you would color, or play with the many toys that were strewn about the floor. when it was supposed to be nap time, you would place your mats next to each other, giggling as you

one day, while your father cut a piece of his chicken, he looked over at you. “maybe you should invite this peter over,” he suggests, “we’d like to meet this friend of yours.”

your eyes widened with surprise. you didn’t know that that was a possibility. until now, it seemed like the only place you would ever see him would be at the place your mother dropped you off at every morning. “i can do that?”

“of course, sweety.” your mother smiles.

the next day when you were dropped off, you scanned the room for peter, immediately running over when you spotted him. “peter!”

his head shot up at the sound of your voice and his eyes quickly met yours. a smile broke out on his face. “y/n/n!”

you practically drop to the ground to sit next to him, leaning forward with your hands on your knees. “my parents said you could come to my house!”

just as yours had, his eyes widened. it seemed that he also never realized this was an option. “really?”

“yeah!” you dig in your pocket for a moment, before pulling out a slip of paper, “my mom said to give this to your mom.”

first sleepover

that saturday, you waited by the window in the living room. you had pulled one of the chairs from the kitchen table, much to your mom’s dismay. your head rested on your arms, which layed on top of the window sill. the blinds had been lifted by your dad after you begged him to, and you stared as cars came and went.

with each one that drove by on the street, you lifted your head in excitement, thinking it was peter, but each time they drove by.

when one finally pulled into the driveway, you gasped. “he’s here!” you jumped off of the seat, your feet landing on the hardwood floor with a thump. “he’s here, mom!”

she chuckles as she stands from her spot on the couch, showing up behind you and twisting the knob as she opens the door.

peter’s face brightens as he spots you, leaving his own mom’s side to run up to you. “y/n/n!”

“petey!” just like any other time you saw him, you meet in a bone crushing hug.

the magic of a young friendship was how each time you see each other it’s as exciting as the last time.

the introductions your parents share with his go unnoticed as you grab his hand. “i have to show you all of my toys!” your eyes widen, “and my coloring books!”

as you start pulling him up the stairs, you hear the soft laughter of the adults. “bye, peter!” his parents call out.

he waves his hand, “bye!”

the last thing you hear is the door shutting before you pull peter into your room. it’s a total mess, as you’d expect from a child your age. the covers on your bed are pooling at the foot of the mattress, most of your toys were scattered across the floor. the last book you had been coloring in was open, the outlined picture having colors scribbled all around.

you quickly look around before going over to your toy box. “i have to show you my favorite!” you have to basically hang over the side of the box to dig into it, little grunts escaping you as you push aside dolls and other things, before finding it. “look!” you fall from the side as you turn to look at him, holding up the toy.

after hours of playing with and showing him different toys, your parents peaked in through the door. “it’s time for bed, guys.” your father tells you, looking at the floor with a sigh, “help me pick up all these toys.”

you did as he said, piling as many as you can into your arms and dropping them into the box with the help of both peter and your dad.

once the floor was (mostly) spotless, he helped the both of you onto your bed. the two of you were so small that even in a bed as small as yours, you could fit with plenty of room left over. after the lights had been flicked off and the door closed, you look over to him with a grin. you turned on your side under the blanket.

it was just like when you pushed your mats together, talking for as long as you could before your eyes finally drooped and you passed out.

that was only the first of many sleepovers.

first days of school

kindergarten

you skipped down the sidewalk, holding your mom’s hand. a backpack jumped with you, thumping against your back. it was small, but it still managed to be bigger than you, the straps slipping off your shoulders every few moments and threatening to drop to the ground if you didn’t keep your thumb looped around one of the straps.

you were going to ride a bus! every morning you had watched the big yellow vehicle pick up kids and drive off, and when you asked your parents about it, they always said that when you went to school, you would get to ride it.

they had to explain to you what school was. like daycare, but kids of all ages went, and you got to learn things. it sounded fun. you already knew how to read, but they explained that you would be reading much longer books, and they told you about math. math sounded like it could be fun, as really the only thing they said about it was that it included the numbers they had taught you.

as you get to the corner of the street, you see peter at the end with his aunt. recently, he had started living with her and his uncle, instead of his parents. you didn’t understand, but it was all the same to you. now he lived closer, and to you it only meant seeing each other more.

you let go of your mother’s hand in yours, breaking into a run, “peter!”

his head turned, and the smile that was already on his face grew. he was just excited as you were. “y/n/n!”

you meet in a hug, and you don’t see the smiles on your mom’s and his aunt’s face as they greet each other. “are you excited for school?” you ask, almost bouncing out of your shoes as you look at him.

“yeah.” he glances to his aunt, “she says it will be like daycare.”

“that’s what my parents told me.” you hum, looking at the road, “but we get to ride the bus.”

almost as if you had willed it into existence, it came rolling down the road, the loud engine roaring as it came to a stop right in front of you.

you barely said goodbye to your mom as you grabbed peter’s hand and hopped up the steep stairs the door invited you to, urging him to hurry up.

middle school

it was your first day at a new school. if only you had been as excited as you remembered being when going into kindergarten.

but instead you take a deep breath as you walk down the street, darker than it was before.

for the first time, you wouldn’t be going to elementary school. you had ‘graduated’ from fifth grade, and instead of staying where you already were, you were introduced to middle school.

you already didn’t like it. you had to wake up earlier than before, and your bag had a lot more weight to it, notebooks and folders stuffed inside. you would need a new one, soon. you had had it since your first day of kindergarten, and it was starting to be too small. the zippers also started to get stuck more often, and sometimes wouldn’t even close completely.

even worse, the friends you had made in your classes wouldn’t be going to the same school as you. they lived further away, and had to go to one closer to where they lived.

when you see peter where he always was before school, you smile. at least he would be there with you.

he was always there with you.

“hey, pete.” you greet him as you get to his side, fingers looped around the straps of your bag.

a yawn passed his lips. “hey.” his hair was messy, and you assumed it was because he hadn’t brushed through it at all. he looked just as tired as you were. “why do we have to get up so early for middle school?”

you shrug your shoulders with a sigh, “i dunno, but i don’t like it.”

“me neither.”

the same bus you had seen for years came into view before stopping in front of you, and you followed peter up the steps to one of the empty seats.

taglists

main: @horrorklaus @megasimpleplan4ever

marvel: none yet

peter parker: @elfvomit

series: none yet

#tasm! peter parker x reader #tasm! spiderman x reader #tasm x reader #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #marvel x reader #mcu x reader

[angelguk]

→ on my mind 02 — a jeongguk scenario

member: jeon jungkook

word count: 25.6k

genre: domestic!au + established relationship + fluff + smut + mild angst

warnings: slow build / oral sex (f & m receiving) / multiple smut scenes / over-stimulation / breeding kink / creampies / mentions of infertility / pregnancy is a central part of the story line / pregnancy sex / jeongguk just wants to be a good dad / i am so sorry if the editing is not up to par i tried my best / mild possessiveness / mentions of misogyny and an asshole manager

soundtracks: (they long to be) close to you, carpenters + to you, yoona & lee sang soon + someone’s shining, wisue + who knew, chloe x halle, + but i’m trying to tell you how much i love you, saevom + pretend, lee aram + when the wind blows, yoona + meet me in amsterdam, rini + she, jannabi

special thanks to: @gukkheaven for seeing the baby version of this fic <3 / @a-life-thats-next-to-normal for sharing some much needed baby info with me!

header credit @dee-ehn <3

read the first part here

The first time you buy a test, you don’t tell him.

It’s a Thursday afternoon and you arrive home first. Jeongguk had texted you that he would be late today because Namjoon needed him to work overtime on a file that was due. You had taken the rare opportunity to scurry to your local chemist and purchase a handful of pregnancy tests. You’d dumped the pink boxes on the counter, trying in vain to avoid the blatant stare of the cashier as she packaged them into a small black bag. The trek back home nerve-racking. Your heart pounding painfully against your chest, the scruff of your sneakers against the pavement the only accompaniment to the tension you felt weighing over your body. It was only when you had passed a playground, eyes skimming over the hordes of children joyously dandling from monkey bars and slipping down sliders with wide grins on their faces, did your heart momentarily calm down. Lulled by the sound of their laughter until your pulse was relaxed once more.

You could do this — it’s just a test.

The apartment is eerily silent when you click the door closed behind you. You heel your shoes off, sliding your feet into the downy slippers Jeongguk had picked up for you a while back. You dump the bag on the dining table, hands shaking as you dig for your phone in your bag. Your fingers tap on the familiar pink app on your screen and you read the text that you’ve been subtly denying for the past week. Your period is late. Sometimes you miss a day or two but a whole nine days had passed and mother nature hadn’t sent you the usual reminder that indicated that you were not with child.

For some reason, the words sent a thrill through your body. It wasn’t like you were taking precautions to avoid pregnancy - quite the opposite. Ever since Jeongguk had admitted his secret wish to you, you’d both taken every opportunity to make sure you��d get knocked up. Most of the apartment had been rechristened during those activities, particularly the couch. The moment you’d told him you wouldn’t mind carrying his child a spark of desire had reignited in Jeongguk that you hadn’t seen since you started dating five years ago.

But for some reason, nothing was working the way you’d expected it to be. With Jeongguk’s new robust sex drive, you expected to be pregnant within a month tops. Yet, your period appeared each month without fail and it hurt to see the doubt creep onto his face every time he brought you a hot water bottle to lessen the cramps wreaking havoc in your stomach. For a while, you thought you were infertile. You considered taking up the issue with your doctor but it was hard to acknowledge that you may be. That either of you may be. Not when both of you wanted this so bad.

The fact that your period had been missing for a significant amount of time in your perspective was both thrilling and alarming at the same time.

When you finally pick up one of the pregnancy tests, you take your time, reading over the instructions. Three times exactly. One-line means not pregnant, two lines indicate that you are. Not hard, right?

In the bathroom, you struggle to pee. Your hand is trembling as you hold the collection cup and your flow is unsteady despite the two bottles of water you’d chugged on the train ride home once Jeongguk told you he’d be late. Things work out, regardless of your nerves.

Once everything is done, your hands are clean and the two pregnancy tests you’d unwrapped are sitting flat on the counter of your bathroom, you fiddle with the timer app on your phone, setting it to five minutes.

Those are the longest five minutes of your life.

You leave the bathroom, unable to look before the set time, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. You can’t sit, so you pace around, slippers slapping the hardwood floorboards as you try to attempt to calm yourself down but fail miserably at it because the clock hanging in the living room is ticking too loud; it echoes in your head matching the beats of the seconds you’re mentally counting down. Outside of your apartment, someone’s shouting a passing greeting across the street, there’s the tickle of a bike bell and a gruff woof echoing from the throat of a dog. The sounds of life outside the panic bubble you’re currently in draws you to the window. You pad over, lean down to rest your elbows against the sill as your eyes take in the sight of the evening sun dipping behind the silhouettes of buildings. The sky bleeds orange and red, bright fuchsia pink and cornflower blue trailing behind their wake like silage. The view is partially obscured by murky grey clouds but beyond them, you can still spot the lavender tone the two colours create when they flux into each other.

The sight slows down your heartbeat, a sense of tranquillity washing over your body as if you’d been dipped into the ocean. It reminds you of the sea view both of you had left behind when you’d moved to Seoul four years ago. You can’t help but slip into a reverie, nose full of the ghost-like remnants of salty air, the sand you’d played in as a child a phantom caressing the soles of your feet. The sunsets in Busan were better but Seoul is where Jeongguk and you had crafted life together, even if you sometimes wished you had never left your hometown at all.

The alarm going off in the bathroom yanks you right back into your quaint little apartment. You take a deep breath and then rise. Your knees wobble as you walk to the bathroom, a sheen of sweat building in the palms of your hands. The sudden urge to just get this over with steadies your steps until you’re standing before the counter again, staring at your reflection in the mirror. There are dark bags underneath your eyes and your face carries the worries of the day. You look worn and you feel it too. Coupled with the extra pressure of trying and failing to get pregnant, there’s so much on your back right now it feels as if it’s bent over. You sigh, eyes still refusing to falter and look downwards at the results on your counter.

It takes you a moment to gather the courage to pluck up the first test.

Your breath is trapped in your throat and your eyes suddenly feel hot and wet. Your vision blurs up and your hands are shaking but even despite the tears falling down your cheeks, you can see the results.

It’s one line. Negative.

The other one reads the same and all you can do is try to remember how to breathe as you roughly wipe away your tears. Your hands are trembling as you wrap up and dispose of the two tests, shoving them into the trash before you pile more tissue on top of it, wishing you could hide from the shame you feel too. The black bag with the other tests gets tucked behind your pads in the cupboard. Jeongguk won’t question that, so it's the safest place to store it.

You head to the shower next, allowing the rushing water to sweep away the dried tear stains on your face, hoping it erases the crushing feeling of disappointment sitting on your chest too. But it doesn’t and even as you move around the kitchen to make dinner, your actions seem slow, languid in a bad way, held down by the fact that no matter what you can’t seem to get pregnant.

Jeongguk knows right away something is off.

He came home late as he said he would, pressed a kiss to your cheek and muttered a small greeting before heading to the shower. When he emerged once more in grey sweats and a worn white t-shirt, he’d plopped himself down at the dining table, gave you a quiet once over and then opened his mouth to gently say, “Your eyes are red.”

“Bad day at work,” you lie, placing a bowl of rice before him.

“Seungmin?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

You fall into a silence that should be comfortable but it isn’t. Every time you glance up Jeongguk is staring at you with a worried expression that makes your heart heavy. Even between bites of food, you can see his brain working, mulling over a way to make you feel better. Which sucks because Jeongguk shouldn’t be worrying about insignificant issues like this. He had a lot on his plate anyway. His extra hours at the office were taking a gradual toll on him. His eyes seemed hollower and he’d had to skip a couple of gym sessions so he didn’t even have his usual outlet for stress. There was a vein surfacing on his forehead and it pulsed every time he was thinking too hard about something. Like it was now. It hurt even more when you knew Jeongguk was putting all this stress on himself because he wanted to find a bigger place for his future family. The spare room you owned had long since been converted into his game room and he wasn’t about to give up that little luxury just yet. He was only taking on more responsibilities at the office because he believed that his future children deserve a place to run, play games, to just be a child. The image of the two negative tests linger before your vision and your heart breaks a little more because it feels like Jeongguk is working hard for something that’ll never become a reality.

He cleans up while you take your place on the couch. Even with the drone of the drama on the television and the clinking of dishes as Jeongguk washes up fills your apartment, you still can’t settle in and shake off the cloud that’s hanging above your head. When he does join you, Jeongguk lugs over the soft black blanket you’d whisked from Yoongi’s apartment, carrying his favourite bar of chocolate in his hands.

He shoves it in your direction, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “Here, take this.”

“Why? It’s yours.” But you clasp your fingers around the plastic wrapping, the warmth of his lips against your skin ebbing through you.

He shrugs, shifting against you so that your legs are thrown over his and the blanket covers both of your bodies. Beneath it, his large warm hand searches for yours, latching around your fingers and giving them a gentle squeeze. “Take it. You said you had a bad day and chocolate always makes you feel better, doesn’t it?”

The corners of your mouth are lifting upwards as you tear the package open. It's mint flavoured. Jeongguk always had an affinity towards sweet mint flavoured things, and the chocolate melts on your tongue with ease. Slowly, the tension within you abates, your mind vaguely focusing on the screen before you, Jeongguk’s warm firm body burning beside you. You melt into him, breaking off pieces of chocolate and nudging them against his mouth until he parts his lips and allows you to drop them inside. His tongue trails against your fingertips despite the ‘gross’ you mutter into the evening air. All he does is laugh and pull you closer, brushing another swift kiss on your cheek. You settle against him, resting your head against the curve of his shoulder before the drama takes your attention. One of the characters had made a joke and the rise of Jeongguk’s chest beneath your head as he laughs calms you down so much that you can’t help but laugh too.

The evening winds down in this manner. Jeongguk unknowingly melting away the tension that had built up within you with each soft smile and laugh that he gives you as he talks about his day over the voices of the actors on screen. You listen intently, hoping you can take away some of his stress too until you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. He gently shakes you awake, taking your hand to guide you into bed where you promptly collapse between the sheets. You can hear his footsteps as he moves around, checking the doors and switching the lights off, but your mind feels foggy and your eyes are heavy.

When he settles in beside you, shirtless and having tucked away from the semi you don’t know he’s sporting, your breaths are slow and slumber is slipping over you. His arm finds its way over your waist and his chest is plastered against your back. You’re about to fall asleep, the dark deep wonders of rest right on the edge of your vision but you’re wiggling around, slotting the curve of your ass against Jeongguk’s crotch and that’s when you instantly wake up.

His erection is nudging against your ass and you can tell he’s still awake from the rise and fall of his chest behind you. He thinks you’re still sleeping because he doesn’t say anything, just trails a finger against the curve of your hips. The touch warms you even through the fabric of your pyjamas. But you’re suddenly on edge again, the negative tests flashing before your eyes. You were going to book an appointment with the doctor soon but would it hurt to try one more time before you did so? It really wouldn’t.

You wiggle against him harder, the growing curve of his cock against you eliciting a rush of slick from your cunt. When you grind into him, Jeongguk groans, a low rumble that slips from his throat. The grip on your hip draws taut. He knows you’re awake.

“If you keep doing that, we’re going to have a problem.”

You grin, hips still pushing backwards. “What if I’m willing to solve it?”

“I wouldn’t let you.”

You halt, ass still pressed against his crotch, the smile falling from your face and your arousal rapidly dissipating. Jeongguk’s pulling away before you can say anything, rising on his elbows so that he can look at you.

“I know Seungmin isn’t the reason why you were sad today. I saw the test boxes in the bathroom.”

It’s so quiet that you can hear the rush of blood filling your head. The tears you’d thought you’d run out of, reappear instantly, dripping down your cheeks. He wipes them away with a forlorn smile before shifting to wrap you in his warm arms. Your chest shudders with every breath you take but Jeongguk holds you together, whispering words of comfort against your ear.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.” He holds you a little tighter when you start to hiccup against the crook of his neck, rubbing a large hand against your back.

When you finally calm down, you pull away, cheeks wet, to find that Jeongguk’s own eyes are tinged red too.

“Were they negative?” You nod, still, a little bit choked up. But then he smiles and moves to press a tepid kiss between your eyebrows. “Stop stressing. It’ll happen when it happens.”

“Getting pregnant shouldn’t be this hard. All I have to do is open my legs.”

“Hey,” He pats your damp cheek in chastisement. “Stop talking like that. You don’t have control over your body. Don’t blame yourself for things you can’t help. For all we know, this could be my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault.” You mutter. “I just - we’ve been trying for three months now and I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“We could go get checked. Both of us.” He’s pulling you closer again. “Don’t blame yourself, baby. Please.”

“I’m trying not to,” you whisper back, falling back into the comfort of his body. Jeongguk is like a pillar of strength for you, particularly when you feel like you have none left within you. And right now you don’t. But he holds you up, his hands caressing your skin softly, pushing off the worries that plague. You fall asleep like this, eyes crusty from crying and Jeongguk’s loving gaze watching over your features.

The next day, you book an appointment and try to ignore the nervous thoughts gnawing at your conscience.

Your period comes three days later and all that does is build on to the new feeling of resentment that you were developing against your uterus.

Jeongguk buys you your favourite chocolate, keeps your supply of hot water bottles going, cook’s dinner and tells you to stop worrying.

→

The late August afternoon sun warms your back as your drag Taehyung through the lake. You’ve got your arms wrapped around his neck in a playful choke-hold and despite his wild thrushes you manage to dunk him into the tepid lake water — retribution for what he did to you earlier. He’d shoved you right into the lake from atop some boulders, leaving you shocked and with water filling your nose for most of the afternoon. Somewhere in the background, you can hear Seokjin screaming at his twins because they’re copying your actions on each other and Jimin is hiding Bora from the two homicides about to take place in broad daylight.

You let go of Taehyung when he elbows you roughly and watch him rise to the surface, face tinged rose, but a good-natured boxy grin plastered on his features.

“If Jeongguk wouldn’t be able to beat my ass, I would end you Y/N,” he says.

You roll your eyes, playfully punching his arm. “Sure you would.”

Taehyung’s grin broadens. “I’m tempted to prove you wrong but you should get the boys before they murder each other.” He says before shaking his head. The droplets that fly from his mane obscure your vision so you twist around, waddling through the water, just in time to catch Minho body slam Minjoon into the water.

“Minho! You’re going to kill your brother!” Seokjin sounds beyond distressed, so on his behalf, you swim further into the water, and pull the two boys apart only to find them grinning wickedly at each other. They had just turned five and had reached the age where morbid violence was amusing instead of alarming.

“Boys, can we find something else to play instead? You’re going to send your father to an early grave.”

“What’s a grave?” Minjoon inquires, clinging to your waist as you haul them back to shore. Taehyung’s already out, meandering back to the cabins that belonged to Jimin’s affluent family. It was his idea to have a quick weekend getaway at the lake. He insisted that the kids needed to go out and play in the wild but he wanted to get everyone out of the house. The stress from work and studies were taking a huge toll on the relations within your group. You’d seen Yoongi and Namjoon argue for the first time in a while and it had been over whether Marvel was right in killing off Tony Stark. Yoongi had nearly thrown a plate at Namjoon’s head when he insisted that Tony deserved to die. That alone instantly made you agree to Jimin’s plan. You had to pack for Jeongguk too since he was swamped with work, another reason why everyone needed this mini vacation.

The man in question is nursing a beer by the grill, a languid grin on his face as he chats with Namjoon. The smile on his lips sends a rush of affection flooding through your heart because you hadn’t seen it for a while now. What with your uterus refusing to do its duty and the workload he was dealing with; you were glad he was taking a break now. He deserved it.

“A grave is where people go and sleep for a very long time,” You carefully respond, running a hand through Minho’s wet hair. They both have Seokjin’s bright eyes and the curiosity within them slightly unnerves you. “You should go ask your dad, he can explain it better.”

They shot off at that, sprinting to their father who’d given you a grateful smile when you’d dragged them out alive. Unfortunately, he was now trying to feed his third son Chansook, who was a stubborn eater according to his wife Seoyeon and coupled with the insistent pestering from the boys you could see him slowly going mad.

Instead of helping, as you should, to diffuse the situation, you head towards the kitchen, snatching up an oversized t-shirt on the way there. Seoyeon’s dashing from place to place, checking pots and pans with the help of Jimin’s wife Bora and Namjoon’s wife Eunbi. Yoongi and Hoseok take it upon themselves to cook the near twelve-packs of ramen needed to feed all the mouths present. You leave them to it, aware that Yoongi makes his ramen in a specific manner and you’d rather stay away than help him in case you ruined it. Seoyeon shoves a chopping board and some vegetables in your direction which you gladly take, settling beside Soomi.

“Is Bora outside?” She asks, slicing up a melon.

“Jimin’s got her. She’s fine.”

“Surprised she hasn’t cried yet. She hates being away from home for long periods.”

“Three days isn’t long,” You comment.

“It is in her world,” Soomi remarks, her laugh gentle. You glance at her, taking in the new wrinkles on her face due to being a mother and working at the same time. You don’t know how she handles it, especially because Soomi inherited her father’s dramatic and clingy traits. But even despite the stress, there’s a soft smile on her lips. You know she’s thinking about her child. The whole concept of infinite love that a mother possessed for her children was still lost upon you. You loved Jeongguk to the Sun and back but the love lingering on Soomi’s face at the simple thought of her baby was entirely different. Some part of you longed to know what that felt like.

“Can I ask a question?” You carefully pose, slicing the radishes Seoyeon handed you earlier.

“Go ahead.”

“How long did it take for you and Jimin to conceive?”

“With his stamina,” she scoffs, “Not long at all. I was pregnant by the end of our honeymoon. Why are you asking?” Her eyes are on you, shining with curiosity eerily similar to the twins’ gaze.

“No particular reason. Just curious.”

“Are you pregnant?” Her blatant question has your cheeks heated and you pray the rest of the occupants in the kitchen didn’t catch what she said.

