#march study plan

[rigelmejo]

Okay OKAY I listened to opening of SaYe and I definitely understood nearly every word. I wasnt fully paying attention, so I did miss a few details, and it might need to be something I pay full attention to when listening... at least for a while, like something I listen to when walking. But I think SaYe may be doable as listening material now!!!!

SaYe was significantly easier than SCI, SaYe I really do recognize most of the words being said. At least in the beginning. Much much better than how much I recognized/understood in December.

WOOH

Okay okay calm down.

Goal is still going to be to chug through HP4 because its a library checkout with a time limit. Then the kids audiobooks I've found, at least tutu dawang, because they probably ARE helping. I should honestly also try to get through dalin he xiaolin and xiao wangzi. Its only like 8 hours listening time you would think I could do that... and yet its like pulling teeth when I'm not motivated.

THEN after at least 10 hours of easier audiobook practice and the rest of the 20 hrs of HP4, I can try SaYe and Huai Haizi.

Ok screw it, some 138 hours updates:

Each HP audiobook does get noticeably harder, I can feel the 1000-1500 increase in vocabulary, I'm in HP4 audiobook now and had to listen to the initial 2 hours twice to understand the full main ideas of each scene, and just relistened to hours 3-4 again to pick up some details beyond the main idea (and my picking up details goes from anywhere to "only know 2 people are discussing gambling on which team they think will win and arthur mentions gambling is bad" to "there's girls who look X Y Z dancing in a performance in front of the crowd, the guys are in a trance, X is beside him shouting and commenting on Y." Basically... there's a LOT of words I could learn. I can follow the main idea now that I've relistened to the intro, but I may need to keep doing 2 listens to each section if it stays this hard.

I'm really pleased to say TeaTime Chinese podcast is now understandable! The main idea of all the episodes I'm clicking lately is easy to follow, along with most of the facts he gives - occassionally I am lost for 1-2 sentence details, but mostly I can understand the main detail conveyed in nearly all sentences he says. It's also nice, he does a lot of historical episodes and international news episodes so I can learn about new stuff while I'm listening. Also if it wasn't for his podcast there's no way I'd learn kangyi 抗议 protest and renkou 人口 population and jingji 经济 economy He says a lot of useful words that I think people probably learn if studying for HSK but I just never ended up picking up because they weren't in the novels I was reading much. I started this month with Maomi Chinese podcast just main idea understandable, maybe some details if I relistened. And TeaTime Chinese just main idea understandable if I relistened, few to no details understood. So TeaTime Chinese feeling extremely understandable is a Significant milestone.

Now Mandarin Corner and Dashu Chinese podcasts feel about as hard as TeaTime Chinese felt at the start of the month, I'm grasping the main idea but missing many details about their precise opinions, so I'm hoping by April they'll be easier to understand. Talk to Me in Chinese is so close to understandable... if I relisten to an episode I get the main idea, if I relisten a couple times I can sometimes figure out some of her opinions. I hope Dashu Chinese is closer to how regular people speak - although it IS a learner podcast, so maybe they do speak to purposely be easier to understand. But I'm hoping to work my way up to understanding regular podcasts, like 不明白 podcast I found. Which is extremely clear and on the easy end probably.

Podcasts becoming easier is the easiest way to check my progress. Because listening to people discussing things is what I find the hardest.

I am now able to understand Lazy Chinese's upper intermediate videos, sometimes looking at them (when she uses a bunch of new words for each 1 minute section like when she talked about an actress's life), sometimes just able to listen and follow along. I truly think these lessons are the most useful for making quick mental visual memories to remember words better. But I get bored ToT. These feel the most like lessons, because they ARE lessons - that's the point! To be understandable! And I do understand everything (especially if I'm looking at the video too). But that makes them less challenging and therefore less interesting than everything else I'm engaging with. So I am doing way less of her videos, even though these lessons would be what I'd recommend MOST to other learners who want to improve in the easiest way.

Cartoons for 5-10 are also boring me now mostly. They swing for me between: WOW okay I know less words than I thought (but understand the overall meaning from visual context), to AGH they're talking about such basic stuff I'm bored! Astro Boy is still keeping my attention the most, because it's got some sci fi stuff and I like robots. It reminds me of powerpuff girls and jenny the teenage robot when I was little. But I was also watching a little lion king cartoon with a lion cub and deer friends, and it's just very boring to me, the cute nostalgia of watching something reminding me of my childhood wore off. There are some dubbed anime I found that seem set in England I may try? Out of curiosity.

Because cartoons are boring, I keep trying dramas l. And they keep humbling me by reminding be BRAND NEW DRAMAS IVE NEVER SEEN ABOUT MURDER MYSTERIES with accents I am not as familiar with are QUITE COMPLEX, especially with no chinese subtitles to rely on! I understand like 50-80% of the spoken words in dramas if I have no chinese subtitles, and that's drastically less than if I could look at chinese subs, and that increase in difficulty frustrates me so I end up quitting the episode and wanting to turn subs back in. Only romance or daily life dramas would really be good practice anyway, murder mysteries about abstract off screen debates on what the murderer's goal is... not as useful as images dont connect as much to what's said. So aside from Go Ahead, I'm not really watching any dramas specifically for practice.

I am listening to tutu dawang audiobook, and just like when I first read it lol... it's humbling. It's for kids so every word is pretty much important for meaning, so if I don't know a word it really makes it Obvious I have a gap. Whereas HP audiobooks, despite throwing 1000+ new words a book at me, I can guess a decent chunk of word meanings from the surrounding words I do recognize. Thankfully I know most of the words in tutu dawang. Qingtai 青苔 moss/lichen threw me off in listening, and lol I remember it threw me off when I read it 2-3 years ago! Because I had not read moss before that story, and had not read it again after, and so forgot again. For the most part I'm quite pleased with how well I understand the audiobook, although I find it drains my energy trying to focus on it? I think because I DO understand nearly every word so I'm thinking much harder about more explicit things like... like what word they chose to use, what the grammar is of the sentence, trying to clearly grasp Everything. And that makes it end up feeling more draining. Whereas with HP4 they're talking so fast I can't focus on any of those in depth things, only understand or not to the part that's said then move along as they continue talking.

I found Huai Hai Zi audiobook so I may check that out after HP4 for a break... I also have Twilight as an option if a brand new plot is too hard. But I know some chinese learners found Huai Hai Zi quite readable at HSK 5-6, or even HSK4 if they used Readibu or Pleco to look up stuff. So I think like SaYe it may be a good candidate for a brand new audiobook I might be able to understand soon.

I keep throwing myself at SCI audiobook, hoping it's more understandable. Right now I'm not noticing a big difference. But I'm hoping one of these daysss.

[littleaipom]

I've been making plans with a local librarian to have me lead an event where I teach tweens & teens how to draw dinosaurs, and she just sent me a preview of the flyer advertising the event. I'm so excited!!!!! it's happening!!!!

[revcnqe]

YOUR FAVORITE TYPE OF ANTIHERO. Handsome, lots of swearing, violent, full of rage.

⸻ #revcnqe, a singlemuse blog for BILLY BUTCHER from the Amazon Series THE BOYS, as V'd up by 𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. Crossover-, multiverse-, multiship- and duplicate friendly. OCs welcome. Low activity, semi-selective. Mdni, 18+ only.

— ⁰¹ 「rules.」 — ⁰² 「promo.」 — ⁰³ 「about.」 — ⁰⁴ 「verses.」— ⁰⁵ 「bulletins.」 — ⁰⁶ 「inbox.」 — ⁰⁷ 「writings.」— ⁰⁸ 「edits.」 — ⁰⁹ 「gifs.」

[eli-is-an-idiot]

right it's only recently hit me that the biggest set of exams that i'll ever take (eleven subjects with at least two papers each, fuck my life D:) are in four months and i am nowhere near ready, so i'm probably going to be a lot slower with updating my writing

so if you're reading only a day away (first of all, i appreciate you so much!!) i'm going to write some more tonight and maybe tomorrow, but after that my Revision PlanTM kicks in and i'm probably going to vanish for the forseeable future

i'll do my best to be somewhat consistent, but i can't guarantee anything - i just want to be clear here so people aren't left without an explanation

[inspired-lesson-plans]

Cosmic Snake - Use what you know about astronomy to prove whether or not there is a titanic cosmic serpent in our orbital path.

vs

Feminstein -Use textual evidence to argue whether or not Mary Shelley wrote the character of Victor Frankenstein as feminine.

