#gross descriptions of pregnancy

[rainy-day-gracie]

- bloodlust - general marcus acacius x wife!reader

content warnings: shameless and utter filth, discussion/description of periods, mentions of pregnancy, pre-established relationship (married couple), soft!dom marcus acacius because he is husband, unprotected piv sex, rough sex, bondage (wrists and ankles), fingering, spanking (not a punishment), begging, verbal reaffirmed consent, praise kink, dirty talk, use of the word 'whore' as a compliment, discussions of canon typical violence, this man is a SLUTTT and we love him so much, porn with feelings <3

summary: Your cycle comes a month into your marriage to General Marcus Acacius, and he knows how to make you feel better.

a/n: so hi. this is the first fic i've released in four years, and my first time writing full smut before. i've never written for any of pedro's characters before but i've been reading them for a loooong time now, so hopefully this is up to standard! please be kind, i'm just a girl tryna write nasty smut.

______

"Shit, shit, shit," you whisper, despite the fact there is no shit at all. Only blood.

"Why have you not come to bed, my darling wife?" Marcus calls, not seeing the bloodied rag that you quickly hide in the wash bin.

Not meeting his eye, you leave the washroom, crossing over to the bed but making no move to tuck into it. Marcus strolls behind you, wrapping his broad arms around your waist. He wasn't aware, but the pressure of his hands on your belly perfectly eased the incessant cramping that has burdened you all day.

"I'm not sure I'll find sleep tonight," you answer, rolling over how to break the news of your cycle's arrival to him.

As far as you understand, husbands do not want to know about or deal with the monthly cycles of their wives, the cramping stomachs, the wicked mood swings, and least of all, the blood that taints the innermost parts of the woman. It's evidence of vulnerability, something that is out of the control of both the wife and husband-- and above all else, a gross imperfection in their respectable brides.

“You wish to sleep elsewhere?” Marcus mumbles, kissing your shoulder delicately.

“No, it is not that, Marcus,” you breathe, exhaling as he traced his mouth against your neck, sending shivers along your skin. “I just… I don’t want…”

Marcus stepped back abruptly, and you turned to face him. He looked almost… guilty. “I understand, I apologize if I made it seem as if I expected... if I forced myself onto—“

“My cycle started today,” you blurt out, unable to see your fierce general appear solemn for a moment longer. You cast your eyes to the ground, picking at the skin around your nails.

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you stammer, “i-it started just now. I was never going to keep it hidden, but I was- am, simply embarrassed. You have hopes for a child, and I have not full filled that desire of yours. Women’s cycles are not desirable, and can be quite a burden—“

Marcus speaks your name with such softness that you halted your rambling, and looked up at him again.

Warm brown eyes meet yours, and where you had expected to see anger or disgust, there was only sympathy, and… amusement. He took your fiddling hands, lacing his fingers within yours.

“You must understand me,” he spoke gently. “There is no need for embarrassment, or fear. Your cycles are evidence that your body feels at ease in our marriage, that you are properly fed, fucked, and cared for. We have only been married a month, and I do not expect immediate heirs, or heirs at all if you do not wish for them. There is no desire of mine that is not satisfied in this union, for I have a beautiful wife that carries herself with grace, and elegance, and matches my taste for occasional debauchery.”

You giggle, a bashful smile creeping onto your lips.

“There it is, that smile I breathe for.”

You grin fully, and squeeze his palms in yours. “You are too kind to me, Marcus. While you speak that my cycle is nothing to be embarrassed about, I do not expect you to share my bed tonight, or for the next few. I’m sure you know how… messy, it can sometimes be. I wouldn’t wish to sully the sheets, or you, for that matter.”

Marcus peers at you, looking between your eyes like he was searching for something. A ghost of a smirk graced his lips.

His grip on your hands moved closer to your wrists, and tightened slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to keep you still. He brings your wrists up, holding them again your chest.

Adjusting his hold on you slightly, he keeps one palm wrapped around your wrists while the other hand reaches for the silken rope tied around his toga. Deftly, he undoes the rope, letting his toga come loose.

“Marcus, wh— what are you doing?” You asked, pulse quickening as he wrapped the rope nimbly around your wrists, tying them together while keeping plenty of slack at the end of the line.

“I wish to see for myself just how messy and sullying my wife can become,” he said, holding your gaze. “Unless you do not want me to?”

The thrill of having his hands on you like this, the silken rope of his toga binding your arms, and the lust brewing in his eyes like a dark storm… jolts of unfiltered want shoot downward, through your chest, belly, all the way into your core.

Swallowing, you nod.

Marcus walks you backward, pushing you by the wrists until your thighs meet the edge of the bed.

“Lie down, and put your hands up towards the frame of the bed,” Marcus commanded.

The general’s eyes held not the doting love of a husband, but the steely determination of a conqueror. The eyes of a warrior, a dominating force of nature, a man capable of ruination.

Desire wracked your body, and you tried to keep from trembling as you obeyed his command.

For the month of your marriage, the general had only ever been gentle with you, in both words and actions. At no point had you ever seen for yourself the fearsome general his reputation preceded him as.

But as he loomed over you now, shedding his toga and laurels, pinning you with his conqueror's eyes... this was the general the world whispered about like a god of war.

"You know what is so amusing about you, wife?" Marcus wondered aloud, moving to straddle you on the bed. Even though you were still fully dressed, and he fully nude except for a tented loincloth, he made you feel as if you'd never been more exposed with those dark eyes of his.

"What is?" You mumbled, breath catching in your throat as he reached up to tie your hands to the headboard.

Tightening the ropes, he continued on with his cavernous rasp. "I am a man that commands armies, orders slaughters, and washes his hands with the blood of men," he drawled, tilting his head to peer at you. Your blood pumped so fast through your body; his discerning stare made you wonder if he could truly hear every beat of your heart, feel every jolt of desire wracking your cunt.

Marcus pulled on the ropes binding you, shaking your wrists against the headboard. You yelped at the sudden movement, anticipation heightening your senses to every small shift.

Another dark smirk crossed his lips. "I have killed more men than I can count, and yet... you think I would shy away from a little bloodshed."

A full whimper escaped your lips at his words, blush rising to your cheeks at his knowing, devilish grin.

"Do I frighten you?" He questioned softly, glancing at your lips, your heaving chest, the pulse in your neck.

"No," you breathed.

"If you want me to stop, you will not be afraid to tell me so?"

A shake of your head. "I will tell you if I need to stop."

"Good girl."

And he melded his lips to yours.

Marcus captured your lips to his like an immortal, like he had all the time in the world. Brutal, powerful, unyielding, but slow, as if he were savoring every moment. His kiss left you breathless, needier for him by the moment, and you were already pulling on the bondage binding your wrists.

So caught up in his kiss, you forgot about his hands, and all they were capable of.

As Marcus sunk his teeth into your bottom lip, drawing a trace of blood, he ripped your stola open to reveal your peaked breasts, your nipples perking in the cold night air.

His hands immediately reached for your tits, more swollen than usual due to your cycle. His lips traced down your exposed throat, pinching your nipples slightly. A high-pitched moan escaped you, and your soaking, bloody core clenched around nothing.

"I never thought my wife capable of such sounds, but I suppose my devilry has rubbed off on you," he mumbled into your neck, marking you with teeth and tongue. The only response you could give is another unfiltered moan as he twisted your sensitive nipples again. "Such beautiful sounds you make when I am rough with you."

You gaped for breath as he sat up onto his knees once more, trailing his calloused fingers down your breasts, along your ribcage, and gripped the rip in the center of your dress.

"Shall we see what bloodlust has done to you, hm?"

Like parchment, he tore your dress completely in half, exposing your heated cunt to him. On instinct, you closed and curled your legs, hiding your wet and bloody core.

Marcus chuckled, wrapping a hand around each of your ankles in their curled position on the bed. "Pretty girl thinks she can hide from me. How cute."

Your legs tensed as he pulled them apart, your instinct to fight his advances taking over.

And a small, devilish part of you wanted to know what he would do if you tried to deny him what he so clearly wants.

"You're fighting me now?" He mused, easily prying your legs wide, his hold on your ankles unshakable.

His knees moved to rest on top of your thighs, not painful, but certainly keeping you pinned.

It distracted you for a moment where you missed the two long ropes that had appeared in his hands, the same silken rope that he uses to tie togas with.

Now, he glances up at you, not lustfully, but with a firmness, serious. "Is this something you want?"

Understanding what he meant, you swallowed and nodded. "Yes, I want this. Anything you have to give me... I want it. I want you."

Marcus groaned at the words, wrapping each of your ankles with the silken rope, and binding them to the posts of the bed.

Cool air hit your core, and you throw your head back against the pillows with both relief and slight delicious humiliation.

Knelt on the bed above you, Marcus studied your cunt with tunnel-vision focus. The world could erupt in flames around the two of you, and he wouldn't even notice.

"You've had me fooled all this time, my darling."

The rasp of desire in his voice made your toes curl.

"Here I was thinking that I could not possibly deserve a woman of such purity, such virtue," he murmured, as if he were speaking only to himself. "I believed you an angel, a nymph, a maiden of innocence, untouched by sin, or lust, but... it seems I was wrong."

He traces a finger delicately along your wet folds, making you whine with impatience. Your ankles strained against their bondage, the ropes holding firm against your skin.

You try to lift your hips, pathetically trying to create more friction against his rough fingertips, but to no success. He chuckles at the attempt, keeping his touch light against your aching cunt.

"Please... please, Marcus," you moan, chest heaving.

He cocks his head innocently and removed his finger from your skin. "Please... what?"

"Please touch me," you beg, meeting his eyes again. "Please touch me, general."

Any amusement falls from his face, replaced fully by that conqueror's gaze, the last face so many men see before they die.

Marcus plunges two fingers deep into your heated cunt, and you cry out in pleasure, desperate for more. He hooks his skilled fingers inside of you, searching for that one spot that will take you to Olympus and back.

"I was promised a noble lady as a wife," Marcus hums, pulling his fingers out of your weeping cunt slightly, "and somehow, I got a bloody whore instead, begging me to ruin her like I do battlefields."

Your cunt clenches around his fingers as he thrust back inside of you, pushing against that sweet spot of pleasure. He groans as you gush around him, pressure building at the bottom of your belly. "There it is."

The pace of his hand inside of you was brutal, punishing, and you moan and cry out, shameless. Your wrists and ankles ached deliciously, keeping you exposed, spread wide for your husband, your general.

The tipping point of your pleasure was so close, if he only were to have a bit of mercy and allow you to reach it.

"Please, general, I'm--"

He pushes in a third finger, not slowing down his pace for you to adjust.

"What is it, my darling whore?"

"I am so close, so close, please--" you whine, back arching off the bed.

As you suspected, his mercy does not come easily.

"Beg me for it," he commands, "beg for it like you would beg for your life. Beg me to finish you."

Your words come out strained with desperation. "Please, general, please, please finish me... I need it, I need you to finish me, I am so close... I'll be so good for you, general, please just finish me--"

A calloused thumb presses into your clit, and you go taut with desire. Your back arches off the bed, and your ankles pull tight against their ropes. High pitched moans escape from the depths of your throat, your cunt pulsing with relief.

He continued curling his fingers inside of you for several minutes after you finish, drawing out the release for as long as he can. It isn't until you whimper with sensitivity that he withdraws and moves to untie each of your bound limbs.

Exhaustion creeps over you, your hands and feet falling limply into the bed as he undoes the ropes and throws them onto the floor.

Propping himself onto his side, he leans over to kiss you again. This kiss was light, and loving.

"You did so well, my darling wife," Marcus praises, moving to kiss the top of your forehead. "You did perfectly."

You glance down at his groin, a tall tent risen in his loincloth. Guilt pangs at you. "You haven't--"

"I don't need to, this was about you," he says gently. "I can do it--"

"I am your wife, am I not?" You ask, your palm feather-light on his untouched cock.

He jolts from the simple touch. "Y-you are."

You lean towards him, lips brushing against his, sharing each other's breath. "A wife should serve her husband in the bedroom, should she not?"

Fast as a serpent, Marcus grips you by the shoulder, pushing you face-down into the bed. Mercifully, he leaves your hands free, and slides a folded pillow underneath your hips to allow pressure on your cramping abdomen. But this angle... your sensitive core clenches again, anticipating his cock pushing inside of you.

"Bless the gods for giving you to me," Marcus groans, not wasting a moment before the head of his cock traces up and down your already-fucked-out heat. "Your blood is mine, your desire is mine, you are mine."

A wanton moan releases from your lips as he pushes into you, the downward angle taking him deeply.

He grips your hips hard enough to leave light imprints and fucks you roughly.

"You are mine, as I am yours," he moans, his pace brutal and possessive. "It would not matter if you were a whore, or a lady, or a devil, because you are my wife."

You reach below you, propping yourself onto all fours as he pushes against your cervix and sweet spot with his godlike cock.

"You are mine, h-husband," you pant, arching your back for him, and pressing your hips harder into the pillow below. Gods, he was in your fucking stomach. "As I am yours."

You yelp in delight as he brings his hand down onto your ass, once, then twice. It sent thrills down your spine, clenching your cunt around him.

"The general and the lady," he moans, his hips beginning to lose their rhythm as he nears his edge. "The killer and the whore."

You laugh lightly, nearing the same edge but needing something else from him.

"Hit me again, please," you beg, cheeks heating. "I need it, please... hit me again."

Marcus had to hold himself back from finishing inside of you at your dirty request.

Breathless whines left you as he brought his rough hand down on you again, the sting of his killer's palm making your core gush.

Again, and again, and again, until tears streamed down your cheeks, and with each slap of his hand against your ass, angry red handprints remained in their wake.

At the delicious pain of his palms on your skin, and the unyielding pleasure of his cock pushing against your cervix, you finish with a prolonged moan, clenching around him until he reaches a breaking point.

Spilling inside of you, he pants heavily. "You are... divine."

Collapsing into the pillows with exhaustion, you smile, utterly giddy. "You flatter me, general."

Marcus cleans you up with a spare rag, blood and the remnants of your lust staining the fabric.

As soon as he falls into bed next to you, blessed sleep takes you both into dreams. Dreams of each other.

----

let me know if you enjoyed it!!

forehead kisses all around ,

gracie

[a-hazbin-reader]

To move away from all the angst I’d like to request a VERY fluffy request please!

I don’t know if Y/N has given birth to their third child yet but if they haven’t what about like having really weird cravings late at night and waking Alastor up so he can make us what we crave

As we should

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: None, I think???

Description: ☝️⬆️

Your pregnancy cravings never failed to surprise Alastor with your first pregnancy but the second time around knocked him off his feet

The first pregnancy had you asking for some pretty strange but not totally disgusting combinations

Alastor was pretty sure he saw you trying to take a bite out of one of his tentacles once

Even then, he didn't think it was all that crazy that your body craved that

But this time? Alastor is worried that his unborn spawn is trying to kill you via poisoning

He just doesn't understand what he got himself into this time around because your cravings are HORRIFIC

You asked for things that made him want to gag but he never let it show, not wanting to upset you

Sure, he'll joke about it, but he doesn't want you thinking that you're disgusting because you have a craving that you can't help

Your hormones were an entirely different beast to tangle with, one pregnancy problem at a time

Alastor hadn't really had a need for sleep before but that's changed ever since his family started growing

Now he's waking up nearly every night out of a dead sleep to you, shaking his shoulder and asking him for some monstrosity to eat

You're whispering something to him but he's too tired to understand what you're saying

"Alastor... Darling... Wake up, I'm really hungry..."

Your persistent shaking of his shoulder begins to rouse him and he turns his head towards you, eyes still shut

"Hn... Hm..?"

He can hear the whine in your voice, some dreamy part of his brain thinking that you sound cute like this

"I really want to eat fried squid and strawberry ice cream...please..?"

The overwhelming disgust he feels at your request makes him wide awake, sitting up to give you a baffled look

"Why would you-HOW-Where would I even get that at this hour!?"

You blink and stare at him like it's obvious, then you put on a faux pout and rub his arm slowly, scooting closer to him

"Get it? No, I want you to make it for me...please..? You always make the best food..."

Stroking his ego always works for you, the poor man knowing his been got as he signs and gets out of bed, you waddling after him happily

He dutifully makes everything for you from scratch, your happy cooing behind him making it feel a little less ridiculous for him to be up and cooking at this hour

Alastor genuinely can't watch you eat it, having to look away to keep his gagging under control, even if you look like you're in heaven right now

When you ask for pickled peppers to dip into the rest of it is when he has to leave the room, what you're doing to food is monstrous

And he's a cannibal

Once he gets a grip on his stomach, he comes back to find you no longer alone in the kitchen, now feeding his darling twins some of your food

They make disgusted faces at the combination and instead try to take your ice cream, something that makes you laugh

"I suppose it is pretty gross, huh? Your poor papa can't even begin to wrap his head around these cravings~"

You smile and feed each of the twins a bite of ice cream before noticing Alastor, blushing at the fact that you got caught

"I walk away for five minutes and you're poisoning my children?"

You gasp and hug the twins close to your body, making a shocked face as you pretend to be flabbergasted

"Poison? MY babies just wanted a little treat before they went back to bed..!"

The way his twins turn to stare at him with wide innocent eyes as they cling to you makes his heart melt at the sight

"Is that so? Well, they've had their treat, and now it is time for little fawns to go back to bed~"

At first they put up a fight, whining and climbing you until you threaten to give them another bite of your midnight snack, pushing a bite in their faces

Suddenly, running into papa's arms and going back to sleep doesn't seem as bad to them now

Together, you two manage to get your children back to bed before laying down in your own bed, cuddling close to each other

Alastor is rubbing your baby bump and nuzzling the back of your neck, soothing you back to sleep

You're practically purring from all the attention, stomach full, muscles relaxed, and your husband wrapped around you

"Mn...thank you for the food, darling..."

He can't help but chuckle as you put your hand over his own, your cravings finally subsiding and allowing you to sleep

"I'm not sure that concoction qualified as food, but you're welcome, nonetheless, my dear~"

You elbow him playfully as he kisses your neck, less than amused by his jabs at your pregnancy cravings, you couldn't help it

"Maybe you should sleep on the couch."

"So sorry, darling~"

He doesn't even try to sound a little sorry, instead pulling you closer as you two fall asleep together, blissful

The next night, when you ask for something even worse than before, Alastor gets up and is ready to do it all over again

He thinks your cravings are horrific and probably doing damage to his sanity but he'll do anything for his wife

Especially when it's somewhat his fault you even want to eat these things

Even if it means making food combinations so terrible that if he died, he would go to double hell for it

This one took so long I'm so SORRY

[junkissed]

daddy's day off (night vers.)

member — dad!cheol x f reader genre — smut, fluff, parents!au (dad!cheol / mom!reader; husband!cheol / wife!reader) word count — 2.7k synopsis — you and your husband take your newborn daughter on her first vacation. during the day, the pool is hers; at night, it's time for the adults to have a little fun, too. content warnings — female reader, they have a daughter, mentions of gross hotel pool water agsdjfsh smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, reader wears a bikini, breeding, praise, shower sex, unprotected sex and reader is not on birth control!, creampie, talk of kids & pregnancy (duh), nicknames (pretty girl, good girl, my wife, sexy, beautiful, etc you get the idea). please lmk if i missed any! notes — i wrote this bc dilf!svt plagues my mind at all times and i need all of you to suffer with me. @duhnova especially

“cheollie, we can’t!”

he shushes you, covering his mouth with his hand to muffle his giggles. “be quiet, you’ll wake her!”

you cross your arms, scowling at him but lowering your voice. “what if she wakes up while we’re gone?”

