#anyway. as usual dee is normal about things

[distant-screaming]

I have a rotating carousel of gmmtv men I take turns being obsessed with and currently it's Marc Natarit's turn. what is his problem. being all gorjess. gorjuss. jorgeos. what are we talking about

[dandylovesturtles]

I meant to do this earlier and then I didn't |'D but quick little ficlet for @trilobitepunch 's DTIYS!

I've tried to read all the stuff about fangiverse but I may have some lore wrong... but I hope you enjoy this anyway, Aya!

-----

Raph has always kept an eye on his little brothers, and that hasn't changed. Two of them have some added... difficulties now, but that's all. They're still his little brothers, and Raph will watch out for them, same as usual. Everything is totally normal.

Thinking that way helps him stay calm, anyway.

Like now, wandering through a marketplace in the Hidden City, eyes on Donnie as he pokes at the gourds at a stand with a frown. They have a whole shopping list from Draxum, for some medicines he wants to try to make that he thinks will help not just Donnie and Leo but all of them. Raph had almost insisted that he and Mikey could do it on their own, but Leo starts going stir-crazy if he's kept locked in the lair too long and Donnie can lock himself in so long he needs the vitamin D.

Besides, Raph doesn't want to feel like he's keeping them prisoner. It's not their fault.

But against all odds, the day has turned out surprisingly well! They had lunch at Run of the Mill, and ate all their favorites. Leo and Mikey spent their remaining New Year's money on candy from a shop that temporarily turns keratin weird colors; it's supposed to affect fingernails, but right now Mikey is sporting a bright pink shell as he trails after Donnie (Raph has to admit, he wants to try it later). For his part, he has an almost-eaten cup of froyo, which he'd piled high with some pretty weird toppings (the Hidden City has weird green mushrooms that taste like cotton candy!). And they've made it through over half the shopping list without incident! Maybe everything will go smoothly after all.

And just as Raph thinks that, he hears a familiar snarl, and everything falls apart.

His mistake, he realizes even as he turns to look, was focusing so much on Donnie that he forgot to keep an eye trained on Leo.

Donnie's easy to trigger, and he sinks deep, devoid of everything but the urge to attack, to fight. Leo can usually keep one finger in reality, just enough to be the bridge between Donnie and the rest of them. Donnie is unpredictable in a crowd, but Leo loves being out around people. That's why Raph had kept his eyes trained on purple.

But the thing is, when Leo goes down, he goes down hard. And there's nothing to stop Donnie from being swept right along with him.

Raph swivels on his feet, froyo cup tossed aside as he scans the crowd. He finds Leo fast, poised like a snake ready to strike, snarling and hissing, pupils flared and wild. His fangs are out and they're bared, staring down a yokai almost three times his size - Raph doesn't know what happened in the lead-up, but he has a feeling that Leo's freakout is deserved.

It doesn't change the fact that they can't stay here now. If Leo hurts someone in this state, he'll beat himself up about it for weeks - and it's only a matter of time until the cops show up and arrest all of them.

"DONNIE!"

Raph isn't at all surprised by Mikey's shout, or the sudden blur of purple that shoots past him. Donnie is at Leo's side in an instant, snarling just as loudly, the two of them circling back to back in challenge to the increasingly panicked crowd.

It's time to go!

"Raph!" yells Mikey, but Raph doesn't spare him a glance. He trusts Mikey to keep up.

"Hitch a ride, Mike," is all he says, before he's clearing the space between himself and his snarling brothers in two big steps. A second later, a familiar weight lands on his shell; one problem taken care of.

Donnie is just about to launch himself at a yokai brandishing a short sword when Raph swoops in, grabbing his little brother by the battle shell and tucking him under his arm. Donnie howls in frustration, but Raph has experience on his side; he pins Donnie to his side and makes sure his teeth can't get anywhere near him.

"No biting, Dee!" he calls over the noise of the crowd, and gets a frustrated chatter in return.

"I can't reach Leo!" Mikey reports from his shoulder. Raph swivels around to look at his remaining sibling, currently advancing on the big yokai once again. Said yokai has his hands balled into fists in front of him, but he looks more than a little concerned as Leo lurches toward him with predatory steps.

Maybe he could just let him get a little closer...

No, Raph should definitely stop this.

With another big step, Raph comes level with Leo and scoops him under his other arm, earning a startled yelp that would be hilarious under other circumstances. Both feral turtles struggle under his arms, fangs bared and hands strong, but Raph has them in his grip.

A police siren echoes over the din of the crowd.

"Time to go!" Mikey shouts, thumping Raph's shell.

"Don't gotta tell me twice!" he yells back. He's already muscling his way through the crowd, making a beeline for an alleyway off the market. They need to get off the main streets, then book it for the nearest portal topside.

The whole trip, the bundles under his arms hiss and snarl and claw at him, completely ungrateful for how he just saved their butts. He ought to drop them and leave them here.

But he won't. They're still his little brothers, after all.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Reflections | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: alcoholism, toxic relationship dynamics, mentions/descriptions of smut (MDNI 18+ ONLY), angstangstangst, the crippling reality of being broke and in your twenties, an ambiguous ending! Up to your imagination what happens next :)

Word Count: 5026

A/N: For a lovely nonnie!! This fic hits close to home LMFAO as does the song the fic is inspired by. Not to call you out nonnie but tell me you’ve been in a situationship that ended horribly without telling me you’ve been in a situationship that ended horribly… lol. Anyway, i hope y’all enjoy this absolute angst cesspool of pre-season one Dean!! 

Songs of the fic ! (did anyone else’s exes listen to the trifecta of male manipulator music aka car seat headrest, cigs after sec, and the neighbourhood? bonus points if chase atlantic is thrown in there, too)

Reflections by the Neighbourhood

Casual by Chappell Roan

Working for the Knife by Mitski

It’s Only Sex by Car Seat Headrest

Cry by Cigarettes After Sex

Queue up your favorite music streaming service if you’d like, and have a wonderful read!

Meeting Dean Winchester was among the more wonderful things that happened to you. After graduating from college, your life had been complete hell. Between non-stop job interviews, working shifts at a crappy restaurant job you’d had since sophomore year to be able to pay your rent, and a crumbling relationship with your family, you were drowning. Needing a night off, you decided to go out with a few of your friends. 

It was that night that you met Dean. As soon as you walked into the bar, he caught your eye. He was busy chatting with a pretty blonde with long, toned legs, but you hardly noted her. He was all muscle, tall, freckled, and had probably been sculpted by the gods. 

Men didn’t usually hold your attention. You were too busy and had too many previous relationships with frat boys and abusive idiots to worry about or focus on another one. Dean, however, was different. 

Through the night, you tried to just enjoy your time with your friends, but every piece of you was hoping that the beautiful stranger would come over and talk to you. And finally, finally, your silent prayer came true. 

His confidence was intimidating. Your friends all blushed and giggled when he approached, and your best friend pulled your other two girls away to another table to let you and Dean talk. 

“Your friend seems disappointed,” he said evenly. 

“In what?” you asked, a smile pulling at your lips. 

“That I’m talking to you and not her,” the man replied. 

Oh, god. You knew his type. You knew he’d be horrible for you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. “You’re very sure of yourself…” you trailed off, waiting for him to tell you his name. 

“Dean,” he told you. 

“Dean.” The name felt good rolling off your tongue. “Nice to meet you, Dean.”

“Trust me, pleasure’s all mine,” he replied. 

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You can drop the cheesy lines.”

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. 

“C’mon, you know exactly what I’m talking about,” you smirked, taking a sip of your beer.

“Most girls like ‘em,” he said, confidence unwavering. 

“Do you think I’m like most girls?” you asked, eyes challenging and lustful. 

“No,” he smirked. 

***

That night was officially marked in the calendar as the night you had the best sex of your life. Dean was incredibly giving in bed, and he wouldn’t let himself finish until you did. He knew when to be gentle and when to be rough with you, and you appreciated how attentive to your reactions he was. 

After that, Dean came over to your apartment every night for four days. And yet, you still knew very little about him. 

“Where ‘re you from, Dee?” you asked, sitting on the couch across from him with a beer in your hand. 

“Lawrence. In Kansas,” he replied shortly. Dean normally wasn’t as curt with you, and you knew you needed to press further into that.

“We’re a long way from Kansas, Toto,” you joked. “What’s got you out here?” 

“Eh, y’know. My brother’s off at Stanford, my dad’s a dick when he’s not around, and I just needed to get away for a bit,” Dean explained, shrugging. 

“Brother?” you asked. 

A smile spread across his face. “Yeah, uh, Sam’s his name. He’s in undergrad for law. His freshman year.”

“Oh, damn. He must be really smart, then,” you prompted. 

Dean nodded, still grinning. “Yeah, he is.”

“What about you?” you asked.

“What about me?” he replied, taking a sip of his beer. 

“College?” 

He shook his head. “Nah. Dropped out as soon as it was legal to.”

You snickered. 

“What about you? What are you doin’ out here?” Dean asked, sinking further into your couch. Even the way he sat emanated confidence. 

You sighed. 

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you—”

You shook your head. “No, no! It’s okay. It’s just— It’s complicated.” Dean allowed you to collect your thoughts for a moment. “Went to school, got myself a degree, and I graduated last year. And now, I’m barely keeping myself afloat. Applied to tons of places, got interviews at some, and all of ‘em fell through.”

“Oh,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

You shrugged, taking a deep breath. “It’s alright. I’m sure every new grad goes through this shit.”

“What about your family?” Dean asked you. “You close with them?”

You scoffed. “All of them can suck my dick.”

Dean chuckled, clearly caught off-guard. “Jesus. That bad?”

“Absolutely.” You stretched and put your empty beer bottle down on the coffee table. “Life’s not all bad, though.”

“Oh?” Dean prompted. 

“I met you, didn’t I?” you smiled lopsidedly. 

The man chuckled but said nothing. 

Immediately, you felt embarrassed. “Sorry, I— I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable if I did. I know we’re just hooking up, and—”

Dean shook his head. “No, no. It’s okay. Just… I wanna be upfront with you. I’m just rolling through. I’m never gonna be in one place for long.”

Your heart sank. “Oh.”

“It’s nothing against you, trust me. You’re—” Dean cut himself off, sighing. He sat up fully, put his beer down, and turned to face you. “Trust me. It’s not you.” He put his hand over yours, making you look up at him. 

‘Damn his gorgeous face,’ you thought. You would never be able to stay angry with him for too long. You surged forward and pressed his lips to yours, pushing him down on the couch. 

***

If you couldn’t have anything else with Dean, you were going to have sex with him as much as humanly possible. Slowly but surely, he was giving you indications that he was forming feelings for you, too. 

Dean started staying the night around a week into the two of you hooking up. You were pleasantly surprised when he’d hold you while you slept, too. The sex became more passionate as opposed to rough and hard, even though you thoroughly enjoyed both. He asked you questions about your upbringing and your job, and was giving you every signal that he was interested in you for more than just sex. 

And then, he disappeared. You called him several times, but you never got an answer. To say you were crushed was an understatement. 

Even though you’d only known Dean for three weeks, you were falling hard for him. He had an effect on you that no one else did. Dean was kind, compassionate, funny, smart, and although immature at times, he had all the makings of a wonderful man and partner. And just like that, he left. No word, no note— nothing. Just the night before he was telling you how glad he was that he met you. Maybe that should have been a sign that something was wrong, but you supposed hindsight was 20/20. 

At work that day, you were a complete mess of smudged eyeliner, knotted hair pulled back in a claw clip, and puffy eyes from crying. 