“No,” you hastily reply. “I’m not. But we are trying.”

“Oh.” Soomi’s staring at you with a gaze you can’t decipher. “You don’t want to get married first?”

“We talked about that. We’re in no rush for marriage. We’re both it for each other as far as we’re concerned and a piece of paper won’t change how we feel about it. So we’ll skip out on marriage for the time being. Our parents know how we feel about marriage too. Even if they don’t exactly agree, it’s our relationship.” You make your tone firm on purpose. This question has been posed to you too many times, so the defence in your words is natural. But the look Soomi gives you is sharp enough to crack through the thin glass that constructs your resolve. Her gaze isn’t mean, but there’s a clear judgement in her eyes. She pauses, a gentle sigh slipping from her lips before she slowly opens her mouth.

“If that’s what you want, then do it. But I have to warn you, kids do shake up the picture quite a lot. Soomi taught me so much about Jimin already, things I would never have known about him. Some of them I didn’t like and others I loved and I bet she’s shown Jimin things about me that I never knew too. It’s a lot to have a kid and you need to make sure your relationship can handle the extra stress and responsibility you’re about to put on it.” She’s not looking at you, instead focusing on tying up her dark locks in a neat bun, but her last words linger in your head. “Don’t do something that might push you further away from each other. You love Jeongguk, but will you love him as a father when he messes up? Because he will. You’ll mess up a lot too. Parenting is one big learning curve that never stops curving. Even if you feel ready, Y/N, your relationship might not be.”

You move to interrupt her, a rebuttal resting on your tongue. But Soomi halts it, shooting you a glance that makes your heart halt.

“Have you thought about the pregnancy too? How your body will change? The mood swings, the morning sickness? How crappy you are going to feel? And for nine months too. That’s a lengthy time. Even with Soomi I was counting down the days until I hit the next week. I wanted it over and done with so bad if I’m being honest with you. Every pregnancy is different; I understand that — you might even be lucky and have a great one. But most aren’t a walk in the park. It’s a big commitment to make, with a lot of serious risks. Not that I want you to reconsider your choice, I just think you really need to think it through. Weigh the reasons you want this. You may want a kid right now but are you in the space to have one in nine months? That’s just something to keep in mind, Y/N. It’s not an easy thing, pregnancy or parenting.” She’s staring at you hard now, gaze earnest. “I just want you to consider that. You should talk to Jeongguk about it.”

You mumble a noise of agreement, your heart suddenly heavy in your chest. There’s a numbness that creeps from there, in the pit of darkness that now consumes the light that had once resided within you. You cut the ingredients they had you absentmindedly, Soomi’s words ringing in your head.

Even when dinner is set, memories and laughter have been cast across the table and everyone’s had their fill, you’re still mulling over Soomi’s advice. She was right, you hadn’t thought about the toll a child would take on the connection between you and Jeongguk. Or on you. You’d only focused on the happy little moments that would await you as new parents instead of the rough, ugly parts of the journey. There was a sudden panic gripping your soul instead of the familiar warmth you’d become accustomed to when you thought about having a child. Jeongguk had sensed there was something off with you too, because when you climbed into the sheets that night he’d wrapped you in a tight embrace, carefully resting your head upon his upper arm.

“Care to share what’s on your mind?” His voice is a whisper in the dead of the night, breath warming your forehead.

“It's nothing really. Just thinking about… the whole pregnancy thing?”

His body tenses. “Oh... The doctor said we’re fine though. Both healthy and fertile. It’ll happen when it happens.”

“No. Not that,” you retort, twisting in his arms. You tear yourself away, rising upright, the blanket falling from your bare shoulders. Jeongguk stares at you, eyes wide open and full of alarm. “Jeongguk.” There’s a tremor in your voice. “Do you — do you really think we’re ready for kids? I still work under a shitty manager. We live in a small apartment. You’re — you’re working so hard it’s practically killing you. We’re not even married—”

“Quit your job.” He says it firmly, rising up beside you. There’s a fire in his eyes that riles you further into the panic that’s overwhelming you.

“What are you even suggesting? I quit my job? So what? You can continue working yourself to the bone? Are you even thinking?”

“I am!” He slams back. “You hate your job, so quit! You’re talented and skilled and you deserve to work at a company that appreciates you! And where is this coming from? You don’t want to have kids anymore?” His voice faltering at the end, pandering out into the air that’s filled with tension.

“No. I — I want to Jeongguk. I just don’t know if this is the right time. There’s so much that’s not settled, we shouldn’t be straining ourselves any further.” Your throat is thick and your head is hot, unshed tears brimming within your eyes. He reaches out for your hand, rough large palms enclosing your own. You can’t look at him, staring hard at the wall instead, trying to swallow your sadness. “Maybe I’m not getting pregnant for a reason.”

“Don’t say that.” His voice cracks. “If you want to wait, that’s fine. Just know that you’re the only person I ever want to take that step with. Whether we’re married or not. I love you. I love you so much. I don’t want you to be sad about something that’s meant to make you happy. We can stop trying.” There’s a hand on your cheek, his thumb wiping away the hot tears that you weren't even aware of. When you finally look up, there’s pain glimmering behind his brown eyes and it shatters your heart into thousands of little shards.

He holds you as you cry, rocking your huddled figure lightly. His shirt is drenched in your sorrow, a growing wet stain spreading over his chest. There are hiccups stuck in your throat when you finally draw away, eyes hot and puffy. There’s matching wet stains on his own red cheeks. You brush them away, staring into his red eyes, hoping he can feel how sorry you are for giving him hope that his deepest desire could come true and then snatching it right back,

When he kisses you, there’s silent tears still streaming down your cheeks. It’s slow, gentle. The words that are stuck in his throat are communicated through this kiss. Like he needs you to know it’s okay. Your worries are valid and even though he’s hurt, he still loves you. Still needs you. And you kiss him back with the same intent, your heart aching in your chest because Jeongguk had been so happy when you’d agreed to start a family with him. A life that wasn’t just about the two of you as individuals, it would have been about the two of you as one. But that’s no longer a reality, merely a castle in the sky now.

The pillow is soft beneath the dip of your head. Jeongguk’s above you and you hold onto him like you’re afraid you might lose him, your mouths still attached. You’re terrified this might push him away, that he might find someone else that can give him what he really wants. Someone who will trust his intentions instead of doubting him.

He pulls away, eyes glossy, a look in them that tells you he can feel the fear in your kiss, the desperation to keep him closer. “I’m here.” His voice is thick, still heavy with heartbreak. “You’ve got me. I’m not going anywhere.”

The urge to prove that makes your fingertips twitch. You’re yanking at the hem of his shirt, your heartbeat pulsing in your throat. It comes off immediately, followed by his shorts and your own t-shirt. He’s not hard but there’s a sizable bulge nudging against your clothed core. You pull him down, revelling in the way he caves you in, and kiss him until he’s grinding himself against you, little gasps spilling from his swollen lips. Your fingers are tangled in his long hair and even though you’re hurting your heart settles. This is yours. No matter what happens, this belongs to you.

Jeongguk must feel the same because he’s coaxing a dark bruise on your neck, the need to display his love for you making his tongue swoop across your sensitive skin, teeth nipping when a rush of desire slithers down his back. His hips move harder now and he’s leaking in his boxers, the damp stain of the fabric matching the one on your panties. The air still feels heavy, but your joined pants now fill it. There’s a hand on your hip, pinning you down to the bed and at some point Jeongguk had kicked the sheets to the floor. You’re at his mercy, taking the rough grind of his crotch against your own. There’s a sting on your clit from the material rubbing you the wrong way, so you gently push him off, slipping off your underwear. The cool air hits your slick folds, making you feel more exposed and vulnerable than you’ve ever felt before. He doesn’t say anything, just slips down your body, draping your legs over his shoulder, his warmth breath grazing your thighs.

The first lick of his tongue against you has your toes curling. You watch him spread you apart, firm tongue dipping into hole, toying with it before sliding back up to your clit. When his lips latch onto it, sucking it hard, your back lurches off the bed. The noises that fall from your mouth spur him on, tongue moving quickly now, alternating between precise quick licks and slower ones, tongue spread against your pussy. You take it, staring at him as he devours you. The usual fire you’d become accustomed to during sex doused from his eyes, the brown softer now, almost calm. But there’s an urgency in the way he eats you out, your slick coating his lips, as his tongue flicks against your clit.

It’s hard not to grind against his face, but you’re still holding yourself back, despite the rush of pleasure that’s creeping into every muscle, every nerve and piling in your gut. When his tongue swirls around your clit, before dragging down your folds and dips inside you hard, that resolve you were desperately clinging on snaps. You roll your hips against his mouth, back arched and your head pushing into the pillows. The knot in your gut is tight. You’re close, eyes closing involuntarily and your thighs twitching under the firm grasp of his hands. Jeongguk can tell because his tongue is against your clit once more, flicking hard, coaxing the orgasm out of you. You want to push his head away, the need to snap your legs closed making your thighs tense but he doesn’t care, fucking your clit with his mouth until you unravel beneath him.

It hits you slowly and then all at once. A build-up that has your squirming beneath him, trying to get away, then your muscles lock. Mouth wide open and words falling from your throat that you can’t decipher because there’s blood rushing in your ears. Your walls clench around nothing and you wish he’d slipped in a finger or two but then you glance down, Jeongguk still lapping at your pussy with vigour, his eyes on you and your whole body just dissolves. Your bones feel like they’re melting into each other, eyelids heavy but you force them open and lock them onto his. When you finally muster the strength, you push his head away and drag him up to you, slotting your lips together. He tastes like you, and you’re fully aware of his erection, the bulge grazing against your sensitive nub.

He cups one of your breasts as you kiss, his thumb brushing against your hard nipple. You jolt, a sudden rush of wetness gushing from your cunt. Your hands trail down his body without thought, gingerly digging into the band of his boxers but then he’s pulling away, mouth latching onto your nipple and your brain short wires for a second. The drag of his tongue against your chest makes your gut feel strange, another knot settling despite the orgasm you had moments ago.

He comes up, mouth shiny with your slick and your chest heaving beneath him as he stares at you in a way that makes your heart seize. “I love you too.” It hits you then, what you’d been repeating when he was going down on you. You said you loved him. And it’s true - you do. You love him so much it hurts sometimes. It’s the most overwhelming, intense emotion you’d ever felt. It makes your heart feel like it’s going to explode sometimes. And even though you’re not sure you can give Jeongguk what he wants anymore, those words lessen the worry and guilt you feel. He loves you. That’s all that matters.

His boxers find their way to the ground when your lips latch onto each other again and then he’s guiding himself into you, groaning against your mouth as you squeeze down on him. It’s slow, his hips rising and falling onto yours in a steady rhythm, cock stretching you out. It feels so good and you let go now, moaning into his ear as your hands settle on his hips urging him into you, faster and harder. Jeongguk complies, your name stuck on his lips as he fucks you into the mattress, the curve in his stomach telling him he’s close. You clench around him, loving the way Jeongguk feels buried inside you, filling you up like no one else can. You’re tight and wet and he can’t help but lift your hips, grasping the back of your thighs so that he can pound into you the way he wants too. He’s hitting deeper now, the curve of his cock rubbing against that part of you that has delicious tingles vibrating through your body. It’s heady, the way he fucks you. You can feel him twitching, thrusts in precise, the need to cum driving his hips. When he moves to pull away, you push his hips back down.

“I — oh,” He says, breathless when you squeeze around him, ribbed velvet walls clenching on his veiny cock. “I’m close.”

“Inside,” you murmur, “Cum inside.”

He stares at you, eyes glimmering. But his hips come slamming back down hard and he fucks you like he never wants to leave your cunt. It’s exactly what you want and you’re not worried. After three months of trying what could happen now? So you let him have his way with you, his harsh thrusts bruising your hips. His own falter against you, warm cum spilling inside. Jeongguk’s panting beside your ear, your sweaty skin sticking together. His hair is dishevelled, ruined and damp. But there’s a soft smile on his face and when he pulls out, cum making your thighs feel grimy. He pecks your nose gently. It makes your heart calm. Then he rises, moving to the bathroom and returning with a wet cloth. He cleans you up in silence but it’s content, not tense. Your eyes are closed when he slips into bed again, the mattress dipping under the weight of his knee. He drags the sheets he’d plucked from the floor over your body and you burrow into his side, the thrumming of his heart in his chest a serene euphony to your ears. You fall asleep like this, the melancholy that was weighing over your heart temporarily subsided.  

→

There’s a faint ding from your phone. You pick it up, sliding down the notification bar to see a reminder from your period app. You’re three days late. You choose to ignore it, tossing the phone back onto your desk because there’s a file you urgently need to complete. Seungmin’s been breathing down your neck about it. Coupled with the fact that Jeongguk’s birthday is next week and you’re still trying to plan his party out, your brain felt like it was about to combust. Your period is probably late because you were stressed. Jeongguk had been swamped with work too and after the mini holiday at the lake house you’d barely seen him. So obviously, it’s stress.

You leave the office late, putting down a reminder to book an appointment with your doctor in your notes app as you exit the building. You’d been mulling over going on birth control for a while now. It seemed like the most logical approach. Partially because you’d grown accustomed to feeling Jeongguk’s cum inside you and also because you thought it was better to wait a little bit until you were both more settled and ready for kids. Some part of you still longed to have them now but Soomi’s words haunted your thoughts every time the idea popped into your head. You had no doubt that you loved Jeongguk but the negatives of parenting heavily clouded over the pleasant scenarios you’d imagined.

The apartment is empty when you get home. You shower first and then head to the kitchen, your phone in your hand. There’s a text from Jeongguk telling you he’ll be late. He’s close to a promotion thanks to all his hard efforts even if it means you spend less and less time together. You settle on starting dinner, so that he’ll have something warm to eat when he comes home. He was notoriously bad at remembering to eat enough while working late.

When you’ve finished cooking, you settle into the couch, laptop open on some random show so that you have background noise as you eat. But it’s not enough to entertain you and you find yourself swiping through your phone. You scroll through Instagram feed, pausing over a picture of Yoona’s new-born. He’s a cute baby even with all the wrinkles and scrunched up face. His name is Jonghyun and Yoona hadn’t been able to stop talking about him. Baby this, baby that. It was cute, her unadulterated love for her child. Even when he puked over everything and refused to sleep.

Your heart feels heavy now, ears focused on the incessant ticking of the clock instead of the chattering of the actors on your screen. The memory of your first time taking a test comes stinging back hard. How nervous you were, how disappointed you felt when it was negative. It all seemed like wishful thinking now but something about it had you sitting upright, empty bowl discarded on the coffee table and your laptop nearly tipping onto the floor. You open the app again, stare at the three days’ late notification and then run to the bathroom.

The tests are still packed in the black paper bag. Your rummage through it, yanking out three in your trembling fingers tips. For some reason, it’s easier this time. You pee, dip them in the cup and leave them lying horizontally on the bathroom counter in what feels like seconds. Your heart pounds every step of the way. There’s no way you’re pregnant. It wouldn’t make any sense. Your legs jitter when you sit back onto the couch and everything feels like it’s going in slow motion. Or are you just moving really fast? You can’t tell, setting a timer on your phone before pressing your palm against your heart, trying to calm the drumming against your ribs. Time goes quickly and there’s a familiar buzzing signifying that your results are ready. You can’t walk. You don’t want to walk. It would be better not to know. But what’s the harm in knowing when you already know they’re negative. It’s just a confirmation. You’re not pregnant.

When you finally rise, your breath is shaky and your legs feel like logs as you drag yourself to the bathroom. The counter beckons you towards the tests, bright white light shining down upon them.

Two lines. On all three tests. Positive.

You can’t breathe. Your hands are shaking so much and suddenly the floor feels closer than it should. Your heart threatens to burst from your chest and there’s blood roaring in your head. You steady yourself against the sink, chest heaving beneath the loose shirt that you're sure belongs to Jeongguk. It feels surreal. The harsh light of your bathroom is hurting your eyes but you keep staring at the tests, the new information sinking in slowly. Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of your stomach, how the band of your underwear digs into the flesh of your hips. You can’t think about anything else because it hits you then. What those tests mean apart from the positive two lines, you keep blinking at.

Pregnant. You’re pregnant.

→

The first person you call isn't Jeongguk. It isn't your mother either or Yoona.

It's Soomi.

She picks up on the fourth ring, mumbling a hello that you struggle to hear over the sound of Bora whining in the background.

“Bora! Sit down!” Soomi’s not focused on your conversation yet. Her voice is tight, clear irritation radiating through her words. Something hits the floor and there’s a shrill echo of Bora’s cries ringing through the line. Soomi sighs heavily. “Give me a second. I’ll call you back.” And then the line goes dead.

Is that your future? Is that what you really want?

For some reason you’re crying. There’s a hot heaviness in your eyes that throbs dully in your skull, the coming of a headache. You wipe them away with the back of your hand, the lump in your throat making it hard for you to speak. Why did you even call Soomi in the first place? You can’t remember why the panic you’d felt had driven you to dialling her number. Especially when she planted that seed of doubt in your head in the first place.

When she rings again, you’re tempted to decline the call. Soomi would even question why you’re telling her first instead of your mother or Jeongguk. But you don’t know what else to do right now. You can’t just throw all the tests away and act like this isn’t happening. There’s a being developing inside you right now. A person that is both you and Jeongguk. And quite frankly you’re terrified.

“Hey, sorry for that. Bora’s started throwing tantrums now. I just had to talk to her.” She sounds exhausted.

You nod, realizing a second later she can’t see you. “Uh, yeah.” Your throat is clogged. “It’s fine, don't worry.”

“How are you then?” There’s a click of a door closing behind her.

“Um…” You can’t say it out loud, the words crawling back down your throat. Soomi’s quiet down the line, like she can feel the fear in your hesitation.

“Y/N? What’s going on? Are you alright?”

You still can say anything, a tremble in your fingers that you can’t control. “I’m…” She waits, patient, and you know her eyebrows are furrowed together like they usually do when she’s concerned.

Wouldn’t it be easier to just say it all at once? Rip it off like a bandage? You settle for that, forcing the rushed sentence out of your mouth. “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re what?” You open your mouth again but Soomi beats you to it. “You’re pregnant?” There’s an incredulity there like she’s still trying to process what you’d said. At least you are in the same boat.

“Yes,” You reply, finally stepping out of the bathroom. The tests are shoved far into the back of the cupboard. You’d taken care to store the boxes away too instead of dumping them into the trash. But now you long to sit, and the couch seems incredibly inviting. It’s weird to crawl under the blanket, knees curled into your stomach. There’s a life blossoming there. A whole life.

“Oh my god! Congratulations!” She’s practically vibrating down the line and her happiness has you pausing. Why is someone else more excited for your pregnancy than you? “How far along are you? Does Jeongguk know yet? I’m so happy for you!”

“...I don’t know how far along I am. I just found out.” Your voice is monotone in comparison to her bubbly questions. She catches on quickly, falling silent at the lack of joy in your tone.

“Oh. Are you alright? Weren’t you trying for kids?” Now she’s confused, hesitant to be happy when you’re not. The problem is, there’s a small part of you that’s elated. Finally, after all that time, here’s what you wanted. Handed to you on a silver platter. But you’re too wary of it all right now. There’s ominousness creeping into your beautiful vision of a family, staining the picture dark. What if this rips you apart? What if it makes you hate Jeongguk? What if this is the wrong time? What if you’re a shit mother? There’s too much worry looming over parenthood. And it’s sitting on your shoulders.

The tears reappear, dripping down your cheeks fast.

“We stopped,” You croak out.

“Oh.” Soomi’s silence leaves your head throbbing. You know why you called. For reassurance. Someone needs to tell you it’s going to be okay. Not Yoona. Not Jeongguk. Not your mother. Soomi was the only one who could provide the reassurance you desperately needed. “Y/N, are you happy?” She asks a heartbeat later, like she knows your thoughts.

You hiccup. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to feel or what to do.”

There’s a small hum from her lips. “Okay. How about you get a glass of water first. Anything you want to drink.” She’s right. Your hiccups keep interrupting her and they’re uncomfortable. You leave the phone on the couch, returning after you’d chugged some water. “You’re back,” She sounds relieved, sighing through the line. You mumble a sound of affirmation, digging your cold feet under the fluffy blanket. “Remember what I said about parenthood?”

“Yes.” Of course you do, you hadn’t forgotten a word she’d said.

“I know I mentioned all the negative things but I don’t want you to lose sight of all the little wonderful things. Having a child is both a blessing and a nightmare — and I know it sounds hypocritical of me to be talking about all the nice things that come with being a parent when I just had an argument with my daughter, but I promise you, there’s so many moments that you’ll cherish during this part of your life. It’ll change a lot, some for the worse, some for the better. But it’s worth it. So worth it.”

You stay silent, shuffling in the cushions. There’s an urge to touch your stomach and you give into it, feeling the warm skin beneath your palm that’s going to stretch out, making room for the child within you.

“You know,” Soomi continues, a waver in her voice. “I cried the first time Bora could walk without support from either of us. She wasn’t that big and I was so proud of her but it felt like my baby was getting too old already. And now I can hardly get her to sit down.” She laughs softly. The memory she’s shared warms you. You can see it now, the tiny little feet, the unsure steps. “You know that’s waiting for you, right? With Jeongguk’s energy, that kid will never be able to stay still.”

And then you’re smiling, an easy one that tugs at the corners of your mouth. The pads of your fingertips trail along your stomach. “He’ll be so happy,” You murmur. There’s not even a slight bump but you already feel different, now that you’re aware.

“I know he will. I saw him staring at all the kids when we were at the lake house. He really wanted this.”

You hum again, but the mention of the lake house makes you heart break. “I told him I wanted to stop trying then.”

“Really? Why? If I may ask.”

You want to say it’s because of her, but you bite your tongue. Soomi may be a bit harsh sometimes but she was a sweet person and didn’t need to have that held over her head. “Just rethought it.” You settle for that instead. “Wasn’t sure if I was ready for parenthood just yet.” She’s quiet, like she can tell it was because of her.

“Are you happy, Y/N?” She asks again, not addressing the elephant in the room

You pause to think about her question. Really think about it. Jeongguk would be ecstatic. Over the damn moon. Yoona’s been nudging you to join her in this next stage of life and your parents would be overjoyed too. And you? What are you feeling?

“I’m happy.” There’s a sense of surety there. No matter what happens, you longed for this just as much as Jeongguk has. It’s a blessing. Even if it’s hard at the end of it all, it’s worth it. “I’m really happy.”

Soomi’s voice has a lilt in it. “I’m glad for you. You know it’s going to be okay. Jeongguk loves you too much to ever let either of you go.”

“I know,” You mumble, gaze on the door. “Do me a favour, don’t tell anyone yet.”

“Of course! My mouth is shut. Call me if you need anything, love. I need to check on Bora before she puts herself in danger.”

“Hmm, alright. I’ll call. And thank you Soomi.” You’re warm all over, skin buzzing with an emotion you can decipher.

“Anytime. I need to run. If you need a good doctor, I can refer you to one!”

“Thanks, I’ll let you know. Bye Soomi.”

It settles in when the line cuts, the feeling in your bones seeping into every limb. You are pregnant. There’s a miniature version of you and Jeongguk sitting inside your uterus. Evidence of your devotion to each other. Your love. You can’t stop touching your stomach beneath the safety of the blanket, the sheer wonder of it all still lost on you. Then Jeongguk is pushing the door open, and your hand drops from your abdomen. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbow, tie loosely pulled from its knot and there’s a glow in his brown eyes. You haven't seen them shine like that in months.

He toes his shoes fast and then he’s launching into the living room, a grin on his face that reaches your heart.

“Hello, my love. What’s got you so happy?" You tentatively ask. Jeongguk doesn’t reply, instead tackling you into the couch, firm arms wrapping around you. He holds you tight, this face buried into the hollow of your neck. You can feel his smile on your skin and your heart keeps fluttering. A wild butterfly caged in your chest.

“I got the promotion.” The alcohol reaches your nose then, remnants of his celebration still on his tongue. The words you want to share dance on your own tongue. But you keep them in check. Not now. You know when you’ll tell him. Soon, but not now.