[inspired-lesson-plans]

Appraised &Approved

Social Studies, Middle School, Ancient Rome 6.2.8.CivicsPI.3.a: Compare and contrast the methods (i.e., autocratic rule, philosophies, and bureaucratic structures) used by the rulers of Rome, China, and India to control and unify their expanding empires.

We should have a museum where every year, you can participate in the stabbing of Caesar, with 3d reconstruction or something. Like a reenactment but also as a threat to politicians. I think that’d be fun

[lordsmerchantco]

The Google Core Update – March 2025: What You Need to Know

Table of Contents Introduction Understanding Google Core Updates Overview of the March 2025 Core Update Key Changes and Trends Impact on Websites and Rankings Case Study: Websites Affected by the Update SEO Experiments and Findings Impact on Click-Through Rates (CTR) Impact on Conversions and Revenue Sentiments of B2B and B2C Audiences Featured Snippets and Knowledge Panels People…

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

two more days. two more days and I can stop being jealous of people I don't know

[reasonsforhope]

Pictured: Luis Cassiano is the founder of Teto Verde Favela, a nonprofit that teaches favela residents in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, how to build their own green roofs as a way to beat the heat. He's photographed at his house, which has a green roof.

Article

"Cassiano is the founder of Teto Verde Favela, a nonprofit that teaches favela residents how to build their own green roofs as a way to beat the heat without overloading electrical grids or spending money on fans and air conditioners. He came across the concept over a decade ago while researching how to make his own home bearable during a particularly scorching summer in Rio.

A method that's been around for thousands of years and that was perfected in Germany in the 1960s and 1970s, green roofs weren't uncommon in more affluent neighborhoods when Cassiano first heard about them. But in Rio's more than 1,000 low-income favelas, their high cost and heavy weight meant they weren't even considered a possibility.

That is, until Cassiano decided to team up with a civil engineer who was looking at green roofs as part of his doctoral thesis to figure out a way to make them both safe and affordable for favela residents. Over the next 10 years, his nonprofit was born and green roofs started popping up around the Parque Arará community, on everything from homes and day care centers, to bus stops and food trucks.

When Gomes da Silva heard the story of Teto Verde Favela, he decided then and there that he wanted his home to be the group's next project, not just to cool his own home, but to spread the word to his neighbors about how green roofs could benefit their community and others like it.

Pictured: Jessica Tapre repairs a green roof in a bus stop in Benfica, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

Relief for a heat island

Like many low-income urban communities, Parque Arará is considered a heat island, an area without greenery that is more likely to suffer from extreme heat. A 2015 study from the Federal Rural University of Rio de Janeiro showed a 36-degree difference in land surface temperatures between the city's warmest neighborhoods and nearby vegetated areas. It also found that land surface temperatures in Rio's heat islands had increased by 3 degrees over the previous decade.

That kind of extreme heat can weigh heavily on human health, causing increased rates of dehydration and heat stroke; exacerbating chronic health conditions, like respiratory disorders; impacting brain function; and, ultimately, leading to death.

But with green roofs, less heat is absorbed than with other low-cost roofing materials common in favelas, such as asbestos tiles and corrugated steel sheets, which conduct extreme heat. The sustainable infrastructure also allows for evapotranspiration, a process in which plant roots absorb water and release it as vapor through their leaves, cooling the air in a similar way as sweating does for humans.

The plant-covered roofs can also dampen noise pollution, improve building energy efficiency, prevent flooding by reducing storm water runoff and ease anxiety.

"Just being able to see the greenery is good for mental health," says Marcelo Kozmhinsky, an agronomic engineer in Recife who specializes in sustainable landscaping. "Green roofs have so many positive effects on overall well-being and can be built to so many different specifications. There really are endless possibilities.""

Pictured: Summer heat has been known to melt water tanks during the summer in Rio, which runs from December to March. Pictured is the water tank at Luis Cassiano's house. He covered the tank with bidim, a lightweight material conducive for plantings that will keep things cool.

A lightweight solution

But the several layers required for traditional green roofs — each with its own purpose, like insulation or drainage — can make them quite heavy.

For favelas like Parque Arará, that can be a problem.

"When the elite build, they plan," says Cassiano. "They already consider putting green roofs on new buildings, and old buildings are built to code. But not in the favela. Everything here is low-cost and goes up any way it can."

Without the oversight of engineers or architects, and made with everything from wood scraps and daub, to bricks and cinder blocks, construction in favelas can't necessarily bear the weight of all the layers of a conventional green roof.

That's where the bidim comes in. Lightweight and conducive to plant growth — the roofs are hydroponic, so no soil is needed — it was the perfect material to make green roofs possible in Parque Arará. (Cassiano reiterates that safety comes first with any green roof he helps build. An engineer or architect is always consulted before Teto Verde Favela starts a project.)

And it was cheap. Because of the bidim and the vinyl sheets used as waterproof screening (as opposed to the traditional asphalt blanket), Cassiano's green roofs cost just 5 Brazilian reais, or $1, per square foot. A conventional green roof can cost as much as 53 Brazilian reais, or $11, for the same amount of space.

"It's about making something that has such important health and social benefits possible for everyone," says Ananda Stroke, an environmental engineering student at the Federal University of Rio de Janeiro who volunteers with Teto Verde Favela. "Everyone deserves to have access to green roofs, especially people who live in heat islands. They're the ones who need them the most." ...

It hasn't been long since Cassiano and the volunteers helped put the green roof on his house, but he can already feel the difference. It's similar, says Gomes da Silva, to the green roof-covered moto-taxi stand where he sometimes waits for a ride.

"It used to be unbearable when it was really hot out," he says. "But now it's cool enough that I can relax. Now I can breathe again."

-via NPR, January 25, 2025

[asiatic-apple]

If there’s one thing Caleb is loud and passionate about, it’s his absolute hatred for anyone who uses the term “granny panties” like it’s some kind of insult. Especially if it’s to mock the idea of plain, comfy underwear in any cut or style that isn’t the small scrap of a thong.

He already grimaces every time he hears his fellow uni classmates indulging in disgusting locker room talk, but one day, he overhears some asshole talking way too loud about how his girlfriend didn’t wear anything “sexy” the first time they got intimate.

And the second the words “granny panties” come out of that idiot’s mouth, Caleb is marching over, looking pissed and ready to educate the group of boys snickering in the corner.

“What exactly do you mean by that?” he asks, voice sharp and unimpressed.

Caleb absolutely towers over every guy there, but even if he didn’t, the dark look on his face would be enough to shut them up. Still, the only one dumb enough to keep running his mouth is the guy who started it all. Caleb doesn’t even try to hide the way he rolls his eyes when the guy makes another half-assed joke about his girlfriend showing up in “ugly” panties.

This isn’t just a pet peeve for Caleb. It’s a hill he’s fully prepared to die on.

First, he has to rein in his annoyance that there are actually people out there who don’t appreciate a good pair of cotton underwear. Like, seriously? Do these bozos really need lace and frills to find a woman attractive? Just because the wrapping isn’t flashy doesn’t mean the present underneath is any less sweet.

He’s this close to banging his head against the lockers as he launches into a full-blown rant. And yeah, it turns into a thing. He’s breaking down the myth that any underwear that isn’t deemed “sexy” somehow counts as “granny.” Comfort doesn’t mean boring, and high-rise doesn’t mean unsexy.

His voice is gaining volume and causing heads to turn in concern as he’s citing studies, talking about vaginal health, explaining why breathable cotton is literally recommended—by doctors, no less. He’s throwing out terms like “moisture-wicking” and “pH balance” while giving these losers the dirtiest look imaginable.

And the other guys? They're just standing there, blinking at him like he’s grown two heads. Caleb couldn’t care less if they thought he was clinically insane. He stood by every damn word.

He’s fuming, practically vibrating, steam probably spewing from his ears. Because how the hell are these guys lucky enough to be inches away from a pair of soft, comfy, cute panties and not get immediately overwhelmed with the desire to bury their face in them out of sheer appreciation?