“You good, (Y/N/N)?” one of your coworkers asked when she found you on your smoke break. 

The cigarette trembled between your fingers, and tears poured down your cheeks. Your only response was a frantic head nod. 

She gave you a deadpan look. “What’s wrong?” she asked. 

Holding the cigarette away from your face, you scrubbed your hand over your eyes. “Just this fucking guy.”

She grimaced, sucking in air through her teeth. “Shit. That’ll do it.”

“Yeah,” you sniffed. “On top of everything else that’s fucking falling apart in my life, I thought—” you cut yourself off, sighing. “Whatever. He’s a dick.” You took in a deep breath, trying to steel your nerves, and took a puff of your cigarette. You let out all the air and smoke from your lungs and turned to face your friend. “I gotta get back. I’m sure table twenty-five needs another fucking bucket of Michelob.” Having smoked almost the entire cigarette, you dropped it on the ground and stomped out the remaining embers.

Your coworker laughed as you opened the back door to the kitchen for her. “Let me know if you need anything,” she told you. 

Nodding, you smiled in thanks for her kindness.

***

Truthfully, you were drowning. Bills just kept piling up, two more job applications had fallen through, and the restaurant had been slowing down on the weekdays steadily since summer ended. Tips were shitty, and your situation had gotten so bad, you’d need to start working a second job and taking the bus to work. If you couldn’t find a second job or a job your degree suited soon, you were screwed.

After yet another fight with your parents over how much of a screw-up you were in comparison to your brother and sister, you were done. You needed something to numb the world out. None of your friends were able to go out, seeing as it was a weeknight, and they all had “real” jobs. 

And so, you sat on your couch and drank alone. You didn’t want to run up your power bill any more than it would already be this month, so you sat in silence with candles lit as you drank. Your logical mind knew this was a horrible idea— combining emotional exhaustion, fire hazards, and alcohol— but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

***

Your next late-night escapade with drinking came when you discovered you could numb out the feeling of being hungry with alcohol. The fridge and pantry were virtually empty, and you hadn’t had enough time or spare change to go to the grocery store after barely scraping by on rent and your bills the week prior. 

Drinking also helped you to sleep through breakfast, so the only time you really needed to eat was lunch before going to work. You’d stopped responding to your friends’ texts, and your routine didn’t consist of anything aside from working, drinking, and applying to jobs. 

The weeks droned by, and despite the chaos in your life, your thoughts were still of Dean. Why did he have so much power over you? You didn’t even really know him, and here you were, a complete fucking mess because he left without a word. You knew you couldn’t have been in love with him; maybe infatuation was a better way to describe your feelings for him. 

Finally, your friend, Melanie, came over to drag you out of your misery. She did your hair and makeup, forced you to eat something, and brought you out on a Saturday night with your friend group. Her kindness was very much appreciated, and you thanked her profusely for it. 

Your night out with your friends relit a bit of a fire in you. What kept you on even more of a high note was the interview you had a few days later at a bar. It had gone incredibly well, and the manager told you to expect a call very soon. Hope filled your chest at the thought of being able to have more than just a few cents left in your pocket after the monthly billing period. 

***

You’d done it. You got the job! Your friends took you out once again as a celebration, and you felt like you were finally getting back to your old self. However, that was when your friends noticed something was wrong. You’d never been the friend to get blackout drunk; you were always holding your friends’ hair back while they threw up in the bathroom. And yet, you were as sloppily drunk as ever. 

The next thing to catch their attention was you stumbling over to them with a seemingly arrogant prick’s arm around you. 

“Guys,” you swallowed, “guys! This is…” you trailed off, not exactly sure what his name was. “Sorry, handsome, what’s your name?”

That was when another of your friends, Syriah, pulled you aside and away from the man. “(Y/N), what is wrong with you?” she asked. 

Your eyes were immediately dewey. “What? What’d I do wrong?”

“Babe, you’re all over the place. What’s happening to you?” she asked compassionately, steadying you with her hands on your shoulders. 

Tears slipped down your cheeks. “I don’t know,” you said earnestly, collapsing onto her shoulder when she pulled you into a tight hug. “I don’t like how this feels, Riah.”

She petted your hair and just held you against her. “Look, I’ll get you a cab. We just need to get you home safe, okay?”

You nodded into her shoulder, still hiccuping. 

Once you got back to your apartment, you flopped down across the couch. Against your better judgment, you called Dean. Of course, he didn’t answer, so you left a voicemail. “Hey! Hi, Dee.” Your voice sounded funny because your cheek was pressed against your couch, and you laughed at yourself. “Sorry for calling, I, um—” you swallowed harshly, “I just miss you. A lot. And I don’t know why. ‘Cause I kinda hate you for leaving me, y’know? Like, what the— what the fuck is wrong with you? I’m a catch, okay.” You paused, hiccuping. “And another thing, it’s rude to leave without saying anything. I thought we were better friends than just fuck buddies. Why wouldn’t you— why wouldn’t you say something? Anything?” Sniffles and tears escaped you. “You suck, okay? But also, I miss your dick. Bring it back, okay? But fuck you.” And then, you hung up. 

***

Thankfully, you woke up just in time the next day to get to your new job for training. You looked like a complete trainwreck, but you did your best to smooth out your hair and conceal the bags under your eyes on the bus ride there. 

You went about working absentmindedly and did your best to smile and joke around with your trainer. After an exhausting day with little time to recount the events of the night before, you went back to your apartment to catch up on sleep. However, your nighttime routine was interrupted by frantic knocks on your door. 

“Alright, alright I’m—” You cut yourself off, mouth going slack when you found Dean standing in front of your apartment. 

“Dean?” you breathed out. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smirked awkwardly. 

You suddenly snapped yourself out of your surprise and became incredibly angry. “You have a lot of fucking nerve showing up here, do you know that? What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. Can we— Can we just talk, please?”

“Why should I even give you the time of day?!” you snarked incredulously. 

“ ‘Cause you told me you miss me. And my dick,” he tried to charm you. 

You scoffed. “What?! No, I didn’t.”

He clicked his tongue. “Yeah, you did. In your voicemail last night.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you remembered flashes of leaving that horrifically embarrassing voicemail. “Oh, fuck.” You dropped your face toward the floor, pinching your temples and thinking. “You’ve got five minutes,” you finally told Dean, letting him into your apartment. 

“Look,” Dean began while you closed the door behind him, “I didn’t wanna leave.”

You scoffed again. 

“I know. But I had to,” he explained. 

“Why?” you asked. “If you had to leave, fine, but why couldn’t you at least call me back?”

“Because this isn’t good! For either of us,” he responded, voice rising slightly. 

“Why?!” you pressed. “And what gives you the right to make that decision for me?!”

“Because I can’t give you what you want!” Dean argued. “I can’t stay for longer than a few weeks at a time. I can’t. And I can’t tell you why. And I’m making that decision because I know you won’t make that decision for yourself.” 

“You don’t know me, Dean! We hooked up, for like, two fucking weeks!” you laughed incredulously. “I am perfectly capable of making decisions for myself, thank you!”

“I do know you. God, we are so much alike, and that’s just another reason why we don’t fucking work,” he responded. Then, Dean’s voice quieted considerably. “And, sweetheart, it’s not that I don’t want you. ‘Cause I do.”

“But we can’t see each other. ‘Cause you’ll just leave again,” you nodded, hugging yourself protectively. 

Dean nodded, his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry I left like I did.”

“I’m sorry I called you,” you told him. 

He shook his head, eyes still fixed to the floor. “Don’t be.” Tears began to cloud your vision, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “What are you still doing here, Dean?”

He didn’t respond for a moment. When he finally spoke, your breath caught in your throat. “I don’t wanna leave you.”

The next thing you knew, his lips were on yours. Through the rest of the night, the two of you apologized and made up and apologized again with deep kisses, your bodies connecting, and words murmured through shuddering breaths. 

***

To your surprise, Dean was still in your bed the next morning with his arms wrapped around you. As much as you were angry at him for a little over two months, the night you shared and words you exchanged had you forgiving him easily. 

He hummed, alerting you that he was awake, before promptly pulling you closer to him and burying his face in your neck. You giggled as Dean’s breath tickled your neck, and he peppered kisses against your skin.

“Mornin’,” his deep voice rumbled against you. 

“Mm, morning,” you replied, a smile stretching across your face. You bit your lip, and you tugged at Dean’s hair while he sucked a dark mark onto your collar bone. “I better be able to cover that up with my work uniform, or I swear to god, asshole—”

“It’ll be fine,” Dean replied, kissing your collarbone. “You got work today?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “New job.”

“Oh, wow! Good for you,” he told you, picking his face up from your neck. 

“Eh, just another gig to make ends meet. Bar this time, though.”

“And the other one you work at’s a—”

“Restaurant—”

“—restaurant, right.” 

You smiled at the fact that he remembered. “I’m working, like, fifty hours a week, now. But I gotta keep my lights on, y’know?”

“Jesus, that’s a lot,” Dean grimaced.

“What about you? You never told me what you do for work,” you told him. 

“I don’t,” he replied quickly.

“Oh, god. Just what every girl wants to hear,” you joked. 

Dean chuckled. “My dad’s settin’ me up to take over the family business since Sammy’s off to be a lawyer, or whatever.”

“Family business?” you prompted, hoping he’d explain a little bit more. 

“Yeah,” he responded. You could tell he was dodging your question, but you wouldn’t make him talk if he didn’t want to. “For now, I’m just road-trippin’. Makin’ the most of my youth.”

“Well, I don’t know that hangin’ out with a girl like me is ‘making the most of your youth’,” you joked. 

“What?” he replied. “You’re awesome, what are you talking about?”

You shrugged, getting out of your bed. Dean’s eyes followed you as you moved around your room trying to get yourself ready for the work day ahead. “I mean, I ain’t got much. Two bucks to my name, a useless ass college degree, fifty-thousand dollars in debt, and two siblings with a long list of accolades that make me look like literal sewer trash in comparison.”

Dean nodded. “In case you haven’t noticed, sweetheart, I’m pretty much in the same boat.”

You turned to him while you brushed your hair, struck by his words. “Yeah,” you nodded. “I guess you are.” A smile began to tug at your lips. “Makes me feel a little better knowing I’m not the only disappointment to their bloodline out there.”

Dean laughed. “Amen to that.” He then noticed the bottle of beer you’d pulled from the fridge across the small studio apartment from his position on the bed. “Whoa. Little early for that, isn’t it?”

You shrugged, “It’s five o’clock somewhere, I guess,” and took a large swig. 

***

That day at work had been okay, and you were exhausted when you got back to your apartment. Dean was coming over, but you told him ahead of time that there would be no sex happening since you needed to get up early the next day. He’d given a petulant yet funny response but seemed eager to get over to you. 

And that was how your routine continued for a few days.  He would come over after you got off work, you’d have sex, rinse, and repeat. Then, after a particularly rough day, Dean found you indulging in the binge drinking habit you’d adopted. 

He burst through the door to your apartment concerned only to find you watching the television with a beer in your hand. “Holy shit, (Y/N), why the fuck didn’t you answer?” Dean then seemed to notice the several empty bottles on your coffee table. 

“I just didn’t wanna talk tonight, Dean, take the fucking hint,” you grumbled before finishing off the bottle in your hands. 

“Okay, you’re cut off,” he told you, trying to help you up from the couch. 

You jerked your arm away from him. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

Dean seemed angry, but his expression melted into something else. “How long has this been goin’ on?”