“we’ll be so fast, she won’t even have time to think about it. we’ll be right back. ten minutes, tops.” he wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you closer. “c’mon, baby, please?”

he tilts his head and bats his eyelashes at you, the pout on his face wordlessly pleading with you to take his side. 

and of course, you sigh, relenting. “fine. but fast.”

he grins and kisses you on the cheek, jogging into the bathroom to grab towels as you roll your eyes. you glance over at your daughter one more time, sleeping peacefully in the crib you borrowed from the hotel, before walking to your suitcase to unpack your swimsuit. 

the one you’d worn earlier in the day when you’d taken your daughter out to see the pool is still hanging to dry on the sink, a simple one piece with a sun shirt over the top. but tonight, late in the evening where the sun won’t be out and not many people will be around, you’re free to wear your favorite bikini instead. it’s cheol’s favorite bikini, too, and he never fails to make it known how attractive he thinks you look in it.

you pull off your shirt, tying the strings quickly around your neck before slipping the bottoms on too. you hear a low whistle behind you, and you turn to see your husband, dressed in nothing but swim trunks, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

you pretend to glare at him, throwing an old t-shirt on over your swimsuit. "are you just gonna stand there and admire the view or are we gonna go before she wakes up?"

he chuckles, grabbing his shirt from the bed and crossing the room. he slips a hand around your waist and pulls you in, glancing at your eyes before he presses his lips to yours. "always gonna admire how beautiful and sexy my wife is," he says with a grin once he pulls away, and you feel your cheeks begin to heat up.

"cheol…" you whine his name softly, and he groans, holding you tighter.

"don't say my name like that, or we won't even make it downstairs, baby," he says, the familiar look of lust beginning to cloud his eyes.

you humph, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the door. "wait til we get home and we can get a babysitter, seungcheol. now hurry!"

he grabs the room key and his phone, along with the baby monitor you insist on taking with you just in case, though the pool is only just down the stairs.

you ease the door to your room shut with a gentle click, waiting for a minute to listen for any noise on the other side. once enough time has passed that you're certain your daughter hadn't been startled by the noise, you breathe out a sigh of relief. but you barely have time to relax, because cheol is pulling you down the stairs, giggling like high schoolers sneaking out to go on a date.

his laughter is contagious, and by the time you reach the gate of the pool your cheeks hurt from smiling and you can barely punch in the entrance code from how out of breath you are.

you drop your stuff on one of the lounge chairs by the edge of the pool, carefully setting everything on top of your towel.

"hey, babe," cheol calls out, and you turn around just in time to see your husband cannonball into the pool. you shriek as water splashes all over the deck, just barely missing you. 

seconds later his face pops up out of the water and he shakes his head, pushing his soaking hair out of his eyes.

"you coming?" he laughs, and you tug your shirt off over your head and toss it to the side before jumping in after him.

you resurface next to him, wiping the water out of your face. the water's not too deep, where you can rest your feet on the bottom without standing up fully.

eventually the ripples from your movement die down, the water gently waving around you and seungcheol. he has his arms out of the pool, resting his elbows on the edge of the concrete. you can see the dark lines of his tattoo peeking out across the back of his neck and you smile, taking in his figure. the broad shoulders your daughter sits on when he carries her around, the defined muscles you've run your hands along many times and the wet, slicked back hair you like to tangle your fingers in when you're in bed together. every part of him so perfect, and all yours.

"admiring the view?" he asks with a grin, parroting your words from earlier.

"as a matter of fact, i am," you say, giggling as you flick a little bit of water at him and watch the droplets roll down his arm. "i'm glad we did this."

"the pool, or the vacation?"

"the vacation. all of it." you sigh, kicking your feet as you lean back against the wall, the water coming up to just below your chin. "i was afraid we wouldn't get to do this as often, now that we have her to take care of. but i'm glad everything worked out."

he reaches out, grabbing your hand and lacing his fingers with yours under the water. "love you so much, baby. any time i get to spend with you and our daughter is my favorite thing in the whole world."

you squeeze his hand, smiling at him. "love you too, cheollie."

he leans over to kiss you again, but you pull away, sputtering. "cheol, gross! you have chlorine all in your mouth!"

"not like you haven't had worse things in your mouth," he says with a mischievous grin, and you splash more water in his face. "hey, i'm not wrong, aren't i!"

you pout, crossing your arms with a huff. “rather have your cock in my mouth ten times over than nasty hotel pool water.”

he grins. “ten times is a lot. we should probably get started on that.”

you whine. “cheol, we can’t!”

he pouts back at you, mirroring your expression. “who says we can’t?”

“our daughter sleeping in the same room as us, maybe?”

“oh, c’mon, she’s a year old, she’s not gonna know what’s happening. we’ll put a blanket on top of the crib or something so she can’t see. it’s not like we won’t hear her if she wakes up.”

you huff. “fine, i’ll think about it. but you have to shower first, i’m not fucking you while you smell like chlorine.”

his smile widens. “y’know, that’s a great idea, actually. the shower would be cleaner…”

“ugh, cheol, you’re so horny all the time!”

“how can i not be, when my wife is so hot?”

you splash water at him and try to swim away, but you don’t get very far before his strong hands are gripping your waist and pulling you back towards him. you laugh, struggling and kicking as he holds onto you tightly before throwing you into the water with a huge splash.

when you resurface, coughing the water out of your lungs, cheol looks a little worried at how you glare at him, thinking you’re really angry with him. but then you turn around and hit him in the face with another blast of water, using your faux-upset look to surprise him and get him back.

“oh, you shouldn’t have done that!” he says with a grin, and you shriek as he starts swimming after you.

after you’ve thoroughly exhausted yourselves in the pool, playing and swimming and splashing each other until your arms and legs are sore, you sit on one of the lounge chairs, quickly drying off. luckily your daughter hasn’t woken up yet, so if you hurry you might really have some extra time to “shower”.

seungcheol stands next to you, his towel hanging around his bare shoulders, water pooling at his feet. you have to admit, he does look hot, and you suddenly remember the reason you even have a daughter in the first place when he shakes his wet hair; droplets roll down his shoulders in a way that really shouldn’t be that sexy, but somehow it is.

your bikini suddenly feels too tight and too wet on your body, and you know it’s not just from the water. you stand up and grab his neck, pulling him closer to smash your lips against his.

“somebody’s eager,” he giggles when you pull away. “thought you didn’t want to kiss me when i was all dirty from the pool.”

you pout at him playfully, wrapping your towel around your waist as you grab his hand and pull him towards the gate. “be quiet and hurry up so we can go shower.”

you make your way back up to your room, relieved to find your daughter still sleeping peacefully as you throw your wet towels over the sink to dry. seungcheol’s already got the shower started, stripping out of his shorts and stepping in while he waits for you to catch up.

once you’re inside with him, he wraps his arms around you, the warm, clean water cascading from the shower above your heads. “hi,” he says, a soft smile on his face.

you grin back at him. “hi, cheollie.”

“you enjoying your vacation so far?”

you giggle, staring into his eyes as you watch droplets of water collect on his eyelashes. “it’s alright.”

he sticks out his bottom lip in a pout. “just alright?”

“mm. i‘m sure you could think of a way to make it better, though.” you run your fingers through his wet hair, messing it around a little before dropping your hands down to squeeze his ass.

he laughs, though it’s a gesture he’s more than gotten used to over the years. “oh, really?”

“mhm,” you hum. “i seem to remember you mentioning something in the pool earlier…”

with the way you’re pressed against his chest, you can already feel his cock growing harder, poking against your hip as you stand together under the water. “and what was that?” he asks, his eyes darkening.

you purse your lips and look at the ceiling, pretending to think hard about it. “y’know, i think it was— something like this…” 

you lean in, finally closing the distance to kiss him, and he reciprocates, eagerly chasing your lips. you push your hips up against him, putting pressure on his cock and he moans into your mouth, kisses growing rougher as his grip on you grows tighter. you groan as he pulls you closer, barely an inch of space between your bodies, and you can’t tell anymore where you end and he begins.

“want me to take care of you, pretty girl?” his voice rumbles as he pulls away from you before diving back in, attaching his mouth to your neck and sucking hard. you can already feel bruises forming on your skin, and it makes your cunt clench. “want me to fuck you like the good girl you are? like you deserve?”

you barely have time to whine out a “yes” before his hands are sliding down your body, lifting up one of your legs by the thigh and wrapping it around his hip. the head of his hard cock brushes against your clit at this new angle, and you gasp out his name as he slides his cock through your folds. “cheol, please–”

he carefully dips just the tip into your dripping hole, still teasing you with his words. “please, what, baby? want me to put another baby in you?”

“fuck— yes, cheol! please, want you to fill me up again, please, feels so good—”

he finally begins pushing into you, and you let out a broken moan as you feel him so deep inside you.

“better not be too loud, darling,” he scolds as his thrusts start to become rougher. “don’t wanna wake up our daughter.”

you whimper, holding onto his shoulders for balance. your legs ache from the position but you don’t want to stop, want him to keep fucking you until he cums inside you. 

you’d stopped taking birth control when you started trying for your first child, and you haven’t started it again since; it isn’t a very safe practice, but you wouldn’t be opposed to getting pregnant again, especially not when you’re so addicted to the feeling of him cumming inside you, the warm liquid making your heart race.

cheol’s hands slide to your waist, turning your hips just slightly so he can fuck up into you at a new angle, one that leaves you gasping for breath as the head of his cock kisses your walls just right.

you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the sensation of the water hitting your back and his cock jackhammering into you. even before you had your first child you could barely keep up with his stamina, and it seems he hasn’t lost an ounce of that energy he had when you first met him.

with just a few more strokes you’re falling apart around him, knees going weak but his strong arms wrapped around you force you to stay standing as you go limp in his hold, whimpering and struggling and pleading with him to keep going, go harder, more, please, please, please.

he fucks you through your orgasm with ease, the beautiful sound of his soft grunts ringing in your ears.

you continue to clench around him until you feel his cock jerk violently, releasing into your pussy with a guttural moan. coming down from your own high, you have half a mind to mock his words from earlier about being too loud; but every thought in your head flies out the window when he starts whispering in your ear about how well you’re taking him, milking every drop of his cum and letting him fill you up, letting him breed you, his beautiful wife.

thick globs of white drip down your leg onto the tile floor, and you whine against his lips, feeling his cum ooze out of your sore cunt. he keeps his cock nestled inside you, plugging you up as you clench around him in an effort to keep his cum from spilling out.

you lay your forehead on his shoulder, taking a second to catch your breath and briefly you wonder how many people have fucked in this exact shower before. but the thought doesn’t stay for long, because your attention is soon pulled away by cheol, who’s spiked his hair up with the shampoo and it’s dripping all over your ears.

he lets his softening cock gently slip out of you, and the rest of your shower goes (somewhat) normally, once you start washing each other like the shower is supposed to be used for.

you only have to stop him once, when he starts to get on his knees on the nasty hotel shower floor because he wants to eat you out and you have to scold him about how disgusting that would be; he doesn’t seem to care about that, though, and only relents after you promise you’ll let him eat you out on the bed instead.

“you better not actually get me pregnant again so soon,” you scowl at him when you’ve both rinsed off enough, and you smack his arm when he starts giggling.

“but you look so cute,” he says with a mischievous grin. “you don’t like being stuffed all full of my cum? see how many more beautiful babies we can make together?”

you don’t reply, but your silence is enough of an answer. he hums, reaching around you to turn off the water. “how about we dry off and continue this conversation in bed, sweetheart?”

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[yoongiseesawmp3]

ceilings pt3 - san

summary: pe teacher!san turned new dad!san. your family of three is growing. an engagement, a pregnancy, a wedding? that's a lot. good thing you and san can get through anything together.

word count: 9.8k

warnings: afab reader, inaccurate descriptions of pregnancy/labor (ive never done it before!)

note: this is the last part! thank you for reading and sharing such kind words about this series :') thank you thank you thank you.

masterlist / part one / part two

"baby, come on, we're gonna be late!" san calls from the kitchen. you groan, but he can't hear you. it's still the early stages of your pregnancy, but you feel like shit. you know you need to get up, you have to go to this appointment, but no part of you wants to move. so you don't. that leads to san bursting into the bedroom with your breakfast, saying, "paging mrs. choi!"

"why do you keep calling me that? we're not married yet," you mumble into your pillow. then, upon smelling the food san's holding in front of you, you scrunch your face up and suppress a gag. "move, i think i'm gonna be sick."

san steps out of the way as you sprint to the bathroom, trying to shut him out before you kneel just in time to hurl all the contents of your stomach into the toilet. you know it may not be sanitary, but you lay your head on the seat, catching your breath as san quietly joins you.

"san, i told you i don't want you to see me like this," you whisper, voice hoarse.

"too bad," he shakes his head. he sits on the edge of the tub, brushing your hair out of your face as he says, "i'm here now so i'm here for everything. even the puking bits."

"but it's embarrassing. and gross."

"it's nature," he shrugs while you start heaving again. "it happens."

"how late are we gonna be for the appointment?" you ask, looking back to find san watching you with concern in his eyes.

"not too late," he admits. "i woke you up early."

"you're evil."

"yeah but you love me," he smirks.

"not right now," you say as you hover over the toilet again. "seriously, can you go do something else?"

"nothing for me to do," he says. "vi's at school, kitchen is clean, laundry's done-"

"can you," you stop as you get sick again. "can you go throw those eggs away? i'm sorry san but just the smell-"

"they're gone," he says, kissing the back of your head as you take deep breaths to steady your stomach. he clears the food that he brought for you, packing some safer foods for you to snack on in the car. he also packs your vitamins and a ginger ale, because he knows you'll be fine in a few minutes. your morning sickness comes like clockwork, and goes away pretty quickly. it's just tough while you're going through it, so san is eager to make things easier for you if he can. he places your to go bag by the door, shuffling back to the bedroom to find you back in the bed. "y/n, now we're actually late."

"do i have to go to this appointment?" you whine. "you can go for me."

"we kinda need your equipment though, baby," he laughs. "come on, let's get dressed."

you roll out of bed then and into san's arms. he hugs you tight, kissing your forehead before waddling you into the closet. he hands you whatever is closest, taking your pajamas and tossing them into the laundry basket as you change. when you're done he gives you a once over and asks, "did you brush your teeth?"

"yes," you grumble. "but it made me sick again. so we'll have to get a new toothpaste on the way back from the doctor, i can't use this one anymore."

"got it," san nods, pulling you out of the closet and toward the door. "you good now? ready to go?"

"yep," you assure him. "let me just get something for the car-"

san holds up the bag he prepared earlier, smiling proudly as he says, "way ahead of you, love. now let's go see this baby!"

-

you're using the same doctor that delivered violet for this pregnancy, so you know what to expect. the first visit for this kid was just with a technician, so today will be san's first time meeting the doctor. at the other appointment, he got to see the ultrasound, even though the fetus was barely the size of a peanut on the screen, and he still cried. he's been so excited for this appointment because he has a lot of questions for the doctor, and they'll take blood today to find out the sex.

you thought about waiting, because that's what you did with violet, but san said he wants to know everything. you want him to enjoy this, getting to be a dad from the very beginning, so you're doing whatever he wants. he wants to know the sex, so you're doing that. he wants to be at every appointment, so he's there. he wants to see all the good and exciting parts of pregnancy and all the gross and scary parts too, so you're letting him. it's bringing you closer than you ever thought possible, and you can't believe you did this once already without san by your side to help you.

as he drives to the doctor, he goes through his questions with you, not wanting to sound like an ignorant dad in front of your doctor. he's worried about asking questions he should already know, so you're answering what you can and keeping track of which answers need a professional opinion.

"you know some of these you could just google," you tease. "no need to bother the doc with them."

"i'd rather hear it from someone i trust, not a stranger on the internet," san replies. "but there's one i'm afraid to ask, so i guess i'll google that."

"what is it?" you ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

"can we still have sex?"

"you're joking."

"what! i want to know if it's bad for the baby!"

"i actually don't know," you think about it. "i know sex is encouraged to induce labor, but i'm not sure if it does anything else."

"i'll keep that in mind," san smirks, and you slap his arm as he pulls into the parking lot. he complains when you get out of the car without his help, but you remind him that you can still do things on your own. he keeps mumbling as you walk into the waiting room, waving as you greet the receptionist.

"well if it isn't my favorite parents," she smiles.

"i bet you say that to everyone," you roll your eyes, but she shakes her head.

"nope, you made the cutest kid i've ever seen," she says. "and you're both nice, so that gets you top spot."

"well i hope that works in our favor since we're so late today," san says sheepishly.

"no worries," the receptionist assures him. "it's a slow day, so you're all we've got this morning. i'll tell the doc you're here."

a nurse leads you to an exam room shortly after, and san starts firing some of his questions at her. they chat as you get situated in the chair, cursing at how uncomfortable you are. was your pregnancy with violet this miserable? or has it just been so long you forgot how bad it gets?

"y/n! it's so nice to see you again!" the doctor says cheerfully as she walks in. san stands off to the side as you catch up, but you keep an eye on him as you speak. the doc catches on and turns to him, smiling warmly as she asks, "is this the father i've heard so much about?"

"you told her about me?" san asks you, and you feel yourself blush.

"some of it was just medical," the doc answers for you. "but i could tell this one had some feelings she needed to address. i'm very happy to see you both here now."

"happy to be here," san smiles. "i've actually got some questions for you-"

"i'm sorry in advance," you tell her, and san shushes you.

"i've dealt with much worse," the doctor says. "ask away."

boy does he! san shoots off question after question as the doctor preps the machine and checks your vitals. when you lift your shirt for the ultrasound gel, she comments on your baby bump.

"you're showing a lot for just a few weeks," she notes. "when did you say you conceived?"

"pretty much the second time we had sex," you answer, and san balks. "what? she's seen my vagina. she can know about our sex life."

"it's part of the job," the doctor agrees. "it's not uncommon for a second pregnancy to speed some symptoms along, so that might be why you're showing so soon.

"is that a bad thing?" san asks, but she shakes her head.

"just some early growth, nothing wrong with that," she says as she starts the ultrasound. san takes your hand and squeezes softly, his palm sweaty from nerves and excitement. "but let's take a look at the little one to make sure."

"do you hear that?" you ask san. he's watching the screen intently, so it takes a second for your voice to register. he listens for a second and asks what you're talking about. "the heartbeat. that whooshing sound? that's the baby."

"really?" he looks at you eagerly. "that's the baby's heartbeat?"

"babies," the doctor says, and you nod in agreement.

"yeah, that's the baby's heart-"

"no, i mean babies, plural," she repeats. "there are two fetuses here."