“Really! I’m so proud of you. You deserve it, baby. You’ve worked hard.” You say into the tuft of his dark hair. He sighs against you, heart drumming against your chest. Content. “Let me warm your dinner. I’ll spoil you tonight.”

“I can think of other ways you can spoil me,” He grins, shifting so he can cup your chin, gently pulling you closer. You give in because you long to kiss him too. Have the surety of his warm mouth against yours, feel that love echo when you slip your tongue against his. He tastes like soju. But you brush it off, it’s probably not bad for the baby anyway. It’s not like you can tell him to stop and google whether this is safe for you. He’ll ask and you’re not ready to share this with him just yet. So you let Jeongguk push you onto the couch, mouth still latched onto yours. It’s easy to let go, lose yourself in his touch for a bit. Because it’s Jeongguk. The love of your life, the person who keeps you grounded, your best friend, and now the father of your child.

→

Soomi keeps an eye out for you at the party. She quietly orders virgins with you and the only person who seems to catch on is Jimin who keeps staring at her stomach with fear. But no one else is concerned, too busy exchanging stories over the table, their glasses clinking every once in a while. Taehyung keeps the liquor flowing, racking up a bill that’s going to bite your wallet. But you’ll let it slide for tonight — after all it is Jeongguk’s birthday.

The man in question is glowing, a never ending smile gracing his cheeks. The promotion at work came at the perfect time. He’s on a high, radiating pure unadulterated happiness. His joy spills over onto you and you can’t help but stay beside his side all night, eyes locked on his bright face. The laughter of your friends feeds the love blossoming in your heart and it positively combusts with joy when that sheepish smile creeps onto his face when everyone sings to him ‘happy birthday’. You leave the restaurant late; stories still being shared in the parking lot despite your friends halfway into their cars. Soomi sends you a wink as you carry Jeongguk towards the car and you catch the suspicious glance Jimin sends the two of you. They’ll have an interesting discussion later, you bet.

Jeongguk lets you drive, still woozy from the shots Taehyung urged down his throat. He doesn’t question that you hadn’t drank anything. You’d had a few bouts of morning sickness since you’d found out so avoiding alcohol in this situation was logical. Jeongguk thinks you’ve got a stomach bug. He accepted that explanation so easily, not remembering the last time you’d had unprotected sex. The ride home is content and quiet, Jeongguk cuddled within himself in that passenger seat. He’s beyond happy and it’s evident in the fond gentle glances he’s giving you. You pretend to not notice them, vibrating hard in your seat from the nerves wreaking havoc in your guts. Your fingers tap incessantly on the driving wheel, an accompaniment to the drumming of your heart.

You’ll tell him tonight.

The package is already at home, hidden in your underwear drawer. It's simple enough. A white ribbon tied neatly over the thin velvet black box and within it a positive pregnancy test, placed neatly inside a plastic zip bag, the cap on the tip on.

You’d thought about how you wanted to tell him over and over again but this seemed like the best idea. It’s not extravagant or dramatic and yet, for some reason you’re still so nervous.

When you kill the engine, your car now nearly slotted in the underground packing of your apartment, the silence is replaced by your rapid heartbeat. You turn to find Jeongguk staring at you, doe like eyes glimmering in the harsh glow on the parking lot lights. His mouth is turned upwards, cheeks flush from the alcohol in his system. Before you can say anything, distract yourself from your nerves, Jeongguk’s tugging off his seatbelt and leaning into your space, mouth moving onto yours. It’s a soft kiss, one that has you buzzing like you’re a teenager again, falling in love for the first time. He keeps a warm palm on the nape of your neck, deft fingers gently pressing into the sensitive skin there. You can’t help but curve into his caress, moaning quietly against his warm lips. When he pulls away you move to chase for it. He stops you by pecking your nose, leaving you blinking at him, hands clenched in your lap.

“Thank you for tonight. I love you,” Jeongguk murmurs against your forehead, fingers weaving towards your own seatbelt. He unbuckles you quickly, hands now on your waist as he urges you into his lap. You clamber on top of him, mindful of the gears that hit your knees. It takes a while to settle but when you do Jeongguk holds you to his chest, fingers running along your side. Your heartbeat is in your stomach now and you long to blurt it out. He catches your mouth against his before you can say anything, tongue coaxing you open. You kiss because if you try and reply to his statement now you’ll end up crying.  You don’t know how long to stay like this, making out in the basement of your apartment building like teenagers trying to hide from prying eyes. It’s nice until your hip starts to hurt from the uncomfortable position.

“Let’s go inside. I have a present for you.” You’re breathless in his arms, mouth wet from his lips against you. Jeongguk quirks an eye at that, shifting so that his crotch brushes against your stomach.

“Really? What kind of present?” He asks it slyly, hips rolling against you. You reward his bluntness with a smack on his shoulder, before opening the car door. “Ow! You can’t hit me, it’s my birthday.”

“Hurry up or you won’t get your present,” you reply, slipping off of his lap.

“Not far.” He whines, but he gets out anyway, shutting the door behind him.

“I don’t care.” You say, smiling back at him. “It’s a good one I promise.”

The questions start there and Jeongguk doesn’t stray far from you as you head towards your apartment. He keeps a palm pressed against the small of your back, pulling away only to give you space to open the door. Inside he latches himself onto you again, dropping kisses along your neck until you gently push him on to the couch.

“Wait here. Let me get the present.” He stares after your retreating figure when you head for the bedroom, curiosity making him finally stay silent. You return with a small black box and his mind starts guessing. A tie? The box isn’t big enough. A toy? What toy is that small? A pen? Why would you give him a pen?

He accepts the box cautiously, fingers immediately tugging at the white ribbon knot. He can feel your eyes on him as his fingers close around the lid. It makes him pause, gaze flickering towards your face because he isn’t sure what this is at all. Then he yanks the lid off, vision landing on the object within the box.

It takes him a moment to realise it’s a pregnancy test.

“Are you serious?” His hands are quivering but he plucks up the plastic bag that contains it anyway, dropping the box to the ground. His eyes are on you and there’s tears welling within your own. Jeongguk’s head feels hot and his chest is too small, heart widely slamming into his ribs. “Are you actually serious? You’re pregnant? You’re pregnant!” The smile that breaks onto his face makes you laugh with joy and all you can do is nod your head. Jeongguk moves so fast from the couch, wrapping his arms around in. Your chests are pressed against each other, hearts communicating through rapid thumping. He keeps murmuring it against your ear, like he can’t believe just yet.

“You’re actually pregnant. Oh my god. We’re having a baby.” He’s trembling in your arms and when he pulls away to look at you, you hold him steady. There’s a twinkle in his eyes that makes your heart stop and then he’s kissing you. It’s soft and sweet but there’s an urgency with every press of his lips against yours, one that you feel too. You long to have him closer, fingertips already digging into the fabric of his shirt. It should be off on the floor right now. Jeongguk groans into your mouth when your hands slip underneath the fabric. He’s practically levitating right now. It’s impossible for him to get any happier. And then a thought hits him so hard he’s left breathless when he pulls away from your lips.

“I’m going to be a father? Holy shit — I — you’re actually pregnant?”

“Yes, Jeongguk.” The shock on his face makes you giddy. You gesture to the test still clutched in his hand. “I really am.” You catch the wonder that whispers in his eyes when he glances at the test once more.  And then he’s on you, hands settling on your waist as he kisses you like you’re oxygen and he’s drowning. His erection keeps nudging against your stomach and the movement has you dripping instantly, panties sticking to your core. When you naturally roll against him, you don’t expect Jeongguk to pull away.

“What? What’s wrong?” He swipes his tongue over his rose lips, looking abashed. His eyes are still glued to your stomach.

“Shit — sorry. I didn’t mean to rub against you like that.”

You blink at him. Hard. Was the man who literally fucked a baby into you apologising for rubbing his erection against you? Really?

“Jeongguk,” You begin, attempting to sound patient. “Are you not going to sleep with me this whole pregnancy?”

“Can we do that though? Have sex? It won’t put the baby at risk?” He’s genuinely concerned, a hand coming out to brush against your tummy.

“I’ll be fine, Jeongguk. The baby’s only five weeks anyway.”

“You sure?” The warmth of his hand against you has you radiating, glowing bright like a star in the middle of the dark galaxy. You try not to preen under his attention, but the concern colouring his honey eyes makes your heart ache with fondness.

“Yes, I’ll be fine.” You try to hide that emotion with a nonchalant roll of your eyes. He notes it with a gentle scoff, the palm on your hand stills though.

The firmness in his voice makes your cheeks warm. But then he glances at you again. “You’re not tired? You don’t want to sleep?”

“Jeongguk, I suggest you take advantage of my libido before it disappears. You’ve already put a baby in me, what’s stopping you now?” He must read the irritation in your voice well because he stops being coy and settles a hand on your hip to pull you closer.

“Nothing, nothing at all,” He murmurs against your ear before easily lifting you up. The grin tugging at your lips is blissful, the feeling of Jeongguk’s sturdy arms guiding you to your bedroom licking at the flame in your core. You cling onto him, giggling in time with his slippers faintly pattering against the floorboards. You don’t know how he flicks on the lights in the room but he does so without letting you go, the smile curving at his own lips pressed against your chest.

Your back touches the mattress gently, the act tender in itself. The look Jeongguk gives you makes your heart flutter, a soft warmth building in your gut has his hands wander across along your body, pausing at your waist which he clutches firmly. He fits perfectly between your spread legs, the silk dress you'd donned for tonight hitched up your thighs, revealing spans of skin that Jeongguk keeps staring at. His eyes roam over your body, glittering in a manner that makes your fingers itch to close the distance between your bodies. You can't help but stare at back him, a stupid grin on your lips because this is really all yours. He's yours and you love him. And he loves being yours too. You can tell it by the way Jeongguk leans down, slotting his lips against yours, his body pressed firmly into you. The twitch of his clothed cock against your core has you groaning into his mouth, the sparks that journey across your skin from every slight touch he gives your body intoxicating. Your hands are on him a beat later, slipping into his soft brown curls. When your nails scrap against the nape of his neck Jeongguk shivers, a minute movement that has his hips driving harder into yours. The grip that lands on your bare thighs triggers an arch in your back, lining you perfectly against him. There hasn't been an exchange of words yet but you can feel it in every roll of his hips, in the way his lips slip down to your neck, painting purple and blue marks along your skin and in the way he glances at you when he finally pulls away, petal lips bruised and a glaze in his honey eyes that makes you want to do dangerous things.

"I love you." There's another kiss on your lips. His hands are in your underwear, fingertips toying with your wet folds. "I love you so much. So much." Another kiss and an expert flick against your clit. You think your heart might burst. It feels too full of adoration, bruising your ribs with every erratic thump inside of your chest. You just tug him closer, directing his mouth towards yours again and kissing him hard enough to leave a print of your ardour for him on his lips for eternity.

"I love you too." You mumble it into the air, the sentence soft and warm, containing all the adoration you feel towards him. Jeongguk beams, brighter than the sun. Your love for him blinds you but you don't mind it. No one has ever made you as happy as Jeongguk has. No one has ever made you feel like Jeongguk has. You love him so much that it hurts. And you know he loves you just as much too.

It comes easy, the way your clothes fall off your body as he kisses you. Suddenly your bare bodies in a bed, the desperation in your touches heady. He leaves you breathless when he finally settles himself between your legs. The first lick of his tongue against your dripping core has your hands balling into the sheets. Jeongguk doesn't wait for you to register the feeling of his mouth against your cunt. He hikes your legs over his shoulders, tongue slipping deep into your cunt. You jolt from the intrusion but Jeongguk pins you down, grip firm as he forces you to take every deft swipe of his tongue against your pussy. He knows how to unravel you, and he does so quickly, not holding back anything as he licks you open, groaning deep into your cunt. It's the little sighs that do you in, the mumbles of praise that he murmurs into you that spark something in your gut.

"Jeongguk." It's hitting you fast, a tremble in your thighs that you can't control spreading warmth throughout your body.

He hums, parting from your cunt with his mouth covered in your need. It gives you a moment to breathe, but then he plants a kiss on your folds and you feel your brain melt into mush. "You taste so good," Jeongguk murmurs, before swirling his tongue around your clit - a skilled motion that elicits a rush of slick from your core. "So fucking good," he reiterates, despite you protesting squirms, the hands on your hip unforgiving. And then his tongue is back inside of you, fucking you open with a vigour that leaves you heady. There's nothing that can stop your fingers slipping into his hair, nails scraping his scalp with how hard you grip at the locks on his head. Your hips rise subconsciously, grinding his face into your cunt and slipping his tongue deeper and deeper until you feel it snap. He reads your body too well, the heave in your chest enough indication that your high is hitting you. And just before it does, his tongue is on your clit, licking at the sensitive bud the way he knows you like it. It happens all at once, a heat bursting through your system and your thighs suddenly begging to be clamped shut. But Jeongguk keeps them open, laving at your core as you shudder beneath him, vision blank and your nerves tingling with pleasure.

The waves barely subside, but you force your eyes to focus, the gentle press of Jeongguk's lips on your cunt making your toes curl. When you glance down, gaze floating over Jeongguk finally departing from between your legs, your heart bursts. His face is flushed rouge, a pretty tint over his golden skin, and his curls are tumbling into his face mussed from your fingertips racking through his hair. Even from here you can see how hard he is, straining against the fabric of his boxers, the print of his cock reigniting a fire in your gut that blazes through your nerves straight to your core. He notes the direction of your gaze with a loop-sided grin before he's descending onto you, trapping you within his sturdy arms. His mouth is on yours a second later, tongue slipping against yours. The groan that melts down your throat has your heart thumping, and your hands travel down his back, yanking him down until his crotch is pressed right against your own. You like the way you taste on his tongue, and it shows by how you kiss him, lips eager for more and more. The moment wraps itself around you, needs forgotten for a moment as you learn each other through your kisses all over again. It leaves you breathless, a tiny sigh drifting from your mouth when you finally part, and the look in Jeongguk's dark eyes evoking a thrill through your system. It's the instinctual thrust of his hips into yours that has the mood changing, like a trigger has been set off because suddenly you're needy, pawing at him until he gives in. You can feel him against you, twitching into your heat, the damp spot building on the fabric a result of both of your desires. There's a chaste kiss along your neck, Jeongguk slowly working his hips into you, but the pulse inside of your core demands for something more. Your fingers tug at the band of his underwear, impatient as you push down the fabric. He just laughs, mouth pressed into the hollow of your neck, hips raised to assist in your ministrations. It takes some wiggling before they're off, discarded someone off the edge of the bed.

"Aren't you needy — oh fuck." Your hand is wrapped around his length; the twists you give around him shallow but you know him well enough to know where to apply pressure. It doesn't take long from Jeongguk to crumble into you, the breaths against your neck shallow and quick and his cock leaking all over your hand. He feels good like this, thick and velvet-like against your palm, a weight you ache to have in your mouth. But then your walls flutter, clenching on nothing as Jeongguk groans into your shoulder, his hips pistoning into your hand and your brain can focus on nothing but having him inside of you, filling you up like he should.

"Baby." There's a careful edge to his tones. The profanity he whispers a moment later melts into the heat of your skin. "Keep doing that and I'll cum." He feels taunt above you, like a string on the verge of snapping.

"You could do that inside of me," you retort, twisting your hips up. It's only a slight brush but Jeongguk is swearing into the heat of the air. His hands are on the back of your thighs in an instant, hoisting you up to meet him as he settles himself between your legs, the head of his cock nudging against your core.

"You're a menace," Jeongguk retorts, pressing his length into you. His eyes are on your core, marvelling at how wet you are, practically drenching his cock in your slick. It doesn't help that you look gorgeous like this underneath him, his hands wandering back to your waist as he tugs you closer. The soft smile gracing your lips makes his heart ache. He pushes in without really thinking it over, the urge to fill you up overriding any other thought in his brain. The gasp you let out urges his hips to hit deeper, the feeling of your tight wet walls fluttering around his length euphoric. He loves every part of you but your cunt has a special place in his heart if he's being honest with himself. You fit around him perfectly, like you were made for him. Even after years of being with him it still takes him breath away, how easy you welcome his length into you, the noises you make when he's inside you. The first time you'd had sex Jeongguk had nearly cried. He'd never reached his climax that quick and it hit him hard, slamming into his body as he fucked you into the mattress. For some reason he feels the same way now, balls tight with his release, begging to coat your walls in his cum. He tries not to stare at your tummy but it's instinctual.

You sigh when he bottoms out, the curve of your bum pressed neatly against his balls. "But you love me."

Jeongguk scoffs lightly, rocking his hips hard. "I don't."

You ignore the butterflies that erupt in your stomach because you know he's lying. The look in his eyes as he gazes at your stomach says something else entirely.

"You do," you retort, raising your hips to match his thrusts. "You love me." The curve of his cock rubs right where you need him most, but it's not the hard pounding you expected from him tonight. He's going uncharacteristically slow, the drag inside of you steady but not fierce. Like he's purposely prolonging this, hanging onto the feeling of your cunt wrapped around him. There's a distance in his eyes that makes you clench your walls on purpose, hard enough to yank Jeongguk back into reality. He responds with a hard thrust, one that coaxes a low moan from your lips. He hums low, hips still driving you into the sheets.

"Yeah I do." It makes your heart swoop, the heat that envelopes your body intoxicating.

The sound of you meeting fills the room, your slick dripping over Jeongguk's length. For a moment you watch how he disappears inside of you. It leaves a tingle travelling through your body, to see how well you take his cock, how he groans deep every time he buries himself inside of you. But then your eyes flicker back to Jeongguk and his unwavering gaze on your stomach. Even the hands settled on your waist are ginger, gripping you like you're fragile. It's only then do you remember the concerns he'd voiced.

"You can go harder," you murmur, the tremor in your voice a result of how good he's fucking you despite the gradual pace he'd opted for.

Jeongguk hums, still driving his cock deep into you. He's not really concerned about that. His hips move slow because he's still marvelling at the fact that you're pregnant. That the child developing inside of you belongs to the both of you. That he fucked a baby into you. It sets off something oddly primal in his brain, dragging up an urge that he has to bite down on. That's why he goes slow, savouring every whimper and sigh that falls from your bruised lips. Etching the way your body feels under him, pliant to his desires. How you stare at him with that soft look clouding your gaze. He doesn't want this to end. Even with the pressure in his balls tight, he drags it out, drowning the words that threaten to torrent from his heart with the sound of your meeting. It echoes in the room, colouring the air with your mutual love for one another. He lets it wrap around him, revels in it. But then you're wrapping an arm around him and tugging him down. His face lands into your shoulder and his palms get lost in the sheets. He feels your legs straddle around his waist, drawing him deeper and deeper and Jeongguk feels his resolve crumble into dust.

"Oh." The little exclamation fluxes into the crook of your neck, lost into the heat of your skin. It ignites something in your gut and your hips rise to meet his quickening pace. There's an edge lingering behind your eyes and you want it so bad. Jeongguk hears the desperation in the way you whine his name and he moves with purpose now, pounding you hard into the sheets mercilessly. It's what you want and Jeongguk intends to give you everything and anything you desire. Especially now that you're the mother of his child.

His high hits him quick, a fast sweet thing that zips down his spine has your walls cling around his length, holding him in like you need him there. There's nothing that can stop it, but you join him a beat later, your bodies moulding into each other, space nonexistence as your rapid heartbeats fall into sync. You feel him twitch inside of you, cum pooling around your entrance, and your brain short circuits for a moment.  There's a warmth ebbing from your core, echoing deep inside of your bones and the added feeling of your boyfriend caging you in his arms, his cum slipping from your core, unlocks something in your brain. It makes your heart fall into ease too, and you can't help but cling onto the security of his being even when he's mumbling about cleaning the two of you up in your ear.

"No.” The protest falls from your pouty lips, a neediness colouring your voice that Jeongguk can’t help but smile at. The glitter of his brown eyes leaves you swooning, but not as hard as the quick peck he delivers on your check a second later.

"Please," He reasons, voice gentle. "You're gonna feel gross tomorrow."

Your legs are reluctant but they fall away regardless. "Be quick."

He plants another faint kiss to your lips again before rising. "Of course I will."

→

“You stink.”

Jeongguk laughs at the grimace painting your features as he dives into you, smashing your nose straight into the pit of his armpit. He reeks, skin still slightly sticky from putting his muscles to work in the gym downstairs. Normally, he would prefer to drive out to the gym he’d signed a membership for. He’d usually shower there before heading home. However, since the news of the new addition to your family Jeongguk had been adamant on staying near home. Though the equipment in your building was arbitrary Jeongguk refused to go out further than needed. Even when you desperately wanted him to. For instance, right at this very moment. You can feel the revulsion forming at the back of your throat as he nuzzles you into his arms. You gag on it, shoving him off harshly. You can’t even muster a playful smile when he stares at you in confusion, face downcast.

“What’s wrong?” He says it innocently, oblivious to the stench that’s emitting from him. Normally, you don’t mind Jeongguk post work-out must. But something in your brain has registered his current sweat drenched body as the vilest thing on Earth.

“You stink,” You reiterate, shifting away from him. Jeongguk pouts, sniffing at the tight fabric that stretches over his firm muscles.

“That bad?”

“Like a pig. Please go shower.” You snap, snatching up the bag of salt and vinegar chips you’d left behind in you flee from Jeongguk. Usually you didn’t like the way this flavour lingered in your mouth, yet somehow with the past couple of days you’d demolished more packets of them than you’d ever eaten in a single month in your entire life.

“That is not the food a pregnant woman should be eating,” He comments, voice coloured with disdain. He attempts to pluck it out of your hands, but the sharp glare you target at him halts his movements immediately.

“Don’t talk to me when you smell like that.”

He frowns, raising a hand to rake through the damp brown curls sticking to his scalp. “You hate the way salt and vinegar crisps smell. Why the hell are you eating them at this rate?”

“Why are you not in the shower yet?” The eyebrow raised directly at him pokes at his composed temperament.

“Y/N. Apart from those, what else have you eaten today?” When you don’t answer Jeongguk evades your space once again. You cough back the bile that’s coating your throat.

“We had breakfast together, you know what I ate.” He doesn’t take the retort well, sighing heavily as he blinks at you.

“Breakfast was hours ago. What did you eat in between that? I want a serious answer.” There’s enough gravity in his words to make you mumble out what he’s asking to hear.

“....Bread.”

“Bread?” He repeats it like he can’t believe it, tone coloured with incredulity. “Bread. You just ate bread. Was there anything on the bread? Tell me it was a sandwich at least.”

“No. Just plain bread.”

The sigh he emits now is loud and full of frustration. “Bread? Y/N, you’re pregnant. You can’t just eat plain bread that’s not enough for you.”

“I know,” You snap back, a harshness in your voice that even surprises you. It makes Jeongguk pause for a moment, but you’re already too worked up to care about backtracking your thoughts. “I know that I should be eating nutritional stuff Jeongguk but I can’t. I literally can’t. I feel like I’m going to throw up over everything. It’s so hard to force food down my throat when I feel like it’s going to come right back up. So stop getting at me for that. I’m trying, I really am. Just let me be.”

He tilts his head, the perturbation in his eyes tangible. There’s a moment of silence between the two of you that lingers, Jeongguk’s gaze unwavering. It makes you feel uncomfortable, and you squirm away subconsciously. The minute moment has a dark cloud settling over Jeongguk’s features.

“I’m sorry,” He doesn’t make a move to kiss or hug you - which you’re both grateful for and irked at. It’s a peculiar feeling, repulsing your partner.  “I get that your sensitive right now. I’m just worried. You know tomorrow is our first prenatal visit. You’re still taking the vitamins right?”

“I am,” You affirm, sticking your hand back into the packet of crisps. “And stop worrying. You’re making me nervous.”

He sighs again, rubbing the nape of his neck with unease. In one fluid motion he’s off the couch, taking the atrocious smell with him. “I’m sorry again. I’ll go shower. Please, just consider eating something that isn’t salt and vinegar chips while I’m gone. And drink some water. Please? For me?” The pleading look he gives you, doe eyes wide, plasters itself into your brain. You mumble a noise of agreement, waiting impatiently for him to walk away. He does so with one last long look at you, his eyes holding a miscellany of emotions that you can’t decipher. You don’t want to either, but the feeling they give you creeps through your chest, sneaking its way into your heart.