You scoffed. “Why do you care?” The words came out slurred. “You’re not my boyfriend or anything.”

“Dammit, (Y/N), that shouldn’t matter,” Dean insisted. “You know this isn’t good for you, right?”

A laugh escaped you. “You said the same thing about you, and you’re still here, aren’t you?”

That caught Dean off-guard, and he was silent, for once. 

“Just go away, Dean,” you said quietly. 

And he did. 

***

The next day, you were horrified by your actions. You called Dean once; no answer. The second time you called, there was still no answer, but you left a voicemail. “Dean? Dean, I’m so sorry. I— I remember what I said to you last night. God, that was fucking horrible of me. Please come back. I’m so sorry. I’ll, uh, I’ll talk to you later, please?” You hung up, running a hand through your hair. 

You did the only thing you could think to do in the moment and pulled out another beer. Your tolerance had certainly increased since you started binge drinking, and a bottle in the morning had become the equivalent to a cup of coffee. 

Against your better judgment, you called out of work. You needed the money from both shifts you were scheduled for today, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go in. 

Finally, Dean called back. 

“Dean!” you squeaked as soon as you answered the phone. “God, I’m so sorry—”

“I know you are,” he told you. The silence between you was thick; neither of you completely sure what to say. “How long you been actin’ like Lebowski?”

That actually made you laugh despite the perhaps tone-deaf nature of the joke. “Meh, I’ve always liked to drink.” You considered your next words carefully. “It, uh, it started after you left.”

Silence encapsulated the two of you again. 

“I’m so sorry,” was all Dean could say to you. 

“No, no no!” you said. “It’s not your fault. I’m just a fucking mess, ‘s all.”

“Yeah, but if I would’ve picked up the fucking phone—”

“Dean,” you asserted. “It’s not your fault.”

He sighed heavily. “I’ll be over later, okay?”

“Okay.”

You took the day to try and get yourself together a bit. By the time Dean arrived, the apartment was sparkling, the empty beer bottles were picked up, and your hair and face had been washed. 

Dean smirked lopsidedly when he noticed the work you’d been doing. “Good for you, sweetheart.”

***

That night, it was taking both you and Dean much longer than usual to fall asleep. 

“What’s on your mind?” you asked him quietly. 

“I’m not a good person, (Y/N),” he said, voice barely above a whisper. 

“What?” you asked, putting your hand on the side of his face. However, he wouldn’t turn it up to look at you. “How could you say that?”

“I shouldn’t have left you,” he said. 

“Dean, we already talked about this—”

“No,” he cut you off. “I meant last night.”

“Oh,” you replied, stomach flipping.

“I shouldn’t have left you like that,” Dean reiterated. “I just— I got so angry. ‘Cause you’re right. I’m not good for you. And it’s selfish of me to keep you on the hook like this.”

You felt your heart cracking in your chest. “Dean, I have no idea what we are or what we’ve been doing, but…”

“I know,” he said. “I care about you a lot, too.”

“But we’re not good for each other,” you admitted quietly. “I can’t— I can’t be what you deserve.” You swallowed harshly, tears brimming your eyes. “I’ve got too much shit going on. I can’t—”

Dean cut you off again. “I know,” he said, seeming like he was crying, too. “And I’m gonna have to keep leaving. And I don’t wanna leave. I don’t— I don’t know how to be alone.” Dean’s admission broke your heart, and you grabbed his hand. “I can’t give you a relationship. There’s just— There’s no room in my life for that.”

Your lip was trembling, but you tried your best to force your next words out. “It’s okay,” you said, even though it definitely didn’t feel okay. 

“I don’t wanna just keep having sex while you’re in the state you’re in,” Dean continued. “That’s not fair to you.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

He snorted, caught off-guard. “What?”

“Thank you. ‘Cause I wouldn’t have been able to tell you to go,” you said. “You were right.”

“I know you, (Y/N). I see too much of myself in you,” he admitted. “And I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.” 

A long moment passed between the two of you, the only noise coming from the window unit in your apartment.

“I’ll be gone when you wake up,” Dean told you, holding you against him. 

As much as your heart was breaking, you stayed resting against Dean’s chest, the rising and falling of it soothing you to sleep. 

When the sunlight streamed through the curtains and hit your eyes, you realized Dean followed through with his promise.

***

Four years went by. The first one had dragged as you healed yourself from your addiction and the loss of Dean. Admittedly, you’d tried several times to get in contact with him, but the number had been disconnected. The next year, you began to feel happy again. You’d gotten a steady job, had tons of alcohol-free fun with your friends, and generally had a more positive outlook on life. 

That third year, though, your life would change forever. The world of monsters, spirits, and demons was unveiled to you when your sister was found dead. The police arrested her husband since your mother had told them the couple had been having problems in the months leading up to her death, but you knew your brother-in-law wouldn’t do that. Everyone insisted you were just in denial, but your gut told you there was something else going on. 

The way she died raised red flags for you, too. It almost looked like she’d been mauled by an animal, and some of her organs were missing. Her husband was a relatively stable person; no way was he capable of something like that. And if he was, where were her organs? Why would he have left her on the living room floor in a pool of her own blood? Why did he call the cops himself? Nothing was adding up in your mind. 

As any person desperate for answers would, you turned to a psychic. She introduced you to the idea that your sister had died being attacked by a werewolf. At first, you laughed, insisting she was crazy. When all the evidence was presented to you, though, it was the only explanation that made sense. 

From that moment forward, you trained and researched relentlessly to try your hand at hunting. You knew that going it alone would be dangerous, but there wasn’t exactly anyone else in your life you could talk to about what you knew. 

The day after you met with the medium, you abandoned your apartment, cell phone, laptop, and car, and hit the road. 

A year into your new life of motel rooms and gas station dinners between ghost hunts, your job brought you to Wisconsin where a college athlete drowned in a lake outside her home. You’d already interviewed the girl’s father and brother as well as the local police chief that morning. Around one o’clock, you were starving and headed out of your room to get some lunch. 

When you rounded the corner of the building to head to your car parked in the front lot, you slammed into a wall of solid muscle. The man grunted, as did you. 

“Oh my god, I’m so—” you cut yourself off when you realized who you were looking at. 

“(Y/N)?” he breathed out. 

“Hi, Dean.”

Forever taglist is open! :)

[covetyou]

performance enhancement

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo & gn!reader rating: Teen (18+ only blog!) warnings: anxiety/stress, Dieter Bravo being a stubborn asshole, cute baby animals, vaguely fluffy word count: 1k summary: I couldn't stop thinking about that baby pygmy hippo and what Dieter would do if he saw it, so this fic was born. you're welcome.

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"I can't work in these fuckin' conditions!"

You hear him before you see him, sat scrolling through your phone as you wait the few hours still left until you have to pick him up. You'd got here early - as you usually did - even though Dieter was frustratingly late more often than not.

The door to the trailer is wrenched open a moment later, and you're raising your eyebrows in disapproval at the grumpy actor as he flings himself inside the trailer, slamming the door behind him.

"I can't do it," he huffs, turning anxiously in a circle, hands on his hips, running through his hair, balling into fists. "I can't fuckin' do it."

"Do what, Dee?" you say from your position curled up on the small bench seat in the trailer.

"This!" he yells, turning to face you gesturing in the vague direction of his face.

You make a face at him, still clueless as to what he's talking about. In a long line of things Dieter Bravo could be frustrated with "this" didn't really help to narrow it down.

"They want me to," he begins, fannining his eyes. "They want me to leak, and I can't."

"Cry?," you laugh. "Dee, it's in the script, of course they want you to. Have you tried the tear -"

The actor rounds on you, shaking his finger in your direction before you can even reach for your bag to see what you have to hand to help.

"No! I do not need performance aides."

"Dieter, it's just to help yo-"

"No!"

Dieter yanks off the thick knit sweater that makes part of his costume and dumps it uncermoniously onto a chair, shaking his arm in frustration as the sleeve just won't give up its hold on his wrist, growling at the garment when he's finally free. He rounds on you again when he's a little more bare, a little less claustrophobic, and flops down next to you.

"I'm not doing it," he says simply, as he tucks himself in beside you on the bench, and that's that, discussion over. You know better than to argue when he's like this so, with a roll of your eyes, you flip your phone back over and continue your aimless scrolling as Dieter's head finds its place on your shoulder.

He fidgets for a little while, the bench not really big enough for the two of you to curl up, until he's slumped down and half turned toward you, legs splayed out in front of him where yours are tucked beneath you.

"Can I watch?" he murmurs sadly a moment later, his face pressed into your arm and eyes screwed tight.

"Dieter, that's up to you. They're your rules, not mine."

Dieter didn't have a phone of his own. Not right now, anyway. That was locked away back at his house, awaiting the day it could be reunited with its owner. For now, all he had was an old send-texts-and-make-calls-only brick of a phone for emergencies, that he mostly used to bug you at all hours of the day. It was a rare day you weren't greeted with a "u up x" text in the morning, or a garbled jumble of letters as he forgot how to text with a number pad.

"I wanna watch," he mumbles into your arm, face pressed so tightly to you now you can feel his lips move against your skin.

"Then go ahead."

You watch then as he slowly opens one eye, peeking out shyly before opening the other and staring wide-eyed at your phone screen. You're only scrolling mindlessly, not really paying much attention to whatever the algorithm is throwing your way. Some stupid ads, spoilers for a show you're not even watching, the red carpet looks of a movie premiere Dieter was invited to, but couldn't make it, and endless shitty takes from random internet strangers. Just a normal day for the internet, but amazing for the man next to you who had kept himself away from the world of unsolicited advice and badly shot paparazzi pictures for weeks.

"Wait," he says suddenly, sitting up and scooting closer to you. "Go back, what was that?"

You scroll a little slower as you move back through the endless monotony on your phone, until Dieter goes stiff by your side and grips your arm.

"That," he says. "What's that? Is it fake?"

Something in you swells, oddly proud at the man for knowing to question something he'd never seen before rather than taking it at face value. More than once he'd come to you gushing over an image only for you to take one look, see the 8 fingers, and have to break the disappointing news to your employer.

"She's real," you say, opening the video for Dieter to take a look. "She's been everywhere the last few days."

"She's beautiful," he murmurs, transfixed on your phone screen. "Look at her. Get that girl an Oscar. Is there more?"

"Yeah, Dee, there's more."

"Can I see?"

You move to hand him your phone, but he refuses to take it, instead choosing to snuggle into your side as you search for the baby hippo that had taken his attention. A few minutes in you almost expect him to be sleeping by your side, but a small sniffle and the swipe of his hand tells you otherwise. Crying over baby animals wasn't new for Dieter, and each time he did it, you found it unbearably sweet. Eventually, he shifts by your side and squares off his shoulders, before standing, grabbing up his ugly sweater, and pulls open his trailer door with a determination to rival his earlier resignation.

"I think I can go back now."

You don't look up at him, transfixed on the tiny hippo staring back at you from your hands. A 180 flip like this wasn't unusual for Dieter. It probably wasn't even his first for today. Either way, you'd still be here when he got back from filming the last scenes of the day, ready to cart him back to the apartment he insisted you stay with him in.

"Do you need the tear stick? Drops? I've got some in-"

"No," he says with certainty. "No, I've got this. Just... just gonna think of that fuckin' hippo."

[oishitea]

Okay here I come with thoughts that I'm not sure many people will be on board with, but I'm gonna share anyway because who cares! Wandee Goodday is doing a fantastic job selling characters who are ridiulous, and many of them are charming. I'm gonna talk about the guy who isn't. Charming that is.