"what?" you're shocked. you look at the screen and gasp, noticing the second blob immediately. "oh my god."

"two babies?" san whispers, gripping your hand so tightly it hurts. "there's two babies in there?"

"that's why you're showing so early," the doctor smiles as she notes a few things in your file. "but yes, you're having twins, y/n."

"oh my god," you repeat. san cups your chin, pulling your gaze from the ultrasound to his teary eyes.

"twins," he emphasizes. "two babies, y/n!"

"two babies," you nod, still surprised. "you get to have three after all."

"i love you so much," he whispers, kissing you quickly so he can go back to staring at the babies on the screen.

"do twins run in your family?" the doctor asks.

"maybe in mine?" san thinks out loud, and your head whips to look at him. "what?"

"that would've been nice to know!"

"would it have stopped you from sleeping with me?" san asks, and you shut up, because, no, it wouldn't have. but it would've been nice to know it was a possibility.

"since it's twins, this pregnancy might look a little different," the doctor starts to explain, and you try to listen but your mind is swimming. two babies. you're gonna have three kids. two babies plus violet. can you and san handle that? can you afford it? can your house even fit two babies? as you run through all these questions, san jots down notes on the pamphlets the doctor is handing him, explaining how the appointments will increase in frequency for the next bit of the pregnancy to monitor the twins' growth and your health. there's even more things you have to do now to make sure everything is safe, so san is planning his next grocery run in his head as you sit there stunned.

"y/n?" he finally calls your name. you turn to him dazed, and he can tell something's wrong. "you ok?"

"this is just a lot to take in," you say softly. "but i'm ok. i'm happy."

"are you ready for me to take your blood?" the doctor asks, and you nod. she explains that they'll call back tomorrow with your health updates, and in about a week with the sex of the babies. "what do you think you'll have?"

"two girls," san replies immediately.

"you like being a girl dad?" the doctor asks, and he nods eagerly. "y/n? what about you?"

"i want san to have a son," you reply. "but i can't let the boys outnumber me and vi, so i think one of each would be nice."

"i'd be happy with whatever, honestly," san says. "this is exciting."

"cool, because i'm terrified," you mumble, wiping the gel off of your stomach as the doctor wraps up.

"you'll be fine," she tells you. "you were like this with violet, and look how well you did. this pregnancy will be just as great."

"i'll remember that in the morning when i'm puking my guts out," you smile, and she laughs.

"let me get you a few more vitamins, and then you're good to go."

-

you and san took the day off work for the appointment, so after a quick grocery shop you're back home. you're already exhausted despite not doing much today, so san puts the groceries up while you lay down. you're in and out of sleep when he pads into the room, lays down behind you and scoops you into his arms.

"y/n," he whispers into your hair. "are you awake?"

"no."

"baby."

"my love. sh."

"but i want to ask you something." at that you roll over. he looks at you softly, brushing some hair out of your face. "how do you feel?"

"that's why you woke me up?" you pout, and he kisses you to make up for it.

"we're having twins," he says. the shock is finally hitting him, apparently. "that's a lot more work for you."

"for both of us," you reply. "good thing there's two of us, a baby for each."

"yeah, but at the doctor earlier you said you were scared," he continues. "and then she went on and on about all the things you need to be careful of..."

so this isn't san checking in on you, really. it's him admitting he's worried, but masking it by seeing how you feel about this change of plans. he does that a lot, tries to save face and be unafraid for you, but you need him to know he can be open with you about his feelings. he can get too caught up in providing for you and violet that he forgets to check on himself, so you'll do it for him.

"i'm scared, but good scared," you explain. "pregnancy is scary, because you never really know everything is good until you meet the kid. and don't even get me started on labor. the idea of doing that twice, back to back? that's gonna be awful. but i know it'll be ok, because i have you, and we have our family, our friends, so many people to support us. it'll be tough, sure, but we can do it," you assure him, cupping his face. "aren't you excited you'll get your family of five you've always wanted?"

"yeah," he admits shyly. "i'm really excited, it's just..."

"sannie, you can tell me. are you nervous?" he nods. "what are you nervous about?"

"am i gonna be a good dad?" he whispers so quietly you could barely hear it, and you're just inches away from him. you sit up as best you can, staring down at him in disbelief.

"how on earth could you think otherwise?" you ask. "look at how you are with violet."

"yeah, but she was a big kid when i met her," he whispers still. "i've worked with kids her age for years. i've never been around a baby, let alone two, for more than a couple hours."

"well good thing you have me, super mom, by your side," you joke, but san groans, pulling your hand from caressing his neck to hold it over his chest. you can feel his heart racing as you flatten your palm over his soft t shirt, and you trace shapes over it to try and calm him.

"i'm being serious, y/n."

"and i'm being serious when i say you'll be great with the babies. i raised one, i know what it takes, and i swear i'm not joking. you're already great at anticipating mine and violet's needs, and that's most of what having a baby is about. you're loving, and nurturing, and easy to hold onto for a few hours," he blushes at this, "and that's another big part of having a baby. they're super clingy."

"like you?" he teases, and you pinch him. "ah!"

"i know you'll be great with the babies because you are a kind, smart, caring person. what you don't know, you'll figure out, and i'll be right next to you to help whenever you need it, mr. choi," you add, and you feel san's skin warm at the nickname, but he frowns anyway. "what? you're not convinced?"

"no, i just thought about it, and when are we gonna have a wedding?" he wonders. "do we still want to wait until the babies come, or will we be too exhausted now that there's two of them?

"that's a good question," you frown too, nuzzling into your pillow as your grogginess takes over. "we'll have to think about that another day. you woke me up from a nap."

"go to sleep, baby," san says, pulling you onto his chest. "thank you for what you said."

"i meant it," you say softly. "you are so capable, san. two babies aren't gonna take you down." he giggles, and it jostles you so bad you wince. "what's so funny?"

"sorry," he shakes his head. "just..the way you phrased that. now i'm thinking about me fighting two really big babies."

"oh my god," you groan, pushing away from him as you lay your head back on your pillow. "good night. wake me up when you mature ten years."

-

jen brought violet home from school that afternoon, and wooyoung tagged along just because. secretly he liked playing house and wondering what it would be like when he's ready to have kids, but if he admitted to that he would never hear the end of it. plus, he's too immature to have his own kid. he taught violet a song about farts on the ride home, so he's happy in his role as fun uncle.

san, ever the dad, reprimands wooyoung (and violet a little too) for the song as you tell jen about the doctor's appointment. violet has run off to her room, so it's just the adults now. san has an arm draped over your shoulders with jen on your other side, and wooyoung is in his own world in the armchair. jen's listening to you explain the visit while you keep the sonogram pictures just out of her reach. once you've said all you want to say, you hand her the pictures and wait.

"aw!" she squeals. "what am i looking at?"

"well there's one baby," you say, pointing to the first blob. "and there's number two."

"what?" jen and wooyoung's head both snap toward you. "number two?!"

"man, how strong is your sperm?" wooyoung asks, moving to perch on the armrest next to jen so he can see the sonogram himself.

"you're having two babies?" jen asks. "two? as in two babies?"

"two babies," you nod.

"you guys have to be the most fertile people on earth," she shakes her head in disbelief. "how did you have sex twice and get knocked up each time?"

"they've had sex way more than twice," wooyoung scoffs, looking at san to confirm, "right?"

"shut up man."

"so wait," jen says, pulling your attention back. "what about the wedding?"

"it's on hold," you shrug.

"no," san butts in. "it's changing. but it's not on hold."

"you know what i meant baby," you wave him off.

"still didn't like it," he mumbles, and you grab his hand on your shoulder and kiss it in apology. as you pull away you yawn so big it brings tears to your eyes, and you slump back into the couch with a whine. "you didn't sleep enough?"

"no, i did," you grumble. "i was like this with violet, i could sleep all the time and never feel rested."

"well we're here now," jen sits up. "what can we do so you and san can rest?"

"really?" you're skeptical, only because wooyoung looks unsure of being volun-told to help out.

"really."

"uh, san?" you turn to him. "what haven't you done today?"

"you could make dinner," he smiles. "and wear violet out a little more. she told me someone gave her a bunch of candy during dismissal?" he says this looking at jen, who pretends not to notice.

"so i'll be on violet duty, and you cook dinner?" she says to wooyoung, who reluctantly agrees. "great, get to it pal."

"what kinda food do you have?" wooyoung asks. "or are you craving anything?"

"we bought stuff for burgers this morning," san replies, following wooyoung into the kitchen despite this being time for him to rest too. "cook y/n's until there's no pink left, and no cheese-"

-

as you get further into the pregnancy, you're getting more and more used to the idea of twins. you're glad you ended up with two babies, because now san gets the full experience of having a kid. with one baby, you could use all of violet's hand-me-downs. with two, you need to buy a second set of everything, so san is going trigger happy with the shopping sprees. by the end of the first trimester, you're pretty sure san has bought two of everything from the baby store by your house, and you even think he's got a salesperson on speed dial.

he's late getting back from work one day, and you immediately know where he went. you're not surprised when he comes home, bags hanging from his hands with violet skipping behind him. she's got two baby dolls in her arms, and she slides into the kitchen to show you.

"mommy! look! i'm like you!" she beams. "i'm practicing holding two babies, daddy got me new dolls at the store, and some pretend diapers so i can practice changing them, and he got these cool walkie-talkies for their room so me and the babies can tell secrets..." she trails off as she goes to her room to get the dolls settled with the rest of her toys, leaving you staring at a sheepish san with a hand on your hip. you're totally showing now, the baby belly so big you've just given up on what to wear. you've got an old sweatshirt on, one of san's from college, but even that can't cover the bump. your stomach peeks out, and san's hands rub soothingly over it as he gets closer.

"they're not walkie-talkies, they're baby monitors," san says. "and i got the dolls because she looked pretty bummed at all the baby stuff i was buying. i felt like she needed to know some things are still about her."

"good call," you nod, giving him a kiss. "but did we need more baby stuff?"

"we needed the monitors," he pouts. "the ones you had from vi's baby days were so old i had to crank them to turn them on."

"shut up."

"and i figured we could always use more diapers," he concludes. "so that's why there's a lot of bags."

"and vi's two babies?" you ask, smoothing out a wrinkle in his shirt.

"i blame you for that," he points in your face, and you nip at his finger. "she looks up to you so much, she wouldn't leave without getting 'twims like mommy.' how could i say no to that?"

"that is pretty sweet," you sigh. "you hungry? i made dinner."

"yeah, let me just put this stuff in the twin's room," he says, kissing your cheek before he steps away. "i'll get violet too."

after dinner, you and violet play with her new baby dolls while san figures out the baby monitors. violet is so excited to be a big sister, and you love seeing her practice with the dolls. she's caring like san, cooing at the babies the same way san coos at violet. she's asking great questions too, wondering how she can help when the babies come. you tell her about diapers, feeding, and cleaning up toys, and she listens intently.

"you know what you can do now though?" you ask. she shakes her head, so you scoot closer to her and hold her hands as you go on. "you can talk to the babies. they can hear everything we say, so it's nice to say hi, tell them who you are, and just let them hear your voice."

"they can hear us?" she looks confused. "how?"

"i don't know, bug," you laugh, "but they can. i talked to you all the time when you were in my belly, and when you were born as soon as i said something you started looking for me. you recognized my voice, because you could hear me in here. so do you wanna try talking to the twins?"

"ok," she says, leaning down to cup her hands over your belly. she talks into her hands, and the vibrations makes you giggle. "hi babies!"

"tell them your name," you encourage her.

"i'm violet, your big sister," she says, then looks up at you. "what now?"

"that can be all," you shrug. "you can talk to them more when you have something else to say."

"ok!" she looks satisfied, and you catch movement from the corner of your eye. san is there, watching proudly.

"what are my favorite girls up to?" he asks.

"talking to the babies," you reply. "you wanna say something?"

"maybe later," he smiles. "it's somebody's bedtime."

"no!" violet whines.

"come on baby, let's get ready for bed," you say as you try to stand. you can't, so san rushes to help you up. "did you get the monitors set up?"

"yeah, it was easy," he shrugs. "you got bath time or you need my help?"

"i'll do the bath if you get the bedtime story," you reply. "i've got about ten minutes of energy left in me."

once violet is all clean and in her pjs, you give her a kiss goodnight and head back to your room. meanwhile, san sits down for what will most likely turn into about an hour's worth of bedtime stories, so you start to doze off as you wait for him to finish up. you faintly hear him come into the room, the sound of the shower waking you up. you roll over and see one of the baby monitors already on the nightstand, and you watch it for a moment, remembering the days of baby vi and looking forward to the new babies. you think you're imagining it at first, but you definitely see movement on the screen. you look at it scared, thinking irrationally that it might be a ghost. but you see tiny little violet standing there with her baby dolls in her arms. you turn the volume up to get a better idea of what's happening.

"what are you doing up, baby?" san asks, a towel around his waist as he steps out of the bathroom. you shush him, and he crawls onto the bed to see what you're looking at. he hooks his chin over your shoulder, humming when he realizes what he's looking at. that's when you both hear her.

"hi babies, it's me again," violet whispers. "i'm not supposed to be awake so i gotta talk fast. but i'm really excited to meet you. you're gonna love mommy and daddy too. they're really nice."

"i think i'm gonna cry," you whisper.

"i'm already there," san sniffles, rubbing his nose into your shoulder.

"gross!" you shriek, and he hushes you quickly.

"stop! she might hear you!"

"oh, look, she's doing something," you bring the screen closer, and you see violet place a baby doll in each crib.

"good night babies!" she whispers, shuffling out of the room and back to hers. you and san laugh when you hear her accidentally slam her door shut, and you sit in silence for a minute as you think about what you just watched.

"hey," san whispers, and you twist to meet his eyes. "i love our little family."

"me too," you whisper back.

-

when your doctor called a few weeks ago with the sex of the twins, you got an idea. you knew your friends would be throwing you a baby shower, so you thought it would be fun for everyone to find out together. you had your doctor email the results to jen, who insisted she wouldn't be able to keep the secret that long, but so far she and wooyoung haven't blabbed (because you know she told him as soon as she knew). they, along with some of your friends from college, have been planning the shower for a couple weeks now, but no one will tell you anything about it. you almost think they're not gonna have it, until san wakes up one weekend to find half of the people he knows just sitting in his living room.

"what the hell?" he asks groggily, finding wooyoung across the room. "you broke into my house?"

"jen has a key," woooyung replies, but that still doesn't explain the situation.

"what-why? why are you all here?" san looks around, suddenly glad he put more clothes on before leaving the bedroom.

"surprise?" jen says, appearing from the kitchen. "we wanted to throw you a surprise shower."

"but we knew about it already," san says as he wipes his eyes. "so it was never a surprise."

"exactly! we made it one!"

"by breaking into my house," san yawns. "so we're doing this now?"

"if that's ok?" jen says. "i talked to y/n about it and she said it was fine."

"oh i'm the only one who didn't know about it then."

"y/n knew it was happening today, she just didn't know when," jen points out.

"fine," san yawns again. "i'll go get her. but she's grumpy in the morning, so beware."

"tell her there's donuts from her favorite place, and i got her a tea latte she told me she likes," jen reports. "and there's other stuff from the diner you go to all the time."

"got it," san nods sleepily, shuffling back into the bedroom. he falls down onto the bed, jostling you awake. "baby. there's people in our house."

"what?"

"jen. she let a bunch of people into our house."

"....what?"

"we have to get up," san says as he rolls himself on top of you, holding himself up so he doesn't squish you or the babies. "now, baby."

"no. 'm tired."

"there's food."

"not hungry," you mumble, pulling san down so you can press your cheek to his. it leaves him in an awkward spot, wanting to cuddle you but not wanting to mess with your precious cargo.

"the sooner we go out there, the sooner they'll leave," san whispers into your ear.

"stop it, that's turning me on."

"oh?" san sits up with a smirk. "tell me more."

"no, help me up," you grumble. with a lot of effort, san gets you out of bed and helps you get dressed. against your protests, he insists on something that'll cover the bump at least while there are guests in the house. you do the same for him, finding the sweatshirt violet gave him that says 'i'm a rad dad' or something lame like that. san wears it with pride as he guides you back out to the party, friends you haven't seen in years stopping you for hugs or to uncomfortably touch your stomach. san keeps a protective eye on you while he looks around for violet, but he can't find her. where is that kid?

"there you are!" jen finds you, pulling you and san into a quick hug. "what took you so long? you knew we were coming."

"somebody didn't want to get up," san tattles.

"i am growing two humans inside of me," you state clearly. "sorry i needed the rest."

"whatever, come on," jen drags you to the kitchen. "we have breakfast."

"where's our kid?" you ask san, and he shrugs. "oh good, cool, house full of people and we don't know-"

"she's outside, crabby," jen cuts you off. "she and the other kids are helping me with some of the games. wooyoung went out there to supervise."

"but who's watching wooyoung?" san teases.

"violet," you and jen reply. she hands you a plate of food so full you're afraid it'll crack beneath the weight, but you've finally gotten over your morning sickness. this might be the first real breakfast you've eaten in months.

"bless you for this," you tell her. "thank you for throwing the shower."

"thanks for letting me have it at your house without you really knowing," she replies. "it won't be long, though, if you're not feeling up to a bunch of activity. mostly everyone has eaten, and the kids are almost done with the surprise outside. presents are in the babies' room, and everyone who brought diapers has already put them in your hall closet."

"can we do this every other month?" you ask through a mouthful of food. you watch san take a bite out of a pink frosted donut and turn to jen so fast it makes her jump.

"what's wrong with you?"

"the pink donuts," you point out. "it's two girls, isn't it?"

"what? no, you just like strawberry donuts, you weirdo," jen replies. "we'll do the boy or girl thing outside."

"did you get one of those baseballs that i can hit with the dust inside? i always wanted to do that," san says excitedly.

"that would've been nice to know earlier," jen says.

"eh, next kid then," san jokes.

once you're sufficiently stuffed, an excited violet sneaks in from the backyard and whispers something to jen. you see them across the room, and then jen calls everyone's attention. she says everyone but you and san can go outside, and you watch as they all trickle into the yard. there's sounds of surprise, some cheers, and even one squeal. you and san are confused, but violet and jen can't keep the smiles off their faces. you approach violet, bending down as best you can, and pinch her nose.

"you're keeping a secret again, aren't you?" you ask her, and she replies by shaking her head so hard her ponytail falls out. you help her fix it as jen explains the next part of the shower.

"so we've set up some games outside," she says. "and some blue or pink decorations. you'll be able to know as soon as you go out there, so you need to let me and vi walk out first, then i'll call for you to follow. got it?"

"i don't like when you go into teacher mode," you mumble.

"you asked for this," she replies. "am i understood?"

"yeah."

"good," she smiles and grabs violet's hand. they walk out together, keeping the door pulled as best they can to stop your prying eyes. you're left alone with san long enough to lace your fingers with his, squeezing his hand tightly before asking him, "you nervous?"

"no," he shakes his head. "i am so, so excited."