When he's gone, you dig into your crisps unabashedly, yet for some reason the taste of them leaves a film of disgust in your mouth. You try to chug it away with a bottle of water but it lingers, provoking a wave of nausea that has you taking deep breaths. The show playing on the television is monetarily forgotten as you wander into the kitchen in search of something to calm your unsettled stomach. The cluster of bananas sitting in your fruit basket catch your eyes simply because the vision of Jeongguk staring at you with that imploring gaze is still vivid in your memory. He’s right though - you’re not eating enough healthy food to sustain the current exertion your body is undergoing. Making a whole human being is incredibly difficult and it was taking a huge toll on your body. From the constant nausea to the back pain and sudden scent sensitivity, you were feeling overwhelmed. Your moods had suffered too, your patience running thin with Jeongguk more often than not. The lethargy your body feels seeps negativity into every aspect of your life - and it didn’t help that Seungmin was still breathing down your neck asking for reports left right and centre like you had nothing better to do with your time. There had been a couple of close calls at the office this week we’re you’d nearly snapped at him, but you’d managed to hold yourself back in time. However, all those repressed emotions are following you, reappearing in the way you flare up at Jeongguk for the slightest mistake. It’s starting to eat away at you, this guilt that you’re treating him like this despite your boyfriend trying his best to provide you with everything and anything you wanted. That’s why you grab one of the bananas, swiftly peeling it open.

But then the smell hits you, quick and hard leaving no room for you to force back the vomit that nearly spews from your mouth. You barely make it to the toilet in time, head held over the bowl as you hurl out the obscene amount of carbs you’d consumed for the day.

You don’t even hear his footsteps but the sudden hard gently rubbing on your back isn’t unwelcome. He murmurs softly over the sound of you heaving, crouching next to your huddle figure, worry violently radiating from him. It’s a few more retches before it passes, you mouth bitter with the remnants of salt and vinegar crisps. It makes your eyes sting, and suddenly your throat is clogged with a devastating despondency that swallows you whole. You don’t even feel like you can move from the toilet, holding your head in your hands as you choke back tears. You feel discomfort everywhere, and this is merely the beginning of your pregnancy. Seven weeks in and a part of you is ready to quit it all already.

Jeongguk coaxes your head up, gently urging a glass of water into your hands that you use to rinse your mouth out. The distress in his eyes doesn’t help quell any of the negative thoughts swimming in your brain.

“Are you okay?” He murmurs, voice soft in the echo of your bathroom. His hair is still damp from his shower, golden skin on display - evidence he didn’t have enough time to tug a shirt over his head before he came to your aid.

“Obviously not,” You bite back, and then immediately regret it when you see the fall on his face. “I don’t think I’ll throw up again, but I really want to lie down.” He nods, evidently glad you’ve given him something to work with.

“C’mere.” You make a motion at the mess in the toilet but he brushes it off. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean it.”  His arms lift you up easily, gingerly guiding you to the couch where he nestles you in the soft cocoon of pillows and blankets, fretting incessantly over whether you truly feel comfortable or not. And then, he’s gone. You hear the sound of the toilet being scrubbed even though you’re in the living room and your nausea rears its ugly head for a split second. It’s a dangerous lurch in your stomach that thankfully subsides when you close your eyes and breath slow. Jeongguk walks in on this, shirt soaked with the droplets of water slipping from his curls and his phone in his hand. You don’t see it but he’s staring hard at his phone, eyes swiftly reading through a series of web-pages, bottom lip caught between his teeth. He wishes he could just text his mom the question plaguing his brain but he can’t. You’d both decided to hold back the pregnancy announcement until the first ultrasound. But in situations like this Jeongguk wishes that his mother knew. Or anyone he could trust for advice really. He feels like he’s waddling blindly through deep waters, constantly making the wrong decisions because you keep snapping at him. Even now that you’re reposed on the couch, face lax, he can still see how dull your skin is. It makes his heart ache. For the duration of your pregnancy the morning sickness had been present - but it had never been this bad. Coupled with your other symptoms, Jeongguk truly feels like the worst partner in the world for not being able to alleviate somewhat of your troubles.

That’s why he heads to the kitchen with purposeful steps, snatching up the half peeled banana you’d deposited on the counter before fleeing for the bathroom and dumping it into the trash. You blink your eyes open to the sudden sound of Jeongguk knocking pots onto the stove and rummaging deep through the fridge.

“What are you doing?” You croak, voice weak over the droning of the television.

Jeongguk twists to face you, a tiny smile on his lips but his eyes are nervous. He asks it anyway because if he does nothing he’ll feel useless. “How do you feel about ginger tea?”

“I’m listening,” You say. The smile on your lips is tired, but the fact that it’s there is enough confirmation to ease the worry that had become a permanent fixture in Jeongguk’s heart.

→

His jittering is getting on your nerves. Jeongguk’s always been one to move around to alleviate his anxiety but by doing so at this very moment, he’s adding to yours. You already feel sick to your stomach, the candescene of the clinic lights sparking an ache in your eyes. Instinctively, you reach out from your perch in the leather chair, giving his jerky knee a firm but tight squeeze. The movement halts immediately and from your peripheral gaze you note the sheepish smile that spreads across your boyfriend’s lips.

“Sorry,” he whispers into the sterile air. Hospitals always have that sharp alcohol smell and you’re quickly coming to the conclusion that you don’t like that smell at all.

“It’s okay,” you return. “You’re just making me nervous, babe.”

He’s got your hand in his a second later. “I know. I’m sorry. I just can’t believe this is real.”

You huff. “Well you better start believing. This is very much real.” Maybe that’s what’s causing the mini freak-out in your mind. The gravity of the situation was slowly starting to dawn on you. Maybe it was the smell of the clinic, or maybe it was the equipment surrounding both of you. But it was all becoming very real that this was happening.

Jeongguk seems to have noted the flash of panic flooding your features but before you can say anything the door clicks open and a sharp lady with pin straight hair walks in.

“Good morning, Mr and Mrs Jeon. Apologies for keeping you waiting. I hope everything is alright.” She moves quickly, dropping a chart on the counter beside the wall before turning to face the both of you. You quirk an eyebrow at how she addresses you but Jeongguk doesn’t make a comment, instead quickly rising to give her a small bow.

“Morning Doctor Lee, everything’s alright. Just some morning sickness and fatigue but otherwise she’s doing okay.”

She grants you a small glance, the smile on her face gentle. “That’s to be expected. There’s some remedies I can suggest but for the most part you just have to work through it. Otherwise, we can get into the first ultrasound.”

You give her a nod, hand still intertwined with Jeongguk’s and a strange knot tight in your throat.

“Alright, go ahead and lie down for me,” Lee says, dimming the lights in the room. She raises your shirt up when you’ve gotten comfortable, handing you a paper sheet to prevent the gel from staining your clothes. Your exposed belly in the faint glow of the monitor screen ticks of something in your head. But you bury that feeling away, focusing on the feeling of Jeongguk’s callused palm against your own.

“Okay, just undo your pants and tug them down for me.” You do as instructed, wiggling in the seat until the curve of your stomach is out for all to see. You can feel Jeongguk’s eyes on it, the sudden squeeze he bestows your hand a clear indicator.

“The gel is warmed but it still might be a little bit uncomfortable,” Lee continues. She’s right, but you let her spread it around anyway, the pounding in your heart frantic. “So we’re going to do a simple heart-tracing,” she says as she presses the probe into your skin. “This is just a general check on how your baby is developing.” You nod again, ignoring the deft hard press of the probe and she shifts it around

“See if you look here.” Your eyes snap right to the monitor, mind trying to decipher the blobs on the screen into a person growing inside of you. “There’s your baby’s arm, and right there is the head and neck. They’re developing very well. Look there’s the rib cage, and there’s the spine.”

“Wow,” Jeongguk murmurs into the silence of the room.

Lee laughs, pressing the probe in a little deeper. “There’s the heart, and if I go down… Yes, there’s the stomach. And right there is your umbilical cord. Everything seems to be coming along well. Oh, look!” You can’t even rip your gaze away from the screen if you wanted to. “There’s the baby moving, see how the arm is raising?”

You can see it, a tiny slight movement that you don’t even register happening within you. Your baby is moving. Maybe you let out a little gasp, maybe your grip on Jeongguk’s hand goes taunt, but suddenly this seems real with a clarity you’ve never felt before.

“Alright, so I’m seeing no anomalies. So we’ll do a crown-rump length measurement. This will give us a possible date of birth for your baby. But from the information you gave you’re thinking you’re around nine weeks along, right?”

“Yes.” Your voice feels far from your body.

“Okay, let me just take a look at the rest of your body. I can see that your bladder is full, that’s good,” she says. You zone out then, lost in the sudden violent realisation that you’re growing a life inside of you. It feels slightly terrifying in the faint blue glow of the room. And it worsens when Jeongguk starts asking questions, mumbling about your food aversions and diet. Doctor Lee responds in that calm collected tone of her’s, giving him suggestions that you see him eagerly internalise. Yet you don’t hear much of what she says, too busy staring at the image on the monitor.

“Would you like me to take a picture?” Lee suddenly states. “We can’t determine gender at this stage but I could take a few pictures of the baby and have them printed out for you.”

“Yes,” you say. “We’d like that.”

Lee nods, the softness of her gaze enough to ground you for a moment. “Let me just move this around here. We’d like one with the baby up and in a good position.” You can’t tell if Jeongguk is breathing beside you, his sudden silence vaguely concerning. But this his fingertips feather down your side, reassuring, a reminder that he’s here for you.

“Alright then, that sums up what we’re able to do for your first ultrasound. I just need to check some of the reports and then I’ll get back to you. Here’s some towels so you can clean yourself up.” She leaves you buttoning your pants up, the lights back on and a weight sitting heavy on your shoulders.

“Our kid is gorgeous.” Jeongguk breaks the silence with that, tugging your hand into his once more.

“We haven’t even really seen him, Jeongguk,” you return. There’s a delirious smile pulling at your lips. Yes, you’re worried about this new challenge. Parenthood truly did not feel like a joke, but every time you look at Jeongguk. See the bright adoration blooming in his eyes, that fear can’t help but subside. It virtually disappears when he brushes a kiss against your forehead, plucking up the tissues you’d used to wipe the gel off.

“Him? How do you know our baby is a boy, hmm?” There’s the thud as the tissues hit the bottom of the garbage can. You shift to help him clean up but Jeongguk stops you with a firm palm against your belly, honey eyes staring at you with tenderness.

“I don’t know,” you return. “I think it’s a boy. But I don’t really care. I just want a healthy baby.”

He flicks your nose fondly. “I feel the same way, my love. Everything seems to be going well so far. I just need you to eat a little better. You heard what Doctor Lee said.”

“I know,” you groan. “But the baby hates everything! It’s not my fault I’m not hungry.”

“I know, my love. But you still need to eat. Where do you want to go for lunch today? I’m thinking Paul’s.” Jeongguk sweeps the rest of the mess up, ever so diligent and nit-picky. “I’m craving pasta.”

“Fine, but don’t expect me to finish anything. Those portions are always too —”

“Mr Jeon?” The door swings open, Lee striding in with an envelope and her chart tucked underneath her white coat. “Here’s the ultrasound photo. As for the estimation date, we’re thinking around May 17th. If you have any other questions we can discuss them now.”

“I think we’re clear of any questions right now,” Jeongguk responds, gently taking the envelope from her outstretched hand. “Thank you, Doctor Lee.”

“Alright, let me know if anything happens or if any questions arise,” she says. “I’ll see you at your next appointment.” She sends you off with a smile, and the worry that claws at your insides ebbs away the moment your feet leave her office.

It’s in the car that you rip open the envelope. It feels weird, holding the picture in your hands. Because that’s your baby. That’s something you and Jeongguk made together. A life forming inside of you. Jeongguk leans into your space, a hand on your thigh as your both stare at the picture together, attempting to pinpoint where the arms and legs are forming. It’s surreal, knowing that this was happening inside of you right now.

“That’s our baby,” you whisper. Jeongguk grins, planting a warm kiss on your check.

“Yeah, that’s our baby.”

→

Your bump grows steadily over the course of your pregnancy. Suddenly waist bands are too tight, jeans don’t clasp shut, and you’re left rummaging through your closet for anything that sits loose enough to alleviate your discomfort. Jeongguk’s sweatpants swiftly migrate to your closet becoming a favourite item for you to don until one day Soomi insists on taking you maternity shopping. It’s not your favourite activity, to be honest. The harsh lights in the changing rooms illuminate your drastically changing body, bouncing off the roundness of your belly. It’s surreal, to see yourself alter like this, a totally new person staring back at you from the reflection. But you amuse her regardless, not minding the loose fitted clothes she swamps over you with that delicate smile of hers.

You and Jeongguk tell your parents first, during one late afternoon lunch, before announcing the news to everyone else you know. There’s hesitation in the initial reception, expected comments at the lack of your matrimony being muttered amongst your grandparents and parents. But that quickly dissipates when you hand them a picture of a recent ultrasound. They fall in love immediately, cooing and simpering with adoration for the child growing within you. It’s around then that the glow sneaks around, your skin vibrant and the smile on your lips unwavering. But the pregnancy isn’t perfect, there are still bouts of morning sickness and a growing pain at the base of your back that refuse to disappear despite advice for others and consistent care from Jeongguk himself. You manage through it though, a strange feeling blossoming in your chest whenever he places an absentminded palm against your belly, like a security blanket shielding you away from the bitter coldness of the world.

You can’t help but think about that feeling as you stare yourself in the mirror, sans clothes, tummy spreading far from body. With your first trimester essentially over, the changes in your body have become more rapid. It’s been odd to glance down and find a swell there instead of your usual tummy with its rolls and softness. Your fingertips give in, poking gently at the skin there. It’s still soft — just different, a firmness that tugs at your heart meeting your fingers. You should have gotten into the shower ages ago, a meeting awaiting your morning at the office. Jeongguk’s up too, the faint padding of his slippers echoing through the walls. You don’t realise how close he’s drawing until the door slides open, brown curls and wide eyes appearing from the sudden gap. There’s no need to hide, his gaze falling on your bare skin gently.

“Are you going to get in any day soon or is your body more fascinating to look at?” He’s annoyed. Despite your insistence Jeongguk doesn’t like the idea of you going into a stressful environment that you hate on most days, especially when his new position covers both of you. Seungmin doesn’t know yet too, and your manager is still a pain in the ass on good days. He doesn't want that around you when your body is preoccupied with creating life. But the idea of wasting away on the couch watching reruns of sitcoms and shunning away the comfort foods you once enjoyed sounds abhorrent. You’d rather be in the office while you can, and your colleagues are wonderful to — better company than a television show.

“You don’t think my body is fascinating?” He sees your pout in the mirror, shifting forward with a small smile on his own lips.

“I never said that.” The words wrap around you the same time his arms do, strong and firm but delicate in how he handles you. His lips meet your neck a beat later, the adoration they leave sinking straight into your heart. It warms you from head to toe, burning when his hands fall to your belly instinctively. “It’s more than fascinating.”

You hum, rocking into his chest. “Is it?” Your eyes don’t leave the mirror, engraving this image into the base of your mind where it will live with a clarity as clear as the sky. Jeongguk on the other hand is too busy looking at you, eyes trained on your face like he’s staring at a constellation hanging high in the velvet of the night. His hands travel, dropping low to settling at your hips. His own brushes against you, want evident through the loose fabric of his shorts.

“Do you want me to show you how fascinating it is?”

“I'm gonna be late for work, Jeongguk.”

“You don’t have to go at all,” he returns, a gentle press of his lips on your neck accompanying the statement.

“And why would I want to do that?” You retort, but your resolve is weak, body already pliant to the gentle shift of him as he draws you close.

“You don’t have to want to not go – I can just make you.”

“Jeon–”

His wandering hand is now at your chest, the fingertips that trail along your skin are delicate and yet they leave blazes of heat in their wake. “Please,” he burns the word into your skin, lips leaving a soft mark. “Just for today.” You feel it then, the crumble of your resolution. It happens the moment his hand slips low, right between your legs, grazing soft the way you like it. His other hand stays at your chest, squeezing soft before he catches your nipple between his fingertips. A precise flick, and the press of his tongue on your neck has you succumbing faster than the shore does to the hungry tide.

“Jeon–” He makes you watch, fingers landing right where you need them, sure deft presses against the nerves there. Your thighs are drawn taunt already, heightened by the sensitivity of your newfound body. It catches you gaze in the mirror, that bump, peaking forward as he works your open with his fingers. You can feel his muscles shift, ready to spin you, lift you up onto the counter like he’s done before and find his way between your legs. But you decide then, that you don’t want that just yet.

“Wait – wait, Jeongguk. Wait, I want something else first.” He halts, pauses with a curiosity in his dark gaze that makes you nervous for some reason. In baited silence you turn, shuffling away from him and sinking on your knees in a fluid motion.

“You don’t have to –” He starts, but you don’t let him finish.

“But I want to you.”

“Baby.” It’s laced with apprehension, but his cock is hard at the sight of you like this, pliant and on your knees, a pretty picture burned into his memory. “Your knees,” Jeongguk mumbles, gripping the counter when your mouth his dick through the fabric of his shorts. “You’re going to be in pain.”

“You know I like pain, Jeongguk.” And then your tugging the fabric down, sighing when he springs out, hard and needy. He’s already leaking, tip red and wet. He wants to say something, but it vanishes when you swallow him whole, head bumping into the back of your perfect throat with an evil ease. The groan that falls from his mouth and unearthly, painting the air warm. He’s forgotten how good your mouth is, how eager you work your tongue around him, fast and quick over delicate nerves that fall victim to your ministrations quick. He’s not normally this fast in reaching his edge, but the sight of you, naked and full in the mirror plague the back of his mind. It shouldn’t be hot but that fact that you’re carrying his child does something to base part of Jeongguk’s brain that he can’t put into words. It’s what drives his hips forward, motions muted because he doesn’t want to overwhelm you. But you don’t care, forcing more of his length down your throat until you gag, lips glistening bright under the bathroom lights.

“Baby,” Jeongguk mumbles, his hand reaching to pull you off his cock. “Baby – please – gonna cum if you don’t stop.”

You pull off with an obscene wet pop, licking your lips sinfully. “But that’s what I want.” You see him twitch, length dripping wet.

“No,” Jeongguk whines. “Not when I wanna cum in you.”

“Really?” He doesn’t even know why you’re surprised.

“Yes,” he answers anyway. “Really.” You’re pulled from the ground softly, and spun to face the mirror with care. His clothes hit the ground then, firm tan arms wrapping around you. They bend you forward, rest your hands onto the counter so you have support when he sinks down behind you, nudging your legs open with purpose.

“Thought you wanted to – oh fuck.” Jeongguk hums at that, tongue slipping right between your folds. He licks you open with a fierceness that has your knees shaking, deft movements filled with urgency. It sparks that heat in your gut, allows to spread fast through your body as his face burrows deep between your legs. His hands hold you still though, carefully protecting your belly against the bathroom counter. You can’t focus on anything but the feeling of his tongue sliding in deep, coaxing your walls apart eagerly. When he finally parts from your cunt you’ve forgetting how to breathe, forehead pressed against the cool counter and your lungs heaving.

“Good girl,” Jeongguk comments, dropping a swift kiss on your core. “Wet like this just for me, right?”

You sigh, a tiny noise of agreement. “Just for you.”

Jeongguk doesn’t comment, gripping you hard as he rises again, cock nudging right against your cunt with ease. He doesn’t move though, hands coming to gently lift your head. He forces you to look, honey eyes coloured dark even in the glimmer of the lights. His fingers journey along your features, quietly claiming the skin they touch.

“All of this, only for me, right?”

“All for you,” you immediately comply, hips shifting back. You want him so bad it hurts.

He pauses at your belly, settling at the base of it, swell cupped in his hand. “Only for me.” You don’t reply at first, because it feels like something Jeongguk is saying to himself. But then he looks at you, waiting, the grip on your body firm and unforgiving.

“Yours.” It’s whispered into the morning, like a secret of the night instead. Jeongguk smiles, that bright grin you’ve grown to love feeding the fire that burns fast within you.

“Mine,” he brands the word into your skin with a kiss on your neck. “Forever?”

“Forever.”

He buries himself deep them, splitting you open with one sure thrust that coaxes a moan from the back of throat. It melts into the air, walls already adjusting to his length. You can feel the slick coating your inner thighs, tainting the base of his crotch and dripping down his length. You sway, but Jeongguk holds you up, keep your gaze focused on the mirror as his hips draw away, before returning back with a force that catches your tongue between your teeth. He fucks you hard with a need you’ve never felt before, a purpose driving his hips forward until you feel your body given way, the sound of your meeting resounding through the room, hard and fast and wet. And yet his hands hold you together carefully, delicate with your fragility but firm like he needs you to know something. You think you do, and this side of him is both pleasant and terrifying. Nobody has ever touched you like this before, fucked you open like this before. But then again Jeongguk did say only him. And he meant it, judging from how his hand snakes to your cunt, landing right where you need him as if he’s memorised your body, engraved parts of him into his brain forever. It feels like he wants you to do the same, with how hard his hips drive forward, moaning low in your ear as his body tenses. You’re close too, but not there yet. Jeongguk can feel that, knows that tremor in your thighs is not enough. So he bites it back, holds that drop in his gut as he moulds your body into his, thrusts deep and slow.

“God – Jeon – J-Jeongguk – I can’t – can’t–” You look gorgeous like this, head lolling back and your hips shift to meet him.

“You can,” his fingers move faster, determined. “Be good for me, hmm?”

“But–” It appears faster than you’d like, a violent flash that pulls from within as Jeongguk unravels you. You can still feel him, buried deep and throbbing hard against your walls. Your legs want to give in but Jeongguk holds you up, forces you through it with shallow bucks of his hips against your heat, groaning low when your walls tighten around his length. He falls then, right into the heat of his want, spilling deep inside of you with choked whine and a kiss against your shoulder. It feels long and like it happens in a blink at the same time, but even as he stills you can feel him inside you, twitching around the pool of cum dripping from your cunt.

There’s another kiss on your shoulder as Jeongguk slowly pulls himself out. His cum follows quick, slipping from your cunt with is. You note how he watches it, how his fingers twitch with the instinct to stuff it back inside. You can’t help but roll your eyes. That was something you did when you were trying and there’s already proof of that effort right in your belly. He moves to plant another kiss though, right on your cheek while his hands sneak down to fulfil their desire. You halt them with a gentleness.

“I need to shower, Jeongguk.” The comment produces a pout on his lips. You kiss it away. “You have work too, babes. Get in with me.” He complies, still insistently drifting his hands downwards. A simple man honestly. With very simple needs.

→

With Jeongguk’s new position and your new predicament changes have rapidly happened. The search for a bigger apartment commenced right after your birthday announcement. At first, you didn’t find it necessary to uproot your whole life from your current apartment, with its quaint location and scattered memories. But Jeongguk wasn’t thinking about that, mind already focused on the future. He wanted a better district, closer to primary schools and day cares with stellar reputation. It was mildly unnerving, to see him come back from work, tie loose and his cheeks flushed from walking up the hill to your home with a list of new places they should go to, recommended by his colleagues. You’d asked around too, and slowly seeing one or two new places jumped from five to ten and eventually thirteen. All of them were disappointing in some way; either Jeongguk or you weren’t satisfied with the garden space, or he found the baby’s room to cramped, or the apartment too close to the main roads. Or the furnishing would not be adequate enough for the rent the landlord was charging. He also wanted benefits, perhaps a gym in the apartment complex or space to build one for himself in a private home. It quickly became apparent to you that Jeongguk wasn’t just looking for a new space, but rather the perfect forever home for him and his family.

Family.