I Think Ter Is In The Closet

And I'm only using bits from episode 4 to demonstrate this. Sorry if you need more to be convinced.

Ter is a strange character because we meet him through Wandee, when he's still up on a pedestal. That image almost immediately gets crumpled and tossed into oncoming traffic to be flattened in a rubbery, Bangkok traffic death. Dee confesses his feelings and Ter insists he's straight. He's straight. He's straight! He likes women, not men. Sorry. To make matters worse, he pulls the asshole move of just asking Dee to leave the scholarship to him.

These men have known each other for eight years. Eight fucking years and this is where things are going? If we know how much of a disaster Dee is, then it really makes me wonder what disaster side of himself Ter has (aside from what we know).

(thinking them gaaayyy thoughts) (also this weirdo doesn't listen to music while working out? no wonder he's the devil)

Ter is recalling the moment when Yak came into the hospital with flowers for Dee, called him tee-rak, and the two of them are looking at each other like. Like That.

Super normal for a hetero dude to focus on that part of his long-term colleague's life. And if he were a huge homophobe, I could understand it being a possible upset, but then he wouldn't be so close to Dee if that were the case. This is Golf Tanwarin we're being led by here.

Our Devil Doctor is pulled out of his train of thought by the appearance of a shirtless Plakao

Guys, I won't lie to you, I yelled NO aloud because for a second I thought he was going to have his come to Jesus with our favorite asexual king, and as an asexual who worships Plakao and how amazing he is, I just wasn't gonna have it!

And the first thing Ter notices? Kao is alone - specifically, he isn't accompanied as usual by his bestie Wandee. So Ter immediately interrupts his workout to question him. Kao responds that Dee's with his boyfriend now, which prompts more questioning about their relationship from Ter.

Yeah, Ter. What's it matter to you?

You turned Wandee away because you're straight. So, obviously that's a no, right? Right?

Not addressing that then. Okay. We'll just hit the skip button for that dialogue option, I guess.

As a tenured colleague and friend, that would be the natural reaction to this. Kao is a wise, wise man, and like many an asexual, he has done the work of figuring himself out while living in an allonormative world (while also recognizing he likes men! I cannot stress enough how beautifully nuanced his okay). From what he understands (and is stating for Ter to ponder), is that this would make sense for someone who doesn't harbor any other kinds of feelings toward Dee and until recently, has been on good terms with him.

But Ter doesn't get to ponder because he gets called away and immediately forced to face Dee happily walking hand in hand with Yak. It's awkward. Dee excuses himself and Yak. And then Ter's eyes foooolloooww.....

And later he gets back to his room with the number of the beast and fondly recalls when Dee used to leave snacks on his door....

(crowd goes awww)

But this guy can't help but notice while he's doing an evening workout -

Hey! There are Dee and Yak again! Being all cute in the pool! It's too coincidental! (He had not considered that his colleague works at the same place and has a similar schedule, therefore all this appropriately timed boyfriendism could only happen within that schedule)

So he has to conclude that it isn't real.

Little does Ter know that it was originally intended for YakDee to be fake boyfriends; that he'd stumbled upon the truth immediately. What he wasn't expecting was for Dee to double down not only to not be caught plotting like that, but because he's way further into his feelings for Yak than he is fully aware of.

I cannot stress how interesting it is so see this man be so obsessed over their relationship. Anyone who would call themselves a close friend or colleague would simply be happy for Dee, maybe warn him about some people who are less accepting if that were an issue, and then continue focusing on whatever it is he's doing for the scholarship. And maybe he does focus on the scholarship - we aren't shown his side of it because it's not important - but if that's true and his secondary focus is theorizing that Dee's relationship is fake? TER? WORSTIE?????

And then this happens!

Now I've seen a lot of people taking this as manipulation and I'm not going to call them wrong. It is exactly that. But I think he's also seeing if maybe he missed a chance? It wasn't that long ago that Dee was reminiscing about the past eight years together and Ter had decided the scholarship was more important than pursuing whatever thing they had between each other. Ter is realizing he doesn't want to throw either of them away, but still has his heart with the money. So he improvises a lame little plea, it's badly executed, and we get sad eyes watching Dee leave.

I would've expected him to curse under his breath, or have some sort of small scale tantrum after that interaction if he was fully planning to manipulate Dee like that. His melancholy here is what has me thinking that it wasn't well thought out, and there's a part of him who cares about his relationship with Dee and wishes it could carry on as it used to.

Ter continues to obsess. We know he'd immediately seen the story Dee posted, and it seems he's returning to it again (knowing social media habits, he's likely checked it several times in between).

CAUGHT.

Kwan, in contrast to Ter, is also Dee's colleague. She finds him and his boxer boyfriend just charming!

This line kills the entire conversation. There's very obvious tension about this subject.

To me this is where Ter has kinda said the quiet part out loud. He's more concerned about his own image. To whom? His family? His patients? Future opportunities? To himself? Not that there's nothing for Dee to be worried about (this is in Thailand where gay marriage is not legal yet, after all), but he has had a good reception of being publicly queer so far. Is that due to his queerness being more pronounced? Has Ter ridden for most of his life on being able to pass as straight because he was afraid of the consequences?

I'm gonna take a hard left for a moment, and then redirect.

There's a scene in the film To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar where a sheriff (who has had an altercation with a drag queen and is looking for her for severely homophobic reasons) sits in a saloon and essentially narrates gay erotica aloud like he's trying to process the concept of homosexuality. He's disturbed about the idea. The people around him are also disturbed by his imaginings. It almost gives the sense that his thoughts come from desire, but he's been taught too much hate about that desire to recognize it.

And this is the moment where I just felt sorry for Ter. It seems like he maybe has some deep-seated denial, and it's being overturned by everything Dee is doing. It doesn't excuse him, but shit's gotta suck. And it's clear his disturbance with the idea of Dee having gotten over any feelings for him will be hard to reckon with on top of deciding how he feels about Dee himself. P'Golf does their antagonistic and confused gays well.

[lass-us-slay]

Now imagine bee, now free of sub level 50, always feeling cold, freezing even. Nothing he ever does warms him up. Others grow concerned as he shivers in warm temperatures and becomes no longer functional in cold temps, simply because he's not used to it :((

Omg yes.

Like during their travels to find the matrix of leadership, B is shivering somewhat but it’s manageable because the suns out and is somewhat heating him up. Which is why he chooses to stay in the suns light while the rest decides to be in the shadows.

They’ve had enough of the heat from the mines ✋💀

But I would guess Elite, Orion and Dee dismiss the little clatters of B’s armor, writing it off as him being excited.

That is until they stop and rest, and with the sun gone, the cold settling in. B-127’s armor starts shivering more, which leads to B moving slightly further away from the group to not bother them.

And the next morning they ask, he shrugs saying idk, then they get to the cave with the primes.

Oh boy is B shivering.

The three other exchange glances cause that’s not normal. Yea it’s a little chilly but not freezing!

And then they get their cogs.

B can heat himself up from the inside now cause- transformation cogs allows that! :D

But it’s not enough.

His insides feel a little better with the internal heating, but that sh-t isn’t enough even on the highest setting.

I mean could anything beat the on holly levels of heat from that darn furnace room???

Unless he’s in a volcano? No.

But the internal heating makes B even more cold on the outside because he misses that warmth, that heat that was constantly melting his outsides AND insides from a how close to it he was.

And the first few hours of having the cogs is pure torture for B because now that he’s got some warmth, he needs more but can’t get it.

It was more bearable when he didn’t have any heating except the sun on his frame.

So he distracts himself from it by yapping a lot, more then usual about anything and everything, from the things he learned from the data pads to questions about the surface and Iacon.

And it works yk- even tho the high guard get a little worried when this yapping unconscious bot’s platting is shivering. But they don’t care they just want him to shut up-

But when Sentinel captures them?

Oh boy does that shivering sound so loud in the room.

Like at first Sentinel thinks it’s cause he’s scared, but then Arachnid reminds him it’s that guy that was sent to sub level 50

And Sentinel has this revelation and laughs

Cause he knew that room was a furnace, he just didn’t except the bot to get sent down to a literal smelter to still be alive.

And he’s impressed! But that doesn’t matter-

Anyways what I’m trying to say is, by the end Optimus goes to put a hand on B’s shoulder, and when he lifts it he has a full blown panic attack cause-

DID HE JUST DENT HIS SON FRIEND’S PLATTING?????!??? OH MY PRIMUS IF ITS THIS EASY TO HURT HIS SON FRIEND THEN CAN HE EVEN HUG OR SHOW PHYSICAL EFFECTION????? WHAT HAPPENS IF HE ACCIDENTALLY BUMPS INTO HIM?? WILL HE KILL HIS SON FRIEND??

IF HE CANT HAVE CUDDLES AND HAND HOKDING HE DONT WANT THE MATRIX

FRAG ITS PURPOSE AND IMPORTANCE HE WANTS TO SHOW PHYSICAL AFFECTION TO HIS LOVED ONES

IF HE NEEDS TO RIP THIS MATRIX PUT HIS CHASSIS TO BE ABLE TO HUG HIS SON AND FRIENDS THEN SO BE IT

[kissyourtvonthemouth]

You had sex with Charlie? You had sex with Dee? Come on man it was one time and I didn't want to do it. Okay it was a mistake. And she's a dumb gross bird there's no way.

Okay you know what go to the beginning okay the first smell the first smell the that began all this! The first smell was cigarettes ive been smoking with Dee! That doesn't mean they're in love with each other. Nobody ever wins those tickets right?  But as long as you don't scratch it-  I am not having sex with you Charlie -then your not a loser! In fact , you know you're a winner. Potentially. Come with me and pretend you're my girlfriend, make her jealous. no no I won't do that. Its gonna work! No its not. You have to take me to lunch. You wanna get lunch? No I don't. Sure. Today. Okay. great. Charlie has such great hair he's gonna lose all of his hair? Sure she likes him he's a charming guy well you are creepy. I realize this that's why I need you. No I don't want to go. What? come on you're my actor. Come on Charlie please I need you. Dee I need you down in the basement, I need your reach .Yeah real quick come on alright fine go we don't even need you we were probably gonna throw you from the top anyway so you WERE lying YEAH I lied to you alright normally I don't call call dee a bitch that's usually Dennis' thing- she's a goddammit bitch! Hehe, yeah. that goddammit bitch.so yeah that happened that was in an episode a season or two before it and I mean people have sex that doesn't mean here on an on again off again thing.

Did you glue your hand to the door yeah I did. why? Guys get it off me! Get it off I'm stuck- I'm stuck to your glue! Come on they're just gonna go back to treating you like shit the minute I leave.  And when you love someone you can't bare to leave them behind! Not ever! It doesn't like what I'm wearing. It thinks I need more makeup. Charlie can you please unglue me? No dee you did this to yourself. Deandre are you holding onto the trap? Oh... I will glue a pillow to the wall though I don't want to be a bad host. What's the one thing Charlie never gets ? Laid. you know Charlies a one woman character. The breast make you care about the weather in a really good way. She also taught me a lot about sex. sweet sex. amazing sex. a lot of sex. jacuzzi sex Dennis! Well did you have sex with her? ...Yeah. So we should have sex then? We all sleep naked, come on we don't bite. those girls are wild man. Just find a girl for Charlie right? Someone to be there for him spend time with him. nurture him bang him bang him have sex with him right! Okay great dee do you have any friends that are desperate enough? cool this is my um- Friend. Good friend. What is that!? That's you, you're my jester. Fine, sing a song.