"come out!" you hear jen yell. you look to san, your free hand on the door, and he gives you an encouraging nod. you pull the door open but shut your eyes, and you walk into the backyard with san by your side. you only open your eyes when you hear a choked cry from san, and you understand why when you open your eyes.

you see your friends, your family, your beautiful daughter, surrounded by what seems like thousands of streamers. pink streamers. and blue, too.

"a boy and a girl," you turn to san, blinking away tears.

"just like you said. how did you know?" he asks in disbelief.

"it felt right," you reply. san's hands are rubbing over your stomach, and you feel something. "whoa."

"what was that?" san asks, his excitement only growing. "was that a kick?"

"baby girl or baby boy was saying hey," you nod, lifting your shirt regardless of the people around you so you and san can each place a hand over the babies. you feel a little kick beneath your hand followed by another near san, and you jump a little bit. "they're kicking! did you feel that?"

"oh my god," san breathes out. "i can't believe it. we're gonna have two babies."

"two babies that like to party, apparently," you comment, noticing that they haven't stopped wiggling since someone turned some music on. "they're gonna be trouble."

"they'll be perfect," san shakes his head, a sweet look in his eyes. "a boy and a girl! this couldn't be more perfect."

-

the twins are due any day now, and while you're about to burst because of the babies, san is gonna burst because of excitement. he was attentive before, but damn. now that your due date is looming, he's texting you every hour asking some variation of "are they here yet?"

your due date is actually two days from now, on wednesday, but san convinced you to start your maternity leave today. you've been trying to take a nap for the past hour, but you can't get comfortable enough. you wonder briefly if it's because san's not laying with you, but you don't think about that for too long. you get so uncomfy that you just give up, huffing your way to the living room so you can at least watch tv. as soon as you sit down, your phone starts to ring. it's san, calling on his lunch break.

"hey baby," he chirps when you answer. "how ya feelin?"

"like i'm nine months pregnant with twins."

"did you eat lunch yet? you sound hangry."

"no, i'm feeling nauseous again," you mumble as you move around on the couch. "i thought i was gonna get sick after my breakfast, so i'm not eating for a while to be safe."

"is that good for you and the babies, though?" he asks. "maybe you feel nauseous because you haven't eaten. the twins are basically sucking your life force right now, so you need more than a pop tart for breakfast."

"how did you know-"

"you want me to order something for you?" he asks, but you shake your head even though he can't see.

"no, i'll make something," you reply. "i've got all this anxious energy waiting for the babies to come, doing something with my hands will help."

"don't overdo it though, baby," san warns. "me and vi will be home early today, remember? so leave your dishes for us."

"why are you leaving early?"

"teacher conferences," san answers. "i told you like three times this morning."

"i was asleep, babe."

"oh, well, we'll be home early," he chuckles. "it'll be like that for the next two days."

"great, so you can hover over me even more," you pretend to groan, but san can hear the smile through your words.

"aren't you lucky?" he teases. "ok, well i gotta go, tell the babies i love em."

"oh! that reminds me!" you almost shout. "i thought of a name!"

"really?" san smiles. "for the boy or for the girl?"

"not telling, you'll have to wait till you come home," you taunt him. "see you soon my love."

-

over dinner, you discuss potential baby names. you and san are in agreement that the boy should be named oliver, but you can't settle on a girl name to save your life.

"no, none of those will be cute with oliver," you shake your head as san reads off a list of baby names. violet sits to your side, silently munching on her dinner, but she looks deep in thought.

"yeah, but if we call him oli," san starts again, and you groan.

"babe, that's cute for a little kid, but i don't want our son to be a grown man still introducing himself with a nickname," you insist. "we need a name that sounds good with oli and with oliver."

"then you look," san says, passing the phone to you. "but i stand by my choice."

"these are pretty," you point to a few on the list, but san scrunches his nose. "what's wrong with them?"

"i didn't know you were giving birth to a grandma," san jokes, and you reach over the table and pinch him. "ouch!"

"what about ivy?" violet asks, and in the midst of your bickering with san you almost miss her little voice. "ivy and oli sounds good, but so does ivy and oliver."

"i love it, bug," san smiles brightly at her. he looks to you for your opinion, but he frowns when he sees you crying. "what's wrong?"

"it's perfect," you blubber out, waving him off as he tries to comfort you. "i'm fine. i'm hormonal."

"but you like the name?" san asks, and you nod as you blow your nose. "vi, how'd you come up with ivy?"

"it's everywhere at the park," she shrugs. "we went on a nature walk today, and i saw the place where we met mommy with the bench and the violets."

"when you proposed," you say quietly. "there was ivy in the clearing when you proposed."

"that's it then," san smiles. "the twins will be named ivy and oliver."

"now we all have v's in our names!" violet cheers, but you and san look confused.

"mommy and daddy don't," you point out.

"this isn't for you, it's just for the kids," violet shakes her head, and you share a look with san like you know you've gotten yourselves into trouble. imagine two more violets running around, how are you gonna manage the sass?

"well then, time for the kids to go to bed," san says, looking at you and vi. "that includes you, mama. babies need sleep."

"but i'm comfortable," you groan. "i don't wanna move yet."

"i'll help you," san leaps into action, wrapping his arm around you as he helps you stand while violet watches on.

"ew, mommy, did you pee your pants?" she giggles, pointing to your seat. you and san turn to see what she's talking about, and you feel the wind get knocked out of you as you realize what this means.

"oh shit," you breathe out, turning to san. "my water broke. i'm having the babies."

-

san precariously gets you and violet to the hospital where jen meets you shortly after. she's prepared to hang with violet in the waiting room or take her back home if this takes too long, but violet's insisting that she wants to stay the whole time.

"i don't wanna go home," she pouts after you tell her the plan. "i can't miss the babies!"

"she's right," jen says, "she can't miss the babies."

"this might take a while, bug," san tells her, but violet shakes her head. he looks to jen next and asks, "are you cool to stay the night? i can call my sister if-"

"if violet's staying, i'm staying," jen says with finality. "i brought blankets, she and i can share."

"knock knock!" your doctor appears at the door. "are we ready for the first check in?"

"we'll be in the waiting room," jen ushers violet out while san moves next to the bed and reaches for your hand. he holds onto it tightly as the doctor goes through the motions of checking everything. when she finishes she looks at you both and smiles.

"well, everything looks good so far, i'll be back in a little bit to see how you're doing," your doctor says. "if you need me, just hit the call button, but i think you're in good hands."

"i am," you look to san. once the doctor leaves, you cup his face and bring him down for a kiss. "how ya feelin', dad?"

"i'm freaking out," he whispers back. "how are you not freaking out?"

"i've done this before," you shrug. "i know it's not that bad."

"but i don't!" san yelps. "you're about to do something that should be physically impossible! then we're gonna have two babies! three kids that we're responsible for! what are we gonna do?"

"san, look at me." he stops and leans his forehead against yours. "it's gonna be fine. freak out, don't freak out, whatever, but all you gotta do is stay by my side and watch the birth of your twins. all the stuff after, we'll figure it out together. yeah?"

"ok," he whispers.

"you're still freaking out, aren't you?"

"no."

"do you want something to do?" you ask. "something to help distract you?"

"please."

"help me get to the bathroom," you whine, holding your arms out. that gets a smile out of him, and he leaps into action. he spends the next few hours waiting on you hand and foot, trying to keep his mind occupied while you wait for the babies. when the doctor finally says it's time, he does what you asked him to and stays by your side, ready to watch something magical happen.

-

despite having two babies, labor this time around is so much easier. you know it's all because of san. aside from waiting on your every need, just his presence is making this experience better. you can't believe you did this without him the first time. he's invested in every second, taking in every moment like he's never seen anything so spectacular. when the doctor says it's time for you to start pushing, you don't think you've ever seen him so happy. san stays by your side, holding a leg in place as you push. it's hell, but you make it through. it feels like forever, but before you know it, there's a baby about to come into the world.

"dad, you might want to watch this part," the doctor calls to san. he joins her, watching as the first baby is born. there are tears in his eyes as you hear the cries of a little baby, and you watch as they lift the squirming mess into the air.

"a girl," san breathes out. "our baby girl."

"hey ivy," you say softly, out of breath and voice hoarse. her little cries stop for a second, and you call her name again. she seems soothed by it, by your voice, so you keep talking to her as the nurses clean her up. it gives you a chance to breathe, to rest, and san rejoins you while keeping a stern eye on anyone touching his baby. they hand her to you first, and you hold her warmth close to your chest. san's hand cups her head before kissing it.

"hi ivy," he whispers. "i'm your dad."

"that's the annoying guy who sang to you every night," you whisper to the little baby, and san rolls his eyes.

"mommy liked it, don't listen to her," he whispers back. you could keep going, but the doctor's voice calls your attention.

"mom, are you ready to push again?" she asks, and you shake your head.

"one more minute," you whine, and she laughs.

"you know it doesn't work like that," she smiles. "you still have to meet your son."

"i'll take ivy," san says, scooping her tiny form into his big arms. he cradles her softly with so much love in his eyes. a nurse offers to take her, but he shakes his head vehemently. he hoists her into one arm and resets himself next to you, his strong arm holding your leg in place as the doctor instructs you to push again. soon you're holding your son, san next to you holding your daughter. the doctor and nurses have left to give you some time, but you jolt up in concern. san looks at you, scared, and asks, "what?! what's wrong? are you hurt?"

"where's violet? she needs to see the babies before they go to the nursery," you say, and immediately san is sliding ivy into your grasp. he runs into the waiting room, slowing his steps as he approaches jen and violet's sleeping forms. he kneels down in front of violet, stroking her hair softly to wake her up. she peeks an eye open, an eager look on her face when she sees her dad smiling in front of her.

"babies?" she asks, and all san has to do is nod before violet shoots out of her seat, bouncing in place as san takes her hand and leads you to your room.

"hey big sister," you greet her quietly. "c'mere." you scoot over in your bed, and san helps lift her into place. she leans over you with wonder in her eyes, her little hands clasped beneath her chin like she wants to touch them but is too afraid. "who do you wanna hold first?"

"ivy," she replies, then shakes her head. "no, oliver. no, both of them!"

"if you want to hold them both, then let daddy help you ok?" you ask her, and san lifts violet into his lap so he can sit next to you. he shows violet how to hold a baby by lifting oli into his arm, then passes him to violet. once she's got a good hold on her brother, san uses his legs to kind of cup violet in his grasp so she has enough support to hold ivy too. with the twins in her arms, she looks so proud. you and san watch her with stars in your eyes until violet's face screws up and you ask what's wrong.

"i think oli just farted on me," she scowls. "take him back."

"sugar, you're gonna have a hard time with the babies if you're grossed out by a little fart," you tell her.

"it wasn't little, it rumbled-"

"here, i'll take him," san laughs. he holds oliver while violet coos over ivy, and with your family happily by your side you slowly start to doze off. san notices when he hears you softly snoring, and he helps violet get up so they can place the babies in their cradles. san tells violet that the doctor needs to take the babies for a little bit, and he can take violet back out to the waiting room to go back to sleep if she wants.

"but i wanna stay with mommy," she pouts, looking just like you. it hits him then that while he's got two new babies, his first baby is growing up.

"alright," he concedes quickly, the exhaustion hitting him too. "you can get into bed with mommy. i'll go get the nurses so they can check on the babies."

when san comes back into the room, the emotions of the day hit him hard. he's got his family, finally. the babies are here, and his other babies are sound asleep, violet's little arms hugged tight around your neck. he walks around the bed, placing a kiss on violet's forehead and then yours. when he pulls back, he sees you staring at him, and he coos, "baby, you should be asleep."

"the boa constrictor woke me up," you joke, pointing to violet. "what are you doing?" you ask as you watch san settle in the uncomfortable hospital chair by your bed.

"i'm figuring out how to lay down," he answers, shuffling around, but you make a grabby hand for him. "baby, we can't all fit in that bed."

"yes we can," you say, holding onto violet and scooting to the far side of the bed. "see? san sized spot right here."

"you sure we'll be able to sleep like this?" he asks as he settles next to you anyway, your head finding its spot on his shoulder as you close your eyes.

"i could sleep on a bed of rocks as long as you're next to me," you mumble. "but if you're really uncomfortable-"

"no," san cuts you off, a blush warming his cheeks. "i'm good."

"good," you reply with a tired smile. "i love you, san."

"i love you more, y/n," he whispers into your hair, placing a kiss to the top of your head. "thank you for today. for our kids."

"thanks for having super sperm," you tease, and san pinches your hip in response.

"go to sleep, crazy lady."

-

life with san and your babies is bliss. yes, it's loud, it's exhausting, and your house is a mess, but you wouldn't have it any other way. san and violet love doting on the babies, and you love seeing your family so complete. every day though, san reminds you that it won't really be complete until you're married. sure, you've got the ring, but san keeps reminding you that there's a wedding to be planned. but with the babies, violet, your jobs, how are you supposed to add a wedding to all that?

you're trying to multitask, feeding the babies as you try to look at wedding venues on your phone. you've got oli on your chest, your shirt discarded beside you. you're at home, who cares if your tits are out? you've found a venue you like, so you're about to call for san when you look up to see him staring at you from the doorway.

"what are you doing?" you squint at him. "how long have you been standing there?"

"few minutes," he replies, staring at your chest.

"come on, stop," you blush. "you're embarrassing."

"and you're still hot," he finally pulls himself out of his trance. "need me to hold a baby? or a boob?"

"no, come look at this," you hand him your phone. "a venue for the wedding?"

"i like it," he nods. "is it nice enough though?"

"san, my love," you chuckle. "we can't get married in a castle."

"but you deserve it," he frowns, scrolling through the pictures more. "or maybe we make it into a trip? get married in the mountains?"

"or what if we elope and get it over with?" you groan, pulling oliver over your shoulder to burp him.

"get it over with?" san looks at you with concern in his eyes. he joins you on the bed, leaning over ivy to play with her hands as he continues. "i know we both want to get married as soon as possible, but i want you to have your dream wedding. when you were younger, what did you want your wedding to look like?"

"well if we're going by what i wanted as a kid, i'd be marrying prince eric from the little mermaid," you tease.

"is that why you always put that on for violet?" he looks back at you with fake hurt in his eyes.

"can we switch babies?" you ask. "ivy hasn't been fed yet."

"am i after her?" san jokes, and you kick him. "here you go," he says as he passes ivy to you. he takes oliver and starts bouncing him, getting happy giggles from your bundle of joy.

"don't shake him so hard he pukes," you warn san. "i don't want baby vomit on our bed."

"violet asked if she could sleep in the twin's room tonight, by the way," san looks at you. "she's obsessed with them."

"what did you tell her?"

"that the babies wake up a lot, so if she's in there she won't get any sleep," san explained. "but then she said she'd be just like us, so."

"what if we let her sleep in our room?" you offer.

"what about our alone time?" san pouts. "i had plans for tonight."

"what's gotten into you?" you laugh. "you're hornier than usual today."

"sorry if i wanna love on my wife," san mumbles.

"still not your wife, baby," you say as ivy finishes up. "since you don't wanna elope, we gotta wait."

"when you say elope, what do you have in mind? we run away in the middle of the night and get hitched?"

"kinda," you shrug. "that, or we go to the courthouse. we can get married now, have the wedding later."

"i'll think about it," san says. "but no prince eric at either one."

-

that night, you and san let violet sleep in your room. she lays cocooned between you both, clinging to the blankets as you and san take turns to check on the twins. it's the best sleep you've had in weeks, and you wake up to find san staring at you from across the bed. he winks when he catches you awake, that mischievous glint in his eyes that you love so much.

"what?" you ask. "is my bedhead bad or something?"

"no," he shakes his head. "i want to marry you today."

"what?" you ask again, sitting up. "you're crazy."

"you're the one that wanted to do it now!" san whines. "what made you change your mind?"

"what made you change your mind?" you ask. "i thought you wanted a wedding."

"i want to be married to you," san replies. "don't care how. i just want it to be soon. now. today."

"today?" you confirm, and san nods. "well, let's get the babies. and jen. and wooyoung! they can be our witnesses."

"why are you guys talking so much," violet mumbles between you. "it's early."

"vi, wake up," you tussle her hair and she groans.

"bug, we're getting married today," san whispers to her, and her eyes snap open.

"FINALLY!" she shouts, and you both laugh. "mommy, what dress are you wearing?"

-

that afternoon, you married the love of your life. it took you long enough, right? it was years in the making, but it didn't come a moment too soon. as you stood there, one baby in your arms, another wrapped in san's, with your beautiful daughter standing between you, you knew this was the wedding meant for you. you and san have created a life together that you've both always dreamed of. you wouldn't want it any other way.

as you leave the courthouse, you can't stop smiling. jen and wooyoung walk ahead of you, violet standing between them as she blabbers on about something. you and san are holding a baby each, your free hands intertwined. he looks at you smiling, a question on his lips.

"what next, mrs. choi?" he asks, and you shrug.

"whatever you want, mr. choi," you reply. "we've got nothing but time."

[levisrations]

Dad! Levi: first diaper change

Warnings: pregnancy, birth description (not graphic) Nasty baby poop.

Levi has been practicing for months for this moment. Mentally preparing. The day is here and it’s currently wiggling around in discomfort towards being naked and cold.

Labor was nothing for you, the nurses were surprised how fast your baby boy came considering it was your first birth. You were practically crowning in the car, only reason you were composed (as much as you could) was because Levi was calm. Seeing him immediately get everything that was already packed for the hospital in the car, shoes on, and helped you get in the car with no panicking made things a little easier on you.

Now your baby is here, in need of a diaper change. You’ve been discharged and sent home and while you rest Levi stands before your son who lays on a changing table and is absolutely disgusted by this babys poop. He didn’t expect it to be so dark. He did not read about that in any of the baby books, perhaps he skipped it. Levi panicked a bit but google calmed him down stating it’s very normal.

Levi immediately puts his disgust to the side and starts cleaning.

“Jesus kid, you just got here. Alright, alright no need to get mad I know it’s cold. You’ll be bundled up in no time” Levi says as your baby is squirming and whining. The baby is cleaned and changed, bundled back up in his little onesie and swaddled (Levi is a champ at that). He takes the baby and settles him into one arm while he disposes of the diaper. “$70 for a trash can, isn’t that ridiculous bud? Probably not as ridiculous as the $1200 stroller. That was all me though, only the best for you.”

Levi continues to walk around with your baby in his arms and the baby is asleep, soothed by his father’s voice.

“Happy you’re here bud, hope I can be the best dad you deserve. Your mom is already the best no question there.”

“You wouldn’t believe how happy she was when she learned she was pregnant, and don’t get me started when we learned the gender.” Levi sits in the rocking chair in the corner of the room.

“Can’t just blame her I might’ve bought one too many outfits too” Levi softly rocks the both of them back and forth. He looks down at his peacefully sleeping son and lightly smiles. “Love ya bud, gross poops and all.”

[rebelliousstories]

Take My Breath Away

Relationship: Norm McLean x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @fallout-girl219

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst, Pregnancy, Vague Birth Description

Word Count: 1,074

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Part Two of: What Did You Say?