A word you’ve slowly become accustomed to saying in your head. Jeongguk was your partner, and for the most part your family – but this, the baby in your belly. That was your family. A child that belongs to you as much as they belong to Jeongguk. It’s a foreign concept, but your heart swells in anticipation for it every time Jeongguk comes home for work, exhausted by lightening up the second his eyes fall on you and your stomach. It deepens during your doctor’s appointments, quietly observing the attentiveness Jeongguk directs to those meetings, how he notes down every bit of advice the doctors suggest. And its blooms when you begin find copies of parentings books around the house. You’d bought a few of your own for your journey but the shiny novel labelled: ‘Parenting Guide: For New Fathers’ sitting on your kitchen counter does something to you. Jeongguk wanted this more than he let on, and the fact that he was willing to give it up when you felt reluctant shows just how much he loves and cares for you. It feels like a blessing that everything aligned in its own way, perhaps drawn into your life by the desires of your boyfriend and partially by your longing for them too.

You’re lucky enough to find the perfect place thanks to Seokjin. A modern high-rise with the perks Jeongguk wants and enough room for your family to blossom, plus a playground space for your baby to grow in. It’s an arm and a leg to afford but Jeongguk was adamant to provide, and in the back of your head you were already thinking of side-things you can do to support your devoted lover. You move in towards the beginning of January, your previous lease drawing to an end at the perfect time. The new year is ushered in with new furniture and kisses in empty rooms, your sweaters stretching hard over your growing tummy. The journey feels both long and short, marked by moments with your mother, friends and Jeongguk and most importantly by yourself. Hours spent in front of the mirror observing your body change and transform into something new – something strong enough to create life within. Perhaps it’s always been that, yet seeing it occur right before your eyes has been astounding. Jeongguk keeps a steady eye on you, a weight lifting off his shoulders when you finally hand in your resignation letter. Seungmin is surprised, but he stares at your stomach with grudgingness that makes you feel sick.

(And you are the moment you get home, even with the first trimester over).

“Women,” he had muttered under his breathe. “Good for nothing but having babies and abandoning work.”

At first you’d wanted to ignore it, have your final day in the office be a pleasant calm one. Your co-workers were pretty nice, albeit occasionally annoying and deriving too much gratification in gossip but they were nice. Yet how could you, when the source of your stress and anxiety had the nerve to speak to you like that.

“You’re a real fucking piece of shit, you know.” And just like that Seungmin had shut-up, narrowed eyes staring at you in disbelief. “What the fuck have I ever done to you? My work has always been excellent unlike the subpar shit you usually get from everyone here. And yet you’ve been nothing but an annoying piece of shit to me and half your employees here. I don’t know who made you like this but I suggest you leave that shit at the door when you walk in – or else you’ll be dealing with more than just an angry pregnant lady. I’ve heard some pretty interesting harassment lawsuits have been springing up.”

He hadn’t said anything, mouth agape as you’d gotten up, your bag tight in your arms. “Learn to fucking respect the people you work with, or else someone will teach you that lesson.”

You’d stormed out, passing quick goodbyes as your stomach swayed with dread. It had taken more from you than you’d expected but it trepidation had passed as quick as your head hitting toilet the second you’d gotten home. Jeongguk considered buying you a cake just for that, and you’d told him to shut-up. But you could feel like pride and relief in the hug hid given you after you’d told him, and that was all that truly mattered in the grand scheme of things. Not life-sucking leeches like Seungmin.

→

You never really wanted a baby shower. It just felt so overwhelming and attention-seeking to demand that everyone in your life pays mind to you and the baby you were growing, but as pregnancy went on, Yoona and Soomi couldn’t help but insist, taking on the burden of planning it. Jeongguk has helped too, picky over the food and colour co-ordinations to the point where Yoona is considering never talking to him again.

“He’s going to be a nightmare when you plan your wedding,” she says it over a mouthful of rice, swiping through flower arrangement pictures. “Why the hell does he know the difference between gold and rose-gold I can’t even get my husband to figure out two different shades of blue.”

You’d shrugged, the smile on your lips small. “He really likes art, maybe that’s why.”

“A designer’s eye,” Yoona comments, sweeping over the apartment. “I knew they was no way you were responsible for this. Remember when you wanted to paint your apartment walls orange… I’m so glad you met him.”

“Hey! Orange is a really nice colour, it’s very warm and welcoming.”

“Orange is gross and gives people migraines – who have you ever seen purposefully paint their home in the shade of bright orange?” The quirk of her eyebrow makes you laugh, but your still adamant like always.

“It could have been me; I could have been the first.”

“And the last if anyone was smart enough. How’s the baby room coming along.”

You’re up in an instant, partially weighed by the new heaviness in your stomach and chest. “Wanna see? Jeongguk did most of it.” She nods, following you through your new home to the room right beside yours. It opens up to reveal a wide room, painted a pretty pastel yellow, tiny birds and flower wreathes lining the walls. Jeongguk had done it himself, along with the images of Bambi placed on opposing walls. It was his favourite Disney movie after all, and if he aimed on converting your child into loving it too you don’t mind. The crib is adorned with pillow and plushies, carefully picked out for their softness, along with a faded blue blanket that belonged to Jeongguk. His mother had kept it, somewhat pristine for its age and former use. The rest of the room was filled with paraphernalia; a rocking chair given by Namjoon, an assortment of toys partially handed over by Seokjin as his kids have aged and pretty star mobile swaying over the crib.

Yoona’s delight is evident in her smile, padding around the room with the movement of something you can only describe as mother-like. “I could give you baby clothes by the way – Jonghyun is growing so fast and I don’t know what to do with them.”

“That would be nice, thank you.”

“You’re okay with boy clothes? Wait – are you having a boy?”

You roll your eyes, moving forward into the room. “No, we decided to keep it a secret from ourselves, you know this I bet Jeongguk told you.” From the sly shift of her gaze he did. “Soomi is the only one who knows.”

“Why Soomi and why not me?” Yoona pouts, looking exactly like her high-school self.

“Because,” you respond, “Soomi can keep a secret and you can’t.” Her laugh is soft and good-natures because she knows it’s true too.

You fall into small silence, one that feels like memories. How you’d met this girl at the tender age of ten and kept her in your life as you’ve grown from young and wild teenager, confused and reckless adults to this. Mothers. A part of your future that you never truly saw coming.

“He did all of this?” Yoona supplies into the silence. You hum a noise of agreement. “He really cares.”

“He does.”

“I think that’s nice. It’s good you meet him that day – and if I recall when you called me right after you were already calling it the worst day of your life. Now look.”

And you do, fondness creeping forth from your chest. “It was the worst day of my life. He cost me an important job.”

“And he ended up giving you this,” Yoona returns, moving to slip her hand into yours. “A fair trade doesn’t you think.”

“Not a bad one at all,” you say. Your laughs are as light as the dawn sun just breaking beyond the horizon, coloured bright like the paint on the wall of your child’s future room.

“You’re gonna miss this,” Yoona says, squeezing your hand softly. “Once it’s all gone and everyday feels like a challenge… These moments you’re gonna miss them.”

“You miss being pregnant?”

“Maybe,” Yoona wonders out-loud, the look she gives you sneaky. “Jonghyun needs a sibling.”

“God please, give yourself a break. And besides,” You glance at your tummy. “He has a friend on the way.”

Another moment of silence falls, as you both stare at your future while your hand clings to your past and present.

“Remember what I said, at my baby shower?” Yoona whispers, her fingers gripping onto you.

“I remember.” It’s funny that she brings it up, considering what happened that night.

“Well… I’m happy we’re doing this together.” You pause, turning to face her, the smile on her hips matching yours.

“I’m happy we’re doing this together too.” And when she pulls you close for a hug, you remember the girl you once were, unsure and stumbling. It feels nice to know that Yoona was there for you then, and she’s here for you now.

(The shower is more than a success, filled with memories you’ll treasure for ever – and images of Taehyung in a diaper stamped into your memory forever. Yoona and Soomi were right through; having one gave you moments to remember and it felt warm, to be surrounded by the tender adoration and love for your family celebrating the start of something new.)

→

Your baby is late. It’s fitting actually, because that’s something you would do if you were about to be born. But it’s starting to get on your nerves. There’s an unspoken edge hanging in the room, amplified by the constant concerned looks Jeongguk has been throwing your way since your child decided to hang in your womb for a little longer. You’ve been trying to ignore it, but it’s hard when he’s checking up on you for contractions and when the hospital bag has been sitting beside the door for three whole days now. You drown his concern (and yours) with bowls of popcorn and a strange new-found interest in watching old romantic comedies. Jeongguk paces around the apartment while Bridget Jones gets locked in a Taiwan jail for attempted drug smuggling. It would have been a funny moment, expect Jeongguk’s pacing as has the baby moving too and now there’s a tiny foot trying to murder you from the inside. So much energy, an obvious mark of Jeongguk’s genes because any child of yours would definitely prefer to not move instead of brutalising their mother’s insides.

“You’re sure we shouldn’t just go in? Get a check-up or something?” Jeongguk heads peaks from the living-room door frame, locks tousled from the fretting of his fingertips.

“No,” you return, shoving a handful of popcorn in your mouth. It’s more for the effect rather than from enjoyment because for some reason it tastes weird. “We called already, babes. It’s okay, leave the baby alone they’re not ready for the world yet.”

A hard kick into your ribs and you immediately regret saying that. Maybe the baby should just come out – you’re ready for them to.

There’s a line of worry digging into his forehead. “Are you sure? I don’t like this – what if something’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you say. And fortunately as far as you and the doctors know, nothing is. All the ultrasound and check-up appointments had confirmed that your baby was growing steadily and healthy inside of you. Maybe they just wanted to stay in for a little bit before meeting the word.

“Y/N…” He shifts into the room, beautiful face weighed with concern. “We can go just to check–”

“I’m not doing that Jeongguk.” It’s firm and a little mean but he was fussing like he was the one with a huge baby sitting on his bladder.

“Alright.” It’s a quiet resignation. He moulds into the pillow beside you, careful not to brush against your belly. During the early stages you didn’t mind but now there was a sensitivity that left you irritated and vexed if his hand lingered for longer that five seconds. But you can feel him staring at it and a part of you feels bad for dismissing his concerns. You reach out without a second thought, guiding his palm to the side of your tummy where the kicks echo through.

A huff drifts from his mouth, soft and wondrous. “Strong little girl,” he mumbles, following the pads of the kicks as they breach from under your skin.

“Girl? Did my mom tell you?”

“It’s definitely a girl. She’s stubborn for staying in there when I want to me her. Exactly like you.”

You flick his forehead, caught off guard by the awe sitting in his wide doe eyes. “Mean.”

“How?” Jeongguk whines, petal lips forming a pout. “Bubba, your Mom is calling me mean. Imagine – me!”

“And you called her stubborn.”

“I called you stubborn, she’s a by-product of you so it’s still really your fault.” That playful glint surfaces with an ease that shouldn’t leave you breathless. You hope she has his eyes

“Jeon, shut-up before I something terrible happens to you.”

“What’s the worst that could happen? It’s been six years of empty threats. If you wanted me gone you wouldn’t have had my kid.” You close your eyes in frustration, missing the very important airport scene that all romantic comedies tend to milk to the point of death. Jeongguk laughs at your misery, cooing with the baby kicks against your belly again, as if she’s laughing with him.

She. You’ve been avoiding any gender nouns since the baby shower but now that word seems fitting. A little girl. Your daughter.

“You’re both horrible people,” you return, idly dropping popcorn in your mouth.

Jeongguk gasps, as false as the acting displayed on your television. “Bubba did you hear that? Mom called you a horrible person and she was calling me mean!”

You whack his head, whining when the baby responds to his silly comment with a fist into your stomach. “God, Jeon stop. She gets hyper when you talk to her.”

“She?” Jeongguk raises an eyebrow, still smiling.

“She,” you return.

He falls quiet, staring at your stomach with careful consideration before you see it click in his head. “Anyway, as I was saying –”

“Jeongguk!”

It’s too late and your girl is already awake, kicking and punching every which way like you’re not the sole thing keeping her alive. Jeongguk just giggles but moves with to resettle the pillows behind your back, alleviating what discomfort he can. The tension that gripped the air suddenly lets loose, a calmness filling your head as the evening draws to a close. You only get anxious when you have to slip into bed with him, stomach too far stretched out for you to attain any source of ease. Jeongguk’s already learned to read you well, giving you space and extra pillows where he can, the only thing you hold onto during the night his hand. Somehow, you fall asleep, until your body jerks you awake, a searing pain bleeding through your lower limbs. The ache eats through your grogginess, pulling you up and out of bed where you find with a sudden violent shock that your pyjama pants are soaked. And yet you never panic, fumbling for the lights and heading to the bathroom to pat yourself awake before the next wave of pain stings through.

You poke Jeongguk awake, his eyes snapping open with an urgency that startles you.

“What’s wrong?” His back rips from the mattress as he twists to take you in. “Are you hurt? Sore? Hungry?”

“None of those. I think my water just broke though.”

“Your – what? W-water? You think?” There’s a pause, and then Jeongguk is bounding from the bed like he’s being hunted down and chased. The paleness that sweeps over his face coaxes a giggle out of you, which is immediately washed away by another brief bout of pain.

“Shit,” the word is mumbled again and again under his breath as he runs through the house, collecting last minute things. In a moment he’s guiding you to the door with no shirt but shoes on, keys gripped tight in his hand. “Do we do the breathing thing now? And when was the last contraction? I need to time them.”

“Jeongguk,” you sigh, “Could I change first. I don’t think going to the hospital in Micky Mouse pyjamas is very fitting. And you need to put a shirt on.”

He freezes, spine straight and forehead beading with sweat. “S-sorry–shit. I’m just freaking out let me help you.”

“I’m freaking out too, Jeon. But let’s be calm about it right?”

“Right,” he returns. “But we seriously need to get to the hospital because of the baby comes right now I might faint.”

“Not helping. Jeongguk!”

“Yeah, of course. You put out the set you wanted in the first drawer right?”

“Second drawer. The light blue ones.”

He leaves you staring at the hard wooden floors of your home as he runs to get them, a slight sweat building down your back. The contractions are still spread out, not frequent or concerning just yet. You wanted to stay home for a little to be frank, but judging from the frazzled nature of Jeongguk’s movements you’d rather not ask your boyfriend to wait before rushing into the hospital. You watch him with fondness as he dresses you in the living-room, doe eyes wide with concern and stuck on your stomach. There’s a shirt over his head at least, and a change from his sleeping sweats into clean dark ones.

“Jeongguk,” you whisper.

“Yes?” It’s said with high-alert. “Does it hurt? Should we do the breathing–”

“Jeongguk,” you interrupt. “I think you need to calm down.”

“I am calm.”

You give him a look.

“Okay, I’m not calm,” Jeongguk returns. “But I’m also facing the very real fact that our baby has decided to come into the world in the middle of the night and you’re not freaking out at all which is making me very nervous.”

“I am,” you reply. “I’m just trying to contain it because I don’t want to make it worse. And while I love you Jeongguk I need you not to go crazy on me right now. And I thought you wanted to meet her, she’s decided to come today since you were complaining about it.”

He frowns, lips puckered in an exasperated pout. “Sorry–just–it’s just–I didn’t think it was going to be this scary.”

“It’s not. We just need to get the hospital and everything is going to be okay. So let’s focus on getting into the car first and then we can do the breathing practises, okay.”

Jeongguk stills, eyes drifting to your stomach. You see his shoulder fall lax, a sudden protectiveness lingering on his face. “Okay, let’s start with that.”

→

You were wrong. Very wrong. About everything. Staying at home for even twenty minutes more would have been the worst decision you had ever made because when you baby decided to come into the world, she decided she was coming in fast. Viciously fast. Maybe Jeongguk’s crazed concerned was warranted. Your contractions speed up and get worse during the brief trip to the hospital, and by the time you’re walking in past the doors you’re considered maiming Jeongguk so that he never gets the idea that you want a child again. The staff is incredibly helpful, leading you to your room and bed while Jeongguk calls his parents and yours. It feels both rushed and like everyone is taking their sweet time with you, as if there was a baby literally trying to rip its way out of you. The nurses take the noting of the times Jeongguk recorded, immediately pointing out that your contractions have speed up but not enough to head down to the theatre. Soomi arrives during the two hours they give you to settle, occasionally popping into the check your dilation and contractions.

Her hair is a mess and you can hear the faint sound of Jimin consoling Jeongguk in the hallway. Which is stupid because he’s not the one giving birth, you are.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Soomi starts, drawing near with a container of food. She notes the look of disdain you throw it’s in direction, quickly discards it on a nearby stool.

“Thinking about killing Jeongguk,” you respond. The epidural you requested is not kicking in fast enough.

She laughs, a bright thing that eases you edges a little. “I said the exact same thing when Bora decided to come.”

“Where is she?” You ask, forcing a smile when Jimin walks in the stupid spawn of evil who put you in this hospital bed.

“Taehyung’s. Seokjin and Yoongi are coming tomorrow morning. You think she’ll be here by then? Soomi inquires. You catch the slip of her tongue, a faint smile spreading on your lips as you mumble a greeting to Jimin.

“So it is a girl,” you comment. Jeongguk halts beside you. Maybe you won’t murder him just yet.

“W-well, I – I mean – well, yes it is.”

You’re glad Soomi was the only one who knew. A secret kept right until the last minute.

“I told you,” Jeongguk interjects. “I had a feeling.”

“And I’m feeling like ending your life, so maybe don’t talk right now.”

Jimin’s laughter is loud and unabashed, a direct contrast to the nervous blush staining Jeongguk’s cheeks.

“And now you know why I was scared of Soomi, right?” Jimin comments, ignoring the threatening glare his wife spears into his head. “Have you picked a name yet?”

“Not really,” you return, noticing Jeongguk’s sudden silence. You reach for his hand, heart aching with the fear you might have heart him. He responds automatically, clinging right back onto you. “But there are ideas. We’ll know when we see her.” You say the last sentence while staring at his face, mind already conjuring the image of your girl. Will she have his nose? His cherry cheeks? Will she smile like him? You hope she does – Jeongguk has the best smile in the world. He’s staring at your face like he’s wondering the same, gaze flicking over your features with careful consideration, a gentleness in his eyes that warms you heart even when your contractions decide to resurface, clamouring to be heard in the waves of pain that follow.

“Hey,” there’s a soft hand on your head. “You’ll be okay.” Jeongguk looks worried but you can see him trying to hide it, shoulder tense but his eyes soft.

You respond with a mumbled noise of agreement. “Yeah, when this baby gets the hell out of me. Can somebody call the nurse; my beeper isn’t working.”

Jimin does, leaving Soomi and Jeongguk to hang over you like grey clouds in the sky. You stop focusing on them, letting the murmurs of their encouragement fade into the distance as your focus settles on the bright luminescent hospital lights. Everything shifts into a state of surrealness, marked by moments of doctors prodding you and Jeongguk catching your gaze from his place at your side. Eventually you’re pushed into the theatre room, followed by a trembling Jeon Jeongguk in scrubs and a mask. Soomi and Jimin linger in the hallways while the only thing you hear is one stupid word.

You push until you think you’ve split into two, squeezing Jeongguk’s hand because he should go through this pain too. He doesn’t protest, mumbling words of comfort in your ear while you attempt to crack the bones in his hand.

“You’re doing so well – see look she’s almost here,” he murmurs, hand a grounding force when he strokes your cheek. “Just one more, my love. One more push.”

And then finally, finally, you hear that cry, the pressure in your hips waning. It’s immediately replaced by a quiet awe descending on your both. The nurses congratulate you, cleaning and swaddling your baby up before hastily placing her on your chest. If the tears on your face are from pain or love you wouldn’t know. They are one and the same right now, the splitting of your heart aching in your chest as the love for your child pours out. She’s got his nose. You see it instantly, her eyes are still shut, but you think she has his eyes too. She’s so adorable and too tiny for the world. You feel it then, the fierce need to protect her from anything and everything. Jeongguk’s drops down to your level too, enclosing you both like he feels it too. There’s no need for words to be said, the silent exchange of wonder between you two enough as your baby breaks into weak forlorn cry.

Her name is a quiet decision, vocalised by Jeongguk reaching to graze his thumb across her small cheek. “Hello Jieun-ie…. Hi baby... Don’t cry bubba, we’re here. Hmm, we’re here my love.”

→

Jieun is a blessing. There’s something about her gummy little smile and those chubby mochi like cheeks that makes your heart warm with adoration. She’s got Jeongguk’s eyes too, little stars trapped in her loving gaze. It’s almost addictive, how soft and plush she is in your arms. You want her to stay small and tiny forever, under the protective gaze of her mother. Even the slightest thought of anything negative happening to her, makes your heart seize with terror. You didn’t know it was possible to have space for this much love in your heart but Jieun’s carved out a place just for her, a home in your heart besides Jeongguk.

You try and think of that love and warmth during moments like this - when she’s up all night, screaming her lungs out. You’ve checked her diaper, nothing. You’ve gently directed her wailing mouth to your nipple, immediate rejection from her chubby hands. You’ve rocked her around the room for the past forty minutes, softly bouncing her against your hip, but to no avail either. She’s not hungry, or dirty or tired. You’re lost on how to ease her back to sleep and your patience is quickly wearing thin. The gurgle of spit on your shoulder isn’t making the situation any more tolerable either anyway.

“Why’s my baby crying,” Jeongguk coos from the bedroom, voice groggy with sleep. You’d left him in bed and taken Jieun out when she’d gotten fussy, afraid to rouse him. He’d picked up some long shift once again and it pained you to see him shuffle to work early in the morning with barely any sleep on his face.

“I’ve got her; you can go back to sleep.” You try to reassure him but the incredulous look he gives in you in response has your put together facade crumbling. “I don’t know what’s wrong.” It’s mumbled in the cool air of your apartment, the shame in your tone drawing him closer.

“Hungry?” He says, there’s a hand against the small of your back, warm from the bed he was wrapped in.

“No,” You whine back, briefly closing your eyes when Jieun lets out a particular ear splitting wail.

“Oh no, baby. Don’t cry. Daddy’s here.” You press her into his hands wordlessly, a heavy weight on your chest when you finally take a look at him. He looks like he’s been run over by a truck, skin pasty and flat from sleep. His hair sticks out haphazardly from his head, a wild brown mane that’s overdue for a cut. There’s shadows under his eyes and a deep line forming between his eyebrows. A consequence of how often he frowns at things. Like he’s doing at Jieun now, eyes barely open in the dim light filling your living room.

You subconsciously reach out, pressing the pad of your thumb between his brows and massaging until his gaze relaxes. Jeongguk looks at you perplexed, murmuring sweetly into Jieun’s ear while he stains his shirt with her snot.

“Premature wrinkles,” you softly mutter. His eyes flash and then he’s shaking his head, gaze focused on Jieun.

“Bubba, why do you keep crying? Hmm?” He lifts her up gently, sniffing her bottom while she protests violently. “You’re not dirty either.” He cradles her tenderly once again and for a brief moment, she closes her mouth, wide eyes on her daddy. Neither of you move, frozen by the hope that she's satiated. And then her lips purse tightly, followed by them falling open with a thundering wail.

“Jesus,” Jeongguk whispers, hands gently running along her back. “Where do you get your lungs from? Huh bubba?” Jieun responds with a miserable cry, grubby hands flailing through the air. You catch one for her marshmallow fists, bemused when she smacks your hand away.

“What is wrong with her?” You can’t help but ask, feeling like you’ve been thrown off a boat and left to drown. Parenting shouldn’t be this difficult —  she’s only five months.

“Honestly?” Jeongguk's face seems down. “I don’t know either.” He rocks her softly and is rewarded by a softer cry. It takes a couple more minutes of bouncing from Jeongguk for her crying to wane away. You cautiously move closer, taking her hand into your own again, heart thumping when she grabs back at you tightly. You trail your thumb against her tiny fist, glancing up to find Jeongguk staring at your joint hands with a weird look in his eyes.

“Should we go to bed?” He asks, peering at you beneath his long brown bangs. Jieun hiccups at that, immediately falling silent when she nuzzles in her father’s neck. They have the same soft wavy brown hair, but Jieun’s is a little bit sparser, not as thick as her Daddy’s. You gently pry your hand away from hers as you nod, a pleased sigh coming from Jeongguk.