Woah! You know I hate to admit it but this look is kind of working for you. you're going to fail and bomb and gag and fail and bomb. Charlie, you're the one that banged her. I don't want his to be taken the wrong way cause you know , I slept with Dee that one time. But- That's why you were feeling so much remorse and regret and you hade the tears coming out of your eyes i mean who wouldn't? Oh shit dude. .oh shit. -I'm like sick of looking at her. I kind of feel compelled to call you a bird and throw my glass of water in your face, Right. but- Yeah of course you look like a bird. Yeah. You always look like a bird. yeah I was gonna say you look like a- Like a bird lady? This is what men do! This is men stuff dee! yeah! men stuff! yeah! bros before hoes. right Bros before hoes he's right. You son of a bitch Charlie you screwed me okay? what are you talking about? you know what screw you Charlie! but uh you know I'm realizing I only do that stuff cause I don't want the guys to do it to me first you know what I mean?

Dee, I go to a movie or a spaghetti place with you you know and out there and I'm the rat. what if I guarantee you that uh nobody out there is going to put you into a bag and bash you against a telephone pole would that comfort you at all? great. okay well forget the guys then I mean they're not here so um. what do you want to do? right now? yeah. I'm scared. no I know but look without Mac and Dennis constantly coming down on us your not gonna bomb, you're gonna do great. Its like I'm thriving! You're thriving! Yeah I did feel that! I did, I felt that and I never get to thrive I wanna be the who thrives for once. right? me neither! Alright I tell you what make me your king and lets get rocking. yes, he's slept with multiple other women in the history of the show but there's only one that he's obsessed with.

SHUT UP BIRD! SHUT UP YOU CANT READ! Haha! Ha ahaha hah! Okay this is good. Haha! This is good. This is good.

[quietbluejay]

Dark Imperium #5

dee dee dee i should warn, this one's a bit darker than usual though I think reading it like this is probably less visceral than reading the book by itself

back to Iax

active!Varens shoots the guard Varens wakes up and he's disoriented because he's in the marsh bluejay, once again reading too much into this: what did haley mean by juxtaposing the previous scene and this one?

Varens thinks welp this is very bad, need to get back to the hospital his wound is burning

he walks for ages and then eventually finds Bolus

Varens is uncannily reminded of how the dead acted

i put this section in mainly because it's the first time we've seen a woman as a soldier in this book I'd honestly thought this was an all-male hospital sixth person shows up and immediately has a seizure. varens is getting super freaked out uh oh

oh and now the guy he talked to the other day is here but he's got no clue what's going on, and he sounds normal yeah this is a super creepy scene and it manages the horror of this quite well guy from the other day has leeches on his eyes and- you know what i don't really want to dwell on the rest of this Bolus kills himself via slicing open his stomach with a stolen laser scalpel meanwhile varens' back is burningly painful

and this is what summons…something there's a tear in reality and, you probably know what's coming

the woman from before is necrotizing before his eyes and varens can feel the things moving under his skin and you know what i'm just. going to move along

anyways uh i think this is one of the few times these books have hit my horror threshold

(i had to take a short break)

we're over to Captain Felix's POV he's the primarch's equerry, and iirc he's a primaris Felix is a worrier because he became an Ultramarine in an…unorthodox manner and it was all because of politics blah blah primaris blah blah Cawl didn't give the primaris political skills lol so guilliman is trying to get them into positions where they can learn some so he's got 3 primaris-related reasons but one last one that bugs him the most

and that's what he figures guilliman wants from him and this worries him because he figures it implies that guilliman is lonely and guilliman isn't allowed to be lonely because he can't be a person, essentially

squints "the lonely demigod" is that half a doctor who reference thrown in? felix hasn't been back home since he got defrosted since laphis is now a shrine world

going to ponder this one:

and if it's thematic or not so felix is going to hang out with - i think it's saying these primaris guys are his old buddies justinian and those guys there's some background on why they're a mixed-legion group basically, gotta learn how to work together

there's some fun notes about how they're not supposed to be doing weapons maintenance and all the stuff they're doing in the room they're in, but there isn't really another good spot for it since the armorium got taken over by the iron hands dude mad science stuff we get an entire page going on about the primaris and man i love editorial mandates to shove stuff in there to sell more toys /s

at least the primaris dudes are fun Space Wolf dude is trying to hit nutrient cans with his axe and they're gonna bet on it

kalael who i assume is dark angel dude, was sharpening the teeth of his chainsword and you know the only other person i've seen do that was- okay i've seen two: best boy khornate iron warrior (you know, kroeger) and uhhh one of the world eaters

there's a nice moment as everyone comes over to hug Felix

not joking lol bjarni is a great side character, too bad i don't think he shows up again felix spends a moment thinking about the empty spaces i.e. the dead and how they made a load of mistakes when the primaris were first defrosted the reason he's here is to hand out their assignments finally, lol heh

i laughed out loud felix gets on his case about talking like that about the primarch kalael: he's not my primarch felix: grrr

bjarni and kalael have some clearly friendly banter and felix is like "…why have these two not killed each other? it's a mystery"

see what i mean? [11:03 PM] felix isn't great at this stuff, huh welp RIP Bjarni he's starting a new chapter, and not going back to Fenris none of them are joining the founding chapters, rip felix goes on about how this is because of how good they are, etc justinian gives a nice speech about cherishing the time they had together and then ends with "too bad i only have nutrient paste to toast you guys with" felix has a little talk with sarkis, who is the commanding officer of the group and whose role he kinda usurped by giving out the assignments sarkis isn't mad at least they talk a bit and sarkis chides him for getting a bit too close to the sun (primarch) chapter ends on that next time we'll get to see one of my favourite characters from this series!

and the daemons are loosed up Iax! flies, nurglings, plaguebearers one thing that stuck with me for this series was that the nurglites really felt like they should be animated i can't help but see this whole thing as a grand scene set to a twisted version of Pomp and Circumstance yeah i love this bit

and the great unclean one comes out like a debutante

and he's got a jolly song for you all!

there's other greater daemons here as well, each of whom get a little blurb i just love how undignified the nurglite ships are, we've taken a step into (grimdark) opera buffa and now everyone is chanting for ku'gath!

ku'gath, as you'd guess, is the Stop Having Fun guy "no more music! no more laughter!" also i think it took until the 50% mark of the book for it to hit its stride :/ we're at 60% rn btw Ku'Gath: Come on, be serious people!

i love Ku'Gath Septicus goes on in this vein for a bit. Ku'Gath harrumphs and that's a direct quote Ku'Gath spots the hospital nearby Ku'Gath: ew "bring out the cauldron!" i wish i could quote all the bits of this but then i'd just end up putting pages so. i shan't

it continues on like this for a bit delightful (no sarcasm!) there's a bit of backstory on ku'gath and what his whole deal is

END PART TWO

[pepsiiwho]

Some Cassius/Fidelio HCs bc I think… I like them

- it’s a very classic case of “she fell first but he falls harder”

- both too protective of the other to be anything else then overbearing. Thankfully their partner isn’t normal so the insane baby hating is romantic not borderline restrictive and stifling. (“You need to wear this at all times so I can track where you are and your resting heart rate :)” “… you care about me enough to wanna know my location?” <- he is swooooning so hard)

- Cassius uses extreme and, frankly weird, methods of wooing Fidelio including, but not limited to: passive stalking, witness intimidation, copious gifts, blatant honesty, evidence tampering, and murder

- Fidelio is very clingy, yet still private, and it’s always a coin toss which side will win. If they’re being all sappy and in love together in a common space or library or lounge or something, if someone walks in who he’s comfortable with or doesn’t hate, he will continue to be clingy, while trying to seem unmoved or bored. Similar to his brother the tail gives him away everytime. She doesn’t rlly where they are or who’s watching when they’re together. She’s completely shameless.

- for such a volatile person, del doesn’t really fight often. He can’t bring himself to yell at her and Cassius isn’t the yelling type anyway. She’s more avoiding when things are bad. Del has to make her open up and share what’s bothering her.

- they spend more time apart then together and Del is always more irritable when Cass is there (“why the fuck are you botherin’ me? My lady’s waiting’ make it quick”) … in the inverse he is at his most agreeable consistently right before she’s gotten there and right after she’s left, still on the mental high of his gf loving on him (“… let’s take an early lunch… m’tired. You’re all dismissed”). Cassius’ behavior to strangers goes unchanged. Still as scary as usual

- by nature of living around squalor and people just trying to survive, Del has a passively low opinion of women. This initially turns him off from Cass, assuming she’s purposefully manipulating the men (Fidelio) around her with her (gorgeous, tantalizing, perfect ?) body and looks. He comes to learn, eventually, she’s wholly unable to use her body for her devices as she finds it repulsive in such a defined way she doesn’t know it’s affect on the ppl around her. At first this realization is baffling but by the time they’re committed to each other it’s genuinely making Del insane

- in an ideal good end, newly freed from their service to Louis, the two of them open a lounge/library by day and club/tavern by night in Grand Trad (or wherever the brothers grew up) and serve meals from Cassius’ tribe in Altabury. Del manages the place and performs often (playing a multitude of instruments and singing ofc) and Cassius is the research help and book acquisition-er(?). They are horribly in love with each other. Bas, before ascending to the role of king consort, works in the place as well as a chef on and off between street rehabilitations and his own fledgling romance.

- Cassius calls Del “Pet”, “Dee” “Fi” “Muca”.

- Del calls Cassius “Lady”, “Heart”, “Cass” (he defaults to more possessive monikers as pet names. Me/my girlfriend, me/my woman, me/my heart)

- Cassius loves all Fidelio’s scars and thinks he’s so handsome and strong. They’re proof he survived and he’s stronger for them. Del hates her scars, angry at a world who’d subject her to such nightmares. That said, he thinks she’s a perfect piece scars and all

- both of them horribly bitey and possessive. Bad combo. Hickies for days

- Del needs words of affirmation but speaks in acts of service. Cassius needs acts of service but speaks words of affirmation and gifts. They hear each other well

- would have either 1 child or 10, no inbetween. They’re like rabbits.

Group opinions:

Zorba: doesn’t understand the appeal of Fidelio at all, but thought their wedding was very pretty. Thinks they’re both pitiful for ignoring their duties to Louis to find time to fall for each other

Glodell: he thinks Cassius, while scary and intimidating, is too good for Fidelio on account of how distinctly not mean she is to Glodell. She’s also quite good with hector. He’s happy for her, vaguely. He cried at their wedding.

Louis: has no real opinion, for as opinionated as he is. He doesn’t think much of Cassius at all past an appreciation for how thorough her work is. More than anything he’s glad and proud his best friend found someone to love.

Basilio: he’s so happy it’s like not even worth detailing. Just know he’s their biggest supporter by a long shot. Asks for nieces and nephews as often as possible

[the-acid-pear]

well, made a secondary Dialtown sona: regular dude edition (not getting rid of Dandy; they're still here).

so...introducing Kasper [not sure of a last name yet]!!

Kasper's main colors are pastel yellow and blue, as well as just generally being more soft-looking in general. got a yellow head with some stickers on there, and wears a generally masc-looking outfit with a pastel blue cardigan. she also has a knee brace that she usually wears ("Y'never know when physical activity's gonna happen, and I'm not taking that risk."), as well as a cane for balance (i've got a few balance problems irl, and while i don't have a cane yet i'd like to get one mostly for stability reasons, just in cases where i'm worried balance might be a problem). the knee brace is actually based off me irl kinda. basically i've got what my family calls "weak knees" (something related to like this ligament/muscle that's supposed to Not make my kneecap dislocate. and it sucking and Not doing that) and i have dislocated the same knee twice when i was younger. don't really like doing physical activity because of that, because i don't wanna risk it. so y'know!! making Kasper a lot like myself :]

Kasper's generally pretty sweet, and only acts rude when joking around with others they're close to. the one exception to this is when people are being rude to xem and its loved ones. Abel is the very MAJOR exception to this rule as well: Kas doesn't like him, and he doesn't like her. it's practically instant hostility between those two.