Summary: Finding out they were expecting was one thing. Actually being there through the pregnancy is another.

12 Weeks

Norm was astounded by the change in his life. With his own vault home, he was taking care of his lovely wife, and their children. The twins were still forming, but there was a sense of duty for them. They had yet to announce that they were pregnant to anyone else except for their families, but it would be getting difficult soon to keep it to themselves. Even at the end of the first trimester, she was starting to show enough that she could not dismiss it. She continued to work during the first few months once they had accepted the fact that they were, indeed, going to be parents.

16 Weeks

“Norm! Come here!” Her excited shout startled the man who was fixing her a pregnancy meal. He rushed over, and was dragged by his hand to her growing belly. Being larger than a singleton pregnancy, her belly was a hot spot of activity. Two sets of arms, legs, feet and hands to push and prod. She placed her husband’s hand on her belly and waited. They waited for a couple minutes before Norm decided to speak up.

“What are we doing?” He asked, only to be shushed by his wife. And that is when he felt it. Norm felt one of the twins kick. She eagerly looked towards his face as he grappled with his emotions. Letting out a shaky breath, Norm placed both of his hands on her belly and was rewarded with more kicks. She placed a hand over his, and the other went to his face.

“Are you okay?” She questioned, wiping the stray tear from his face.

“Perfect.” He replied, not even realizing that it had fallen.

32 Weeks

What Norm did to be at this point in his life, he will never know. He knows that the logical explanation is that his wife is overwhelmed with pregnancy hormones and that is the reason she is acting the way she was. But the illogical part of his brain was trying to find what he did wrong. At eight months with twins, she was over being pregnant. There was always something that she complained about.

“Norm, I can’t get my shoes on.”

“Why does toast smell that way? It’s gross.”

“I don’t know why I’m crying but fix it! All I want is ice cream.”

There was always something. But Norm being the dutiful husband he was, helped her with her shoes, got rid of the toast he made them for breakfast, and was currently on his way to go get her some ice cream. His only options were chocolate or vanilla, so he got both, just knowing that if he did not, he would hear about it. The cartons were ice cold in his hands, but they made her happy. Joy erupted on her face when she saw those cartons.

“You’re the best, Norm.” And she dug into those pints of ice cream. She offered him a spoon, to which he accepted and ate a little bit of the vanilla.

“What do you think about names?” She asked in between bites of ice cream. Norm thought for a moment before responding.

“I’m not sure. We kind of need four names; two boy and two girl.” He answered, dropping his spoon and letting her take the rest of the sweet dessert.

“Well they’ll be here sooner than we think. They can’t come home without names.” She lamented, staring off into her ice cream. Norm slung an arm over her and rubbed it in soothing circles.

36 Weeks

“I’m going to kill you, Norm!” Yet again, the man found himself in a position he had not thought he would ever get to. Holding his wife’s hand, she was holding it in a death grip on the hospital bed.

“You’re ready to push, Mrs. MacLean. We need you to push when you feel it.” The doctor said, gearing up for the eventful evening.

“I swear to all that is good and holy, Norm. You’re never touching me again.” She screeched, bearing down and yelling as she tried to push.

“Anything you want, but our babies need us now. You’re doing so good.” He tried to reassure her while losing feeling in his hands. Another scream that was followed by a push, that was followed by an exclamation.

“I see the first head. Come on, Mrs. Maclean.” Her doctor encouraged, as the woman screamed in pain. A baby’s wail pierced the air shortly afterwards, and there was a brief second of relief.

“We’ve got the first one. Take them.” The doctor hurriedly passed the newly born baby to a nurse while the second one was on its way out. Two large pushes later and the second baby screamed its entrance into the world.

“Norm, come here. Do you want to cut the cord?” The doctor was already prepping the area for a second person, and Norm looked to his wife. Tiredly, she shooed him down to cut their babies’ umbilical cords, while she rested against the pillows. The doctor showed Norm what to do and pushed him back towards his wife while they took their newborns away to get all the measurements and weights they needed to.

“We did it, hun. You did it. You brought our babies into the world.” He whispered gleefully, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She breathed tiredly, and wrapped her hand around his in a weak effort to communicate. The doctor and another nurse walked back in shortly afterwards with two swaddled babies. A bundle of pink and a bundle of blue were passed to the new parents.

“Have you decided on names?” The doctor asked, while the nurse stood ready to take down the information.

“I want the Kimora name set for her.” Norm’s wife piped up with a weak voice.

“Okay,” he replied, “he is going to be Kaylan Hank MacLean.” Norm held up his son. He pointed to his daughter next to him.

“She is going to be Kimora Rose MacLean.” He smiled as he thought about his children.

“Alright. We’ll be back. Congratulations.” With that, the doctor and the nurse left the room while the parents turned to each other.

“We did it. Hi there, sweetheart.” She cooed to their daughter in her arms.

“Yeah. We did.” Norm replied, feeling breathless at the fact that he now had children. It was that moment that shifted his entire world view forever.

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

Among the two parents, who is responsible for giving…The Talk™️?

Def Angel, Prototype doesn't remember even for how many months a person is usually pregnant anymore. They give the Talk(tm) the moment Delight goes to them and non-chalantly says "Angel dear, did you know that during pregnancy [medically accurate description of real life body horror]?", and Bunzo in the background stares at her in pure horror and accuses Delight of lying.

Angel has to sit everyone down because 5 seconds later half the house is watching in pure horror as Delight INSISTS that what she is saying are facts (they are) and Bunzo refuses to believe her. The sole human in the house has to explain to everyone that yes this all sounds scary and sometimes it is, but it's normal for people who want to have children to go through that process, its okay. Then Bunzo asks how do pregnant people put an entire factory inside their bellies in order to make a child. You know. Like how cars are made.

Angel tries explaining things the best way they can. "Human bodies are like that, dont worry", "two people can try having fun on their own like that and its normal", "yes Bunzo, some adults prefer doing that over watching a car race", "yes, there's nothing to worry about it as long as the people involved trust each other and go to a doctor if something weird happens", "see? Its not scare at all, just weird and a bit gross if you think too much about it", "yes Bunzo, there's doctors just for babies and people having them", "I dont go to a doctor like that because I cant have babies, and I dont want a baby. I have you guys as my babies now".

Overall the Talk is more amusing than anything because Bunzo has no idea how normal people work, and meanwhile we have toys like Dogday who are all "OH, this makes sense, yeah" because they too forgot how kids are normally born.

I think the only ones who knew about the birds and the bees were Bubba, Delight and Catnap (bc Delight told him). Angel feels relieved after the Talk because it went way smoother than what they expected it to be, and no one was too horrified or weirded out. Angel found out about that kind of stuff by accident and was just glad the toys got their info on an actual adult and not a random kid sharing cursed knowledge with their friends(tm)

[miller-lookforthe-lite]

steps: part two

joel miller x f!reader

rating: M

words: 7k

tags/warnings: unplanned/(unwanted?) pregnancy, thoughts and discussion of abortion, UNSOUND MEDICAL PRACTICE/ADVICE, description of injury, canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, not proofread i'm literally so sorry - please heed the warnings, as these may be triggering to some! MDNI

part one | read on ao3

There are no doctors in Kansas City. There’s nothing left of the QZ, in fact, besides a group of raging militants who have taken over and are hunting for the very two boys you happen upon. Henry and Sam don’t have much, but they have a relentless ambition, and Joel must see that as reason enough to go with them.

As you journey through the tunnels underneath the city, you get sicker. It’s clear to you now that this is not some nightmare you can wish away, not like one of your silent demons. This is real, and here, and now, and if you’re not pregnant, you’re dying. You’re not sure which would be worse.

Ellie finds out while she’s kicking a soccer ball with Sam, because Joel lowers his head to inquire to Henry about a pregnancy test and is a lot less fucking quiet than he ought to be.

Her head snaps towards them and you scowl at Joel, burning his entrails with your eyes, picturing his slow demise, then feeling even more sick at the prospect, taking it back, praying the Deity didn’t hear you think it so it won’t come true.

“What the fuck?” Ellie exclaims, her head whipping to you. “You —” Her head swings back to Joel almost cartoonishly. “And you? I thought — ew, gross, but holy shit — I thought Tess —”

“Ellie,” you warn quickly, trying to jump ahead of Joel’s ire, because that definitely also happened and you know he’ll never tell you why or why you happened after.

“Enough,” Joel snaps, and the room hangs still. Even Sam, though no one has bothered to bring him up to speed, can tell that the tension simmers low, and he abandons the soccer ball in favor of curling up by the far wall.

Joel turns back to Henry. “You know where I could find one or not?”

Henry shrugs. “All kinds of shit stashed in here, man. Take a look.”

Ellie’s gaze is burning into your skin, but when you turn to look at her, you only see a quiet understanding in her eyes, a Knowing too old to live in a body so young. She plops down in the seat next to you while Joel and Henry are off rummaging through the bins on the far side of the bunker, and her huff troubles a strand of her hair. You reach forward to tuck it out of her face. Her mouth is set into a grim line.

“Is that why you’ve been sick?” She murmurs, her voice betraying her fear.

Your heart clenches. You didn’t want her to have to feel the way that you were feeling. She shouldn’t have to shoulder it, shoulder you, but you don’t know how else to be with her but truthful. Her face so open, so honest, begs nothing less in return.

“Yeah,” you say, and she reaches out to grab your hand. You blink back sudden tears that choke your throat and crowd your lashes.

“It’ll get better then,” Ellie says, knee bouncing. “The sickness. I heard that it gets better after a while. And you won’t have to yack every time we think about cooking beans. So that’s a plus.”

You can’t help but smile, still feeling hot and slippery with shame, but hope shines through, minuscule and persistent. “I hope so,” you whisper.

—

When you leave the motel, Ellie’s the one to lead the charge. You follow her, leaving Joel gazing down at the graves he just dug. Henry and Sam are under those piles of dirt, and you can’t help but think that it’s some kind of curse that surrounds you, the same deadly spirit that befell Tess.

Ellie thinks it’s her fault, a strangled confession pulled out of her that she knew Sam had been bitten but tried to save him. You know that feeling, know the despair it leaves behind, but you’re not quite sure how to reach the place she’s gone to.

A plastic-wrapped stick sits in your pocket, has for days, but you’re too scared to do more than make sure it’s there, palming reassurance. Henry had slipped it to you before he died, not saying a word, but there was kindness in his gaze. There was a care you didn’t know people still had for other strangers. Your heart aches.

Along the road, it’s been hard to find food. Joel had shoved what he could from the bunker into his bag, but there wasn’t much in the way of nonperishables - the Kansas City militants had already taken care of that. He let you have the last of the crackers, but you can’t help the pangs of hunger that wrack through you late at night, curled up in a ball on the ground, your back to some tree or to him or to Ellie, one of them always wrapped around you, always watching. You can’t help the dread that follows either, that you swallow like the air that feeds you these days.

Joel feels it too. You know he does, but he’s better at hiding it. He’s acting strange lately — delicate — not something you’ve ever known him to be. He guards you when you’re sleeping, but can hardly look at you in the daylight. Where he’s started to let his eyes wrinkle at Ellie’s teasing jibes or stupid puns, he slams his lid shut when you deign to speak your piece. He offers you a hand to help you over a ridge, and always, always throws an arm in front of you when he thinks something sinister lies ahead, but then swiftly pulls away like the boil of your blood burns him too.

After six days have passed, you go behind a tree and pee on the stick. It’s not hard. All you fucking do is piss these days. What is hard is remembering the hands that touched the test before you - a dead man’s fingers before they pulled a trigger twice, him and another child. Is that the price you pay? One child’s life for another? What kind of sign is that — what kind of life is this? What kind of world to bring a baby into?

Two lines glare back at you. You muffle your sob into the heel of your hand.

—

Your teeth are clattering against each other, your violent shivering overtaking any autonomy you once had over your limbs.

You’ve set up camp underneath a rock overhang, and your breath comes out in puffs. Ellie’s pressed as close to you as she can get between the layers of your coats, the extra flannel that Joel had wrapped around her hanging loosely off her puffy-coated shoulders.

You’re in Nebraska, as far as you can tell, wide open plains stretching as far as you can see, the foothills offering little respite from the biting prairie wind, but you take what you can get under the boulder’s meager shelter.

Joel hasn’t stopped moving since you decided to set up here; he’s tearing up jerky pieces, distributing them to you and Ellie and only pushing one between his lips when you glare, he’s coiling some rope, he’s pushing a tarp under some stones to provide some cover from the ceaseless wind. You wish you could bring yourself to get up and help, but you don’t know how much help you’d be, not with the illness still permeating your veins, your trembling uncontrollable.

When Ellie figures out that she can’t fix it no matter how she lends her heat to you, she speaks up where you couldn’t.

“We need a fire,” she wheezes to Joel, eyes flicking to you even though she tries to hide it.

He sniffs, doesn’t look up from his tarp-maneuvering. “It’d blow out,” he says, raising his voice to be heard over the wind.

Your desperation pushes you to chime in. “We could at least try. Under the tarp, or maybe the rock would shield it enough —”

“It won’t,” Joel snaps, and he still won’t look at you. He clearly intended to stymie your words, but now that you’ve started, you can’t stop.

You get up from your spot next to Ellie and wrap her firmly in the blanket from your pack. You stumble on shaky legs over to where Joel continues to fiddle, continues to fuss. “Let me just fucking try, Joel, we’re freezing, we can’t—”

You reach for the flint that you know is in the bag he holds. Your gloved hand brushes his, layers of cloth and unspoken and Too Spoken between you, and still he pulls away like he’s been burned. You freeze, watching him quickly shift to a different task, turning his collar further up against the wind.

“Fine,” he mutters.

You don’t know why it hurts so much to curl up next to the fire that night.

—

When you stop to make camp a few nights later, you decide you’ve had enough of this, this awkwardness and separation that your revelation had caused you. After Ellie’s been asleep for an hour, her soft breaths quiet in the dark, you push Joel behind a tree before he can protest, grab his face with your hands and pull his mouth to yours before he can remember that you haven’t spoken, haven’t talked about it, have only worried in silence. He grunts, the sound vibrating pleasantly against you, before pulling back, only a little, the slightest breath of distance. His eyes are locked on yours, so close that you can’t see straight, can only see brown brown brown, can only drown in it.

“I don’t…” he says softly, one hand on your wrist and the grabbing for your waist, turning you, pushing your back into the rough bark, but so gently, so gently it prickles and scrapes and wounds.

“Why not?” You say like you haven’t noticed how he’s been treating you differently, like he doesn’t know what to say to you, like you aren’t the same person you’ve always been before all of this. Like you aren’t praying praying praying that he won’t make you beg.

(He doesn’t.)

—

It’s dusk when you stumble upon a still-smoking pile of ash, the crisp wind spiraling it up to the conifer fronds above, dancing its warning like a specter. It makes Joel stop in his tracks. His shoulders, ever broad and imposing, are tense.

He spins on his heel and almost knocks right into Ellie, who trails mindlessly behind him.

“Dude!” She protests.

“We’re goin’,” he hisses under his breath, grabbing onto the handle of her backpack to drag her along with him.

You have to pick up your pace to keep stride with him, bounding through the trees. “Joel—”

“Don’t,” he snaps, releasing Ellie’s bag. She remains next to him without issue or question. “We gotta circle back to the road. Ain’t safe if there’s more people out here.”

“The road?” Your skin is warm, your breath coming short, but you keep your voice quiet as his, startled to stir the crunching leaves beneath your tired boots. “Joel, we got off the road ‘cause there were people —”

“I know why we got off the road.” His countenance is fierce, his resolve steely, but he still won’t look at you.

“It’s safer with the cover,” you insist behind him, a furious ire bubbling in the back of your throat. “Here we can — we can —” You’re gasping for air now, and Ellie notices, her steps faltering. She tugs on Joel’s jacket, wordlessly. You have to stop and brace your palm on the rough bark of the oak that shelters you, your vision narrowing to a tunnel of blurred, black edges and brown sodden ground.

You don’t know how he got there, but he appears in front of you, one hand gripping your bicep and the other pulling your own hand to his heart.

“Breathe,” he commands softly, and you try, you really do, but you know he sees the truth of it.

You’re fading, ability dulling quicker than an overused knife, and you can feel the panic crest in your mind, the sting of liability pricking at your consciousness.

“Sorry,” you struggle to say. He just takes an enormous breath, the cavern of his lungs expanding and exhaling underneath your hand. You follow the mountain of it, the in and the out and up and down, and it makes it a little easier to see again.

You drag your eyes up to meet his, shame and exhaustion omnipresent parents in your expression. He looks blown wide open, sad, maybe worried, but mostly so, so certain.

His grip on you tightens. “Let’s stay in the woods,” he whispers his acquiescence. You feel no kind of victory. You want him to argue with you, not the dark circles printed onto the skin under your eyes. That can’t be all you are now.

Joel tenses suddenly, eyes flicking from you up to the edge of the tree line. You think he’s about to grab you and Ellie and run when you hear a muffled shriek from behind him, his broad form blocking your sight. He whips around to reveal two women, one with golden-red hair and one with a knife to Ellie’s throat. Ellie struggles and swears and writhes. You freeze.

The golden-red-haired woman has a revolver pointed at the two of you. You can’t see Joel’s face, but you know that he’s furious. You almost hope it’s with you, hope it’s because you caused him to turn his back, to lose his focus. You want him to feel the way you feel.

“Quit it,” hisses the taller woman that has a hold on Ellie, like she’s speaking to an incessant fly rather than a young girl at her mercy.

“Let her go,” Joel says lowly, calmly. There’s no questioning a tone like that. “Then you and I can talk like adults.”

“We don’t want trouble,” the golden-red-haired woman responds smoothly, her fist around the revolver begging argument. “Just hungry. Just lookin’ for food.”

You don’t even think about whether you should, whether Joel has a plan. You keep your eyes on Ellie as she continues to squirm. She’s afraid, but maybe not as much as she should be. Her confidence in you crushes you. You dart forward to Joel’s bag, unzip it from where it rests on his back. You pull out the measly offerings - two more pieces of jerky wrapped in flaking paper. An old health bar. Some roasted acorns you had made that taste like bitter ash. You throw the food at their feet. Joel doesn’t stop you.

The woman holding Ellie narrows her eyes. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” you plead. “You can check.”

You shoulder off your own, lighter pack and toss it to them. Joel glares at you, his fingers clearly itching towards his own gun tucked in the back of his pants, but you glare right back. Not with Ellie’s throat under a blade, you try to tell him with your fear.

The golden-red-haired woman bends down slowly to rummage through your bag, revolver still pointed your way. Joel shifts his weight while the woman looks down and she cocks the gun without even looking up, clicking her tongue in admonishment. Once she deems your supplies as paltry as you had claimed, she stands up, kicking the bag over, and slipping your meager offerings into her pockets. “Fine. Elaine, let her go.”

Elaine’s eyes flash like she’s considering an argument, and you try to calculate the distance from your hand to Joel’s gun, from the bullet to the spot between Elaine’s eyes, and the speed her lithe wrist would need to flick the knife across Ellie’s life.