The bed is cool, sheets tipping towards the floor. There’s only a fraction of warmth against your skin when you finally crawl in, bones going soft at the touch of the mattress. Jeongguk makes a move to settle Jieun in her cradle but you shake your head, hand gesturing to the space beside you. He gets in without another word, gently resting her body between the two of you. Her breathing is even, eyes fluttering every other moment, teasing dreams you won’t ever hear and she won’t ever remember. You hope they’re good regardless.

You can’t help the wandering hand that settles on her plush little thigh, fingers grazing against the soft skin there. She’s so big already, it’s insane to see her grow so quickly right before your eyes. This was the girl who was kicking your stomach at every chance and sitting heavy on your bladder. The little baby that demanded you eat pickles with ice-cream and Cheetos dipped in chocolate syrup when she was in your belly. It’s surreal to see her sighing and gurgling outside of your body. It also makes you nervous, how little control you have over her environment. There’s no way you can ensure that she’s comfortable and safe at all times. Or happy and fulfilled. Which hurts like hell. This is your baby and you would do anything to protect her.

Maybe Jeongguk must feel the same because he pipes up, breaking the quiet of the night. “Are you worried? About Jieun?”

“Of course. Aren’t you?”

“All the damn time,” He mutters. You look up, eyes landing on the heavy gaze that’s directed at her sleeping face. “I’m so worried. What if we’re messing this up? I know we’ve barely started but sometimes it feels like too much. I don’t want to see her cry or you tired all the time. How do we know we’re doing the right thing? I want to make sure she’s stable and safe but there’s so much more to come and I’m going to mess up. I know I will.”

It’s a lot for you to digest. The way he blurts it out — it sounds like it’s been on his mind for a while now. It’s a stark contrast to the surety you were greeted with in the delivery room and the man who wanted this to happen in the first place. He doesn’t sound regretful, just terrified of the uncertainty of the future.

“Jeongguk,” You say, trying to wipe the exhaustion from your voice. He needs someone to lean on right now, and even if your heart feels heavy with the words he’s said, you’ll pretend to be that person anyway. “That’s okay. I’m going to mess up too. There’s no manual on how to do this. No one knows how to be a parent. Every child is different. We’re never going to be perfect. We just need to try our best at this.” You reach for his hand, intertwining your small fingers against his larger bigger ones. You give them a squeeze, pleased when Jeongguk looks up at you. “That’s all we need to do. Not everything will be perfect. We just need to try our best to make Jieun happy. Right?” He nods at that, holding your hand tighter. “And stop worrying. She loves you. You’re a great dad.”

He stares at you deeply, still gripping your hand. You watch that soft smile slip onto his face in silence, a warmth bubbling in your chest.

“And you’re a great mom,” He whispers back. You ache to lean over Jieun’s sleeping body, press a chaste kiss against your boyfriend’s lips. But a loud gurgle from her has both of you glancing down concerned. She’s kicking her legs gently, mouth halfway open and drool around her lips. You wipe her mouth fondly, letting go of Jeongguk’s hand to do so.

“We should sleep, shouldn’t we,” He mumbles, burrowing his head into the pillow.

“We should.”

“Hmm. Goodnight bubba,” He whispers at Jieun and then he glances up, eyes soft. “Goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight Jeongguk,” You return, giddy for some stupid reason. “Goodnight Jieun-ie.”

There’s a beat of silence, when the air is only filled with the rise and fall of your chests in union, punctuated by the occasional sigh from Jieun. And then Jeongguk is kicking your feet beneath the blanket, eyes open and on you.

“I love you,” He whispers, crust forming around his eyes. You kick him back, a warm feeling settling in your chest as your eyes flicker between your baby and the love of your life. It’s oddly perfect, despite the lack of sleep, despite how groggy the both of you are, despite the uncertainty of the future. None of that matters at that moment. Because you’re here, in your home, in bed with the two people you hold near and dear to your heart. You’ll tackle it together, whatever challenges the future holds for you. Because this is your family.

“I love you too, Jeongguk.”

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #btswritingcafe #bts x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fic

[sweetchup]

Bi•valve

Noun

an aquatic mollusk that has a compressed body enclosed within a hinged shell, such as oysters, clams, mussels, and scallops.

AKA

The Most Common Seashell in the Ocean

————————

Vol. 1: Just Keep Swimming // Ch. 5

Type: Poseidon x reader

Word Count: 1,600

Masterlist

————————

“Triton! Triton!”

As you run through the festival, Your echoing cries make people stop and turn but you could hardly care. You had already made it around most of the campus by then and had grown used to their stares.

“Triton! Where are you?” You call out again, leaning over the barrier of another art major's tent to look at the children in there. Hoping, Praying, that Triton was one of them.

“(Y/n)!” At the sudden call, you are suddenly pulled backwards. Spinning around you see it was none other than Bryce, with Yuri and Paul following close by.

“Bryce. T-Triton was—“ You stutter out, pawing at the male’s shirt as you try to get a simple sentence out in your jumble of thoughts.

You wanted to scream out. To cry. You wanted to tell him how you didn’t mean to leave Triton alone. How you thought he would be safe with Paul and Jeremy. How you didn’t think that someone would sneak into the tent while the kitchen staff were busy. How a stranger was able to lead Triton away and you didn’t even notice until someone came running to tell you later that he was missing.

You felt yourself internally sob in as you continued to recount what happened a mere half an hour ago. The feeling left you queasy and you felt as if your knees were about to collapse.

“Shh. I know. I heard what happened to your son.” Bryce says as he attempts to console you. All of a sudden the wind picks up and Bryce instantly pulls you closer to him. “Woah!”

Bryce watches in surprise as some of the tents and decorations are knocked down by the wind. As if they were as light as leaves. Easily snapped and drifted up as the wind pleased.

“We have to get out of here.” Yuri tells your group as she stares up to the sky. A dangerous mixture of dark stormy clouds were beginning to roll in. A telltale sign it wasn’t a bright idea to stay outside for much longer.

“I-I Can’t!” You stutter out as Bryce begins to pull and lead you back into the direction of the school buildings. “I need to find Triton!”

“(Y/n). You have to—“

“No!” You yell out, cutting Bryce off as you struggle against his grip. You didn’t want to listen to what they had to say. For—to you—it meant another second, or minute, waisted when you could be finding Triton.

Finally, after a bit more of struggling, you free yourself from Bryce’s grip. You planned to only give a bit of space between you and the others but then Bryce lunges at you to grab you again and you end up taking off in a sprint.

As you run through the crowd, your vision is a mix of colors. A blurry and unfocused Sea that you attempt to escape from. The only thing you ever think to focus on are the hints of colors of blondes that you pass by. Pausing for a second to check to see if it was Triton only to run off again.

It, in a way, reminded you of the first time you met Triton. How you saved the strange blonde boy that was sucked out in the stormy seas. Except this time it was from a sea of strangers, Humans. You just hoped this time you would find him.

Save him.

Wherever he was and from whoever he was with.

(Y/n)…

You feel yourself freeze as you hear your name being called. At first you thought perhaps Bryce and the others had caught up to you but you then realized that wasn’t the case. The voice you heard did sound familiar but it wasn’t normal. It echoed as if it was from a far off place. Nowhere near where you were.

…(Y/n)…

“Yes, Hello?” You call out, steering your head to look around the sea of people. Hoping to catch whoever was calling you.

…Go to the….Triton…

“I can’t hear—“ You are cut off as someone in the crowd bumps into you, nearly knocking you off your feet. You needed to get out of this crowd if you wanted to fully hear the voice. Especially with the sharp winds that were blowing in.

Helplessly, you maneuver and squeeze your way through the crowd. Thankfully finding a way out only a few minutes later near the edge of campus. Though eventually you realize that it wasn’t that great as it was an edge of campus you rarely traveled to. The only thing you knew about it was that it held a path through the woods to a rocky beach that only spelled trouble. If you didn’t get injured from the crashing harsh waves then you would likely get caught and in trouble by Campus Police for trespassing. Perhaps even both.

…Through the…Go…

“Through the path?” You question out loud, confused at how the voice was cutting in and out. Leaving you unable to get an accurate answer.

You wait for the voice to answer but it never comes, leaving you with you to make the final choice. In hindsight it wasn’t that hard as there were only two options. Either turn around to safety or go into danger.

You knew what you would do. You would do what you always did. You would turn—

It was then when you step forward into the path, with no fear or thoughts whatsoever, that you surprise yourself. You can’t help but wonder if you changed. How you changed.

Was it when you first saved Triton at the beach that caused it?

That caused the girl that hated crowds to run through them. The girl that hated confrontation to argue against her friends. The girl that ran away from danger to run into it.

You couldn’t help but wonder. But at the same time you didn’t. You couldn’t.

…Faster…

You couldn’t as you stumble and sprint down the path to the beach. As you hear the voice chanting, ordering you to go faster. To get to the beach quicker.

…Faster… Faster, (y/n)….

Even as your lungs are sucked out of oxygen. Even as your legs burn in agony. Even as your knees and palm sting from tripping and falling only to get up again.

You don’t stop. You can’t. You know you can’t.

Especially as you see the small beach through the brush and catch the sight of…

…Blonde.

And Red. Scarlet red that scattered and dripped from his pale skin.

“Triton!” You scream out without thinking, running through the sand to the boy. Lifting his limp body from the sand as you carefully shake him. “Triton…Triton.”

The young boy opens his eyes and looks over at you. Though it is only for a second as he shuts them again as he groans.

“Triton. Where. Where does it—“

A loud defining bang cuts you off. Surprised you spin around to look behind you. Looking at the crater in the sand that laid a few feet away from you, you connect eyes with someone.

“Marissa…”

As you call the name of your classmate in front of you, they begin to walk out of the crater towards you. Shuffling in sand, you cradle Triton in your arms and begin backing up.

No, you know that isn’t your classmate, that ‘thing’ in front of you isn’t even human. Wild pink hair, slit like green eyes, pointy teeth and claws. Nothing, nothing, about her was human.

“B-Back up.” You order out to the thing in front of you. Could you even run away from her? No, it created a crater in the ground, you couldn’t run away. You couldn’t even fight it. “You… better back up.”

Fight or flight. Both were useless in this situation.

Your body knew it as well as it seemed to freeze up as the thing gets ready to lunge at you. As if your bones had turned to ice and your organs had shut down. You felt like you couldn’t even breathe. Like if you dare to do, you would perish.

Fight or Flight. Your main instincts. Your survival instincts.

As the thing finally lunges at you, you finally breathe again. The fresh intake of air seemed to restart your body and then you realized Fight or Flight wasn’t your main instinct. It wasn’t why you came down here.

You had to protect Triton. He was your son. He was more important than yourself.

Even as you shake in fear, your motherly instincts take over your body and you are able to cover Triton. Spinning yourself away so that thing can only pierce you.

So that only your warm blood will flood out, leaving a harsh smell of iron in the air. So that Triton will be able to escape in time. So that Triton will be safe.

And when you finally feel the warm crimson liquid drip down your body and into your clothes, you find yourself gasping.

You went to grab the clawed hand that pierced through your torso. Hoping to grab onto it to stop Marissa from grabbing Triton, giving the boy enough time to run. But found yourself unable to. For it was never there in the first place.

A loud thud brings you back to reality and you find yourself looking up from the sand. Staring at the top half of Marissa’s—that thing’s—Body. It’s guts and blood pooling and mixing into the grainy sand.

“H-How…”

You find your voice die down in your throat as you turn your head to look behind you.

Blonde Curly hair, Icy piercing blue eyes,…

…Pale marble skin, Covered head to toe in blue, white and gold,…

…A Trident by his side…

There was no doubt in your mind who was behind you.

“P-Poseidon…”

Author Note: Ahhh Poseidon finally appears! The romance portion of this story finally starts hahaha. Thank you for being patient and waiting until Poseidon appears. I wanted to give a nice character development before he appears. Can’t wait for the next update on Thursday!

Taglist: @angeli-fucking-cat @marixxhq @sproutcorner @orophaea @anime-lover-forever-1127

#shuumatsu no valkyrie #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #snv poseidon x reader #snv #snv poseidon #record of ragnarok #bivalve

[saintorchid]

Stuck on you

Eat, Sleep, Teach, and Kill was (Y/N) routine each day as a sorcerer. The mind-numbing routine varies each day, giving (Y/N) a little enough reason to stay in the world of Jujutsu Sorcery. However, there is a blond man who makes her time on earth worthwhile. 

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

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Hello! I am back from the dead with a new fic. I kinda went overboard with this ahahahaha. As always this is smut and...

!!!!!!MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!!!! IF YOU DO I WISH BOTH SIDES OF YOUR PILLOW ARE HOT. (I’m serious and you will be blocked). 

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

Eat, Sleep, Teach, and Kill was (Y/N) routine each day as a sorcerer. The mind-numbing routine varies each day, giving (Y/N) a little enough reason to stay in the world of Jujutsu Sorcery. (Y/N)’s worries clouded her mind each day. The next curse, future meetings with the staff on campus, the insufferable Gojo Satoru, and the biggest of them all, her students, overall it was exhausting.

In a world so cruel and children so innocent, it broke her heart to see the unavoidable responsibilities placed on her students. “They don’t deserve this; they are just children burden with the problems caused by the elders of the Jujutsu world.” However (Y/N) took that extra step extra mile to provide a better life for the students. Their lives were similar to an hourglass. A single grain of sand represented a day of her students' life. Their days were limited; time is the ultimate enemy for these children. How cruel.

As a teacher, you taught your students about jujutsu sorcery and taught your students how to remain human. Kindness, compassion, patience, and many more emotions, make us human. If you could do anything for these students, teach them that it's okay to be human. They are not dispensable emotionless soldiers used by the elders.

The sun shone through the window of the building you were in, basking you in a warm glow. It was an off day for everyone. The students and staff were free to leave campus to have time for themselves. Looking out the window, you see your students carrying beach towels in their swimwear.

A pink-haired student spots you in the window and calls out your name. “(L/N)-Sensei!!! Would you like to join us for a beach day! It will be fun and relaxing! We're staying at Gojo-Sensei’s villa!” Itadori yelled at the top of his lungs while showing off a bright smile.

You smile back, waving and answering your student's call, “I would love to, Yuji!” The students listened eagerly for your response, hoping you would join them.

“However!” A collectible groan came from the students. You laughed and gave them a bright smile, “I am a teacher, and I still have responsibilities such as grading your exams on the subject of curses we learned last week!” The students now had a pained expression on their faces and now slightly moving faster into the car to avoid the following few words that will come out of your mouth.

“But!” The students now had their heads sticking out of the packed car. “I would love for you guys to bring me back a seashell or some kind of souvenir! If it’s not too much to ask!”

A babble of replies came from the students while the car was slowly moving out of the parking lot, “You got it (L/N)-Sensei!”, “I’ll bring you all the seashells!” and “Bye, Sensei!! Have a nice day!”

You smiled, feeling your heart become full of love and adoration for your students. You would do anything to protect the remaining innocence they had.

You looked at your watch, still seeing that the time was 9:17 am. You still had a few more papers to grade, so you decided to finish grading them in your office and head out for the town to buy some groceries and other personal things.

You head to your office that’s right next to principal Yaga’s office he wasn’t in, so that made you breathe a little easier. You settled on your desk and started to grade your students' exams. Lost in focus, a knock on the door alerted you. You thought it was principal Yaga asking about the last meeting notes; however, you noticed the sight of a tall blonde man with an empty stare. Nanami Kento was your senpai back in your high school days. The man was a realistic person. His harsh truths and criticism never failed to pain you nor your student Yuji. A perspective entirely different from yours; however, despite his straight-to-the-point attitude, he still respected you. And you were enamored by the man who stood in front of you. His words did carry some truth, but that didn’t stop you from engaging in conversation with him and showing him the world through your eyes.

A smooth voice broke your focus from eyeing the man’s toned chest. “Is there something on my shirt?”

You immediately apologize, “Oh no, sorry! Um, anyway, what can I help you with, Nanami-san?” Quickly diverting the conversation back to Nanami. Hoping that he didn’t catch you ogling his chest. He noticed but still took some pride in knowing that you were staring at him. Nanami was quite fond of you. The two of you shared many things, such as your love for castella cakes that were sold at a hole-in-a-wall bakery the two of you once visited together. He appreciated you and the work that you do. Though he doesn’t know why you put so much effort into teaching, he enjoys watching you teach your shared students.

“I had a question about next week's staff meeting, so I came by to ask Principal Yaga about it. Do you know where he is at?” Nanami's voice went through your ear and settled in your lower stomach. You subconsciously squeezed your thighs, hoping that the light blush on your face goes unnoticed by him.

You reply, hoping that he would overlook the faltering in your voice. With all your confidence, you reply, “ I do not know where he is at, but I think that he has a meeting with the higher-ups from Kyoto.”

Nanami ponders on your answer and accepts it. “Ah, I see; well, sorry to bother you, Enjoy your day off (L/N)-san.” Nanami leaves and shuts your office door. Hearing his steps slowly fade into the air, you finally take a deep breath.

You had worries; however, one thing that clouded your mind was Nanami. You enjoyed his presence; actually, you enjoyed everything about him. You have loved him since high school. However, you don’t know his thoughts on love. You and Nanami have shared deep conversations about life but never love. It felt wrong to talk about love since the two of you were sorcerers, and your days are numbered. Still, that didn’t stop you from loving him; you just loved him in silence. You used small actions to your advantage. A cup of black coffee or his favorite sandwich from his favorite bakery, These small actions kept you sane.

You finished up the remaining exams and headed towards the school's parking lot. It was still early, so you decided to start your day. You got into your car and headed towards the shopping center in town.

You first head into a clothing store picking up some cardigans and tights since your last pair ripped while heading to a meeting with the higher-ups. The next store was a beauty shop. You picked up some lotion, face wash, and some perfume since you were running low. After a few more stories, you were about ready to leave, but your eye caught something. A store called “All for You”. It was covered in red lettering neon sign. Intrigued, you walked towards the store, not knowing what it contained.

You entered through the doors, immediately noticing the lingerie on display. You admired a set of purple lingerie, wondering how it would look on your body. The fabric is hugging your curves, your breasts covered by the transparent lace, the garter belt that would caress your thighs. A voice broke your focus; it was an associate heading towards you. “Pretty, isn’t it? We currently have a sale going on in the store its buy one get one 50% off the whole store. If you see something you like, don’t hesitate to ask one of us for help!” Her honey-coated voice filled your ears. You thanked her and began to roam the store. You noticed a few more sets, but they didn’t catch your attention like the purple lingerie set they had displayed at the front. You then landed in the back of the store and immediately froze up.

There were adult toys on shelves, a wide variety of dildos, vibrators, and more toys meant for one's pleasure. You looked at the toys observing their traits “vibrating”, “sucking”, and “thrusting”. You haven’t thought about sex nor masturbation in so long. School and the students always took up your time. It left you frustrated and stressed out. You haven’t masturbated either. Your fingers could only do so much but still left you unsatisfied and horny. Another associate came up to you.

“Hi Ma’am see anything you like?” The associate asked.

The thought of having an orgasm clouded your mind. You hadn’t had one in so long. The pebble of your nipples hitting the cold air, your puffy clit desperate for attention, your whole body was shaking due to the oncoming orgasm.

You shook out of your daze and answered the associate. You were about to spill your orgasmless life onto this associate, hoping that they would help you in some way and not be uncomfortable.

“Um, well, I don’t know where to start, but I am a teacher, and it's been challenging to have some time for myself, especially pleasure-wise. Is there anything you would recommend?” You mentally prepared yourself for the associate response.

The associate smiled and proceeded to show you an array of toys hoping that one of them would bring you the pleasure you needed.

You looked through the array of toys until the associate showed you “the best for last”.

It was a black vibrating egg. Its design was sleek and had seven different modes.

“This is one of my personal favorites. The more you squeeze, the more intense it gets. It has me orgasming under five minutes.”

You looked at the toy and decided fuck it, why not. You told the associate that you would take it.

She smiled and asked if you would like to buy the purple lingerie set since it was a buy one get one fifty percent off deal.

Without hesitation, you said yes.

You left the store with a new lingerie set and wireless vibrator. Maybe today was the day you can combat the stress plaguing you since you enter the jujutsu world.

You now walked to your car happily with today's purchases.

The campus was empty due to everyone leaving. The peace that covered the campus like a morning dew was relaxing. Days like this were rare, so you always took a second before heading towards your room to breathe in the fresh air.

You entered your now-empty apartment. You decided to do some chores and put away the things you bought. You decided to relax and catch up on some reading. However, there was a black bag on the kitchen table that teased you. You chose to keep on reading, but the words seemed to crash into each other like waves on a stormy day. Thirty minutes had passed, and you couldn’t take it anymore. You placed your bookmark on the page you couldn’t finish. Now with the black bag in hand, you walked into your bedroom wishing for something, but you didn’t know what you desired. You just hope whatever it was, worked.

You took out the items and laid them on your bed. You admired the lace on the lingerie set you bought. The removal of your clothes was of the utmost importance. A pile of work clothes piled around you. You turn around to face the mirror that also acted as your closet door. You take a look at your body. You never thought you were beautiful, just normal. Stretch marks kissed along your thighs, scars from fighting against curses made their home on your skin, and the curves and rolls that appeared were normal. You appreciated your body for keeping you alive.

Little by little, you placed the lingerie set. The bra covered your breasts and pert nipples, the panties hugged your hips, the long knee socks with frills made your legs even more delicious, and the garter belt with heart hoops added to your confidence. You posed in your mirror, enjoying the confidence the set gave you.

A box was open, and its contents covered your bed. You sat down, observing the toy in hand. It was slim and sleek. You read the instructions getting the general gist of it. It was rechargeable which was excellent. You heard stories from your female colleagues saying that they are immediately turn off when their battery-powered vibe dies on them while they are on the precipice of an orgasm. Thankful that this vibrator had a rechargeable battery.

The purple panties were now covered by a wet patch that has been slowly growing. Turning on the vibrator on the lowest setting, you teased yourself. The vibrations kissed your nipples and lit up your body in the smallest of touches. The vibrator moves across your body, sending your clit signals that it needed to be touched, to be teased, to bring you a well-deserved orgasm. The black vibrator in hand teased your covered pussy closer to the place that desperately needs to be touched. You moved it up and down your panties which were now soaking. You placed various pressure along your clothed pussy but never touching your clit. Your hips subconsciously bucked into your vibrator. Your other hand was fondling your breasts and teasing your nipples. A soft moan escaped your lips.

You were soaking. You cursed yourself for not putting a towel down, but you didn’t care. Your body felt like it was on fire.

Your hole was clenching around nothing. It was painful. You weren’t a virgin; you had someone nightstands to help relieve your stress from your early days as a teacher. Some of them managed to bring you into an orgasm, but it was futile. A connection is what you wanted, not meaningless sex. Then you thought about the blonde sorcerer that came into your office earlier.

Nanami was a handsome man with a body big enough to cage you in. Hands bigger than yours. His expensive cologne is filling up all your senses. You wanted him. Thinking about his hands slowly thrusting in and out of you, stretching you out to prepare you for his pre-cum covered cock. Drool slowly escaped your mouth. Moans and whimpers were becoming more frequent.

You placed the sleek vibrator inside your needy pussy while moving your panties to the side. Your pussy clenched on it eagerly, and the vibrations became even more potent. You tried to hold onto the self-control you had left. You decided that it was too much and wanted to take it out, but you realized it was stuck. Now panicking, you tried to reach inside, but your insides were covered in your juices. You couldn't take it out now in the process of thinking of resolutions; your doorbell went off. You froze. You were a horny mess; who could it be at this hour, you said to yourself.  

You grabbed your robe, covering your tantalizing body. A strained “Coming!” came out of your mouth. The vibrations were getting more robust, and you quickly decided to deal with the person at your door and resolve your problem by yourself.

Opening the door and seeing a 6-foot tall blonde sorcerer was now your second most significant problem.

“Sorry for coming so late. I came to return your bread…basket.” Nanami’s voice was now filled with worry seeing your flushed face.