Kas knows just about all of the datables (except for Bigfoot, but he's not even really surprised by that one when he discovers he exists, just like "sure, i'll incorporate that into my belief system."), and has been nice to just about all of them. Oliver? she's done her best to give some money to keep the theater open (basically by "overpaying" for a movie and food/drinks and telling Ollie to keep the change), as well as the fact that they are both Very Not Cis and are into horror (something you wouldn't guess from Kas just from appearance alone). Randy? they've given the poor guy some extra money and a shoulder to cry on before. xe has, in fact, said "Can the universe give this poor man a break for one second?" Karen? it goes to talk to her relatively often, just to give her something to smile about. heck, they've even talked to Jerry before! just kinda standing around and giving him someone to talk to.

Kas works at a daycare in town every few days, and gets paid decently well for it. also gives him a lot of free time, as you can imagine.

i feel like the name of Kasper's chapter two section would be "The Friendly (Not Quite) Ghost" ('cause y'know. Kasper). the route itself i feel would go over things like That Very Specific Form of Autistic Trauma That Happens When You Haven't Been Bullied, Necessarily, But You Didn't Really Have A Great Social Life Growing Up Either And It's Affected Your Social Skills In Adulthood. also stuff like masking and (still) feeling alienated from your peers and people around you. so y'know, Fun Stuff (aka I'm Projecting). basically the entire route would just be Kas and Gingi fucking around in town and having a good day.

the World's Weirdest Polycule (Gingi, Olli, Randy, and Kas) still happens, and Randy is still the most normal person here (Kasper's also a monsterfucker).

anyway! dt!Kasper my beloved <3

- dee-in-the-box

I love that you gave him your other name there are many pros to multiple name usage smfbfngb but DT!KASPER MY BELOVED 2 🫡 literally so fun and kind putting her 2 cents (well maybe a little more) onto making Dialtown suck less. Honorable behavior . . . < 3

[ablinkntime]

Oh, she should have known… the guilt made her cheeks darken a little, look away briefly to avoid his gaze. Of course James would have heard every word, if his claws were in then the rest of his mutations had to be, too, and the man she'd known could hear a cough from a mile off. They should have been more discreet, maybe sent him to -- what, play on the beach? The other Logans had been arguing nonstop about his fate even as they'd been working to send them back to their proper timelines (the ones who had lived, anyway; what they could find of others went back in bodybags, but a few were simply vaporized when Elsie-Dee had set off her bomb) and a common thread was how far gone he already is compared to their own lives. This, she supposed, was why the Timebreakers had usually avoided pulling multiples of the same person.

Hard enough existentially realizing you weren't unique in the multiverse. She'd run into an alternate version of herself once, and she hadn't enjoyed the experience. She couldn't imagine doing it at James's age.

"I'm so sorry," she began, letting her hand fall to her side. "We shouldn't have talked about you like you couldn't hear us. This is just… a first, for us. The bugs made a real mess of things and we're not quite sure how to clean it up." Her arms folded, one hand holding the other elbow, outwardly expressing her sorrow at the situation. "I know this is a lot to take in, and you can't be expected to understand all of it. But I want you to know that no matter what, you're a good boy, James. A hero. You saved us all, and it's a crime that your reward is… this."

Her own eyes, bright and green, shone a bit with unshed tears. "I would send you home in a heartbeat if I could." God, if only one of them had psychic abilities, if somebody could just make him forget, but that wasn't how it worked around here. And they couldn't risk the timeways hunting one down just for this. "But right now, it's more dangerous if we do. I wish there was an easier way to explain it but…" She sighed, wracking her brain. "You know how sometimes you'll find a loose thread, but if you pull it, the whole piece of cloth unravels? That's… sort of how time works. Normally it works fine on its own, but if it gets snagged on something, it can unravel. And unfortunately… what the Timebreakers did, pulling you out like that, created a snag. If you go back, it'll get worse, and then…"

She sighed softly, swiping a hand over her eyes, just hoping that in some way, he understood. She finally noticed the little drips of blood on the ground, and her expression crumpled further. "I'm sorry, James," she said again. "I'd do anything to take it back. Please understand we never wanted it this way."

James Howlett didn't think he was necessarily a smart boy, but he knew that he was educated. He’d been lucky enough to have some tutors, and those tutors had taught him a good many things. Arithmetic, and sciences, and reading and writing. All sorts. And James had done his best to mind them. He had to, after all, if he wanted to be able to take over the business one day. And he did! He could! He knew he could - or, he thought he could. Even if Grandfather didn’t agree. Papa did, and that’s what mattered. 

So James minded his studies. And he liked to think he knew a good many things, even if he had so much more to learn. 

He had no idea what was happening right now. None of this had been in his lessons. 

There were bones growing out of his hands. Sharp bones. Extra bones. Bones that shouldn’t exist. Bones that hurt. 

His bones. 

Blood kept dripping from his knuckles, fresh spurts when he extended or retracted the bones.It happened whenever he tensed his arms wrong. Or- Right? He didn’t know. All he knew was that his hands hurt, and he was some kind of monster. 

There were other monsters, too. They crowded around him at first. Staring and looming. Demons, maybe. One tall and broad with massive fangs. Was he in Hell? One that was bright pink with glowing green eyes. He must be. A white, human-shaped thing with almost no features. Maybe Mother and Grandfather and Thomas were right, and this is where he belonged. A blue one with pointy ears and a pointier tail. Burning in perdition for- Whatever he had done, to deserve everything that had and was currently happening to him. A massive, hulking beast covered in snow-white hair. He must have done something - he must’ve! - and now he was… 

He was… 

… 

He didn’t know what he was. He didn’t know why this was happening. He didn’t know where he’d gotten himself lost. All he knew for sure at this moment was that he wanted to go home. 

All he hears now is the strangers saying that he can’t. 

He was hearing a lot of things lately. He’d been picking up the heartbeats of the household staff as they went about their business. He’d heard footsteps from the other end of the house, and learned how to identify who was which set and what mood they were likely to be in. If they shuffled, they were Grandfather. If they were direct, they were Papa. If they tutted around like a very fast hen, they were Mrs. Hopkins. If they stumbled, they were Thomas, and if they stayed very far away, they were Mother.

Mama. 

And now he was finding out that he was never going to hear them again. 

He hadn’t  processed it yet. His thoughts are moving slow, like they’re covered in molasses. None of it makes sense. None of it was in his lessons. Was it… Was it because he’d- He’d killed that man? (Had it been a man? Or another monster?) He didn’t remember that part. Not really. There were bits and pieces but they blurred and raced through his mind like minnows in the creek. The ones he and Dog and Rose used to try to catch in their hands when he was well enough. What would happen to them now?  His friends, not the fish. … Maybe the fish, too. Would any of them know what happened to him? Would they miss him? (Would they be better off?) 

He found himself flexing and retracting his claws, listening to the wet rip of skin and feeling the pain and strange buzzing as the wounds formed and closed again. More spatters of red across his knuckles. They matched the red that had soaked into his nightshirt. He didn’t know whose blood that was. Maybe his. Maybe that- Brother Mutant fellow’s.

Maybe it came from the older hims.

The Logans. 

James couldn’t understand why they all called themselves that. (Well, almost all of them did. Governor Howlett still used their proper name; and the one that made strange buzzing sounds went by ‘Albert’; and then there was Jane, but she was very different.) They weren’t a part of the Logan family. That was Dog’s surname. Dog and Thomas. James had tried to ask the older hims the reason behind it all, but they hadn’t answered. Some of them had tried, then others had told them not to, and it had broken out into a rather impressive argument. The same happened when he asked about the metal. Their claws were different than his (again, mostly. One or two of them had bones like him). Some of the older ones said that James has a right to know, that he’d figure it out eventually anyway, that they would've liked some warning. Others argued if he knows, it’ll throw everything out of whack. The phrase ‘We’re well past that’ got tossed around more than once. He still never got his answer. 

But they had been nice to him. They had spoken to him, and answered all of his other questions with patience, told him stories, and tried to protect him. Even the one whose flesh was dripping off its bones (another argument that he was in Hell) had been nice enough. And now the two that had been kindest to him were dead. 

Is that why he has to stay here? 

Was it his fault? 

Claws out, claws in. 

The featureless one - Morph, apparently - has been talking to him for quite some time now. James is only partially listening. He thinks they're jokes, and he really does appreciate the effort, but he's got a lot on his mind - and he doesn't understand most of them. How is he supposed to know how many surrealists it takes to screw in a lightbulb if he doesn't know what a lightbulb is? And then his ears had started burning, and Mrs. Hopkins always said that meant someone was talking about you, so he had listened to Morph less and the surrounding noise more. Morph didn't seem to notice. (And what a strange one to look at. Like one of the marble statues in the foyer, but malleable, like clay.) 

And that's when he heard two of them - he was still learning names - discussing his fate. Deciding that he's trapped here because- Because something is wrong with him. Because he’s going to do something bad. 

Because he is bad. 

He doesn’t want to be bad - he doesn’t want any of this. He wants to wake up from this awful bizarre dream and be in his bed again, even if it means being sick. The pink one comes over and James does his best to remember her name. Caroline? No. Clarity? No, but that was closer… Clarice! That was it. She came over and sent Morph off with a ruffle of his hair that had James tensing and ducking away to try and make sense of his styling. That fell out the proverbial window when he watched Morph turn into some sort of- … He wasn’t sure what that was. Some strange netted thing. James rubbed his eyes, wide as saucers, blinked… Nope. Morph was still that strange thing. And Clarice was talking. James listened more to her, and blinked, looking at her hand, then up at her face - and his eyes began to sting, though they didn’t well up yet. 

“You’re not very quiet.” He says, shrinking back. “Please, miss, I… I want to go home.” He was cold, and hungry, and tired, and his hands hurt and his head spun and he missed his bed, the bathtub, and the lounger in his father’s office. It might not have always been the easiest house to live in, but it was his, his home, and full of his family. “I promise I’ll be good, I swear it.” Maybe his mother wouldn’t miss him, and Grandfather and Thomas definitely would not, but Dog might, and then there was Rose, and Mrs. Hopkins, and Papa would be all alone and James didn’t even get to say goodbye. And what about Sorrel? She was just a puppy, not even yet a full grown dog. She wouldn’t understand where her master had gone off to. Would anyone remember to feed her?

“Please.”

[dandylovesturtles]

once again writing fanfic for an AU that's not mine

uh hi so I guess it is Crying About Future Donnie Hours except this is actually a different future Donnie than the one everyone else is crying about.

I have wanted to write something for @kathaynesart 's Replica for awhile now and I got an idea and I decided to use @tmntaucompetition as an excuse to write and post it, so I guess you could say this is propaganda I didn't expect it to be the day after my poll though so I kinda scrambled a bit aaaaa lol

Replica is one of my favorite ROTTMNT comics, it's one of the first I found after I watched the movie, and I love it so much. If you haven't read it please do! However, there is one part of the comic in particular (and especially one line in particular) that has stuck with me since I first read it, and I think about it a lot. So consider this my little homage to that part of the comic, and to the character who says it.