Your action is decided for you when Elaine relents, shoving Ellie out of her grasp and forward to the forest floor. You’re there to catch her in your arms, her gangly limbs knocking painfully against yours, her furious demeanor tempered by your trembling.

You pull her back with you towards Joel, scrambling on the ground, and look up to see he’s drawn his gun. “Get movin’, then.” He bares his teeth at them.

Elaine moves to back away, but the other woman hesitates. Elaine nudges her shoulder with her own and hisses. “Madison.”

Madison looks between you and Joel as he helps you and Ellie up like she’s trying to decide something. Ellie seethes with derision and you have to clutch her to keep her from springing back towards her captors, this time on the attack. She only settles when she realizes she can’t lash out without hurting you, her fury still spitting but her face turning into your collarbone, probably more for your sake than her own. You rest your palm on her head. Joel’s got his free arm wrapped around you, too, sandwiching you and Ellie tight to his side.

Madison seems to decide and opens her mouth. “You know the way to Jackson?”

Elaine halts her retreat, brows furrowed and eyes clenched.

Joel holds his gun steady. “Get out of here.”

Madison continues to speak like she didn’t hear him. “Settlement out in Wyoming. My brother was headed there with an old army buddy. Heard they take people —”

She cuts off at the click of Joel’s safety. His finger rests on the trigger. He doesn’t say another word, just bores into her with eyes of molten lead.

Madison nods, and before you can blink, she and Elaine are gone. You’d almost believed you’d dreamed them up if your stomach didn’t turn at the thought of your reserves, now depleted.

Joel doesn’t let either of you move for a good ten minutes, his gun still raised and his arm still around you both. Ellie’s breathing has evened out and she turns her head up to look at you. You run a hand through her ponytail. “Okay?” You whisper. She nods, lips in a hard line.

You let her burrow herself back into you and look up at Joel. His thoughts race too fast to hide from his expression, and when he finally lowers the gun, he steps forward to grab your pack and swing it over his own shoulder.

His jaw grinds itself to dust as he stares at the ground, and it occurs to you what he might be agonizing over.

“Army buddy in Wyoming? Joel—” Your breath catches before you can really ask him. He looks up at you with hardened eyes and nods.

You let out a shuddering exhale, still rocking, rocking Ellie in your hold. The word rolls acidic off your tongue. “Jackson.”

—

It’s Jackson you’re headed for when the first shots ring out. You’re following the faded lines of a dusty map, hoping for the best. It’s brought you to a small town, several wooden buildings lining what must have once been a comfortable main road.

It’s not even that your guard is down, either — Joel had been antsier than ever after the run in with the women, especially since Ellie’s life had been on the line. She grumbles against his insistence, but you think she’s secretly appreciative of this mangled care, this devotion that no one before has extended to her.

They still get the jump on you, though, because they’re trying to get the jump on someone else. You glean somewhere during the shootout that it’s two opposing groups, both vying for the others’ resources. One had been holed up in the last building in town, the last one Joel had to clear before giving the signal. The other had been over the hill, peering down, waiting for their moment to ambush. They had thought Joel, ransacking and searching, was their target. It probably hadn’t mattered that he wasn’t.

You hear the shots before you know any of this, before you see anything that happens, so you follow protocol and grab Ellie and duck down behind a crumbling outpost, pushing her head under your cover. You peek over to see a torrent of people flooding out of that last building, the one Joel had been headed towards. Their guns are pointed away from you, up towards the peek where the last shot echoed from. Their shouts are incoherent, and your eyes search frantically for Joel. There’s no sign of him by the building, but there is a blooming red scar on the ground where he had been standing.

You feel a hand on your shoulder and spin around, knife raised high. It’s Ellie who stops you, grabbing around your middle, and swearing under her breath when she sees who’s startled you.

Joel’s managed to sneak around the back of the houses towards you, clutching his arm to his chest. Blood pours from between his fingers. His jaw is set as solidly as stone, and he jerks his head back towards the foothill you came from. He wants you to sneak back unseen, you’re sure, but you can’t focus on anything but the red viscous that flows from him, the life force, the cellular beat, and you feel it in you, too, you have that same blood growing in you, in your body, in your stomach, eating you alive to keep itself growing —

You reach your hand towards him, and he jerks back. All you can see is your hand, frozen in the air. He and Ellie must exchange words, something, but you don’t hear, the pounding of your eardrums too raucous, the rushing of your own tremulous blood overwhelming. He turns and crouches in on himself, hunched in pain or stealth, you don’t know. He runs on sure and quiet feet back towards the trees. Ellie only goes when you start behind him, like she’s not sure you can be trusted to follow.

—

You make it about half a mile up the side of the mountain before Joel’s using the trees to keep himself upright, the heft of him only supported by the roots at your feet. It’s Ellie who ends up stopping him and sitting him down, back against a bristled trunk. You waste no time falling to your knees beside him, whipping off your pack. Your hands shake as you riffle through it for the tweezers, for bandages, for anything that might help him. If only he still carried around oxy.

You pull out a small glass bottle of amber, stomach-churning liquid. Joel finds it in himself to shoot a judgmental glance your way, before his eyes are rolling back in pain. He keeps his arm clutched to his side.

“What?” You hiss. “It’s not like I can drink it anymore, of course I still have some.”

You flip the cap off as quickly as you can and pry his good arm away from the wound. It’s still bleeding profusely, an ugly, obscured fissure in the perfect planet of his skin. He makes a high sound in the back of his throat when you pour the moonshine over the wound, but his lips stay pressed tight together. When you’ve got it as clean as you can manage, you grab the tweezers. You can see the metal still buried in his flesh plain as day. You’ll have to get it out.

“Can I help?” Ellie flutters anxiously at your side, her hands lifting and retracting with directionless adrenaline.

You nod towards your bag. “Grab the bandages, then cut them into three strips for me.”

She doesn’t waste any time, and you turn back to Joel.

His skin is sallow, and sweat crusts his brow. You reach up to wipe some away with your thumb and his eyes flutter. “I’m gonna take it out.”

He nods, breathing heavily, expression unreadable. “I know.”

You search his eyes for any kind of direction, anything that would help him that he’s too reticent to admit. When you find nothing but grim determination, you grab the strap of your pack and offer it up to his mouth. He understands, and takes it gingerly between his teeth.

Your hands won’t stop shaking as you level the tweezers with the hole in his arm, so you balance your forearm across his chest. His great, heaving breaths push you up and down. You place the two tapered points of the tweezers as best you can on either side of the bullet, having to dig through some flesh. Joel keens under you. “I’m sorry,” you mutter, over and over, a mantra that pulls you forward into the next several minutes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

It takes several attempts, and probably a whole lot more damaged surface area than appropriate knowledge would have allowed, but you’re able to finally wiggle the bullet out of its warm home. The silver pelts to the ground and bits of Joel’s muscle, along with a whole torrent of blood, flow from the pulsing circle. Ellie’s there with the bandages and you throw your whole body weight into pressing them against his arm. His eyes roll into the back of his head, you think he might be shrieking through the fabric at his teeth. “Just have to stop the bleeding,” you tell Ellie, or Joel, or maybe the wind. “It’s okay. It’ll stop. I’m sorry.”

Eventually, it does, or at least it slows. You remove the soiled, rust-colored fabric from Joel’s arm and wrap it up with the remaining bandages, but not before pouring more of the alcohol on it. He sobs, eyes squeezed shut, and Ellie clutches on to his uninjured shoulder, her eyes wild with fear.

“No sepsis, Ellie, that’s why,” you pant, breaking off another portion of the bandages with your teeth to secure it. His breathing calms when he seems to notice Ellie pressed up against him, her trembling fingers pulling the fabric from his mouth and pressing her face to his chest. His good hand holds her to him, clinging with a strength you’re relieved to see remains.

You go to wipe your filthy hands on the grass when you notice a spare bit of Joel’s gore on your thumb. You crawl as far away from Joel and Ellie as you can manage before spilling everything in you onto the bushes. You dry heave long after your stomach is empty.

—

You lie awake several nights later. Your back throbs against the unforgiving forest floor, your blanket wrapped around the top of you instead of padding the ground. Ellie snores softly on your right side, the tender puff of her breath singing through the frosty air. You wish you didn’t begrudge her the rest, a better person wouldn’t, but no matter how tired you get you can never seem to quiet the racing of your mind when the sun goes down.

You turn onto your side to see Joel lying next to you, flat on his back, eyes wide open towards the night sky above. He looks almost comical, bundled up to his throat and arm crossed across himself in an awkward approximation of healing. He spares you a brief glance, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing before he turns his gaze back to the branches that bow above you. He’s keeping watch best he can, but his injured arm is still in a sling, which means he can’t wield the rifle properly. He’s to wake you or Ellie if anything happens. You all know you’ll probably wake in the morning curled together like a three-pod cocoon, the greater threat to your person the chill of the wilderness.

You see your breath crystalize in front of you, even in the dull silver light of the moon, but you can’t see most of his face. He turns it from you, shrouded in shadow, like he does the rest of himself. You never know what he feels, never know where you stand. He had said he didn’t blame you, but it’s hard to believe him when he clearly harbors some kind of sorrow.

You don’t know if its the faux anonymity of the dark that gives you the courage or the delirium that your baby secretes into your bloodstream, but you almost feel inspired to ask him. Instead, you open your mouth and stick your whole entire foot into its waiting orifice.

“What did you think about abortions? Before the outbreak?”

The harsh of your whispering disturbs the tranquil blanket of night. He doesn’t move, doesn’t answer. His eyes don’t even shift to indicate he’s thinking about it.

“Because,” you rush to cover your clumsy footsteps, “you were from Texas. Everyone always said — I mean, I’m sure there were people everywhere that—”

“I don’t know.” He saves you from yourself, his cool, clean baritone soothing your spiked and frayed nerves. The baby pounds its fists against your insides braying like it had heard the word you uttered. You feel sick.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No,” Joel continues, turning his head to look at you. “I mean, I don’t know because I don’t think I paid enough attention to that kind of thing. Sarah’s mom never even — considered — so I didn’t — ” His voice catches in his throat and he looks away.

You knew about Sarah, but not from him. Tess had whispered to you one putrid Boston night about his past, about Texas, about a daughter that hadn’t made it, which she only knew about from Tommy, but you’d never heard him say her name. You feel the scorching lick of shame about your heart, not having even considered what your current state would mean to him. One child, stripped away so cruelly from him, and here you were implying you’d thought about doing the same to another, but then again — maybe that’s what he’d want. To nip it in the bud, to end the pain before it could start.

You take a shuddering, bracing breath, but your voice still comes out meeker than you wish it would. “My sister told me about it. She said there was a place you could go in the QZ, some woman in the Fireflies. I don’t know how,” you admit, “but I kind of wish I did.”

“No,” he snaps, and you shrivel. “It never works out, especially not now. It would just kill you.”

You acquiesce. It makes sense. It seems too good to be true, a relic of medicinally sound days-gone-by.

“Sorry,” you say again, at a loss for anything more.

“Will you quit?” He huffs, and he surprises you, reaching out his good hand to latch onto yours. “Enough apologizin’.”

You can’t stop yourself from pulling his gloved palm even closer to you, into your chest, curling around it like you’re supposed to want to curl around this thing inside you, this parasite that eats away at you, this child you’ll evict from its warm, safe home, whether you want to or not.

He notices your reticence, turns on his side to face you, to coax your bile out of you.

“I feel sorry, though,” you whisper, blinking furiously, finding it hard to look right at him. “I don’t want it. I think I hate it, and I ought to feel sorry for that, right? That’s so awful, Joel. I’m so awful. But I’m so — I can’t —”

You shudder, and it’s like turning off. The tears you felt like crying halt their rise to the surface, and your breath slows. The blade of the hurt dulls, pricking instead of slicing, fading. It’s hard to hear him when he responds, hard to feel the gruff hand he lifts to cradle the back of your head. It only comes back into focus when he insists.

“Hey, listen to me.” He shakes you a bit, and with Herculean effort, you lift your heavy eyes to meet his. His expression is intense, pinched, and so, so beautiful.

“You’re not wrong, you’re not bad. I know this is hard. I know,” he shakes you again when your eyes start to glaze.

“Joel,” you breathe.

“Listen,” he says, fingertips pushing into the firm of your scalp, and you notice faintly that he’s abandoned his sling, that he’s pushed his pain aside to reach for you. “You’re doing better than you think you are. I see it, I see you fightin’. You’re not failing, darlin’. Not on my watch.”

You feel yourself nodding, not knowing where the internal command came from. “I know, Joel.” How do you tell him? How can he not understand that you trust him, just not yourself and your rotten, black heart?

He exhales harshly, searching your eyes for doubt, for something other than this flatness you feel settling over you. He gives in when he can’t find it, but his hand keeps rubbing your head, and you lean into it, relishing in the prick of his calluses. “Okay,” he says, then closes his mouth, opens it, shuts it again. His indecision pulls you back to the forest, back into the body you now share with another.

“What?” You venture, and his eyes alight, enthused to have found you in there.

“You ever been to Texas?” He says quickly, and he doesn’t blurt things, but maybe he did just then.

A startled laugh escapes your lips. The world shifts into focus, and the world is just his eyes, boring into yours. “Probably not. I don’t think we travelled much before the outbreak. Boston’s all I remember, besides a few summers in Maine.”

He lets out a low whistle, eyes flicking over to Ellie to make sure his sound hasn’t bothered her. She remains still, burrowed in the confines of her dreams. “Pretty different from Texas, then,” he says, and you laugh again, realer this time, easier.

“Colder,” you agree, “Even in the summer. We always had to bundle up next to the coast, even in July.”

“Nice though?” He prods into your memory with an iron poke, trying to keep you awake, keep you alive. Guide you ashore. The granite slopes wade into your mind, crashing waves and evergreen needles, a creaking Cape and damp, mossy mornings.

“Yeah,” you agree. “Really nice. Pretty quiet. Not many people, mostly just the deer and the gulls.”

His eyes flash, some emotion you can’t name, but it feels like it fits in the still blanket of space between you. “Maybe it wouldn’t have been such a bad place for a baby.”

You think of a child, toddling through the sand, tossing rocks into the water at your ankles. You think of a quiet life in a cove town, small but big enough for the three of you. You think of scribbled drawings on an antique fridge, of fatherly pride and big hands sweeping up a little girl, throwing her over his shoulder. Her lovely laugh peeling through the dunes.

You can’t help but smile. “Maybe you could have built us a cabin or something.”

He grins then, a real, full smile lighting up the planes of his face. You want to reach out and stamp it into your skin, hold this moment, suspend it in simplicity. “Big order for that. Think the invoice would be pretty intense. You plannin’ on compensating the vendors properly?”

You snort, curling his still-captured hand under your chin. “What, the baby’s not enough? Plus, your memory’s shot. Rural real estate isn’t anywhere near expensive as those city slickers liked to run you for.”

“I guess a nine month gestation is payment enough,” he says, and you feign to smack him, beaming.

“Three beds, three baths,” you continue. “One for us, one for the baby, one for visitors.”

He sucks in through his teeth. “Steeper and steeper, these costs. And it’s oceanfront, too?”

“Balsam fir,” you babble, the picture forming so seamlessly in your mind. “So it always smells clean. High ceilings — and a skylight! So we can still see the stars.”

Joel’s nodding, eyes shining. “Okay, okay, you’re right. Whatever you want. I owe ‘ya that much.”

Your heart skips a beat. You feel a giant spark smolder in your chest, so you tuck yourself into Joel’s side to share it with him. He carefully folds you into himself, stretching around the subtle curve of your abdomen that’s recently manifested.

Something unnamable pulses through you, through the bump, over to him. Before you drift off, you convince yourself you might have seen it in his eyes, too.

—

One stormy night in Boston, you’re helping Tess pack a couple of bags. The thunder cracks and you shiver, mind wandering to Katie, to where she might be sleeping that night, if she’s wet, if she’s cold. Tess hasn’t said much to you, her mind on her next move, her next haul; she’s particularly preoccupied with Joel’s absence, you think, but you don’t say anything. When her grim determination sets the precedent, there’s no getting around it. You wouldn’t want to pry, anyways.

She’s the one to finally break the silence. “He say anything to you before he left?”

You had been here at their place earlier in the day, while Joel was packing up to leave. He hadn’t said a word, had just brushed by you on his way out, your shoulder buzzing from the brief contact.

You shake your head. “No, I don’t even know where he was going.”

Tess hums, eyes flitting from the door to the radio against the wall. “Well, whatever. We can’t wait around all night. You hungry?”

Your stomach gurgles in response, carving deeper into the hollow pit of your abdomen. “Yeah,” you say, like there was ever any other answer.

Tess heats up the green beans with ham you had brought that day from your shift at the pantry. The corner of the can is dented, which is why no one cared that it had gone missing, but Katie had started rejecting the dented ones recently, saying botulism was a silent killer the Fireflies couldn’t afford to barter with. Your palms sweat. You’ve eaten so many like that, it’s probably fine. But what if this was the time it wasn’t? What if Tess ingests your poison and you’re the thing that kills her, after all she’s been through?

She doesn’t seem to care, dumping portions into two bowls and leaving the rest in the beat up tin pot on the stove. You both slurp in silence, letting the wash of sodium rush over your gums. You should have thought to add pepper, but getting up again feels too much like an inconvenience, and maybe a slight on Tess’s preparation.

You’re both jolted from complacency when Joel bangs through the front door, throwing it shut behind him and shouldering into the nearby bathroom before either of you can stand up.

“Joel?” Tess calls warily.

A moment of silence, then he responds. “Just a minute.” His voice is strained, slightly raspier than usual.

Tess immediately knows something is wrong, and you know because of the look on her face. “Fuck,” she mutters, and pitches towards the cabinets underneath the sink. She tosses you a couple of rags. “Will you go hand these to him, or get him to sit the fuck down? Where’s the disinfectant?” She starts muttering under her breath while she rummages around and you stand there uselessly, rags flowing limp between your fingers.

“Will you relax?” huffs Joel, emerging from the bathroom and moving stiffly to the kitchen table. You can’t help but gape at his complexion marred with bruising, the ugly discoloration above his eyebrow and around his jaw swelling to a reddened burst. Blood drips down his nose, around the contour of his rugged angel lips, then down onto the rotten floorboards underfoot. He sits, unable to hide a wince and a grunt, or maybe not trying. You’re still frozen.

Tess whirls by you, slipping the rags from your hands and settling next to Joel with a bottle in her hand. She wets one of the rags, then starts to dab at his face. He halfheartedly bats her hand away for a second, until she glares, then relents and lets her clean his face.

“You wanna explain yourself?” She murmurs lowly after a minute. Her voice spurs you into action. You want to help, want to stitch him together with your own sinew, dull his pain with a drug from your veins, but you don’t think he’ll take kindly to it. Tess has clearly done this before; even if she hadn’t, she’s comfortable, certain of where she stands with him. You can’t step into the space she takes up.

“Not really,” he mutters, a childish impatience squirming through him. You feel his own restlessness in your own feet; useless, you can’t just stand here. You turn to the stove, grabbing another bowl from the cabinet and doling him a portion of the sad green beans and ham. You grab the pepper, flaking a kick into his food that you’re sure he’s said he prefers, and turn to quickly set it down in front of him. Tess is done, grabs the rags to toss in the sink.