Once he’s finally done with his rant (he’ll swear up and down he changed at least one life that day, even if those idiots are a lost cause in reality), all he can think about is you. You and your cute, comfy underwear that he used to steal straight from your hamper like some kind of perverted pack rat.

It didn’t matter what kind you wore. Whether it was a lacy thong, high-waisted briefs, plain cotton, or something silky—he cherished every single pair because they were yours. Because they had the privilege of sitting nice and pretty on your hips, pressed just right against your perfect pussy (he hasn’t seen you like that yet, but god, the mental image alone could ruin him).

And later, when he’s alone in his dorm and thinking about you a little too hard, he actually tears up a bit. Just sits there, clutching one of your forgotten panties like it’s some sacred relic from a past life, missing you so much it physically hurts. Imagining the day he’ll get to prove every dumbass like that one in the locker room dead wrong—and prove himself right.

He’s already making a plan while sniffling through his tears and gently petting the soft cotton in his hands. When he finally returns to Linkon to see you again, he’s going to remind himself—very thoroughly—why any and all panties are holy. And why he’ll defend them to his dying breath.

[ilottcallum]

i am practicing my time management skills at 2.47am

[4theitgirls]

4theitgirls masterlist

workout posts

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🎀 january 2025 workout plan

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🎀 march 2025 workout plan

🎀 mat workouts

🎀 mat workouts pt. 2

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🎀 november 2024 workout plan

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miscellaneous posts

🍸 2025 goals and plans of execution

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🍸 a guide to blair waldorf

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🍸 christmas gift ideas

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🍸 it girl spring cleaning

🍸 it girl youtube channels

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[i2sunric]

𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 (p.sh)

PAIRING: sunghoon x pregnant!reader (f)

SUMMARY: when the two pink lines appeared on the pregnancy test, the life you had so meticulously built crumbled. but sunghoon gathered the pieces back together, shaping a new life with your two babies.

WARNINGS: pregnancy, suggestive and mentions of sex (no smut), angst (if you squint?), fluff, crack by the end, sunghoon is so caring, their love makes me puke, description of labour and a c-section (i gathered my knowledge from grace anatomy), reader worries a lot, sunghoon works hard, twins (yohan and haneul), bed rest, a little complication with one of the babies, happy ending, pet names (babe, baby), lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 3rd March 2025

WC: 6.5k

TAGLIST: @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @cloud-lyy @enhamonsterghoul @star-hoon (oneshot) @starry-eyed-bimbo @saphiranishimurashan @jkslvsnella @vrusha01 @notcamii @deluluscenarios @m1kkso @youngheejay @lovingvoidgoatee @motherscrustytoenailclippings @sukisvr @yoonzns @kayjiguki @12e45 @irahina @geniejunn BOLDS COULD NOT BE TAGGED.

NOW PLAYING: Unconditionally by Katy Perry.

a/n: i hope y’all like this, please REBLOG to share and stay tuned for the other members’ fics. <3 sorry for any grammar error, i’m sleep deprived. anw, do you think i should make a small drabble when the twins are older too? lmk.

You hadn’t planned for this. No one really does, do they? 

One month ago, you were just a college student, studying hard, dreaming of the future, with your boyfriend, Sunghoon, by your side.

The two of you were inseparable, sharing classes, meals, and the occasional late-night walk around campus when life felt too overwhelming. 

You thought you had time. time to grow, to figure things out, to live freely before settling into something serious.

But life had other plans.

When you found out you were pregnant, it hit you like a train. 

You remembered sitting on the cold bathroom floor of your dorm, clutching the positive test in your trembling hands, staring at it until the lines blurred from your tears. 

The first thing you thought about wasn’t yourself but Sunghoon. 

What would he say? What would he do? Would he be scared, angry… relieved?

He wasn’t any of those things. 

When you told him, he just pulled you into his arms, held you so tightly you thought you’d break, and whispered over and over that he loved you. That he’d take care of you. That you’d figure this out together.

But love wasn’t enough to stop reality from crashing down.

The college didn’t offer much sympathy. 

As soon as you dropped out—because there was no way you could keep up with tuition and prepare for a baby—they kicked you out of the dorm. No exceptions.

You weren’t a student anymore, so you didn’t belong. It didn’t matter that you’d lived there for years.

You packed up what little you had, stuffing clothes and textbooks into worn-out suitcases while Sunghoon silently paced the small room, phone pressed to his ear as he tried to find somewhere — anywhere — for the two of you to go.

By some miracle, he did.

It wasn’t much. A tiny apartment on the outskirts of the city, far from campus, far from everything you knew. 

The rent was low because the building was old and falling apart, but it had four walls, a roof, and running water. It was home.

Sunghoon tried to stay strong. He was a student, just like you had been, with assignments and exams and his own dreams. 

But those dreams had been put on hold— at least, the version of them he once had. Now, instead of studying in the library with his friends, he was filling out job applications. 

Instead of thinking about internships or grad school, he was wondering how to pay for diapers and formula.

He landed a part-time job at a convenience store after a week of searching, and though he came home every night exhausted and smelling like instant noodles and cold air, he always kissed you softly and asked how you were feeling, if the babies were okay.

Babies. Plural.

That had been another shock, one you’d gotten at your first ultrasound: Two little heartbeats. Two little lives. 

You’d cried then, too. Half out of fear, half out of something that felt a little like awe. Sunghoon had cried with you, holding your hand so tightly his knuckles went white, whispering that it would be okay.

And you believed him. For a little while.

But things were hard. 

The convenience store paycheck wasn’t enough, not when rent, groceries, and prenatal visits drained it so quickly. And even if your parents managed to send you their savings, it still was too little for prenatal vitamins and all the things you had to buy for when the twins would be born.

Sunghoon started losing sleep, staying up late to study after work, waking up early to make it to class, and somehow still managing to hold you when you couldn’t stop crying because your body was changing faster than you could handle, because you felt like a burden, because you were terrified.

You wanted to find a job too. You tried.

But no one wanted to hire a pregnant woman, not even when you were only two months along. 

You didn’t even look pregnant, not really but employers seemed to know, somehow. They’d glance at your belly, at your tired eyes, and find a reason to turn you away.

“We’ll call you,” they’d say. They never did.

It was unfair. You were competent, you had your high school diploma. You could work, you could help. but no one would let you.

Sunghoon told you it was okay. That you should rest. That you were doing enough by taking care of yourself and the babies.

But you saw the way he clenched his jaw when he checked his bank account. You saw the exhaustion in his eyes, the frustration he tried to hide.

One night, after a particularly long shift, he came home, threw his keys on the kitchen counter, and just… broke.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered, leaning against the wall, head in his hands. “I’m trying, but it’s not enough… it’s never enough.”

You’d never seen him like that before. Sunghoon was always calm, always steady, the one who grounded you when you felt like you were falling apart. 

But now he was the one unraveling, and you didn’t know how to help.

You went to him, kneeling beside him on the cold tile floor, and took his hands in yours “We’ll figure it out,” you whispered, echoing the words he’d once said to you. “We’ll find a way.”

He just shook his head. “I don’t want you to worry about this, you shouldn’t have to.”

“I already do,” you admitted, your voice soft but firm. “I worry every day, about you, about the babies, about what’s going to happen to us. But we’re in this together, Hoon, you’re not alone.”

And maybe that was what he needed to hear.

Because he pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your shoulder, and for the first time in a long time, you both let yourselves be scared.

And somehow, in the middle of all the fear and exhaustion, there were moments of happiness. 

Late-night talks in bed, Sunghoon’s hand resting on your belly, feeling the faintest flutter of movement. The way he looked at you, like you were the most precious thing in the world, even when you felt anything but.

It wasn’t the life you’d imagined. But it was a fresh start, and you were going to make it work.

⪩⪨.

The chemistry between you and Sunghoon didn’t die, not even with the exhaustion, the stress, or the growing weight of reality pressing down on you both.

If anything, it seemed to shift into something deeper, more intimate. 

Perhaps it was the hormones, or maybe it was the way Sunghoon looked at you— like you were made of glass and fire all at once. 