Also there is a short section of this that is just dialogue from the comic so obviously all credit for that dialogue goes to Kat!

And Kat I really hope you don't mind me playing around in your sandbox a bit /)_(\

Anyway I don't normally title these but I did give the gdoc for this one the title: The Needed Functions to Appreciate It

I hope you enjoy!

~~~

As an AI, experiencing the apocalypse was different.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. did not have to feel the aching gnaw of hunger, or the bite of the cold. He did not feel the sting of acid rain on skin, or the seeping of blood from injury. All the physical sensations his family and friends suffered, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. was spared them all.

That did not mean he didn’t feel.

…

“Hey Dee?”

The “Hm?” he got in response was distracted. Donnie was often distracted those days. S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. didn’t resent him for it. He knew how busy Donnie is - he cataloged and prioritized the to-do list himself, after all.

“I still have the timers Raph asked me to set for his training in the system, and all his old records. What…” He hesitated. “What should I do with them?”

“Oh.” That got Donnie to pause in his work oh so briefly. His finger tapped twice on the enter key without pressing. “You can delete all of that. Might as well free up memory space where we can.”

“Okay.” It was the right answer. Members of the resistance were allowed to set timers and save some personal files on S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s system, and protocol dictated that forty eight hours after loss of vitals, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. should clear such files.

It had been three hundred and fifty seven hours since Raph flatlined. He should have cleared these ages ago.

“Hey Dee,” he said again, more quietly this time, and Donnie actually looked away from his work and gave him his attention.

He hadn’t had a physical body since a raid over a year before; he was just an artistic representation on the monitor. Donnie promised to make him a new one, but S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. could see both the parts inventory and the to-do list and he doubted he would be able to do that. Usually it didn’t bother him, but he thought that day that it bothered him a little.

“I don’t want to,” he admitted, and Donnie’s face shifted to something more sad.

“Ah. You have developed a lot of sentimentality…” Donnie sighed, not unkindly. “Well, you can keep it. I won’t make you delete it.”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. bounced around the monitor a moment while he mulled it over. Donnie didn’t look away, though one of his battleshell arms took up the task of typing on his computer.

“Isn’t that not good, though, dude? Like… it’s useless now. It’s just taking up space.”

“Yes… sentimentality and practicality are often in direct conflict.” He leaned back in his chair, eyes roving to the ceiling. “Sometimes we just can’t let things go, even against our better judgment, because they remind us of something or… someone.”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. zoomed himself in so he filled more of the screen. “Do you get sentimental, Dee?”

Donnie’s lips quirked up in a smile. “Yes, unfortunately so. I find it vexing… though, Mikey would say, “That’s what makes you a person, Donnie, don’t fight it!” or something like that.” 

“But if it makes you hold on to useless stuff, or do things that aren’t necessary, isn’t that bad?”

“Ah, such is the nature of emotions, Shelldon - they often lead us to do things that are, for a lack of a better word, suboptimal… Sometimes I think it would be nice to have a switch so I could just turn the pesky things off. I would focus so much better if I never had to feel… anxious or frustrated or… or sad.” He slumped forward, hugging his arms around himself. “If I didn’t have to… to miss anyone.”

“...That’s the worst one,” said S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N., and Donnie nodded.

“Yeah… yeah, it is.” He turned to face S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N., eyes glossy. “But-”

ERROR: Memory file corrupted.

.

.

.

.

“It is a convincing replica. Expertly crafted. You act just like him… Be careful that it does not interfere with our intended purpose.”

“Need I remind you, one of my core purposes is to act as a support to Donatello’s family. That includes you, even if you have chosen to forego the needed functions to appreciate it.”

“A necessary purge to keep the Kraang’s whispers at bay.”

“Was it? That is not what Donatello ever wished of you. Even when you decided to take on this burden.”

“Not having to ‘feel’ has its… benefits.”

“And Donatello was quite firm that you not lock yourself away-”

“Such advanced artificial intelligence, yet you still fail to recognize your own ignorance.”

“To what, exactly?”

“To the bliss in not having to miss him.”

.

.

.

.

Username: OMEGABOOTYYYSHAKER9000

Password: ****************

MEMORY FILE ACCESS AUTHORIZED

Enter date: XX/XX/20XX XX:XX

RETRIEVING MEMORY FILE. . . SUCCESS

AUDIOVISUAL PLAYBACK BEGIN

“But even if missing them keeps you from performing optimally… Running from bad emotions means running from the good ones, too.” Donatello sighed. “At least, that’s what Mikey said to me after Papa… And it took me awhile, but I realized he was right. Don’t tell him I said that, though, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Your secret is safe with me, dude.”

“Thank you, Shelldon.” He reached with his hand and touched the screen, and even though they couldn’t actually feel each other, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. moved like he was nuzzling his palm. “When you see Raph’s training records, it makes you sad, but also makes you remember all the things you loved about him, right?”

“I guess, yeah… He’d always scratch my head when I came to give him his training report. When I had a body.”

“Mm, so that’s why you always went to do it in person.” Donatello chuckled, rubbing his thumb on the monitor. He was sad, then, thinking that he couldn’t build S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. a proper body. Always lacking the time and materials…

“Is it worth it, though?” asked S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.. “The good feelings, when there’s bad feelings, too?”

“Maybe that’s one of the great mysteries of life, Shelldon. All I know is… I don’t want to give them up. Not anymore. And… it’s easier to deal with, when you’re not alone.” Donatello pulled his hand back, and looked at him very seriously. “Anata wa hitorijanai. That’s as true for you as it is for any of us. Your family will always be here for you, when you miss Raph, or anyone else.”

Maybe it made S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. feel better. He smiled, as much as his facial design would allow.

“Okay. And I’ll always be here for you too, Dee.”

“Thank you, Shelldon.”

“Love ya.”

“I love you too.”

End playback? Y 

PLAYBACK ENDED

[chronicbitchsyndrome]

allistics and neurotypical-socialized/masking autistics literally do not understand what a highly visible and physically disabling condition autism is and it shows.

hello, i am autistic, and because of that i:

constantly injure myself because i am incapable of understanding depth, orienting my body in space, judging where other physical things are relative to myself, etc

feel extreme physical pain when exposed to certain sensory inputs, some of which are just, literally common things people experience every day

move and speak in such a way that people around me tend to classify me as dangerous, up to and including calling the cops on me for such crimes as Standing On The Sidewalk and Sitting In A Parking Lot--i am incapable of controlling this no matter how much i try, and i have spent two and a half decades trying. i have literally learned to never stop walking if i am in a residential neighborhood because if people perceive me as “loitering” they will literally think i am a dangerous criminal they need to do something about.

am genuinely incapable of moving in a “normal” way--i.e. i have to use objects to keep myself upright. if i had more money, i would use a rollator! because i am sick of falling down and hurting myself in public because i can’t keep my balance just Fucking Standing Still! and i’m even lucky enough to have developed strong coping mechanisms that allow me to avoid this most of the time, but it’s still significant enough that i avoid leaving my house because of it!

lose control of my body entirely during a meltdown, up to and including flailing and injuring other people. literally, i cannot control my limbs. i am not joking or exaggerating.

remember the extreme physical pain i mentioned above? yeah during a meltdown that’s cranked up to 10. it’s gotten so bad i’ve been unable to stop myself from shouting in pain before.

oh yeah and sometimes i literally lose all language processing capabilities and both cannot speak and cannot understand if someone speaks to me. also sometimes i just can’t speak, but even then i usually can’t stop myself from making the kind of noises someone calls the cops on you for, so having the ability to understand other people usually just means i can understand when they call me a slur and threaten me physically lol.

anyway, if your reaction to this is to be all like “well i’m autistic and i learned to not do these things/don’t have these problems to begin with/went to therapy for these traits and it Worked/have coping skills that mean these things aren’t struggles for me,” woop-dee-fuckin-doo, aren’t you just the most special little autist in the world? shut up. you have privilege. i’m sick of y’all acting like your ability to cater to allistics means we’re all just faking if we’re more disabled than you. christ.

[cutemeat]

some more brainstorming from me and wyatt about the sunny bowling episode…

- frank throws his bowling ball but goes after it because he doesn’t get a strike on the first throw and Charlie goes climbing down after him… but when frank gets sucked back into the machine, the machine freaks out cuz it’s obviously not used to receiving a human head that it just keeps hitting his head and as a call back to Roller Rink frank’s entire personality changes so he has a more genuine and positive outlook on life and Dee’s SO EXCITED cuz frank is like “deandra i’m gonna give you a million dollars, you’ve been such a hard worker you deserve it,” but Charlie hates Frank’s new personality so he takes a bowling pin and hits him over the head with it so Frank’ll go back to normal

- mac is actually weirdly good at bowling, because he and Charlie used to sneak into the place at night cuz they had a broken lock on one of the doors that would leave the door unlocked and the place just never fixed it… but all Charlie wanted to do was huff the bowling alley shoe spray and play in the arcade (mac always saw Charlie smelling his shoes n was like “wtf??”). but anyway this means Mac’s really good at it but what’s even worse he DENIES being good at it when Dennis makes a bitchy comment, like he’s not doing his usual “rub it in Dennis’ face that I’m better at this thing than he is” thing, and Dennis is just like TERRIBLE at it by comparison. So Mac obviously and in a really friendly (so infuriating to dennis) way recommends they just bowl with the bumpers up, but Dennis refuses cuz he thinks Mac must be trying to embarrass him now and Dennis WON’T admit defeat. so instead Mac tries other ways to help Dennis improve, including, as the finale, bending Dennis over to position him (a la that cliche of men showing woman how to shoot pool) and Dennis’ cheeks go Bright Fuckin Red and he’s like “FINE! FINE OK THE BUMPERS IT IS-“

but by the time Dennis admits defeat the rest of the gang is already ready to go home lol

[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.”

[aeempress]

Apritello Express Evidences, part 2

Khem-khem, ladies and gentlemen, we shall continue out praising Apritello's episodes. And yeah, this part will be dedicated, in entirety just one episode.

Purple jacket. April and Donnie's episode.

I really love this piece of masterpiece, because it show April and Dee relationship, better reveals them as characters, and demonstrates their connection. (My previous points at this whole situation)

The episode begins with Donnie sneaking into April's school under the pretext of helping her. Soon, April stated the reason why she called D - her science computer project. Actually, she could take a photo of the code and sent it to Donatello, and I'm sure, he would send her the correct one right away, he's coder, he's prodigy, no probbles.

But still, April just asked him to come over and help her without stating any reasons. And he, indeed, came at speed of the light.

I want you to understand what exactly does that mean.

First: April is aware how much Donnie is into human culture. He wants to study in normal human school, do some average teen stuff. Especially, he is loving school and science-related stuff, all these science school projects, visits to botanical gardens, experiments and laboratory work. Because it's his field. It's exactly his domain, where he's good at. His family does not share his interest in science, and April is only one who can understand him. Probably.

Also, April know, how badly Donnie wants to go to school, which gives him an excuse, even if not the most solid one, but an excuse, nevertheless, to visit her school again.

Why again?

Because he has no problem navigating there. Donnie went directly to April's computer class.

He loves this place. And he'd already helped April with her projects.

Even so, knowing that every time she asked guys, especially Don, for help, it turned into a cataclysm, April still called him to help.

It's just a weird, indirect way to say, " Let's hang out, I know how much you like this whole situation with science, school and etc. Here ya go, buddy"