Joel seems confused. “We’re outta green beans.”

You grin at him, the flesh on your face feeling tight and out of place. “Good thing you’ve got a supplier.” You don’t say that you had stashed him a can extra even above your smuggling quota. You don’t mention it because you know he likes them better than any of the other shitty cans because they remind him of home, because they’re made down south, somewhere, because he can’t know that you know that about him, that you study him like he’s something worth knowing about. You can’t wear your love so openly like that, but you think he might see it leaking out of your porous heart anyways, because there’s a stern gratitude in his nod, in the bite he lifts to his mouth. Tess knows too, and squeezes your shoulder as she walks you out later.

“Thank you,” she says, “for doing that for him. He’ll never say it, but he’s grateful. I’m grateful. You’re a good kid.” Your heart beats faster. You can’t remember the last time someone said something like this, told you you were good, saw the care you hemorrhaged, and gave it back to you. You nod and head back to your own empty place, counting down the hours until you can see him again, until you feel like there might be a reason you’re here.

[tyblackthornsheadphones]

steddie x afab!reader pregnancy headcanons

summary: steddie x reader where they’re in a long term relationship and have been trying for a baby and finally reader gets pregnant (might make this a series if people like it)

warnings: pregnancy (obviously), reader is slightly based on me so they’ve always wanted kids of their own, no description of reader’s looks, mentions of smut

part two | part three

wanna support me? buy me a ko-fi

it was steve who brought it up first, with his dream of having six little nuggets

obviously it was up to you, since you would be the one pregnant, but you’ve always wanted children of your own as well and since the three of you had been dating for a while the time felt right

the sex was intense with both steve and eddie trying to knock you up (breeding kink)

even though it was planned, eddie still freaked out when you actually got pregnant. he didn’t have a good relationship with his parents and he’s terrified of fucking up with his own kid :(

a lot of comforting and reminding him that he’s an amazing person who deserves all the love in the world <33 plus you and steve would be right there with him figuring it out too

for the whole pregnancy he goes from really excited sometimes to really nervous - he has more mood changes than you do

steve was so! so! so happy! could not stop smiling for like a week straight

eddie got a job at a record store and steve started taking more shifts at family video. you also had a job at a thrift store but stopped working at seven months pregnant

eddie talks to your belly all the time

he plays music for the baby too, saying he wants to make sure they inherit his good music taste and not steve’s

steve becomes even more protective. literally will not let you do anything on your own. “oh no you don’t need to do that, let me” or “why are you getting up?”

you need to have a conversation with him about how you appreciate it, but it gets annoying when he treats you like you can’t do anything

lots of apology kisses

but on the topic of protective, he gets so scared of you showering alone and maybe slipping so he starts helping you shower, washing your body gently and praising you the whole time. (he was adamant about absolutely no shower sex, saying it wasn’t safe with you so far along)

eddie is weird, so when you start getting weird and lowkey sometimes gross food cravings, he is eating them with you

they both love giving you massages, holding your stomach from behind, literally anything that’ll take away some of your pain :((

steve cooks for you to make sure you’re getting enough nutrients for yourself and the baby

steve rubbing lotion on your stretch marks at night while eddie plays guitar and sings to you both (you three?)

steve is the type to come home with baby clothes or toys even if it’s something you really don’t need. “i saw it and i could just picture out baby wearing this so i had to buy it”

eddie will try to sneak either metal artist names or names from books onto your baby name list

[wannab-urs]

The Spreadsheet Digest | Vol 30

Howdy folks :)

Welcome to the THIRTIETH Spreadsheet Digest!!

I started reading a few series this week, and I'm not putting them on the spreadsheet til I've finished them; so, if I told you I'm reading your fic but it's not here, that's why. Eleven fics this week (Dieter, Joel, Din, Ezra, Javi P, and a Marcus P/Din/Reader)!

Fic Rec Masterlist | My Masterlist | My Kofi

Recs Below The Pedge

In Fiction - Dieter one shot by @sin-djarin

Summary: Dieter comes to bed. Tags: Established relationship, mentions of self doubt, no physical description of reader, no dialogue, no use of y/n. Thoughts: This was so sweet. I just want to hold him and pet his hair, fr.

In Reality - Dieter one shot by @sin-djarin

Summary: Dieter comes home for Christmas. Tags: Established relationship, masturbation (M), Dieter's self deprecation, no physical description of reader, no use of y/n. Thoughts: I'm just extremely obsessed with the nailing of Dieter's characterization here. He's a little gross and sad, but it's endearing. Poor baby can't keep his phone charged to save his life. And I love how reader just like... knows he's a mess and is okay with it. It's a little bittersweet? In a way that I adore.

O, Christmas Tree - Dieter one shot by @covetyou

Summary: As PA to Dieter Bravo, you were used to the strange, unusual and downright weird. What you weren't used to was taking in a shipment of - what? And how many? Tags: sex toys (so many butt plugs), Dieter being a menace to his PA, no smut, pure silliness. Thoughts: This is so delightfully silly. And they do kind of look like christmas trees.

The hat stays on - Joel one shot by @theywhowriteandknowthings

Summary: Hooking up with a cowboy in a bar bathroom... kind of. Tags: sub/dom dynamics, Sub!Joel, Switch!Joel, Public sex, Bathroom Sex, Squirting, orgasm denial(mention). Purely Porn with no Plot. Thoughts: I love these lil plot twist fics, I love cowboy hat joel, I love sub/switch!Joel, I love this.

To Know the Light - Din one shot by @burntheedges

Summary: to go in the dark with a light is to know the light. Tags: fluff, a teensy bit of angst, introspection, winter, food mention, reader has no description, gn!reader Thoughts: Din's internal struggle with removing the helmet is such a fascinating aspect of his character, and I think you did a beautiful job of capturing it here. I thought the imagery, the characterization, and the story telling in general here was just gorgeous.

Killshot - Ezra series by @magpiepills

Summary: A lonesome prospector comes face to face with a dangerous stranger. What happens when you can’t resist his charm? Tags: SMUT, PIV, fingering, oral (m&f receiving) pet names, spanking, dub con, angst, anal play, deep throating, cum eating, thigh riding, dirty talk, double penetration, toys, teasing, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader. Thoughts: This shit had me YELLING!!! Dirty Dog Ezra in full force here. I am still shook and I read this like 4 days ago.

Dare to Surrender - Javi P series by @auteurdelabre

Summary: “First to come loses.” You can’t stand Javier Pena but when Steve Murphy makes an off-hand remark that gets both you and Javier’s competitive sides going, there’s no telling how far you’ll go. Tags: Office Sex, Enemies to Lovers, Blow Jobs, Office Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Dare, Co-workers, soft!javi p, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Pet Names, Jealous!Javier Peña, Phone Sex, Jealousy, Steve Murphy cockblock, Desk Sex, No Pregnancy, Banter, Bonding, Bets & Wagers, Vaginal Fingering, Fingerfucking, Finger Sucking, hey we said no kissing, he falls first, no protection, From Sex to Love, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Semi-Public Sex, P in V sex, Sweet!Javi, Nicknames Thoughts: I loved this storyyyyy. Javi was so pathetically in love with her and so bad at saying it. Brad sucks, btw, but I love how jealous he made Javi. P.S if you like the whole bet concept + Javi P check out Go Ahead I Dare Ya. It's a slightly different premise, but so very good.

Handsome, Dirty, Rich - Joel one shot by @pedgito

Summary: the rich father of your best friend, sarah — joel miller, was a mystery to you until one day he isn't and you quickly find that your interest in him isn't one-sided. Tags: no use of y/n, au/no outbreak, bfd!joel, ceo!joel, mentions of reader growing up poor/absent parents (joel is ridiculously loaded, it's fic y'all let me live lol), sneaking around, age gap (not explicitly specified, but reader is in final year of college and joel is probs late 40s/50s), vacations, gift-giving, unprotected piv, come swallowing, daddy issues if you squint, one (1) pussy slap, oral (f receiving), semi-public fucking Thoughts: The buildup was immaculate AGH. And I am obsessed with the kind of not quite happy ending? Part 2 maybe?

Comfort, Despite the Storm - Joel one shot by @marisferasiop

Summary: Joel's neighbor (you) is the town archivist and brings him a present on his birthday (with a side of teasing). Later, after waking from his own nightmares, he finds you sleepless on your porch during a storm and you take comfort in one another. Tags: fluff, smut, nightmares, alcohol, p in v sex, oral m receiving Thoughts: Love a lil continuous hookup situation. I adore how they get together in this and how reader takes the lead in the situation. And like the fic overall is sweet and flirty, but that smut is hot.

Misfire - Dieter one shot by @qveerthe0ry

Summary: Dieter gets waxed for a role and gets a little too excited. Tags: dubious consent, body hair waxing, pain kink, humiliation kink (kinda), subby!Dieter, ruined orgasm, coming untouched, hands-free orgasm, reader does not engage in sex acts, mentions of alcohol, mentions of drug use, accidental exhibitionism, accidental voyeurism Thoughts: Pathetic, whiny, whimpering, humiliation kink Dieter? Yeah. Yes. Thank you. Perfection. And if you want a version where reader plays along instead of ignoring him read that here.

Closure - Marcus P/Din one shot by @javier-pena

Summary: Marcus, Din and you used to be best friends. Now you're on opposite sides of the law with a decade worth of grudges between you. But hate can quickly become something else ... Tags: angst | canon-typical violence | mentions of food and alcohol and smoking | they’re all mean to each other and they have a difficult relationship | (a lot of) dirty talk (by my standards) | slight power imbalance | reader has hair that can be grabbed | threesome m/f/(m) (kinda) | ecouteurism | voyeurism | exhibitionism | a bit of edging | fingering | competitiveness | (unprotected) piv sex | creampie | a tiny, tiny bit of degradation Thoughts: Marcus and Din is a pairing I truly never thought I would see, but I am obsessed with this pairing. The way their personalities mesh is just stunning. I love the characterization of all three of them. I'm not usually one to read Din AUs where he's not some sort of Mandalorian, but I truly could not resist reading this. Everything about this fic was amazing. Reader's story, Marcus and Din's relationship, the setting, everything was just so good AHGHGGH.

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

This week I posted:

Scotty Doesn't Know - a Dieter one shot

Summary: Scotty doesn't know you're hooking up with Dieter Tags: songfic, smut, infidelity, dieter is a loser, scotty doesn't really deserve this he's just annoying, crack taken seriously, porn with the barest of plots, barely edited. WC: 2.8k

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

Happy Reading!

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

My Sweetest Downfall - Chapter Two

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Work Summary:

Eddie’s back from the Upside Down, but things aren’t exactly how he left them. Hawkins is in pieces, his friends are scattered and the love of his life is… pregnant?

Eddie Munson x Harrington!Reader

Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 Epilogue

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3394

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist: @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye @eddiesgirlforever @harrys-tittie

Taglist info

Previous Chapter

Notes:

I don't think I mentioned this before but I'm never going to specify whether reader is full/half/adopted siblings with Steve, so she can be of any race/ethnicity. I'll try my best to be inclusive/vague in my descriptions.

Starting this week, I'm going to be updating this fic weekly (every Monday).

Warnings for shitty parents, pregnancy, vomiting (a lot), grief, depression, reader being kinda mean to steve even tho he's a good boy, reader not taking care of her hair (or herself generally), bad relationship with food, nested flashbacks

---

~ FOUR MONTHS EARLIER ~

A sharp tapping on your bedroom door roused you from sleep. You sat up suddenly, dazed and confused. Your bed was cold. You grimaced.

In the time since you’d learnt about Hawkins’ dark underside, you had gotten used to the nightmares.  You could handle them. What you weren’t prepared for were the other kind of dreams.

When you slept, Eddie was alive. He would lounge beside you in your bed, drawing long forgotten laughter from deep inside you. He would hold you, kiss you, tell you that he adored you. Touch you in ways that you never wanted anyone else to touch you.

Awake, you felt hollow.

When Steve called your name through the door, you tried to say, “come in,” as naturally as possible, but your throat was tight.

He opened the door, a dishtowel slung over his shoulder. “Hey. How are you feeling this morning?”

Now that was a question. How were you feeling this morning?

You took a quick inventory: your throat hurt; your eyes were crusty and sore from crying; you hadn’t showered in days so you felt sweaty and gross.

“I’m okay,” you said, and Steve frowned.

“I thought I could make pancakes?” he suggested. Admittedly, pancakes did sound good. “Why don’t you have a shower and I’ll make breakfast, and then we can go for a walk?”

You tried not to groan. Steve had been doing this since your parents left. You knew he was only doing it because he cared, but right now you bristled against even the gentlest suggestion that you should eat, or bathe, or exercise. You knew that Steve wasn’t judging you – you knew that – but hearing the words out loud still hurt.

But he was just trying to help you. You bit back your harsh response and nodded instead.

“I’ll be down in ten minutes.”

A smile broke across his face. “Great!” he said, as if the thought of you doing the bare minimum was actually impressive.

You hated all of this. Steve was treating you like you were made of glass. The two of you had always good-naturedly bickered at each other, poking and prodding and making sarcastic jabs, and now the only mode he seemed capable of was gentle, earnest compassion. It sucked.

Still, you kept your thoughts to yourself as you went into your bathroom and turned on the shower. It was a quick wash, dragging soap over your body and continuing to ignore the growing problem of your hair. When you were done, you brushed your teeth quickly and then dressed in clean(ish) sweatpants and a t-shirt.

You put your hair up and out of the way, and then covered it with your hood, trying not to think about it.

Steve was just plating up the pancakes when you made it down into the kitchen. He gave you a weak smile, which you returned even weaker.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“Right.” Steve took that as his cue to not ask any more stupid questions.

Staring down at your plate of pancakes, you felt suddenly ravenous. You hadn’t been eating well. As you tucked in, you could feel Steve’s eyes on you.

You cleared your throat. “You’ve got work later, right?”

“Yeah, but not until this afternoon. Plenty of time to hang out.”

He didn’t ask you if you would be okay alone in the house. Not since you’d snapped at him for treating you like a broken doll. Steve didn’t deserve that. He was trying, and you weren’t. So you decided to offer him an olive branch.

“It’ll be nice to get out of the house,” you said, as breezily as you could. Steve’s eyes widened, but a broad smile soon followed. You looked back down at your pancakes.

*

Hawkins being Hawkins, nature walks weren’t advisable, but when Steve suggested driving into town to walk around the mall, you shot him down. You really didn’t want to be anywhere where you might run into people.

So the two of you set off on foot, hiking along the edge of the woods, never straying more than 20 feet from the road. You both knew what dangers lurked in the darkness.

As much as you hated to admit it, Steve had been right about walking making you feel better. The fresh air cut into your lungs, an ache blooming in your chest. It was better than feeling numb.

Steve cleared his throat. “I was thinking that we could do a movie night some time soon. We could invite Robin.”

“Sure,” you said, non-committally.

“Or something with the kids. It’d be nice to all get together in one place again.”

All. You grimaced at the use of the word. There were some people who were never coming back, no matter how much you wished it.

Barb. Benny. Bob Newby. Chrissy Cunningham. Even Billy, for all his faults. Not that you would ever have invited him to your house.

And of course, there was Eddie. You would never get to have a movie night with him again. He’d never crawl through your bedroom window and fall asleep by your side. You would never get to kiss him again.

You stopped in your tracks, throwing your arms out to try and keep your balance.

“What is- Oh my god.” Steve jumped back as you vomited all over the patch of earth in front of you. You swayed on your feet, so he scooted around the splash zone to get to your side and put an arm around you. “Are you alright?”

You shook your head, and then bent forward to hurl again. Steve clutched at your jacket, trying not to let you fall.

You found yourself reminded of something that happened when you were a child. Your parents had been more present then than they were now, although that was a low bar. Your general needs were taken care of by nannies more often than not, but on this occasion, your parents were taking you and Steve on vacation.

It was a long drive down to the lake house, and at six years old, your feet didn’t touch the floor when you were sitting in the back of the car.

“Mommy?” you called out to her, but she was leaning on her neck pillow, sunglasses hiding the fact that she was asleep. “Mommy!”

“Keep it down,” your dad snapped, “I don’t wanna hear your whining.” You shrank back into yourself, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What’s wrong?” Steve whispered to you. He had been staring out of the window until you’d spoken, but now his focus was on you.

“Feel sick.”

He pulled a bottle of water from his door, cracked the lid open and then handed it to you. You took a big gulp, but the water was unpleasantly warm, so you pushed it back towards him.

He must’ve seen the expression on your face, because he said, “Dad? Can we pull over? I think she’s gonna be sick.”

“We’re not gonna make it there before sunset if we keep having to stop for you damn kids. Now shut the hell up.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Steve whispered to you. He took your hand in his pressed his fingers against your wrist. “My teacher showed me a place where you can press to make you feel less sick.” As his clumsy, eight-year-old fingers fumbled to find the pressure point, you gripped the seat suddenly.

“Dad-” you tried to say, but before you could say anything else, you threw up all over yourself.

“Dad, she’s been sick.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he muttered, readjusting his rear-view mirror to get a look at you, and then let out a deep sigh. “We’ll stop at the next rest-stop.”

Hot tears pricked at your eyes. Embarrassed, you sniffed, trying to keep them in, but to no avail.

“Hey,” Steve murmured. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. We’ll get you all cleaned up and you’ll feel so much better.” You nodded weakly.

The next rest-stop, as it turned out, was very sparse, with only a restroom and a few benches. Your dad got out of the car and opened your door before you’d even had the chance to undo your seatbelt.

“You little shit,” he hissed. “You got it all over the upholstery. Do you know how much this cost?”

Bewildered, you stared back at him. “I don’t know, daddy.”

“Get out of the car.”

“What’s going on?” said your mom sleepily. She had evidently taken her sleeping pills for the drive.

“Get up,” he said to her. “You need to clean this up. Your daughter vomited all over it.”

“Why do I need to clean it up? She’s your daughter too and it’s your car.”

“I’m gonna take her to go get cleaned up,” Steve announced loudly. He helped you out of the car, snagged your backpack from the trunk and then took your hand. Your parents were still sniping at each other behind you as you walked away.

“Mom and dad are fighting because of me,” you said as he ushered you into the bathroom. There was only one stall, so you hoped no one came along and needed to use it.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Are they going to get a divorce?”

“No, sweetpea.” That comforted you a little.

With Steve’s help, you removed your soiled cardigan and t-shirt. He dropped them both into the sink to rinse them, and then wet some tissues for you so that you could wipe yourself down.

Ten minutes later, you were dressed in a clean t-shirt and sweater, and your dirty clothes were rinsed and shoved into a plastic bag. Steve got you a cold water from the vending machine, and the two of you sat in the sun on one of the benches while your mom cleaned up your seat in the car.

The memory made your heart hurt. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

Now, Steve was ushering you back to the house, one hand on your shoulder to keep you steady. At least this time you hadn’t got any on your clothes. This time, though, throwing up didn’t make you feel any less sick. If anything, you felt worse.