He pulls you in closer with a firm grip. Your body is now indulging in his presence. “Are you okay?” He then proceeds to place his strong, callused hands on your face and forehead.

His hands-on you caused your pussy to clench, which the vibrator go to the following setting a more robust setting. A moan escapes your mouth.

The moan reaches Nanami's ears lighting his body up. Nanami looks at you with shock. Having no sanity left, you needed help, and you decided to ask Nanami to take out the toy that has been terrorizing your pussy.

Still in his grip, you looked at the blond who held you reasonably close. His scent reaching your nose was making this even more dangerous for you.

With a strained voice, words came out, “Nanami, please, I need your help, and I feel comfortable asking you for h-“

Your body betrayed you focused on reaching pleasure. With hurried words, you continue. Nanami's concern for you was even greater. You decided to get straight to the point for your own sake. “Nanami, please help me. I have a…”

You mumble into his toned chest.

His face reaches face level with you. A heavy blush covered your face. “What was that? I can’t hear you (L/N)-san.” A small smile tugged his lips, but it went unnoticed by you. The man in your apartment was making you go crazy with each passing minute.

With the left overconfidence, you plead to Nanami to help you.

“Nanami, please help me. I have a vibrator stuck inside me, and I can’t get it out, please. My body feels like it's on fire.” Nanami looked at you and realized the severity of the situation.

Nanami hasn't been in this situation before but seeing your trembling body in his arms; there is always a first for everything.

With no questions asked, Nanami picked you up while you directed him towards the bedroom. Carrying you, he saw the left overpacking of the vibrator, making a mental note of it. He carefully laid you on the bed.

“Nanami nggghhh, please.” Your body is now squirming on the bed, and the robe you had on was slowly coming undone.

Small flashes of your skin appeared in Nanami’s eyes. The bulge in his pants was becoming more prominent. Everything was too overwhelming. Your heart couldn’t take it anymore; the love you had for Nanami Kento was about to be spilled on his hands. Nanami reached to undo the robe that contained paradise but stopped.

“(Y/N) I am asking you for your permission before we continue? Do I have it?”

The respectful man was going to be the death of you. With all the strength you had left, you got up and immediately began to switch positions. Nanami followed your lead. He was now leaning against your bed frame while your legs wrapped around his waist.

Now trying to scrape the confidence you had left, you looked at Nanami, whose tips of his ears were now bright red.

“Nghhhhhh Nanami, you have my consent.”

Nanami reached for the robe once again, undid the loose knot, and internally groaned. He knew you were beautiful. Gojo would show him the women he had from one-night stands. They were beautiful women, but Nanami’s definition of beautiful was different. You are the definition of beautiful. He loves your kind personality and how you find a reason to live no matter how small it is. The set hugged you beautifully, and Nanami began his ministrations.

He pulled you closer, kissing your jawline to your neck. Inhaling your scent was like an aphrodisiac. His cock felt your wet, soaking pussy. He began to touch your nipples through the lace admiring the craftsmanship. You slowly started to hump him hoping for some kind of release.

He felt the pressure on his cock, which almost made him come. He immediately grabbed your waist, stopping you from attempting another thrust.

The look in his eyes made you squeal. His low baritone voice came out of his mouth. “If you keep doing that, I don’t think I could control myself.”

“Then lose it.”

Nanami’s hand ripped your panties off your body, freeing his piece of paradise. You felt the ripping of your panties, but you didn’t care. His callused hands teased your clit, and you let out a whimper. Your voice was addicting, and Nanami wanted to hear more. You were plenty wet, more than ready to take in Nanami. His cock was slowly becoming painful, but he proceeded to tease your hole. He inserted one finger and immediately feeling your pussy clench around it. The vibrator now moved into another level of intensity. You immediately arched your back, giving Nanami a view of your breasts that were now freed from your bra. Moans were now spilling from your mouth.

Nanami brought your body closer to suck on your breasts. Everything was becoming too much for you. You felt his groans while sucking your breasts. Nanami then entered a second finger. He felt the toy vibrator that has been plaguing you. He needed to take it out; why was he doing all of this extra stuff. You felt ethereal in his hands. Your moans fueled his ego and caused him to have a hard-on. You worked too much, and Nanami knew he shouldn’t be the one talking, but you deserve it. You deserve everything.

Nanami’s hands were now doing a curling motion in your pussy, hitting your g-spot every time. You told Nanami that it was becoming too much. He just went faster. Your legs began to shake, feeling your lower stomach catching on fire.

All of a sudden, the vibrator was now out of your soaked pussy. The building of a powerful orgasm now began to dissipate. You whimpered at the loss of Nanami’s fingers that were stretching your pussy deliciously.

You closed your eyes to catch a breath before assessing your next move. While you were doing that, Nanami reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He grabbed the condom that Gojo placed as a prank; however, this one time, he was grateful for his senpai. He took out the condom with one hand while his other hand was still keeping you steady. He throws his wallet on the nightstand with a condom in hand and bright red ears.

You thought about your loss of your orgasm, and you were so close, so close to reaching cloud nine. Nanami broke the silence but for a good reason.

“(Y/N)”

Your eyes immediately open; that was the second time that Nanami had said your name.

Nanami gulped. He was staring at your body. Your bra was still on you, but your breasts were free from the constraints. Your garter belt and thigh-high socks were still on by some sort of miracle. But your panties were gone giving Nanami his private view of your dripping pussy.

You began to cover yourself, but Nanami interrupted you. You slowly put your hands to the side of your body. Nanami was someone who made you feel safe and protected. You trusted him, and He trusted you. You weren’t going to betray that.

Nanami thought about the words that he would say to you, but his eyes were slowly taking your body in. He spoke, trying to ignore your body, but he would never call it a distraction. You were a ray of light that kissed his face in the morning.

“(Y/N), I know you asked me to take out your ‘problem’.”

He used ‘problem’ because he didn’t want to scare you away or embarrass you even further. You look at him with such soft eyes, his heartbeat against his chest. This unknown feeling began to creep on him. He has (Y/N), a beautiful woman, and his heart was going crazy on top of him. He continued talking.

“However, I have a solution that would leave us both satisfied.”

He then shows you the condom that was in his hand. You looked down to see his cock begging to be freed. He then asked you for your consent, and as soon he finished the last syllable, you said yes, yes, yes, as a prayer for only him to hear.

Nanami slowly pulls his pants stained with your juices down, which allowed his cock to be somewhat free, his boxers still covered it. He was about to reach for the band of his boxers but felt a hand slowly grasp his cock through the fabric. His breath got heavy. You slowly palmed his covered cock noticing the wet patch of pre-cum. You looked up for permission, and he nodded. You grabbed the band of his boxers and pulled them down. His cock sprung up, hitting his chest. Pre-cum was slowly going down his veiny cock. You began to wrap your hand around it, maintaining a steady rhythm and applying different pressures. Nanami hadn’t had sex in so long, but it never felt like this. This was different. He unknowingly thrust his hips upwards fucking himself in your hand. You then brought your other hand to play with his balls slowly. He was breathing heavily. The grunts and moans that slipped out of his mouth only fueled your passion for finishing Nanami off. Nanami realized the dynamic he was in and immediately told you to stop. He saw the pained expression on your face and began to explain himself.  

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but it’s all about you tonight; you can do it next time.”

The thought of next time made you giddy. You said okay with a smile. You were driving Nanami crazy he doesn't know how long he will last, but he’s savoring every moment with you. Nanami proceeds to lay you down. Your body was a blank canvas ready to be coated. He looks into your eyes then your lips. You slowly brought your lips closer to his lips, slowly exchanging breaths. Nanami kissed you. It started slow but slowly becoming intense. Your tongue began to lick Nanami’s lips; Nanami noticed this and opened his mouth, letting you explore before he took over. His tongue was meshing with yours. You moan into the kiss, hoping it won’t end, but this was just a tiny part of the night that the two of you were going to share.

You pull away, noticing the string of saliva that connected your lips. Nanami looks at your glossy swollen lips. Imagining how they would look around his cock. How would you take it? Would you kiss it first? Give it small licks? Thoughts of you were slowly filling his mind, you, you.

He was shaken out of his daze due to you kissing his neck. He pulled back and told you to lay down once again. He then left a trail of kisses from your forehead to the tip of your nose to your swollen lips. Kisses were littering you, and it just felt so right. He noticed that your bra was still on. He sucked and licked your nipple until it became hard. You brought your chest towards him, enjoying the feeling of his warm mouth sucking your nipple and teasing it with his tongue. While Nanami lifted your back off the bed, he used his free hand to unhook your bra. The bra all of a sudden became loose on your body. Nanami gave you a look, and you immediately tossed your bra to the other side of the room.

He continued kissing and sucking your breasts. They were made for his hands and his only. Nanami was biting harshly on the skin of your breasts. He was leaving love bites, and they looked good on you.

“Nanami, please, I want you, please fill me up; I-I need you.”

“Not yet, my darling. I still have some things up my sleeve.”

He moved down towards your body, bringing his face next to your aching pussy. He began to kiss your clit before eating you like it was his last meal on earth.

“Nanami, N-Nanami, oh god yes right there”

Nanami was enjoying your praise. Then not one but two fingers immediately entered you. You were feeling the stretch and the movement of Nanami’s fingers once again hitting your g-spot. It was all becoming too overwhelming. The fire in your lower stomach began spreading, and it was getting bigger.

“Nanami, I’m so close, please.”

Nanami saw the desperation on your face. He took pity on you.

“Before I continue, you need to do something for me.”

You, of course, said yes to anything that Nanami wanted.

“I want you to call me Kento.”

Baffled by his request, you all of a sudden got flustered.

Nanami was now waiting for you to say his name while teasing the insides of your thighs.

You whispered his name for you and God to hear it.

“What? I couldn't hear you, come on, sweetheart, I know you can do it.”

“Kento”

“Yes, (Y/N)?”

“Kento”

“Kento”

“Kento”

You were saying his name like it was a spell, and it worked.

Nanami lowered his head next to your ear, “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Nanami lowered his dress pants and boxers even further. He grabbed the condom and ripped it open. You saw him placed the condom on his cock. He was a good 7.5 inches, but what worried you was his girth. His cock was pretty; it had a pink tip and some very prominent veins.

“Are you ready?” Nanami chuckled in amusement, seeing you stare at his cock.

“Yes, Please be gentle with me.”

Nanami smiled and said, of course. Always such a gentleman.

He then lined himself up to your hole, which has been clenching for who knows how long.

Nanami got the first inch in, feeling you immediately clench around. “God,” He thought to himself, “She’s so fucking tight.”

“Sweetie, you gotta relax. Can you do that for me?”

You nod due to you slowly reducing into a babbling mess. You did your best to relax. However, you couldn't focus on anything, only his fat cock stretching you out.

He was finally in, and it felt like fucking heaven.

“I'm gonna start moving, sweetheart’ You think you can handle me?”

Your response was quick, Yes, Kento, anything for you. I’m yours.”

He smiled. His face was covered in a layer of sheen sweat, and his mouth and throat still had remnants of your juices from eating you out.

He began moving slowly, feeling all of you around him. Each of his thrusts was met with a mixture of each other moans.

His pace is now a little faster, rougher. Your hands were squeezing the blankets beneath you. Feeling your tight pussy clench around him almost made him come. He decided it was time for both of your to reach enlightenment.

His hand reaches for your puffy clit, which immediately made you scream.

“OH GOD, Kento, please, I’m so close it hurts.”

The orgasm that was slowly building up felt different; this one felt stronger.

“I’m close, sweetheart; you can come whenever you want; I’ll be there right behind you.” Nanami Kento, the love of your life, was helping you reach an orgasm. It felt like a dream, but it wasn’t. He is abusing your needy pussy, trying to get you closer to an orgasm, and it was working. Your body was on fire. The knot in your lower stomach was about to burst. You couldn't take it any longer. Nanami now was stroking your clit with a little bit more speed and pressure.

“Kento, fuck I-I’m coming.”

Nanami felt an even tighter squeeze and fucked you through your orgasm. Nanami is stroking your clit to the point it was coming almost unbearable.

You tried to speak up, but your body betrayed you. You squirted on him, even soaking him further in your juices. Nanami saw you squirt and thrust even harder. Your pussy had a vice grip on him. Not even a second later, he moved in you as hard as he could and came. He collapsed on top of you. His cum was still leaking into the condom. He had been pent up for quite a while now.

The two of you felt like you were in heaven. Still connected, Nanami faced you, giving you a soft stare. You look back at him, trying to find the words to say, but Nanami spoke first.

“I don’t know what it is about you, but you managed to make a home in my heart. Every day, even if I see you for just a split second, I’m happy. My heart beats faster every time I think about you. Your endless devotion and love for teaching and your students amazes me. What am I feeling? Can I ask you that (Y/N)? What is this feeling that has been plaguing me since our high school days?”

His response was so innocent, and your heart nearly exploded with all kinds of positive emotions.

“Kento, That’s love. It's what keeps us humans sane. Love comes in all kinds of forms; it's versatile. I have endless devotion and love for my students because they are just children who haven’t experienced what it's like to be a normal child. I want to protect the remaining innocence they have. It’s okay to have emotions, especially one like love, Kento.”

He looked into your eyes then to your lips. He kissed you with such fever, and you happily reciprocated.

“Then will you stay with me despite our days being numbered due to our professions,” Nanami said those words with such honesty it just made you fall in love with him even harder.

“I’ll stay with you, even if our days are numbered. Let’s enjoy what we have left together.”

“I like the sound of that.”

You replied, “Me too.”

#Nanami x Reader #kento nanami x you #nanami smut #kento nanami #nanami kento #jjk x reader #jjk nanami #jjk fic #jjk smut #please let me know your thoughts! #about this fic #I wanna get better at writing :)

[frostironfudge]

Rush - Tom Hiddleston (Chapter 19)

Summary: Chapter 19 of Rush - Tom Hiddleston (check warnings please)

here is my main masterlist , my ao3

< Chapter 18

Chapter 20 >

Pairings: Tom Hiddleston x fem!reader, a few original characters.

Warnings: 18+ chapter contains smut, fluff, angst, torture.

Words: 4246

fanfic masterlist

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3 weeks since leaving the facility

The sun was cascading over their skin, mimicking the warmth in their hearts. Waves crashed upon the shore in a lazy might, retreating back into their vast expanse.

The feeling of being minuscule, hidden away, but finally able to breathe was rare and deeply cherished none the less.

It had been all but three weeks, Pierce adjusted her sunglasses, watching Lee sprawl across from her too engrossed in their book, a tiny frown on their face as they did not like what was ongoing in the murder mystery between their hands.

She looked away, those hands could distract her very well. The sun was tinged blue, she looked at the tablet in her hand.

“They are still in the country.” She looked at Lee, they put in a bookmark before returning her gaze.

“Still probably at the haven with his haven.” They grinned, happiness for Tom and Y/N only adding to their warmth.

“They should have left, Lee.” Pierce wondered what was holding their two friends back.

It wasn’t trouble, they would know in the event it was, and they would return to help.

Also their cloud drive was safe enough to give updates upon. Yet, Pierce could not shake the feeling of things going wrong.

“You need to stop bringing that feeling front and centre.” Lee chastised her, in a soft voice, they moved their hand to her cheek, stroking away her wind whipped hair into place.

“I’m not.” She defended, holding their hand in place, leaning into the touch.

“You are, we’re safe, they are safe, we will remain safe.” Lee reminded.

“I know, but, you know how it feels…” Pierce trailed off, her eyes moved away from Lee’s to the sand.

“I know, but if we constantly bring forth the fear then we won’t be able to learn to live where we are.” Lee reached over cupping her cheek, Pierce looked back into their eyes.

“I still worry.” Pierce mumbled,

“I worry too, every minute, but I know if we don’t celebrate our freedom, we will still be chained down.” Lee kissed her nose.

“Alright… race you to the water.” Pierce laughs as she breaks away towards the water.

“Oh you’re not winning.” They chased after her.

—————————————————————————————————

3 months since leaving the facility

The winters here were magical, streets lit up even the gloomiest of faces. Children running around their laughter adding to the mirth.

“Here is your hot chocolate.”

Lee was pulled out of their reverie by the waitress placing their mug.

“Thank you.” They smiled up as the waitress retreated back.

Lee continued looking out of the window at the people outside.

Had anyone been on the run as they had?

Had anyone had their friends not reach out?

Lee unlocked their phone, the yellow dot indicating their presence on the drive showed up, it had been a long time since either Y/N or Tom had checked in, three months to be precise.

They logged off, keeping the phone facedown on the creaky table.

“Still worried?” Pierce commented, taking a sip of her iced coffee.

“You know, someone would this you’re weird.” Lee chuckled, as she took another sip of the iced drink during winter’s brink.

“Sources say Fox is still hunting. He hasn’t stopped.” Pierce ignored the quip at her coffee preference by her partner.

“So we keep moving forward.” Lee decided.

“We keep moving forward.”

—————————————————————————————————

5 months more since leaving the facility

“Lee, Pierce, it feels so good to see you both.” Tom says sitting next to Y/N, both having small smiles on their faces.

“Truly, we’ve missed you both and Taillight very much.” Y/N smiled fondly.

“I hope all has been well these past eight months.” Tom smiled, “We can’t say for sure it has been the same for us.” His shoulders slouch.

“Which is why we come bearing some bad news.” Y/N’s expression turned grim.

Both took a deep breath, taking a few moments to contemplate how to say the next words without difficulty.

“This unfortunately is not a live feed, we’ve recorded this three weeks in, at safe house Ivy.” Tom explained, hands intertwined with Y/N’s, she glances down at them, then looks back at Pierce and Lee who are baffled staring at the screen.

“If you received this today it means that we weren’t able to disable the automated upload.” Y/N looked at Pierce and Lee through the screen, almost sadly.

“I wish it would be a case of losing the password but this means we unfortunately we are compromised, things have gone awry.” Tom continued.

“We are sorry, this was the only way.” Tom says after a pause the words ring in the room, echoing in the deafening silence.

“Pierce I’ve used blockers and the upload location has been bounced off.” Y/N says as she rubs circles with her thumb onto Tom’s hand.

“Do not come after us, do not try to find us. Please. We want you both safe.” Tom says and sincerity drips from his words and eyes.

Four sets of eyes were glassy, brimming with tears.

“If we—, When we,” Y/N corrects herself, “When we get out of the mess we will find you, or reach out here.”

Taillight whines, pushing her nose over Tom’s form on the screen.

“I miss you guys, I miss you more Taillight, such a good puppy.” Tom coos and Taillight wags her tail halfheartedly.

“We’re sorry it had to be this way, please, do not reach out or return.” Tom says again, they both look apologetic.

Tom and Y/N look at each other, she cups his cheek. “I’m sorry.” Y/N whispers shaking in his arms as her tears take over. Tom gives one final teary eyed glance as the video ends.

“The fuck do they think we won’t search.” Lee mutters angrily, reaching for their phone.

“Lee,” Pierce grabs their forearm, “Just, could we try to process this before, before break hell loose for them?”

Lee and Pierce have their gaze meet, she pulls them close, salt mixing with the familiar sweetness of each other’s lips.

—————————————————————————————————

3 months since leaving the facility

Y/N watched Tom driving, he had a smile on his face, their hands intertwined on the console. Tom looked at her winking, making her blush. The streetlight illuminating the car, so they could check up on each other.

He had grown his hair out along with his beard, but the glasses always got to you the most.

He knows how they make her take a deeper breath, when he fixes them and his tongue swipes over his bottom lip.

One day she just went upto him and kisses him, albeit that day the movement wasn’t purposeful, he enjoyed her reaction none the less.

Today they were driving to the Haven, Tom kept it as a surprise, telling her it was another safe house. They mostly drove at night, it was easier to understand if they were being tailed, the darkness a cover, ending only once they were in the confines of a house that wasn’t a home.

The past three months were blurry as they were long.

Some days they never ventured out the others they would stay out as long as possible. Finding every piece of non rationed air to fill their lungs.

Some days they drove each other to the brink, other days were filled with loving touches trying to ease living with old wounds.

Y/N looked at him once again, as the road disappeared under the car, the words were on her tongue. She just wanted to say them, as the streetlight reflected Tom’s eyes, she almost said the words.

Tom wondered how many times they would remain in the car, they met in one, escaped in one, planned their revenge plot. Maybe Tom would say he loves her on one of these drives, he knew about the glances Y/N stole, her warm hand in his, the scent of the leather seats mixed with the vanilla perfume that she wore.

Y/N groaned as she stretched in her seat, still not letting go of Tom’s hand,

“Just a while more, love.” Tom smiled as he made the final turn to the gated community.

“You would think three coffees would sustain me,” She yawned again, Tom laughed, checking the surroundings before he lowered the window, to enter the code at the gate.

“I think you have built up a tolerance, given the journeys we have taken.” He suggests, as she shrugs, the gates clang as the automated system opens them inwards, the driveway lined with shrubbery dividing the entry and exit lanes, they entered as the road

“I think it is because I drink the coffee, but somebody does not let me drive.” Y/N gives him a mock glare.

“Well, see you driving is an emergency skill.” Tom knew one day he would hear a telling off from her,

“I can’t stay fully awake on coffee anymore.” She whined.

“I think the rush should suffice.” Tom shrugged.

“You just think I’ll damage the Jaguar.” “No…”

“You answered a little too quickly, Mr. Hiddleston, the jury is looking at you suspiciously.” Y/N narrowed her eyes.

“Will the jury give me another chance? I will let the jury drive, I promise.”

The car stopped in front of another gate, Y/N looked out as the house came into view, the bottom half obscured by the wall covered in vines. Tom lowered his window again, entering yet another numeric code into a keypad.

The smell of rain soaked soil surrounded them, Y/N smiled at the familiar comfort.

The gate slid open, the house was two floors, solar powered lights around the cobbled pathway casted a sleepy yellow shadow along the white walls.

When the garage opened, Y/N was surprised to find another car there, protected under a cover. All the safe houses previously had the bare minimum and definitely not another car.

“Is this a safe house?” She turned back to Tom, he nodded, parking the car with familiarity.

“Come on, there is something you should see.” He gave a smile that sent butterflies through her insides.

Y/N gathered her, bag as she stepped out of the car, Tom joined her, hand on the small of her back.

He led her through the kitchen entryway, she glanced around as Tom switched on dim lights, each room they went through, warm toned interiors and a sprawling L shaped dark couch graced the living area.

“I want to show you something, but if you wan to rest it can wait for tomorrow.” He was standing on the second step of the small flight of stairs, his hand intertwined with hers, she looked up at him, offering a small smile.

“I don’t want to wait.”

Tom grinned, bounding up the stairs making her laugh at the speed with which he took her to the corner most door on the second floor.

He checked his watch, nodding to himself as he opened the door.

Tom led Y/N out onto the vast area of the terrace, which gave them a view of the cloud covered hills, the sky was brightening as dawn crept over them, the area was as big as the entire expanse of the house.

“Okay, now” Tom turned them, Y/N set her bag down next to their feet, his arms encircled her waist, turning her towards the right, he rests his chin on her shoulder, his beard tickling her skin as she giggles.

“Tom, what,—,” Y/N’s words are cut short, as the sun breaks through the cloud cover, the sky lightens in an ombre from deep navy to purple hues to a yellow orange glow. The clouds descend, a soft fog encircling the home.

The sight takes the breath out of her, as Tom’s arms tighten, he’s smiling at her awed expression, Y/N brings one hand up to cup his cheek as she watches, giving him an awed smile as she returns to looking at the breath taking sunrise taking place.

“It’s breathtaking.” She mumbles, as Tom’s soft lips press against her cheek.

“Welcome to the haven, my haven.” He whispers as she turns in his arms.

“Wait you, we—, Tom!” Y/N’s at a loss of words, then it hits her, she is at a lost of words apart from three.

She cups his face in between her palms, “I love you.”

Tom’s lips part his blue eyes searching for some sense of reality because this seems very dreamlike, “What did you say?” He asks, wanting to hear her again.

“You don’t have to say them back, I just, I wanted to say the words, I love you, Tom.” Y/N pales a little when he still is taken aback, her worries are put to rest as he kisses her, pulling her closer.