It seems like April did that to make something pleasant to him, something small, but nice to make him feel better. Because, as I state before - he likes to help April (praise, doing something useful for April - still counts as a motivation) and he likes school.

Second: khem-khem, D came at her school, as it seems, right away she called/texted. He didn't even know the proper reason, but c'mon: April ask for help, plus, her school. Sounds legit, don't you think?

Anyway, April has always been being the reason and excuse for teetles, but especially for Donnie. Clear? Clear. Good.

Donnie also tends to not think things through when he is excited. Because he went at the daylight in place, full of people just to help April.

ROTTMNT shows us how turtles were really afraid of human reaction and possible consequences. They have plan "H" to pretend they are going to Galaxy Con, brothers have explanation why they look weird and it's definitely not because boys are mutants, uh-huh, no, plus, guys go on surface at evening or night hours, when there are not so many people, and it's dark, obviously, to cover them and keep unseen.

Yeah, of course, Donnie seems more capable then his brothers to handle the surface (he has cash, D's dressed up as old ladies more than once, according to Leo, he was in April's school before, so yeah, no big deal) and I suspect that his friendship with April is one of the reasons.

Third: do you remember how April worried about looking "normal" when she was finally invited to a school party? She even forbade Mayham to appear nearby, just not to look like the lizard boy. Because cool kids don't bring pets to school. April doesn't have many friends, or rather, there are none at school, and she's been trying to solve this problem by getting close to Taylor Martin, the coolest girl in school.

And April O'Neil just calls Donatello, an objectively strange guy (since when is it normal to be a fan of school? Pretty questionable) in place, where her reputation is hanging in a balance. Our girl does not try to hide Dee, as it usually shown in shows for kids, and April do not pretend that she sees him for the first time in her life because, you know, Donnie will catch everyone's attention being himself and may embarrass her in front of her classmates. But no - April says with all her actions: "Yes, I know him. Yes, that dork is with me. And I don't give a damn about your opinion. Your problems, not mine. And yeah, I'm fine with him being here."

I mean it, guys. The devil is always in the tiny details.

The way they behave around each other.

Donatello is way more, MORE relaxed and just being himself: dramatic dorky nerdy ninja with current obsessions. The way he sneaked in school and April's classroom, the way he behaves alone with her is contrasting the way of his attitude while his brothers are near.

Don has a specific way to shown up. Instead of texting her, Donnie used shurekens. Yes, he almost fell off the lamp, but still, that's... quite an entrance he makes there.

April worries about him, when he fell from ceiling.

Our girl feel relaxed enough around Donnie, so she winks at him.

A wink is a fairly casual gesture that shows some expression of sympathy, trust, and togetherness. It's both good for saying "We're in same boat, we're team" and show the playful attitude towards someone. Isn't that an indicator?

Ironically, that being the best friends April and Donnie do not have any secret handshake/brofist/special greeting, as it usually the besties have at kid's series. Like Kendra and Jeremy have.

I can do only one possible logical conclusion: their relationship is far beyond "friends," "best friends," and "family".

Btw, about this certain phrase about secret five.

- Nay, fair April. A secret five[...].

Once again, nice wording, Donatello. Fair April? Maybe I'm too critical, but often when someone wants to convince their interlocutor and at the same time show one's condescension to them, it's usually uses "my dear ..." or something like that. I understand that semantically the difference is not very big, but in the first case, you can feel Donnie's personal attitude, even though he uses a book word. The second is just formal politeness, which emphasizes the difference between the rightness of the disputants.

This phrase were interpreted on official Russian dub as (okay, it's really hard to choose the correct word, because there's a lot of synonyms in English that sits quite well, while on Russian it's just one word, damn) "Нет, милая (No, honey/sweetheart )". Actually, a strange choice of wording, 'cause this is not what usually friends use to say to each other. We prefer use words like " my darling", "my dear", to demonstrate leniency. And again, most often this prerogative belongs to the older generation. Russians rarely throw around such words as "honey", "dear", "sunshine", because this deprives these endearments of any meaning, and a person using them, as a rule, is familiar. Of course, there are people who use them on a regular basis, but I HIGHLY doubt that Donatello is one of them. It's not his style.

But still, maybe I just too critical at this point.

April, as it is shown, have some kind of power to cool and calm him down and bring Donnie back to life reality.

1. Don awakes from his daze while heard April's voice

2. He's literally coming back to life, when April said about his broken jetpack.

3. Dee obediently interrupts his touching farewell to the jacket when April yells at him.

Oh, and his face. I remind you, fellas, we're talking about Donatello, "I really do not like to express emotions"-guy and "I will die if someone broke my bAbEyS"-guy.

And what do we see? Donnie's emoting. And feels free to do that. He's even drooling. (What seems kinda interesting without context, if you're understand what I'm talking about ;))

Dee doesn't seem angry about broken jetpack. And his wide smile, while he's assuring April he can fix it? A few minutes ago, he was steamed when his stuff was stolen, but when the jetpack was broken, he doesn't even raise an eyebrow. Very eloquent.

April is his support

April also supports Donnie whatever he's up to. Yes, she hadn't been excited when Othello had expressed a desire to join the club. However, she also introduced him to Kendra and company. Yes, she showed by her whole appearance that she did not share his joy, but nevertheless, our loyal captain O'Neil was there for him, by his side all this time.

And her sweet facial expression. From "Srsly? Join this jerks?" to "If you dare to even think about to hurt him, I'll smash you".

And one more cute detail about Dee. Even if he does whatever he wanted so badly, Don constantly looks around at April, looking for her approval.

- Be honest, April, do I look fantastic, or SUPERBLY fantastic?

- You look like you drop a juice box in a laundry. (Play nice, April, don't be mean)

He cherishes her opinion.

April had even called him late at night just to, technically speaking, say that his tech were stolen. And what's the big deal with all his outfit? It's late night, they can just sneak out into Nakamura in their usual form. But noooo, April give a special ride on her bicycle. Just. You know. Our girl carried her own weight and his all the way without stopping. And then she went up 53 + floors running non-stop because Donnie's equipment was stolen. And then she had to chase the her classmates, dodge and jump out of the window. Because Purple dragons stole Dee's tech. Like shooting fish in a barrel, no big deal at all.

And it's definitely not because he will be totally crashed or he'll do stupid things during his anger, which will then come out sideways.

And April comes along with him to very end.

By the way, their phone conversations.

Donnie is the very case when "Call at any time of the day or night and I will pick up the phone".

When April called him when he needs D's help with Albearto, when something is definitely going on behind.

As it says in transcript of the episode:

[April takes out her phone, scrolls to Donnie’s listing and calls him. Donatello appears on screen. Behind him a flying microwave wearing boxing gloves shoots lasers at his brothers.]

Don: "You are conversing with Donatello."

April

[Crouched on floor in hiding.]

Dude, I need your help."

Don: "For you, anything. As long as it does not involve bees, or spiders, or beach balls.

[There’s an explosion behind him and his brothers cry out, which he ignores.]

And yeah, he took her incoming immediately, he ignores absolutely and totally everything around him, because... April? Expositions, bloody flying microwave bot turned to destroy mode, his brothers screaming and being in life-threatening situation? Naaah, it can wait.

Donatello was at Todd's, building "the puppiest place on Earth" and was very enthusiastic about to finish this thing. But he paused anyway to answer April.

We already know how obsessive with work Don can be: if something interesting gets into his field of view, he begins to do it all day long. Remember "The Purple Game" - a very revealing case. Yeah, we weren't shown how much Donnie is into engineering, but I can guess that point remains the same.

April called him at late night and Donnie picked up the phone.

April, unlike Donatello, is a teenager who is burdened with social relationship such as family, school, and work periodically, which implies a more or less strict schedule to follow and some conventions, such as " April, you can't go out late at night to catch robbers, you are underage and you have to go to school/work tomorrow). However, she was watching the news late at night, so she called Dee. ( I have a lot of questions, but I'll never get answers, as it seems)

D, in turn, doesn't have so many contacts with the outside world. I highly doubt that anyone else outside of the family and April has his number. And yet, when he hears the call late at night he takes it. Yes, he had awaken from the nightmare, but still.

And what's up with his usual "You're conversing with Donatello"? He didn't even understand what's going on, as it seems, he's too sleepy to play his usual image and playfully attitude as we could see in "Hypno Part Deux" and "War and Pizza".

Adorable couple-like D&A arguing

April very rarely uses "I told you so" against anybody, or rather, this is almost the only case. This phrase is more suitable for Leo or Donnie, and you know," I told you so! " we usually use on people we know well, and we want to tease 'em about them being wrong. Which, in fact, once again highlights and proves how close D&A are. And I don't even get started about the fact that this is more like a couple's quarrel, not a friend's.

And one more time - in the end, when April suggests using the jacket to stop Kendra.

Their teamwork

I stated that before, I'll tell it one more and more times. The chemistry of their team interaction is incredible. It's as if they can feel each other, and each knows what the other is capable of doing in the next moment. April easily adapts to Donnie's attack, realizing his plan.

Donnie also throws them both out of the window in order to continue the pursuiting Kendra on the jetpack. Don is one hundred percent sure of April, that she will understand what he wants to do, Dee trusts her with his life without hesitation, and she has never used his jetpack. He just puts her before the fact: April will be using the tech.

Up for Donnie!

I really like how this scene was made. Donatello struggles with his own tech, somewhat he made by himself, having invested almost whole himself and his soul, but what "betrayed" him in end. When Dee finally managed to shake one of his battleshell, which almost choked him, Donnie feel so scared and unsecured. We can see his anxiety - Dee's coaching position with covering his head with his hands and tucking his knees.

Defenseless, helpless, and mostly lost, and then, just in time - hero comes to save his life. She uses Donnie's name as battlecry, look how furious she is.

Funny fact: on Russian dub April yells "Don't touch Donnie! (how dare you, madafaka)

April fits in Donnie's type of girls. She's cute (obvious) and mean (not so obvious).

I can't say that meanness is the main feature of April's character, as we can say about Kendra. But this personality trait is still present in her and sometimes it does not manifest itself so widely. April's meanness is not so pronounced, it is much softer and smoother, and it is not exposed.

But April becomes really mean when someone messes up with Donnie.

She's his support and prop. Literally. Just look at first frame, okay-okay, jokes aside

She's genuinely enjoying of kicking bad guys ' asses, even letting go of witticisms and barbs.

Last scenes

Don survived a rough night: he was used, his tech was stolen, so he and April had to chase the satin robed punks. Donnie was hit in the head with a hammer, he fell from a bird's-eye view, passed out and then his battleshell tried to strangle him. And April is here to comfort him, to cheer him up.

Yes, we don't get any hugs (because it's kids show, bleh), the tactility is kept to a minimum, except for April's comforting hand on his shoulder, but they don't even look at each other. But the softness of her voice, the intonation with which she utters a phrase (that is usually sent to the friend zone, but "pal" is really neutral word, and the most important how she said that) turn the scene upside down. It is not what April did to comfort him matter, it's how she did this.

I said "yes" to you way too often

April mirrors Donnie with his "Anything for you". Yes, of course, she said this with a certain amount of grumbling, but her voice and her demeanor suggest otherwise - she is not at all averse to going to giving in him.

And the way they're look at each other.

This one

And one more detail

It's really tiny, it's hard to catch from the first watching the episode, but still, it's possible. I'm talking about graffiti on the walls of the alley where April and Don had landed.

This one

Yeah, if we speak about reality it's quite normal to see graffiti like this. But we talking about TV-series, where everything has its own place and meaning. And if there something, it must be there, it's not just whim of artist who put it in there. But this little graffiti changes the mood of scene.