There were nights when you’d reach for him, despite everything, when your body burned with a desperate, aching need that you couldn’t ignore. 

It was embarrassing at first — how could you think about sex when there was so much to worry about? But Sunghoon never made you feel ashamed.

Even when he was exhausted, after long shifts at the convenience store and nights spent studying, if you whispered his name softly enough, he’d turn to you, his tired eyes softening, and touch you so gently it made you want to cry.

“You sure?” he’d ask, voice husky with sleep, his thumb tracing circles on your hip.

And when you nodded, needy and aching, he’d love you slowly, sweetly, like you were something precious. 

His hands, rough from work and cold from the night air, would warm against your skin, spreading goosebumps as they moved over your growing belly, your curves softening into something maternal and foreign to you both.

“I love you,” he’d whisper, over and over, like a promise.

And when it was over, he’d hold you, tracing patterns on your back until you fell asleep, his hand never leaving your stomach, like he needed to feel all three of you were still there.

Still his.

⪩⪨.

You hated feeling useless. No matter how many times Sunghoon told you to rest, to take care of yourself and the babies, the guilt sat heavy on your chest; a constant reminder that while he was out there working himself to the bone, you were at home, waiting.

So, you kept looking for a job.

And eventually, you found one.

It wasn’t much: a small corner café, tucked away in the older part of town. 

The owner, a kind older woman named Mrs. Park, had taken one look at you and seemed to understand without you having to say a word.

She didn’t ask about the pregnancy, didn’t ask why you were looking for work so urgently. She just handed you an apron and asked if you could start the next morning.

You said yes before she could change her mind.

The hours were short, just enough to bring home a small paycheck without overworking yourself. Between morning sickness, aching feet, and the constant hum of anxiety, you managed. 

The work kept your mind busy, and the extra money, small as it was, helped. anything to lighten the weight on Sunghoon’s shoulders.

The best part was the way his face lit up when you handled him your first paycheck, small and wrinkled from being folded into your pocket all day.

“You didn’t have to…” he whispered, holding the check like it was made of gold.

“I know,” you said, leaning up to kiss him softly. “But I wanted to.”

He didn’t say anything after that, just pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly enough that you felt the tremor in his hands.

Money was still tight.

You became an expert at stretching every dollar, buying second-hand things for the babies: clothes, a crib, even a stroller someone had listed online for half the price. 

You cleaned everything, scrubbed it down until it looked new, and though it wasn’t the Pinterest-perfect nursery you’d once dreamed of, but it was enough.

⪩⪨.

The fifth month of pregnancy crept up on you quietly, like the tide rolling in, soft and inevitable, until one day you looked in the mirror and saw someone entirely new. 

Your belly had grown, round and firm, stretched with the weight of the two tiny humans inside you. It was impossible to hide anymore.

You were blooming.

Despite the morning sickness that still lingered some days, and the exhaustion that settled into your bones like a permanent guest, there was something undeniably radiant about you now. 

Your skin glowed, cheeks flushed with a soft pink hue, and your hair became somehow shinier and thicker.

Even your eyes seemed brighter, though you chalk that up to getting more sleep now that you weren’t balancing school and work.

“Wow, pregnancy looks good on you,” Mrs. Park had said one morning at the café, handing you a fresh cup of chamomile tea instead of the coffee you so desperately wanted.

You had laughed, shaking your head, brushing flour off your apron. “I feel like a beached whale.”

“You look like a goddess,” she insisted, patting your arm gently before returning to the kitchen.

It wasn’t just her, either. Customers complimented you more often now, commenting on your “glow,” asking when you were due, if you knew the genders yet. 

Some people even touched your belly without asking, which drove you insane, but you bit your tongue and smiled through it, knowing they meant well.

Still, no amount of glowing or compliments could change the fact that you were tired. 

All the time.

Your body ached in ways you hadn’t anticipated. Your back throbbed almost constantly, the strain of carrying twins becoming more obvious with each passing week. 

Walking more than a few blocks left you breathless, and your feet… Lord, your feet.

They swelled like balloons by the end of every day, tight and aching, even when you sat down as much as possible at work.

You’d become clumsy, too. You knocked things over more than once at the café, sending cups crashing to the floor, apologizing profusely as you bent down (with great effort) to clean up the mess.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mrs. Park always said, shooing you away. “Go sit down for a minute. You’re carrying two humans, for heaven’s sake.”

When you got home from work, you always tried to clean the apartment before Sunghoon came back. 

It was small, but you wanted it to feel like a home, not just a temporary place you were stuck in. You’d make the bed, wipe down the tiny kitchen counters, and vacuum the living room—all while trying not to collapse from exhaustion.

Sometimes, you’d manage to cook dinner too, though more often than not, you just ordered something cheap and easy, feeling guilty but knowing you couldn’t push yourself too hard.

Sunghoon never complained.

When he came home, usually around sunset, the door would creak open, and you heard the familiar sound of his keys hitting the small bowl by the entrance.

“Babe?” he called, voice soft but tired.

“In here,” you answered from the couch, where you’d usually ended up, legs propped up on a pillow to help with the swelling.

He appeared in the doorway, still in his uniform from the convenience store, black slacks and a button-up shirt, a little wrinkled, smelling faintly of coffee and instant ramen. His hair tousled from the wind, dark eyes warm but weary.

Without fail, he smiled the moment he saw you.

“Hey,” he said, crossing the room to kneel beside you, pressing a kiss to your temple, then your belly. “How are my girls?”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile came anyway. “Or boys.”

“Or one of each,” he teased, hands gentle as they splayed over your bump, feeling for any kicks.

“How was work?”

He sighed, leaning his head against your shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment. “Long… some guy tried to shoplift again, i’m starting to think I should charge admission fees for all the chaos.”

You laughed softly, fingers brushing through his hair, knowing how much he hated that job but how hard he was trying to keep it for you, for the babies.

“I made dinner,” you said, though ‘made’ meant heating the leftovers you had in th fridge.

“Mhh,” he murmured, already half-asleep against you. “I’d rather eat you. Cheaper and more delicious.”

You smacked his head lightly “You’re almost collapsing, go eat, Hoon.”

“Alright,” he kissed your cheek and got up, moving towards the kitchen “But I’ll have you as a dessert!”

⪩⪨.

Nights were the hardest.

Your body ached more at night, your back screaming every time you tried to find a comfortable position in bed. 

You’d toss and turn, sometimes getting up to walk around the apartment because lying down just hurt too much.

Sunghoon always noticed, even when you tried to be quiet.

One night, around three in the morning, you were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking water and rubbing your lower back, when you heard him shuffle out of bed.

“Babe?” His voice was thick with sleep, hair sticking up in every direction.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Without a word, he walked over, stood behind you, and began to massage your shoulders, his thumbs pressing gently into the knots that seemed permanent these days.

“You don’t have to…”

“I want to,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

His hands were warm and firm, working down your back slowly, easing the tension until you melted against him, sighing softly.

“You okay?” he asked after a while, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you whispered, eyes closing as you leaned into his warmth. “Just… tired.”

“I know,” he said quietly, his hands never stopping their slow, comforting motion. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. “I feel like a whale.”

“You’re beautiful,” he insisted, his voice so sincere it made your throat tighten. “You’re carrying our babies, that’s… incredible.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to brush your lips against his. 

It was soft, warm, and lingering, a kiss that spoke of gratitude, of love, of something deeper than either of you had words for.

“Come back to bed,” he whispered.

And when you did, he wrapped himself around you, one arm under your belly, supporting its weight, the other tangled in your hair. His body was warm, steady, grounding.

You fell asleep like that, safe and held, and for a little while, all the worry, all the exhaustion, all the fear melted away.

⪩⪨.

By the seventh month, everything changed.

Your doctor had been gentle, but firm, when she sat you down after your check-up, her eyes soft with concern.

“I’m putting you on immediate bed rest,” she said, her voice leaving no room for argument. “Your body is straining too hard, and with twins, that’s dangerous, iknow you’ve been trying to push through, but if you keep this up, there’s a high risk of preterm labor —or worse.”

“Worse?” you had repeated, barely above a whisper.

The idea of something happening to your babies was too much to comprehend.