Tom breaks the kiss, resting their foreheads together, their breaths in soft pants.

“I love you, Y/N.” He says, voice breaking slightly, at the emotion that has overcome him, the birds chirp around them, as the world begins awakening.

Y/N presses her lips against his once again, smiling widely as she pulled away.

“Who needs coffee?” She mutters, Tom laughs.

They slowly retreat back into the home, lips meeting every few minutes and shared laughter if they miss a step, Tom leads her to the room on the first floor. It resembles his room back home but the feeling is more homey.

Tom stands behind Y/N as he watches her take in the room, worried if she doesn’t like the way it is set or the random desk in the corner or the small ottoman.

“It feels warm, warmer than your room back there.” Y/N holds out he hand, turning to him, a smile on her face.

“I’m glad you like it.” He says smiling, he walks towards the edge of the bed sitting down, having her stand between his legs.

“I love you.” He tells her again, pulling her so she’s straddling him with her knees on either side of his legs.

“I love you.” She tells him.

Their lips find each other’s again, as their hands begin exploring with a new found affection, warmth surrounding them.

Tom’s hands find their way, under her shirt, thumbs brushing along the skin of her back, he can taste the remnants of her lip balm on his tongue, she moans into the kiss her fingers tugging on his hair, wanting more.

Y/N tugs on his shirt, they pull away to help discard the clothing, her fingers trail softly over Tom’s chest, she’d almost memorised every dip, every little indent, she left open mouth kisses from his temple to his jaw, over his neck, leaving the remnants of her affection over his collarbones.

Tom’s fingers kept trailing along her waist, sides over her abdomen, warm trails of fire blooming across the expanse of her skin. His lips left lingering kisses and love-bites over her sternum, making Y/N arch into him.

“Tom,” She spoke, a moan following, whimpering as she felt his knuckles dig into her flesh to take off her leggings,

“Need to stand up for me love,” He whispered, helping her up, and standing before her.

“You are so fucking beautiful, every single inch, every bit of skin,” He kisses her again, his hands gripping the waist band of her leggings pushing them down along with her knickers.

Tom places kisses over her inner thighs, his beard tickling the sensitive skin, Y/N looks as him, meeting his dark and hungry gaze, her hands on his shoulders for support. Tom’s fingers brush along her entrance, collecting the slick onto two fingers, sucking on them and humming.

“Sit.” He orders, making her spread her legs and blows upon her clit, it pulses in anticipation,

“Tom, please,” Her voice gravelly needy with anticipation.

Tom circles his tongue around her clit, as his fingers tease her entrance, he sucks on her clit as a finger eases into her, Y/N arches, gripping onto the sheets her breathing unsteady as the pleasure sends shockwaves through her.

Tom laps at her entrance, adding another finger, “Look at you so gorgeous, so wet for me, you taste so good.” He moans as she gets wetter as his words, her moans grow louder as her body shudders, his fingers move faster, curving to find the spot to driver her to the edge. His pace is relentless, Y/N can feel the curling heat gaining momentum as Tom brings her closer to it, her hips buck upwards, making his fingers curve over the spot,

“Fuck, To-Tom right, right there pleas—,” Her please are cut off by her moans as Tom continues circling his fingers over the spot, his tongue circles over her clit, the soft bedsheets are further crumpled as Y/N finds release over Tom’s lips and fingers, with a chorus of his name.

Tom hovers over her body, as Y/N comes down from the aftershocks of her orgasm.

“Good?” He enquires, licking his fingers clean of her; a movement he had done only months ago.

“Needy for more if I’m being honest.” She breathes in deeply, cheeks red, she can see the sheen of sweat on his chest, and by the lust in his eyes, he isn’t done with her yet. He strips himself of the remaining layers, cock in need of feeling her around him.

“Perfect, because I believe we have a much overdue rain-check.” Tom lowers himself, their chests touching as he kisses her again, one hand holding him up as the other makes her wrap her leg around his bare waist.

Y/N pulls away, “Do you have protection?” She cups his cheek, stroking it with the bad of her thumb, he leans into the soft touch.

“Yes,” Tom reaches over to the dark wood side table, retrieving the packet carefully opening it.

“Let me?” Y/N asks, sitting up slightly, hand held out and Tom can’t deny any request she makes, with her hair messed up, eyes so innocent, lips bruised by his kisses, fuck.

He hands her the condom, her hands reach for his length, thumb circling his tip spreading the pre-cum,

Tom watches her eyes darken, licking her lips as she pumps him, he groans at the contact, unable to help thrusting slightly at the contact.

“I want—,” She tries telling him she wants to taste him,

“Darling, my patience to feel you is thinning, I need you, I need to feel you. Stretch you so good, have you feel me for days. I will fuck your mouth just not right now, please.”

Y/N rolls the condom onto him, whimpering at the promise of his words, leaning back, Tom slowly teases her folds with his length, he brings one palm to her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and index finger, having her arch up, he slowly eases into her.

Both moan simultaneously as he bottoms out inside her, her leg wrapped around his waist, he groans as she clenches around him.

“Tom, please, move.” Y/N’s voice is breathless, Tom nods, as he moves his hips, slowly, inching out of her he then thrusting into her, her nails dig into his biceps and back as he adapts a faster rhythm.

“You feel so good baby, fuc-fuck could be inside you all day.” Tom’s voice is at a low baritone reverberating through Y/N’s being as she feels a familiar coil tightening. Tom stops his movements, leaning against the headboard and having Y/N hover above him, his hands guide her hips and she moans as his tip brushes against her g-spot.

Tom’s mouth latches onto her nipple, his free hand tugging on the other hardened nub, Y/N rolls her hips, as his pubic bone, presses against her clit.

She begins moving the pace set by Tom’s hand on her hip, and she feels him everywhere, filling her up to the brim, Tom’s mouth, tongue, fingers, words all making her head clouded, the only motive is for them to feel the white hot blaze of their orgasms, her speed increases, Tom groans into her skin as he feels him self come close, the hand on her breast comes to her clit, rubbing circles.

Y/N throws her head back as the waves of her orgasm wash over her, “Tom, Tom, Tom, please—,”

He makes her continue her stuttered movements, before shifting them again, as he thrusts into her, chasing his own release and fucking her through hers. Tom comes with a cry of her name, “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” His head buried in her neck, leaving hot kisses.

Tom lays at her side, still inside her, limbs entangled, breaths slowing down.

Tom, pulls out from her, hissing as she clenches around him,

“Sorry…” Y/N blushes, he kisses her cheek,

“I told you I’d stay inside you all day if I could, you agree.” Tom chuckles, discarding the soiled piece.

He pulls her close against him, her finger slowly trace patterns on his chest.

“I should tell you I love you more often.” Tom teases her.

“So should I,” She chuckled.

“I love you.” “I love you.”

Tom and Y/N laugh, unfading grins on their faces, and it feels as though the haven and home have finally come together.

——— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— ———

“If you cooperate, I might spare your life.” Bones crack as he tilts his head to the side.

The blonde in front of him whimpers in her seat, nothing has happened but crocodile tears flow out of her eyes.

“Aw, sweetheart, are you scared? Of me?” Fox wonders as he takes a seat in the chair placed opposite to the bound female.

Cassandra only wails in response, Fox winces at the sound, irritated.

“I’ll let you live, should be something to consider.” Fox assures, smiling when she raises her head to look at him.

“What, what would you like to know?” Cassandra offers, sniffling.

“Do you have any safe houses?” Fox enquired,

“We’ve already checked those.” Valarie pipped up from the side, standing amongst his minions, she would roll her eyes if it never implicated her for disrespect.

Fox closed his eyes, fists clenched, “And it has been three months out of your actual allowed time limit, you’ve come up with nothing worthwhile.” He spits out, his eyes ablaze with anger, words still cold.

“We already—,” Valarie is cut off by Fox, “Miranda would like her daughter alive, I have no issues with you gone.”

Valarie stays quiet, Fox turns back to Cassandra.

“There are about six scattered all over, I can get you the addresses, all in my phone.”

“See now this is efficient work.” Fox glares at Valarie, as Cassandra’s phone is handed to him.

He turns it to Cassandra, “Password, darling?”

“3468.” She mutters then guides him to the hidden notes folder where the locations are Fox dictates the addresses to his employees who then exit.

⁃ T.H. Safe Haven

The line catches Fox’s eye.

“And what might this be?” He turns the phone to Cassandra, she gulps,

“Tom had a property, he bought it without anyone at the facility knowing.”

Fox raised an eyebrow.

“I was snooping on his computer once… I saw the emails so I noted the address.” Cassandra dropped her head, sighing he hadn’t seen the messages about Raconteuse being turned over to MM by her.

“Hmm, you are quite intriguing Cassandra.” Fox comments as he opens up the messages application, a drug deal here, a job being set up there, he stops when he finds the thread where she turned over his Raconteuse to MM.

“Oh, Cassandra you have been bad. Whatever did Raconteuse do to you?” Fox throws the phone to the side having no more usage for it.

The blonde’s head shot up, she glared at Fox, “She tried taking Tom from me!”

Fox laughs, “She tried taking Tom?”

“Yes, he’s so, so, so, in love with her ever since MM hired him to bring her then keep tabs on her.” Cassandra explains as bile fills her mouth.

“Did you not drug the man? Trying to assault him?” Fox stands, a person bringing a water bottle on a tray.

“I did, because he doesn’t realise he loves me and wants me, Raconteuse is just a fucking nobody, a slut using him. Should have taken her out when I had the—,” Cassandra cuts her angry rant off when his hand collides with her cheek.

“You know, I thought you would be an asset, but you are a just really horrible human being. I don’t tolerate assaulters.” Fox brings the water bottle in his hand, and signals one bound to be undone.

“Drink.”

Cassandra drinks the water, parched and finding relief in the cool liquid. She hands back the empty bottle.

Fox’s man takes it.

“I hope you find yourself in the worst of hell’s punishments, Cassandra.”

“Wha—,” Her mouth begins frothing as her body convulses, Valarie once would have cried, or wailed for her but not after the truth was revealed.

Fox offers Valarie a handkerchief,

“Some memories even make us weep a single tear for horrible people. Remember this moment and let it scar your heart to not weep again.” He tells her, then leaves the room.

"I'm getting closer, Raconteuse." He whispers to the picture of her.

-----

AN: so they finally did it, tom and y/n finally said the three words, only took like 55k+ words lol

tagging these beautiful people, a big thank you for always giving my work love: @arcticclouds @confused-clary @fire-in-her-veinz @fa-me@littlemissslytherinprincess @stevesmewmew @anemois-hiraeth@thegoldenhood @severuslovebot

P.S. taglist is open! send me a message! also requests are open as well!

thank you for reading!

love, frostironfudge

note: Please understand no part of my work should be reproduced, plagiarised, distributed, translated without my informed consent.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddelston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston series #tom hiddleston is perfect #james conrad #jonathan pine #the night manager #hiddlestoner #kong skull island #only lovers left alive #hot hiddleston #hiddles #loki #loki x reader #loki x you #frostironfudge #damnit hiddleston #loki odinson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston is babie #tom is baby #tom hiddelson #tom hiddleston headers #tom hiddleston headcanon #betrayal #betrayal tom hiddleston

[thebrownssociety]

So, any headcanons on what happens when each of the Madrigals are sick? Maybe weakened/out of control powers?

Okay so:

1. Luisa - Her powers just get weakened when she’s sick and she acts a lot like how she does in the movie. Upset, tends to hide away in her room. Prefers people not to come in unless they absolutely has to. Refuses to do favours for the villagers. 

2. Isa - tends to go either way without much of a pattern. She will either not be able to grow anything at all [or only very small plants, like literally one single flower and even that will take a lot of effort] or her room will be overrun by plants making it resemble a jungle. In a few instances she’s been known to create thorn across her door so it’s impossible for anyone to come in without injuring themselves. Of course her family aren't going to leave her to stew and not even check she’s okay, so Luisa usually gets some gloves or something and pulls the thorns away. 

3. Camilo - he doesn’t get sick often, but when he does it’s pretty much like what we saw in the film. He shapeshifts into random people and doesn’t seem aware he’s doing it. He will sometimes shapeshift into one of the village children if he’s feeling particularly vulnerable. Pepa usually sits by him and gently strokes his hair.

4. Antonio - his animal friends get the message that he’s sick and keep guard over him. Which may sound cute until you’re Pepa and Felix trying to get past a tiger in order to bring Antonio soup or just to comfort him. 

5. Dolores - the only one who considers being sick a positive thing, because her super-hearing goes away and she’s left with peace and quiet for once. She likes to lie in bed when this happens and just enjoy the peace and quiet. 

6. Julieta - the worst when she’s sick, mainly because she usually doesn’t feel like cooking so can’t make her healing food. If she made some earlier that can sometimes help heal her, but if she hasn’t the other Madrigals just have to wait until she’s better in order to have healing food again. She has tried to make her healing food before when sick, but it’s like her powers are saying ‘No, you need to rest’ and just refuse to work. Complete bed rest is often the only way to get Julieta back to full health.

7. Pepa - she’s usually sad/distressed when sick, so either her room will resemble a waterfall and she’ll have a raining cloud above her head for ages, or her moods will go all over the place and she’ll be raining one moment, shining the next, then hailing. 

During this time she usually doesn’t want to see anyone except Felix and Julieta. Julieta because she’ll be the one too bring the food, and is also very sympathetic and will stroke Pepa’s hair and try to calm her down and stuff. Felix because she feels better when he’s around and he will always try to look after her. Occasionally though Felix has to so other things or just needs a break, so Camilo will shapeshift into his father and take over for a few minutes.

8. Bruno - no one really knows what Bruno’s powers do when he’s sick, because Bruno normally doesn't want anyone near him except Julieta [for the same reasons as Pepa] and Alma. Bruno is something of a mother boy already, but it gets amplified when he’s sick. 

His visions tend to get worse, but rather than actually seeing the far future  he tends to see what will happen in the next few seconds which can be annoying for him, because he gets a sense of deja vu which unnerves him. 

The sand in his room will also become a sandstorm. As well as the whole ‘not wanting anyone around thing’ his room is flat out dangerous when he’s sick and Alma is one of the few people who can handle it. 

9. Mirabel - Everyone smothers her in attention and can’t do enough for her. Luisa is the worse for it, always wanting to help Mirabel and get her things and so on. What usually ends up happening is that either Julieta or Augustín would have to tell everyone to leave her alone before they drove her crazy. 

#Encanto Asks #Encanto #mirabel madrigal #luisa madrigal #isabela madrigal #encanto dolores #Encanto Camilo #Encanto Antonio #Encanto Madrigals

[aiweirdness]

How to begin a novel

Last year for National Novel Writing Month I trained a neural net called torch-rnn on 10,096 unique ways to begin a novel. It came up with some intriguing possibilities, my personal favorite being “I am forced to write to my neighbors about the beast.” But many of its sentences used made-up words, or had such weird grammar that they were difficult to read, or meandered too erratically. (“The first day of the world was born in the year 1985, in an old side of the world, and the air of the old sky of lemon and waves and berries.”) The neural net was struggling to write more than a few words at a time.

This year, I decided to revisit this dataset with a larger, more-powerful neural net called GPT-2. Unlike most of the neural nets that came earlier, GPT-2 can write entire essays with readable sentences that stay mostly on topic (even if it has a tendency to lose its train of thought or get very weird). I trained the largest size that was easily fine-tunable via GPT-2-simple, the 355M size of GPT-2. Would a more-powerful neural net produce better first lines?

One of the parameters I can tweak when I’m getting a trained neural net to generate text is temperature - this controls whether the neural net chooses the most likely next bit of text as it writes, or whether it’s permitted to use its less-likely predictions. At a default of 0.7, a relatively conservative temperature, the neural net’s first lines not only make grammatical sense, but they even have the rhythm of a novel’s first line. This is DRAMATICALLY better than torch-rnn did.

I am, or was.

At the mid-day meal the sun began to set and the quiet dragged on.

There was once a man who lived for a very long time; perhaps three thousand years, or perhaps a thousand million years, maybe a trillion or so, depending on how the scientists look at it.

He had the heart of a lion, and the fangs of a man-eater.

"I am Eilie, and I am here to kill the world."

The old woman was sitting on a rock near the sea, smoking a pipe.

I have just been informed, that the debate over the question 'is it right or wrong to have immortal souls' has been finally brought to a conclusion.

When I was a boy, I was fond of the story of the pirate god.

He had a strange name, and he was a very big boy indeed.

The purple-haired woman came to the clearing in the plain, and without looking up from her book, said, "It's too late to be thinking about baby names."

The village of Pembrokeshire, in the county of Mersey, lies on a wide, happy plain, which, in a few years, was to become known as the "Land of the Endless Mountains."

I don’t think the neural net plagiarized any of these? They are so good that I’m suspicious. But others of the neural net’s lines are even weirder, yet in an effective way that opens with an intriguing premise.

The moon had gone out.

I was playing with my dog, Mark the brown Labrador, and I had forgotten that I was also playing with a dead man.

The black stone was aching from the rain.

The short, dirty, and dirty-looking ship that weighed three tons and was three feet in diameter landed on a desolate and green plain.

How many times have I had the misfortune to die?

The first black dog in the park had been captured alive.

Behold the Sky Rabbits!

In the belly of the great beast that was the bovine Aurore there lived, upon the right hand of the throne, the Empress Penelope; and she had, as it were, a heart of gold.

The moon stood on its own two feet.

The reeking maw of the blood-drunk ship, the enemy's flagship, was silent and empty.

The first day I met my future self, I was aboard the old dirigible that lay in wait for me on the far side of the moon.

The child of two cats, and a tiger, a clown, a horse, a bird, a ship, and a dragon, stood on either side of the threshold of the Gatehouse, watching the throng of travelers who came in from all around the world, before he had any idea what was going on.

I think it’s probably doing this accidentally, stringing likely words and phrases together without understanding what any of them really mean. It’s not that it’s good at science fiction or magical realism; it’s that it’s trying and failing to predict what would have fit in with the usual human-written stuff. Some of the neural net’s first lines really betray its lack of the understanding of the laws of physics. It really likes to describe the weather, but it doesn’t really understand how weather works. Or other things, really.

The moon was low in the sky, as though it had been shipped in from the farthest reaches of the solar system.

The first star I saw was a blue one, which became a scarlet one, and then a gold one, and green, and finally a yellow one, which for some years afterwards seemed to be an ebony one, or even a bubbling mass.

The sun rose slowly, like a mighty black cat, and then sank into a state of deep sleep.

The sea of stars was filled with the serenity of a million little birds.

The great blue field was all white, swept away by the blue-gold breeze that blew from the south.

The sky was cold and dark, and the cold wind, if it had not been for the clouds, would have lashed the children to the roof of the house.

The morning sun was shining brightly, but the sky was grey and the clouds aching.

The night that he finally made up his mind to kill the dog, the man was walking home from the store with his wife and child in the back seat.

Arthur the lion had been pretty much extinct for some time, until the time when he was petted by Abernathy the old woman, and her son, Mr. Popp.

One of the disadvantages of having a neural net that can string together a grammatical sentence is that its sentences now can begin to be terrible in a more-human sense, rather than merely incomprehensible. It ventures into the realm of the awful simile, or the mindnumbingly repetitive, and it makes a decent stab at the 19th century style of bombastic wordiness. I selected the examples above for uncomprehending brilliance but the utter tediousness below is more the norm.

The whites of my eyes shimmered, as if my mind were dancing.

I once went to a party where the dress code was as strict as a chicken coop with no leggings and no boots.

A black cloud drifted by, a mottled mass of hydrogen, a black cloud of hydrogen, with the definite characteristic of being black.

I say I am at sea, because I am standing upon the ocean, and look out across the barren, vast throng of the sea.

It is, of course, a trifling matter in the ordinary course of things, if a certain writer were to write a novel, which is a book of stories, which is a book of characters, wherein every detail of the story is stated, together with a brief description of the theme which it concerns.

There was a boy with blue eyes, with sandy hair and blue eyes that looked at all times like he had been pushed through a million compartments.

The Sun, with its rolling shaft of bright light, the brilliant blue of the distant golden sun, and the red glow of its waning corona, was shining.

The man who was not Jack the Ripper had been promoted four times in the last two years.

Felix the Paw was sitting at the table of his favorite restaurant, the "Bordeaux" in the town of Bordeaux, when his father, Cincinnata, came in to say good-by to the restaurant.

It, sir, gives me the greatest pleasure to hear that the Court be not too long in passing away: but that I may have leisure to prepare a new work for the publication of my friend and colleague, the renowned Epistemology, which is now finished; and in which I shall endeavour to show, that this very point is of the highest importance in the subject of the philosophy which I am about to treat of.

It was a rainy, drizzling day in the summer of 1869 and the people of New York, who had become accustomed to the warm, kissable air of the city, were having another bad one.

Repetitiveness is also common, especially at this conservative temperature setting. Once the neural net gets itself into a repetitive state, it doesn’t seem to rescue itself - it’s a problem that people have noticed in several versions of this algorithm. (It doesn’t help that I forgot to scrub the “title” that someone submitted to the dataset that consists of the word “sand” repeated 2,000 times)

The sky was blue and the stars were blue and the sun was blue and the water was blue and the clouds were blue and the blue sky was like a piece of glass.

At the end of the world, where the tides burst upon the drowned, there exists a land of dragons, of dragons, which is the land of the dragons.

It's the end of the world, it's the end of the world, it's the end of the world, it's the end of the world, it's the end of the world, you're dead.

There was once a land of sand, and sand, sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand

Increasing the temperature of the sampling would help the repetitiveness problem, in theory, letting the neural net venture into more interesting territory. But at a temperature of 1.0 the text tends to venture out of everyday surrealism and into wordy yet distractible incomprehensibility.

The praying mules on the top of the hills sounded the final klaxon, lifting their spiked front hoofs as they crept the last few feet of desert landscape past the crest of the enormous swathe of prehistoric sand.

In the glen of the Loch is a ladder that winds way up through a passage to a ledge with soft, moss-laden environmental standards.

Someone whipped a dead squash gibbet across the room, like some formidable war lord unleashing a heavy hunk of silver at home.

One blue eyed child stood up and cried out: "Douay, saurines, my Uncle – Fanny Pemble the loader!"

Jud - an elderly despot, or queen in emopheles, was sitting across the table from the king, looking very thoughtfully into the perplexions of the proceedings.

Oh, you're a coward little fool, as if you couldn't bear to leer at a Prunker or white-clad bodyguard quickly emerging from a shady, storm-damaged area of the city.

Hanging presently in his little bell-bottomed chamber on the landing-house, early in the morning, the iron traveler sat on a broad-blonde sandbricksannel blanket outside the gate of a vast and ancient island.

Long, glowing tongues trailed from your mouth as you listened to what was being said across this kingdom of ours, but growing a little more somber since the week that caused us to proclaim general war.

The night I first met Winnie the Pooh, I had sat in the Tasting-House and heard the Chef unpack the last of the poison upon his quiet dinnertable.

There is, of course, no perfect setting at which the neural net churns out sensible yet non-repetitive first lines. There are just varying shades of general awfulness, interspersed with accidental brilliance.

No matter how much you’re struggling with your novel, at least you can take comfort in the fact that AI is struggling even more.

I generated all the neural net sentences above using a generic “It” as the prompt that the neural net had to build on (it would usually go on to generate another 20-30 sentences at a time). But although the sentences are independent in my training data, GPT-2 is used to large blocks of text that go together. The result is if I prompt it instead with, say, a line from Harry Potter fanfic, the neural net will tend to stick with that vein for a while. I've included a few examples as bonus content for subscribers.

Update: I now have a few thousand unfiltered examples of neural net-generated first lines at the GitHub repository where I have the original crowdsourced dataset. Themes include: Harry Potter, Victorian, My Little Pony, and Ancient Gods.

My book on AI is out, and, you can now get it any of these several ways! Amazon - Barnes & Noble - Indiebound - Tattered Cover - Powell’s

#neural networks #you look like a thing #nanowrimo #gpt-2 #writing #first lines #gpt-2-355m