You felt your chest tighten, your hands instinctively cradling your belly as though you could protect them from the world with just that small gesture.

“I’ll give you a list of things you need like vitamins and supplements, carrying two is an enormous strain, and I want you and the babies safe.”

You hadn’t argued. You were too scared to argue.

You’d complied immediately, even though it meant using some of the money you and Sunghoon had saved for the babies. money that was supposed to go toward diapers, formula, a proper crib. 

Instead, you’d bought the prenatal vitamins your doctor insisted on, the ones you’d been avoiding because they were expensive and you thought you could get by without them.

When you told Sunghoon, he didn’t complain.

“We’ll figure it out,” he’d said that night, after helping you into bed, his hand warm and steady against your swollen belly. “You’re not going to worry about money right now, i’ll pick up more shifts.”

“But—”

“No.” his voice was gentle but firm, leaving no room for protest. “I mean it. I’ll handle it… for them.”

He always said ‘for them,’ and that was all it took to silence your guilt.

Even Mrs. Park, kind as ever, had understood. When you called to tell her you couldn’t come to work anymore, your voice shaking with apology, she stopped you before you could even finish.

“Sweetheart, don’t you dare apologize. You’re having twins! Focus on your health, and don’t be afraid to ask if you need anything.”

You’d cried after that call,not out of sadness, but out of gratitude.

A week into bed rest, you found out the genders.

The ultrasound revealed it clearly— one boy and one girl. You hadn’t realized how emotional you’d be until you saw their tiny forms on the screen, moving, kicking, their hearts beating strong and fast.

“They’re healthy,” the technician had said with a smile, pointing out their little hands, their spines, the curve of their heads.

In the cab ride home, you and Sunghoon sat in stunned, happy silence, hands clasped tightly together over your belly.

Later that night, lying in bed, you’d brought up names.

“I want their names to match,” you murmured, your head on Sunghoon’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, your own hands tracing the curve of your belly.

“Like… rhyme?” he asked, sounding a little amused, his fingers lazily playing with your hair, “Not rhyme, just… sound good together, you know?”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Okay, uhm, Do you like Yohan?”

You looked up at him, surprised. “Yohan?”

“Yeah. For the boy.” You let the name roll around in your mind, “I like it,” you whispered.

“And for the girl?” he asked, looking down at you, waiting.

You thought for a long moment. “Haneul.”

His lips curved into a soft smile. “Yohan and Haneul.”

“Yohan and Haneul,” you repeated, the names fitting together like puzzle pieces, like they were always meant to be spoken side by side.

“Perfect,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “They’re going to be perfect.”

Bed rest, however, was not perfect.

You knew it was necessary, you wanted to do everything in your power to keep your babies safe, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Sitting on the couch all day, only to move back to the bed or the kitchen chair, made you restless and bored out of your mind. 

You felt horrible, especially knowing Sunghoon was working harder than ever to keep everything together.

He had picked up more shifts at the convenience store, working late into the night, coming home exhausted but still smiling, still touching your belly and asking how “his little ones” were doing.

You tried to keep the apartment clean as best you could from your limited range like folding laundry from the couch, wiping down surfaces slowly, feeling winded even from that.

One evening, Sunghoon came home to find you trying to sweep the floor, your back screaming in protest, your belly making it hard to even bend slightly.

“What are you doing?” he asked, immediately taking the broom from your hands.

“…cleaning.”

“You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I can’t just sit around all day, Sunghoon.” You snapped, harsher than intended.

He sighed, setting the broom aside, and took your hands gently in his, guiding you to sit back on the couch.

“You’re growing two humans inside you,” he reminded you softly, kneeling in front of you, his hands warm against your knees. “That’s not useless, that’s… everything.”

You blinked, your throat tight, feeling tears threaten to spill over. 

Damn pregnancy hormones.

“I just… I hate seeing you do everything,” you whispered.

“I don’t mind,” he said, and you could tell he meant it. “I love you, I love them.”

You reached out, your fingers brushing through his hair, and he leaned into your touch like he always did, eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment of peace.

“I’m so tired,” you admitted softly.

“I know,” he whispered, pressing a kiss t your belly. “I know, baby.”

⪩⪨.

The pain came fast and without warning.

One moment, you were shifting uncomfortably on the couch, rubbing circles over your swollen belly, trying to ease the dull ache in your back.

The next, a sharp, unbearable pressure shot through you, like your entire body was twisting in on itself.

You gasped, hands flying to your stomach. 

The next contraction came even harder, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your vision blurred as panic set in.

Your phone. Where was your phone?

With trembling hands, you fumbled around the couch cushions until you found it, barely able to press the call button before another wave of pain wracked through you. 

The dial tone rang endlessly in your ears before Sunghoon’s voice finally cut through.

“Hey, baby, what’s—”

“Sunghoon,” you choked out, voice shaking. “It’s happening.”

Silence.  “What?”

“The babies—” You couldn’t even get the words out properly. 

You were panting, your whole body trembling, the pain stretching and pulling in ways that made you want to scream. “You need to come home, please.”

“I’m on my way,” he said immediately, his voice tight. 

You could hear the sound of his chair scraping back, the muffled voices of his classmates as he grabbed his things in a rush. “Stay on the phone with me, are you in pain?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut as another contraction hit.

“Baby, you need to breathe,” he said, his voice urgent but gentle. “In through your nose, out through your mouth, you remember what the doctor said, right? Just focus on that until I get there.”

You tried. You really did. But the pain was overwhelming, and all you could do was grip the armrest of the couch, gasping through each agonizing wave. 

Minutes stretched into eternity before you finally heard the sound of the front door slamming open.

“Y/N?” Sunghoon’s voice was frantic as he rushed to your side, immediately crouching down in front of you. 

His hands found your face, your belly, anywhere he could touch to ground you.

“I can’t—” You broke off, biting back a sob. “It hurts, Sunghoon.”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his own breath shaky. “But we need to go, okay? Can you stand?”

You nodded weakly, though your legs felt like jelly. Sunghoon slipped an arm around your waist, practically lifting you off the couch as he guided you toward the door. 

Each step sent another sharp wave of pain through you, and by the time you reached the car, you were sobbing into his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he kept whispering. “I’ve got you,.”

The drive to the hospital was a blur of pain and panic. 

Sunghoon gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white, running every red light, ignoring every honk and shout from passing cars. Every few seconds, he’d glance over at you, his face lined with worry.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he kept saying, even when you were barely holding yourself together. “We’re almost there. Just hold on for me, okay?”

When you finally arrived, nurses swarmed around you, wheeling you through the halls while Sunghoon ran beside the gurney, his hand never leaving yours.

“She’s having twins,” he told them, his voice strained. “She’s in labour, please, you have to help her.”

They nodded, moving quickly, and before you knew it, you were in a hospital bed, strapped to monitors, IVs in your arm, the sterile scent of antiseptic filling your nose. 

The contractions were coming faster now, sharper, stronger, making your whole body arch off the bed in pain.

“It hurts,” you sobbed, gripping Sunghoon’s hand so tight you were sure you’d break his fingers.

“I’m sorry, baby” he whispered, pressing frantic kisses to your damp forehead. “You”re doing great.”

The doctor came in moments later, her face grave. “You’re not dilating fast enough,” she said. “And with twins, we can’t risk waiting, ae need to perform a C-section.”

Your heart stopped.

“No,” you gasped, shaking your head. “I— I don’t want—”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon whispered, his forehead pressed against yours. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I don’t want to be cut open,” you sobbed. “Sunghoon, please—”

His hands cradled your face, his thumbs wiping away your tears. “I know, I know,” he murmured, his voice shaking. “But we have to do what’s best for them, okay? I promise I’ll be right there the whole time.”

You searched his eyes desperately, finding nothing but love, worry, and unwavering determination.

You nodded, swallowing down your fear.

They prepped you quickly, the spinal anesthesia numbing you from the waist down, but the fear still clawed at your chest.

Sunghoon was right beside you, wearing scrubs over his clothes, his hand gripping yours tightly.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

You barely felt it when they made the incision, but you felt the pressure, the pulling, the strange sensation of something being moved inside you.

And then—

A cry. Loud and strong.

Your heart clenched as they lifted Yohan into the air, his tiny fists flailing, his lungs filled with life.

“A boy,” the doctor said, smiling. “A very strong little boy.”

Tears blurred your vision as you watched the nurse wrap him in a blanket. He was perfect. Tiny, but perfect.

But then—something was wrong.

Haneul wasn’t crying.

Your breath hitched. You turned to Sunghoon, his face pale with fear.

“Why isn’t she crying?” you asked, panic creeping into your voice.

The doctor was already working, her expression serious as she cleared her airway, checked her vitals.

Seconds stretched into eternity before… A weak, but definite, wail.

Your entire body sagged with relief.

“She’s small,” the doctor said. “She needs monitoring, but she’s here.”

“She’s here,” Sunghoon echoed, his voice breaking.

By the time they stitched you up and wheeled you to recovery, it was just the four of you.

You were exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open, but you watched as Sunghoon cradled Yohan in his arms, his eyes filled with pure love.

“She looks like you,” he whispered, glancing at Haneul, who was wrapped up in a tiny incubator beside your bed.

You let out a weak laugh. “She looks like you, too.”

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I love you,” he murmured. “Thank you for giving me them.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you reached for his hand, squeezing weakly.

“I would have never made it without you,” you whispered.

⪩⪨.

The first few days were harder than anything you could have imagined.

Your body was broken, stitched together but still aching, bruised, raw. 

Every movement sent sharp, burning pain through your abdomen, making even the simplest tasks feel impossible. And yet, you had no choice, there were two tiny humans depending on you.

Two.

The weight of it was crushing. You were a mother now, not just to one baby, but two. Yohan and Haneul. 

They were small, fragile, barely able to hold up their own heads, and they needed you every second of the day.

But you were exhausted. 

Completely, utterly drained.

The moment you stepped foot into the small apartment, holding Haneul while Sunghoon carried Yohan in his arms, you felt the overwhelming urge to collapse onto the bed and sleep for days.

Except you couldn’t.

Because the twins were already stirring, their tiny mouths opening and closing, their bodies wriggling in search of warmth and nourishment.

You barely had time to lower yourself onto the couch before the wailing started. 

First Haneul, her tiny lungs stronger than you would’ve expected for how fragile she looked. Then Yohan, following his sister’s lead as if he had to compete for who could cry the loudest.

“Oh my God,” you groaned, pressing a hand over your face. “How are they so loud?”

Sunghoon, looking just as exhausted, stared down at Yohan with wide eyes. “Do we… do we rock them?”

“No, let’s just leave them to cry themselves to sleep,” you deadpanned.

Sunghoon shot you a look. “Alright, alright, picking them up now.”

He rocked Yohan awkwardly, bouncing him slightly, but the baby only cried harder.

You tried to do the same with Haneul, wincing as you shifted to hold her properly against your chest. Your stitches screamed in protest, and you had to bite back a whimper of pain.

“Shh, baby,” you whispered, rubbing her tiny back. “Please, just a few minutes of peace.”

Breastfeeding had been one of the most painful surprises of motherhood.

 You had read about it, heard stories, but nothing prepared you for the sheer agony of tiny mouths latching onto already sore and swollen breasts.

Haneul latched on first, her tiny hands pressing against your skin. Yohan squirmed in Sunghoon’s arms, waiting for his turn impatiently.

“God, they eat like they haven’t been fed in years,” Sunghoon muttered, sitting beside you.

You snorted, adjusting Haneul in your arms as she sucked greedily. The pain was unbearable at first, but after a while, you barely noticed it, you were too tired to care.

Once she was done, you carefully passed her to Sunghoon, who traded her for Yohan.

Yohan latched on immediately, his tiny fingers curling into your skin.

Sunghoon stared at the two of you, his eyes soft. “You’re amazing, you know?”

You huffed. “Tell me that when I don’t feel like a cow being milked.”

He chuckled, gently rocking Haneul in his arms. “I mean it, you just gave birth a few days ago, and you’re already handling both of them.”

You wanted to tell him you weren’t handling anything. That you were barely holding yourself together, that you felt like crying every second of the day. But you just leaned against him, exhaling slowly.

“We’re trying,” you murmured.

“We’re a family.” he retorted.

The days blurred into an exhausting, sleepless cycle: Feed. Change diapers. Cry. Repeat.

Bathing them was a whole new challenge.

“We don’t even have a tub,” you groaned, staring at the two tiny and stinky babies.

Sunghoon scratched the back of his neck. “We could… fill the sink?”

You stared at him. “You want to bathe our newborn babies in the kitchen sink?”

He lifted his hands defensively. “It’s clean! And small enough for them.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Fine, Just don’t drop them.”

Sunghoon grinned. “I would never.”

Ten minutes later, he almost dropped Yohan.

“Sunghoon!” you yelped, catching the baby before he could slip further into the water.“I had him!” Sunghoon insisted, looking guilty.

“You did not have him.”

He cleared his throat, adjusting his hold on Yohan. “Maybe this is a two-person job.”

“No shit.”

Together, you managed to get both babies cleaned, even if it was a messy, wet, and chaotic experience.

By the time they were wrapped in towels and back in your arms, you felt ready to pass out.

Sunghoon flopped onto the couch beside you, letting out a heavy sigh. “I think we deserve a medal for that.”

“You deserve a lecture,” you muttered. “Honestly, I don’t know if I should trust you with our children.”

He pouted. “That hurts, babe.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned against him anyway, watching as Yohan and Haneul drifted off to sleep in your arms.

Sunghoon kissed your temple, his voice softer this time. “We’ll get better at this.”

“We have to,” you said. “They depend on us.”

“And we depend on each other.” He squeezed your hand. “We’re in this together, baby. Always.”

Always.

⪩⪨.

The twins were finally asleep.

You exhaled a deep, shaky breath as you slumped onto the couch, every muscle in your body aching from exhaustion. It had taken forever to get them down, rocking, shushing, feeding, changing diapers, starting over again when one cried and the other followed. But now, for a few precious hours, there was silence.

Sunghoon collapsed beside you, his head tilting back against the cushions. He let out a low groan, rubbing a hand down his face. “Holy shit, that was brutal.”

You huffed out a weak laugh. “I thought we were gonna die.”

He turned his head to look at you, smiling softly. “We can’t possibly be defeated by two itty bitty humans.”

You let your head fall against his shoulder, your eyes closing for a moment.

Your body reminded you of the pain you were still inn with a dull, persistent ache in your abdomen.

Sunghoon felt your wince before you even said anything. He shifted, glancing down at you with concern. “You okay?”

You swallowed, opening your eyes. “Scar still hurts.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and without a word, he helped you sit up.

“Let’s take care of it,” he said. “Come on.”

The apartment was small, barely enough for the two of you before the twins arrived. Now, it felt even smaller, cluttered with diapers, bottles, and tiny clothes drying on a rack in the corner.

But somehow, Sunghoon still made it feel like home.

He guided you to the bathroom, his hands careful and steady as he helped you undress.

You hesitated when your shirt lifted, revealing the healing incision across your lower abdomen. The skin was still angry and red, the stitches tight. It wasn’t pretty.

Sunghoon didn’t even blink. He just crouched down, his fingertips ghosting over the area as if touching too hard might hurt you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not,” he said, his voice firm. He kissed just above the scar, lingering for a moment before looking up at you. “This is proof of how strong you are, I love it, I love you.”

You felt something in your chest tighten, an unexpected warmth spreading through you.

“Stop making me emotional,” you muttered, blinking back tears.

He grinned, standing up again. “Can’t help it. Now come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Sunghoon washed your hair, fingers massaging your scalp with a tenderness that nearly made you melt. He was careful around your scar, using light touches to clean the area before wrapping you in a warm towel.

You felt better when you stepped out. Not great, not healed, but better.

He sat you down on the closed toilet seat, kneeling in front of you to apply the ointment the doctor had given you. His hands were warm, his touch featherlight.

“Still hurts?” he asked softly.

“A little,” you admitted. “But it’s better when you do it.”

His lips quirked up. “Guess I’ve got the magic touch.”

Once he finished, he helped you into a fresh set of pajamas, sighing when he noticed the stains on your old shirt.

“Your boobs are leaking again.”

You groaned, rubbing at your eyes. “I know… I feel like a damn cow.”

Sunghoon chuckled, helping you put on a fresh nursing bra before tugging a clean shirt over your head. “You’re not a cow, you’re an amazing mom.”

You gave him a look. “An amazing cow mom.”

He pinched your side gently, making you squeak. “Shut up and get in bed.”

You let him guide you back to the bedroom, sighing as you sank into the sheets. He pulled the blankets up to your chin, tucking you in like you were the fragile one, not the twins sleeping soundly in their shared bassinet.

Sunghoon sat beside you for a moment, brushing your hair back from your face.

“You should get some sleep,” he murmured.

You blinked at him,realizing why he hadn’t changed into his pyjamas snd wasn’t under the covers with you “You need to get ready for work.”

“I’ll leave in a bit,” he said, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Just wanna make sure you’re okay first.”

You reached up, curling your fingers around his wrist. “I don’t want you to go.”

His expression softened. “I know, baby. But we need the money.”

You sighed, closing your eyes. “I hate this.”

“I do too.” He ran his thumb over your cheek. “But we’ll get through it.”

You wanted to believe him. You really did.

But when exhaustion pulled you under, all you could think about was how hard everything was. How much you missed just being you and him.

How much you missed having him next to you, instead of leaving every night to work while you lay awake, waiting for the next time the twins would cry.

Sunghoon stayed until your breathing evened out, pressing one last kiss to your cheek before slipping away to get ready for work.

Even if he hated leaving, he had to. For you. For Yohan and Haneul.

For the life you had built together, not perfect, but beautiful.

[writeriguess]

Will you do Spencer Reid x reader who is shy really quiet and Keeps to herself but lives in a different state, they get sent to that state for a case and it turns out his secret girlfriend is the missing girl case they’re working, reader leaves clues behind for Spencer because she believes he will find her

Silent Signals

You weren’t supposed to be part of a case. You weren’t supposed to be missing. But here you were—alone, trapped, and terrified—but not helpless. Because if anyone could find you, it was Spencer.

And if they were looking, you were going to make sure he saw you.

“Local PD confirmed the latest victim disappeared two days ago,” Hotch said as he flipped through the case file. “Y/N L/N, twenty-six, lives alone, works remotely, no known close family in the area. She was last seen leaving her apartment late in the evening.”

Spencer’s entire body went cold.

He knew that name. He knew that person. He knew you.

He willed himself not to react, not to give anything away, but his grip on the case file tightened. You weren’t just the next victim. You were his secret. His girlfriend. The person he loved, the person he had planned to visit in just a few weeks.

“Reid?” Morgan’s voice pulled him back. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Spencer forced out, keeping his voice even. “Just… taking it in.”

Hotch kept moving, listing off the details, but Spencer could barely hear him over the pounding in his ears. This wasn’t random. It couldn’t be. The killer had you, and Spencer couldn’t let anyone know how much that mattered. Not yet.

You weren’t stupid. You knew your odds. But you also knew Spencer.

So you left clues. Small ones. Things only he would recognize.

The first was under the table in the basement where you were being held, scratched into the wood with a jagged piece of broken metal you’d found.

3.14159

Pi. A math constant. But more importantly, it was something you and Spencer always teased about, because you used to call him your "Pi Day Prince" since he was born on March 9th. It was stupid. But it was yours.

You just hoped he’d find it.

“Victimology doesn’t match,” Spencer muttered as he studied the notes. “The previous victims—single, yes, but they had strong local connections. Friends, family. Y/N… she works remotely. Stays to herself.”

JJ frowned. “You think she was taken for a different reason?”

Spencer swallowed hard. “It’s possible.”

It wasn’t just possible. It was certain. But he couldn’t say that. Instead, he focused on the crime scene photos. The last place you’d been seen was your car, left abandoned near a gas station.

His stomach clenched.

A gas station.

You never went to that gas station.

You once told him you hated the way it smelled. You always went to the one three blocks down.

It was deliberate.

Spencer’s heart pounded. You were trying to tell him something.

And he was going to find you.

The next clue came when they found the basement.

Morgan went first, sweeping the area with his gun drawn. Spencer was right behind him, breath held as he scanned the room.

Something caught his eye.

A small, barely visible carving under the table.

He leaned in, running his fingers over the numbers.

“Reid?” Morgan called.

Spencer swallowed. “Pi.”

Morgan frowned. “Pi?”

Spencer shook his head. “Not just pi. This… this was intentional.”

Morgan narrowed his eyes, but Spencer didn’t care. He could see it now—see you—in every carefully placed detail.

The metal scrap on the floor. The way the dust had been disturbed near the far wall. The fact that, despite everything, there wasn’t a single sign of a struggle.

You weren’t just waiting.

You were fighting.

“Where is she?” Spencer’s voice was sharper than usual.

The unsub smirked, sitting across from him in the interrogation room. “What makes you think she’s still alive?”

Spencer’s fingers curled into fists under the table.

Because you were too smart. Because you knew him too well. Because you believed he would find you.

“She’s alive,” Spencer said evenly. “And you know where she is.”

The unsub leaned in, his grin widening. “Too late, genius.”

Spencer stood so fast his chair scraped against the floor. “We need to go. Now.”

Hotch didn’t ask questions—he just moved.

And Spencer ran.

You could hear them.

Heavy boots. Voices.

Then—

“Y/N!”

Spencer’s voice.

Your chest tightened, relief crashing over you. “Spencer—”

He was there in an instant, pulling you into his arms, holding onto you so tightly you thought he might never let go.

“I knew you’d find me,” you whispered against his shoulder, your body shaking.

Spencer let out a choked laugh, pressing his forehead to yours. “Of course I did.”

And then, for the first time in days, you let yourself breathe.

[diormoon]

PERIOD - p.bueckers

- Paige Bueckers x Fem!reader

- Readers avoiding her girlfriend because she doesn’t want Paige to give her the full nurse treatment, but Paige can read her girl like an open book.

- Periods, Period pain, Fluff

REQUESTED • Yes x NO

You were studying in the library when the first cramp hit, causing you to double over in pain. Once it passed, you realized you had bled through and quickly tied your hoodie around your waist.

You grabbed your things and hurried to your dorm. Since Paige had extra classes and a late practice, you decided to go to your dorm to take a nap instead of visiting her.

You didn’t want to tell Paige about your period, as she would go into full nurse mode, seeing as you have super bad and painful periods. She already has a lot going on with March Madness right around the corner, so complaining about being in pain while her body is also in pain seems selfish.

Walking into your dorm, though, was a disaster. You forgot that the last time you were here, you were packing to stay at Paige’s for a few days and couldn’t find something you were looking for. Now all of your clothes are thrown around your dorm, and it’s super hot because you accidentally left the furnace on. Today is apparently going to be a bad day all around.

You quickly turn off the heat and open some windows before making your way to the bathroom to clean up.

After your shower and a small snack, Paige called, basically just saying that she would be off a little earlier than planned and that she was going to bring dinner home. You had exactly five hours until she would arrive at her dorm, giving you four hours to yourself before you had to leave for her dorm and put on a fake smile around her.

You were in a lot of pain, so you knew what you would be doing for those four hours: sleeping. The problem is that you forgot to do one small thing before you passed out—set your alarm.

You woke up startled. You could hear footsteps outside your door, and the sound of bags crinkling reached you from somewhere nearby. The thought of an intruder was the only thing on your mind until you saw the time on your nightstand clock. Seeing the time made your eyes widen; you had slept for seven hours.

Maybe it’s Paige? The thought ran through your head, and it makes sense. She has a key; she could easily make her way inside. Should you call her just to be safe? Probably, but you’ve already talked yourself into the idea that it’s her. There can’t possibly be an intruder!

Before you can send yourself into a spiral, though, your bedroom door opens, and in walks your girlfriend with a few grocery bags and food from your favorite restaurant. She doesn’t notice that you’re awake and watching her yet. She just puts the bags and food on your desk and starts unpacking them.

“How long have you been here?” you ask, watching how she flinches, not expecting to hear your voice. “For a little while. Once I got home and didn’t see you, I checked your location and saw you were here. I figured you were getting clothes or something, and then an hour passed, and you still didn’t show up. So I came here, found you asleep, and saw your period pain medicine open on your nightstand instead of in your bathroom. Then I went to the store, and now here we are. How long have you been awake?”

"Woke up to you, I'm guessing, walking back into my dorm. I thought there was an intruder for a second." Paige walks over with your food and hands it to you. "Nope, no intruder. Sorry for waking you up."

"You know you could have told me you were on your period and didn’t want to come to my dorm, right?" Paige asks while walking back to the desk. "Complaining about my body being in pain while I know your body is in pain from practice seems rude."

She just side-glances at you. "If we’re comparing pain right now, then you're definitely in more pain than me." You just roll your eyes in response before scrunching up your face in pain, setting your food down on the bed so you don’t drop it. "Baby? Are you okay?" Paige asks, walking over and kneeling next to you. You shake your head yes but still grip your stomach in pain. "Baby?"

You don’t say anything else, which Paige notices—because obviously. Paige pushes you back to make you lie down on the bed again and puts her hand under your shirt and on your stomach—gently pressing down as a way to help you.

She doesn’t move until your face slowly relaxes, and even then, she leaves her hand on your stomach, gently rubbing it. Since her hands are warm, it’s kind of like a heating pad.

When you open your eyes, you’re met with Paige staring at you—looking concerned. “Are you okay?” You don’t verbally respond; instead, you just nod your head but move onto your side and pull your knees to your chest—facing Paige now.

“When did you take your medicine?” Paige asks, making you groan from pain before saying, “Around seven hours ago. I took it before I went to sleep,” you mumble.

Paige doesn’t say anything and instead gets up to get your medicine and a drink. After you take the medicine, she grabs her food and the grocery bags she brought with her and gets comfortable in your bed.

—

It’s now around 2:30 a.m.; you and Paige both fell asleep during the second movie.

That was hours ago, and now you’re waking up with your head on her chest, her hand on your stomach, and your legs curled up again, with cramps attacking you. You wince in pain, trying to breathe through it and not wake Paige up.

Your body seems to have different ideas, as the cramps only get worse. Already having painful cramps, the worsening is a living hell.

You’re trying so hard not to cry and wake up Paige, but during the 'trying not to cry' part, tears have already started falling down your face. Paige slowly starts shifting awake—feeling the wet spot on her shirt from your unknown tears. “Baby? Are you okay?” she rasps out, her voice cracking from sleep and her eyes barely open. You don’t respond—you can’t. Your body is attacking you when she asks; all you can do is curl more into yourself in response.

When she doesn’t get a response but can feel you curling into yourself, she already knows the issue. She knows that you feel like you’re being punched in the gut repeatedly. And she wants to help.

Slowly removing herself from the bed, she makes her way to the bathroom—getting you your medicine and starting up a warm bath with oils.

When the water is at the perfect temperature, she goes back to the bedroom and gently picks you up. “What are you doing?” you mumble in a raspy voice—pain and tiredness evident in your tone. “I made you a bath. Your medicine is on the counter waiting for you; I just have to go get you a drink.” She doesn’t give you time to whine about how she didn’t need to do this or how she should go back to bed for practice tomorrow. Instead, she carefully helps you get undressed and then sets you in the tub. “Stay here; I’m going to get you a drink so you can take your medicine.”

—

When you said you didn’t want to tell Paige because she would go into full nurse mode? She’s only proving you more right. Once she came back with a Gatorade for you, she opened it first before giving it to you. That was the first thing.

She got undressed and into the tub with you—per your request. During that time, she massaged your shoulders; you both cuddled for a while. She grabbed your loofah and washed your body for you, and now she’s scrubbing your hair.

“You know you don’t have to be awake right now, right?” you mumble tiredly.

“Shut up,” Paige replies, still scrubbing your hair.

“What—” Paige cuts you off. “I’m obviously not going to let you be in pain by yourself. I can’t stop the pain, but I can give you everything you need or want to make you somewhat comfortable with it.” You don’t say anything and instead lean your head back—making her scrubbing stop—and pout your lips at her. “I love you,” you say with teary eyes.

Paige smiles and leans in, kissing your lips before pulling away slightly. “I love you more,” she says against your lips.

—

After the bath, Paige was still in nurse mode. She got out of the bath first—drying off and putting on clothes before helping you out of the tub and wrapping a warm, fuzzy towel around you—also helping you dry off and get dressed.

She then caught you off guard by picking you up bridal style. “Wha—PAIGE, what are you doing?” you laugh out, making her smile. “What do you mean? I’m giving my princess princess treatment,” she says, still smiling, while now laying you down on the bed and tucking you in.

She gets in next to you and pulls you into her arms. “Please wake me up if you’re still in pain.” You nod in response, putting your head under her chin—all of a sudden feeling really tired. “I promise... I love you,” you mumble out.

Paige doesn’t say anything and instead kisses your forehead, letting her lips linger for a few moments before pulling away and putting her hand under your shirt to rub your back—helping you fall asleep.

After a few minutes, she hears you lightly snoring. Knowing it’s okay for her to go to sleep now, she kisses your forehead one more time before mumbling, “I love you more.”

[solxamber]

Lost in Translation || Malleus Draconia

You have an idea: what better way to confess to Malleus than in his native language? Except you have severely overestimated your abilities.

The plan was flawless. Well, mostly. You’d spent weeks trying to gather the courage to confess to Malleus Draconia, the enigmatic and intimidating prince of Briar Valley. But every time you tried, your heart would race, your words would fail, and you’d end up babbling about random things like gargoyle architecture or the weather.

That’s when you decided: You’d master the fae tongue.

You were no expert, but after a marathon study session in the library (where you may or may not have skimmed over some finer points), you were convinced you had enough proficiency to make a grand, romantic declaration in his native language. Surely, that would impress him!

The stars were twinkling when you finally cornered him in the Ramshackle courtyard. Malleus stood there, his serene expression glowing in the moonlight, making him look otherworldly as usual. He turned to you, his green eyes softening. “Ah, child of man. What brings you here at this hour?”

Your heart pounded, but you were determined. You’d practiced in the mirror. You had this.

Taking a deep breath, you clasped your hands and spoke in the fae tongue.

Silence.

Malleus blinked. “...Indeed.”

You waited. And waited. But there was no reaction beyond his usual calm acknowledgment. No blush, no smile, no dramatic confession of mutual affection.

“Uh,” you stammered, panic creeping in. “I-I just wanted to, you know…”

He inclined his head, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve certainly... surprised me. Very well, child of man. I shall honor this moment as best I can.”

Before you could decipher whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, Malleus nodded and vanished into the night, leaving you standing there, confused and sweating.

Hours later, you were sitting in the lounge, head in your hands, recounting the ordeal to Lilia. The ancient fae had been listening patiently, nodding along with an amused twinkle in his eyes.

“So, what exactly did you say?” he asked, his grin a little too mischievous for comfort.

You cleared your throat and repeated it.

Lilia froze for a second. Then he burst into laughter, clutching his stomach as he practically doubled over.

“What?” you demanded, growing more alarmed.

“You—you told him—oh dear, this is rich! You said, ‘My cabbage is the most honorable of vegetables.’”

Your soul left your body.

“What.”

Lilia wiped a tear from his eye, grinning ear to ear. “Oh, it gets better. In certain contexts, it could also mean ‘I challenge your grandmother to a duel.’”

You slowly stood, your legs feeling like jelly as you made your way to the storage closet.

“What are you doing now, hmm?” Lilia called after you, clearly enjoying himself.

Grabbing a rusty old shovel, you muttered, “Digging a hole.”

“A hole?”

“To bury myself in.”

Lilia laughed so hard he almost fell out of his chair. “Oh, my dear, dramatic beastie! Do let me know if you need help with the epitaph!”

You marched out to the garden, shovel in hand, ignoring his cackling. As you began to dig your grave of embarrassment, you swore you’d never try anything involving ancient languages again.

Malleus, meanwhile, was in his dorm, pondering your words. A faint smile graced his lips as he considered their deeper meaning.

"My cabbage is the most honorable of vegetables. Perhaps it is a metaphor, a declaration of their steadfast nature."

He chuckled softly to himself. “Truly, the child of man is full of surprises.”

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