As soon as you were through the front door, you sprinted to the downstairs bathroom and bent over the toilet, hurling up the contents of your stomach. Your knees trembled, and you sank down into a kneeling position. You could hear the creaking of floorboards outside the door, as if Steve wasn’t sure if he should come in or not.

After a moment, his footsteps retreated. Fine. Good. You had wanted to deal with this alone anyway.

But he didn’t leave you to deal with this alone. Thirty seconds later, the bathroom door swung open and he placed a bottle of water on the floor beside you.

“Hey…” He rubbed your back soothingly. Another surge of vomit had you blinking tears out of your eyes.

Without warning, Steve pulled back your hood, probably to get your hair out of the way. You flinched.

He said your name softly, and his pitying tone convinced you that he had noticed the state your hair was in. You screwed your eyes shut and threw up again.

It took a few minutes, but eventually the vomiting subsided. It had left you sweaty and cold, with a horrible taste on your mouth. You opened the bottle of water and drank some down, trying to get rid of the burning acidity in your chest.

As you got shakily to your feet, you found that Steve was still watching you. He had a sympathetic look on his face that made you want to punch him. How dare he feel sorry for you, after everything you’d been through.

You balled up your fists, your face hot with shame.

“Hey…” he said, wincing. “Please let me help you. I want to help you.”

Reluctantly, you let him.

If there was one thing Steve knew, it was hair. At his behest, you took your second shower of the day, this time taking your time to properly shampoo and condition your hair. When you exited the bathroom, you found that Steve had stripped your bed of its sheets, which were starting to get a little musty, and put on a load of laundry.

You put on a clean, dry pair of pyjamas, and found Steve downstairs, cleaning up the bathroom that you’d spent ten minutes puking in, wearing marigold gloves.

“Get comfy on the couch,” he said, “I’ll be with you in a minute.” And sure enough, he returned to you holding a whole box of hair products. “Just trust me on this, okay?”

So you did.

It took many hours, several bottles of conditioner and all sorts of other products that you’d never even heard of, but eventually, Steve managed to tackle your hair into a manageable state. You had been crying on and off – it sometimes felt like Steve was yanking your hair out of your scalp – but now you felt all cried out.

Part of you appreciated the pain. You had hardly cried since Eddie’s death. If the pain managed to break through the numbness to make you shed a few tears, that could only be a good thing.

More than once, you suggested cutting it all off. Your brother adamantly refused.

When he was done, Steve looked exceedingly proud of himself. He held up a mirror like a hairdresser, showing off his handiwork. You just put your arms around him and hugged him tight.

~ PRESENT DAY ~

Eddie couldn’t help but steal glances at you. You were sitting in an armchair, a big, cosy dressing gown hiding your baby bump, clutching a mug of hot chocolate in your hands.

Making the hot chocolate had been a struggle, since Steve wouldn’t leave Eddie alone with you. It was like the riddle where you have to get a fox, a chicken and a bag of grain across a river and you can’t leave the fox with the chicken or the chicken with the grain.

Eddie supposed that made him the fox. He balked at the idea that he could ever hurt you. Steve had never trusted him before, but they had found an uneasy truce. Now, that was all out of the window.

Steve had made Eddie come into the kitchen with him while he made the hot chocolate, leaving you alone in the living room. In a brief concession to civility, he had offered Eddie some too, but he’d declined. He thought he might puke if he ate or drank anything right now.  

“Hop’s here,” Steve said suddenly, and sure enough, the crunch of tyres on the gravel of the driveway reached Eddie’s ears.

Eddie took the brief moment while Steve was answering the door to steal another glance at you, and found you looking back at him. He offered you a smile, but you quickly looked away.

It turned out to be not just the chief, but the entire Hopper-Byers clan. Eddie had never met Will, nor Eleven, but he’d heard plenty about them. The two young teens were wearing hoodies and shoes over their pyjamas.

He remembered Jonathan from school. Jonathan eyed him with suspicion, but he supposed he couldn’t blame him for that. Joyce barely glanced at Eddie, beelining over to you to give you a hug, which you received gratefully. Eddie knew that you’d always loved Joyce. She’d been good to you when your own mother would barely even look at you.

“Munson,” said the chief. Or not the chief. Eddie didn’t really know what Hopper’s rank was now.  Still, as a drug-dealer and general troublemaker, he had been all too familiar with the chief.

“Hop,” said Eddie, getting to his feet.

“Last I heard, you were dead.”

“I could say the same about you.”

To Eddie’s surprise, Hopper actually smiled at that. Perhaps Joyce’s influence had mellowed him out. Or so Eddie assumed, as they evidently seemed to be living together now.

“Are you a zombie?” he asked.

“Uhh, no?”

“Vampire?”

“Well, I have a certain thirst for blood, but that’s not new.” Eddie grinned, but Hopper didn’t.

“This isn’t a time for jokes, kid. Are you flayed?”

“Am I what?”

“Sit down. My daughter is going to tell us if you have any connection to Vecna.”

“W-What?”

Hop put one hand on his shoulder and shoved him back onto the couch. Eleven, whose short curly hair was tousled with sleep, perched on the edge of the coffee table. She closed her eyes.

“What’s she doing?” asked Eddie nervously. He’d heard a little about what she could do, and was mildly concerned that she might be about to snap his neck.

“She’s checking to see if there’s any trace of the Upside Down on you. If you’re a zombie, or one of Vecna’s puppets. If you’re dangerous. While she’s doing that, I’m gonna ask you some questions.”

“Maybe we should-” Steve started, putting a hand on your shoulder, but you cut him off.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you snapped.

He swallowed nervously, but acquiesced. Eddie could feel all eyes on him. He felt awfully exposed.

“What happened to you in the Upside Down?” asked Hopper.

“I don’t… I don’t really remember?” Eddie tried to think, but a flash of pain lanced through his brain, and he flinched. Eleven flinched too.

“What happened?” Hopper asked her, one hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Keep asking questions,” she said, her eyes still closed.

“Well?” Hopper turned to Eddie again.

“We were… we were fighting the demobats. I got overwhelmed. There were too many of them.” He winced, blinking slowly. “They were biting at me. It hurt. A lot.”

“And then?”

“I don’t remember anything else.”

“He’s telling the truth,” said Eleven, opening her eyes. “He’s not flayed. Not a zombie. Human. Alive. Something is wrong with him. But he is human.”

“‘Something’ is wrong with him?” asked the chief.

“Well, what’s new?” Eddie forced out a smile.

The room was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. That was, until you huffed out a laugh. Eddie turned his head towards you, and found you wiping tears from your eyes.

After that, Eddie couldn’t focus on anything else. Hopper and Joyce were talking to you and Steve about what to do now. The gist of it seemed to be to keep a close eye on Eddie. Eddie wasn’t listening. He was watching the way tears kept rolling down your cheeks sporadically. Steve was tense beside you, arms folded across his chest.

“We could take Eddie home with us?” Joyce suggested. “That way we could keep an eye on him to ensure he’s safe.”

“No way,” you said. “Absolutely not. He and I have some catching up to do.”

Joyce glanced down at your baby bump, grimaced, but then nodded. “Of course.”

“If anything happens – and I mean anything – you call us, okay?” said Hopper. “But it’s four in the morning, so I’m gonna take my family home. Is that alright?”

“Fine by me,” you said, very abruptly. Then your expression softened. “Thank you for coming over. We really appreciate it.”

“Alright.” Hopper clapped Steve on the back. “You did the right thing, kid.”

You stood up to see them out. It was evidently a struggle to pull yourself to your feet, and Eddie was about to offer you a hand when Steve stepped in and helped you out.

You stepped forward and gave Joyce a hug. Then you gave one each to Eleven and Will. And then the family were retreating out the door, piling into Hop’s car and driving away.

You and Eddie and Steve were left alone. Steve was clearly fighting off a yawn.

“Steve? Can I talk to Eddie alone for a minute?” you asked.

His expression tightened. “What for?”

“Because I want to talk to him,” you snapped. “Why else?”

“Okay…” He looked from Eddie to you and back. “I’ll go and make up the guest room. Yell if you need me.”

Eddie waited until Steve’s footsteps had disappeared up the stairs. He started to speak, unsure of what he really wanted to say, but was cut off by you throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tight.

---

Notes:

When I was at university, I went through a period of being so depressed that I neglected to brush my hair for months. The more tangly it got, the worse I felt, and the less I wanted to deal with it. Eventually I went to visit my long distance bf at the time, and he asked me why I wouldn't take my hair down. With his help, I tackled it. Using a shit-ton of conditioner, he helped me brush out some of the tangles, but the stress got too much and we ended up having an argument and me having the worst panic attack I've ever had. He stayed with me until I was calm, and then he went home. I finished my hair myself, using two bottles of conditioner. The next day, it was the softest it had ever been. I never let it get that bad again.

Recently I was in hospital with a broken ankle. My family came to see me after surgery. I was so hungry, I hadn't been allowed to eat all day and I was constantly on the verge of tears. My hair was a mess. It was super tangly, so my mum brushed it for me and then plaited it so it would stay neat and not tangle. I cried the whole time because I've been pretty starved for affection.

Honestly I'm not even sure why I'm telling you all this, but it feels kinda important that you know where I'm coming from here.

Ciao.

Next Chapter

[agentrouka-blog]

lol i can’t even defend grrm when ppl call him a pervert bc of the way he describes sansa’s body 💀 no 12yo should be “curvy”

On a purely technical note, as a member of a family of so-called "early bloomers" who was judged years older for basically the entirety of my teens, I beg to differ. There are plenty of 12-year-olds with various curves and plenty of adults who objectify them with almost no regard for their age.

Sansa also actually isn't described as curvy at any point. People just point out a lot that she has breasts at all. And yes, it's gross and contrived in plenty of scenes, but it's not JUST arbitrary perversion.

It's not some omniscient neutral entity describing her body. It's the Hound, pointing out she looks older than her age and slipping into his "song = rape" metaphor. It's Tyrion, pointing out the sexualised nature of her abuse by Joffrey (not that it will stop him later). It's Sansa noticing that grown men leer at her. It's a woman sewing a secret wedding dress for a child at Cersei's behest. It's creepy harrassment by adult men who think a bastard girl is fair game. It's Myranda Royce trying to make Sansa uncomfortable with disorienting switches between bawdy jokes to blur boundaries and subtle interrogation.

I'm not saying GRRM's treatment of women's and girls' bodies is not flawed. It is. It really is. But it's much more notable in characters of color where these descriptions may be part of a racist POV (Arys, Cersei) but they are still overt and contrived and unnecessary because they go far beyond merely making any kind of point.

With Sansa, usually, it is supposed to make you uncomfortable.

(I realize that at the same time it's also probably GRRM trying to prepare the reader for a teen pregnancy storyline he can't skip because it's plot relevant and he fumbled the passage of time. It's flawed. But it's not JUST arbitrary perversion.)

[veetyuh]

Vent post to ramble about intersex issues.

Honestly I'm just now starting to feel intersex on an emotional level, despite having known for years. It has taken so much time to start working through the shame and sense of powerlessness built up over a decade, because the medical system is so fucking violent toward intersex people for NO reason.

Beyond forced "corrective" surgery — that's the big one everyone is aware of. Allowing parents to force their newborn through a sex change. Literally doing the hyperbolic conservative's worst nightmare about trans people and everyone's just fucking fine with it. But aside from that.

Since I was a sweaty, awkward teen with a five o'clock shadow, I've been told, "FEMALE‼️ DEFECTIVE FEMALE‼️ YOU WANT SURGERY FOR BABY⁉️ 👶 WE WILL GIVE YOU SURGERY FOR BABY, AND MAYBE HORMONES TO MAKE YOU LESS MANISH‼️"

I've told my doctor, my parents, any adult who asked, point blank, I never want children and would rather drink bleach than incubate one. But it's always, "You're still young, you might want that option in the future." As if I'm not enthralled with my infertility, as if pregnancy is the end goal of every female, as if I'm female to begin with.

And the shame of being classed as a disorder. One that so few doctors have seen that specialists have treated me like a lab experiment, and one even asked me to induce menstruation and come in while I'm bleeding so he can poke around. AFTER admitting that he didn't know what was going on down there. Just. "I'll have to refer you to a different specialist, but can you come in while you're bleeding so I can see what happens between your legs when there's ✨blood✨ involved?"

Or staring at the M/F boxes on ANY intake form, trying to decide which one is less humiliating. What kind of comedic relief do I want to be perceived as: a femboy who is uncommitted to the aesthetic, or a comedically masc woman like Doris from Shrek? I can count the number of times I've seen "other" or "intersex" listed as an option on one hand. And I can't describe the relief of being able to check it. It's beyond words, just to be fucking acknowledged — to have any sort of implication that my existence isn't supposed to be something else, and that my natural state is not fucked-up, or a failure.

But why is it okay for a doctor to push gender "correction" onto any intersex person, minors included, then turn around and act like trans healthcare is such a big fucking deal?? It's okay to shove progesterone into my hands despite me NOT FUCKING WANTING IT, but god forbid any transfemme person asks for it. Moreover, god forbid I ask for top surgery. It's fine for them to change my sex on my behalf, so long as fertility is the end goal: but if I want to modify my body on my own terms, then it's, "Are you sure??? Are you SURRRRE about that???"

God I HATE the medical system, I hate the insistence on a false two sex binary, and I hate troglodyte conservatives who harp on about middle school biology because they're mentally stunted and permanently at the age of 12 — when they're the same ones that bullied me in middle school so they should KNOW intersex people exist.

I miss being pre-pubescent, going into the doctor's office and knowing that my pediatrician had my best interest at heart. Even if it was shots, or gross medicine, or whatever, I knew that it was for healing me, and I could at least trust that. Now I go into a doctor's office and it feels like a fucking warzone, fight-or-flight is engaged, and I can't help but question their intent.

But the few moments when I do feel intersex? When I don't feel like a defective perisex person? It's beyond description. Being able to have a box to check off. Seeing descriptions of intersex people in history, and knowing that we used to have a place in society. When shame has been beaten into you, having it removed even for a second is a joy beyond words. 🥲

[sidgeno-ficrecs]

pictures of success by @dadvans

sidgeno (2018, explicit, 7.9k)

Bears are solitary creatures.

Zhenya decides what he’s really feeling toward the end of the summer isn’t loneliness, or heartbreak, or other several other intangible feelings he’s heard in passing but never known; it’s disappointment.

It’s disappointment.

god, do i ever love shifter fics. i think i've read every single one in this pairing, and i'm still absolutely greedy for more (and yes this is a hint to all you authors out there). just like a/b/o, shifter fics give us the ability to take these two people that we know in our current world and move them into a society that's just a bit to one side, just a little different, and see how things play out with those small differences.

this fic stands alone, though, with how it deals with the changes.

a lot of times, the focus is on the physical—heat cycles and hormones, pregnancies, and the social differences that arise from anatomical ones. this fic, though, gives us a close-up look at something else: the mental differences, the way a shifter might have been raised to be more like an animal in their mindset and world view, and how that might clash with the more human world they interact with.

and the results are a lovely, aching, restless fic that ends so satisfactorily that you'll feel just as full-up as sid after his BIG cheat day in italy.

the close POV we get of zhenya's off-season is perfectly melancholy, and i got a lump in my throat reading more of his solitary summer, and how it's been fine—until something changes, something's different, and suddenly it's not. it's so clear to the reader that this isn't a new change, it's something that zhenya could have wanted sooner, but he didn't let himself until he couldn't avoid it any longer. the conflict between what a proper bear shifter would be feeling and doing vs what he wants for himself and sid is excellently portrayed.

@dadvans has a real gift for writing the physical, too. the real, gritty, sometimes gross reality of human bodies and how they intersect and interlock are in full display here, and it's amazing. the description of sid during his heat, sid's body once he and zhenya are back in pittsburgh—it all feels real in a way that can be very challenging to pull off.

and the ending? oh gosh. tender and sweet and the perfect ending for zhenya, and sid, and their family. you'll want to go back and immediately re-read this fic as soon as you're done, it's that good and that satisfying of an ending.

read it here on ao3!

and don't forget to kudos and comment!

[thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles]

Upside Down OBX

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, major character death, mentions of suicide, pregnancy, implied sex, descriptive death, strange-ass plot, I'm so sorry I wrote this and posted it on a whim, ooc Pope, bi! reader, a slightly-more-than-bromance relationship between JB and Pope, not completely correct upside down (it rains and it's hot), JJ and Sarah are siblings but it's mentioned once, it's fucking interesting, ladies and gentlemen, I'll probably go to prison for this, haven't they been through enough without the added trauma of this fic? evidently I decided no

WC: 2.4k

JJ stepped back from her body, raising his bloody hands, face lit by lightning.

The faceless creature cocked its head, gurgling menacingly.

JJ stood up completely, eyes misting as he looked down at Sarah. He’d just found his sister, only to have a dog-like demon rip her away.

“JJ,” A voice in his head whispered. “Run.”

JJ turned, blood-soaked Timberlands sliding in the dirt, and ran into the woods.

--

Nobody remembered how they got there, where it hardly rained, and everything tried to kill them, to where the air would kill them.

Sarah had remembered waking up in John B’s front yard, feet away from the giant oak, covered in gross slime that coated her hair. JJ was a few feet away, Kie on his other side.

“JJ!” Sarah crawled over to him, flinching as something shrieked overhead. “JJ, wake up!”

JJ wrinkled his nose, rubbing his eyes as he slowly sat up. He took in his surroundings, holding the side of his head, where blood flowed freely.

“Jesus Christ… Where are we?”

--

“You don’t get it, man! That’s two fucking-- two major losses in an hour!” JJ twisted his hat in his hands, fighting off tears. John B finished his beer, setting it by four other empty bottles with relish, his cheeks rouged with past, dried tears for his friends.

“Have a drink, J,” He popped the lid off another bottle, voice rough. “Take your mind off of it.”

“No, man! What’s wrong with you?! You’re supposed to be the man with a plan, JB, not the one who gets drunk off his ass at every minor inconvenience!”

“Yeah, well, here we are. Next thing you know,” John B dragged out, “we’ll lose the babies.”

JJ slapped the beer out of his hand at the notion, the glass shattering on the floor as amber-colored beer soaked into the carpet. “Get a grip, JB! It’s just us now! Kie ‘n’ Sarah’re gone….” He dropped into a chair. “This is a fucking nightmare. I want out of this game.”

“It ain’t Jumanji, JJ. We’re stuck here.”

JJ put his head in his hands. “I can’t lose anyone else, JB. Not you, not my girl, wherever the hell she is.” His voice broke. “Not like this.”

--

It wasn’t a game. Of course, that didn’t mean it was real. But it did mean that the new landscape was dangerous and unpredictable. The creatures that lived there would kill John B and JJ unflinchingly. There was nothing the boys could do to stop them.

--

John B screamed himself awake, a regular occurrence as of late. He had just seen Kie die again. Nightmares or flashbacks played in his mind every time he closed his eyes.

First, Kie, who killed herself in a fit of madness. Slit her wrists and left a bloody message behind on the bathroom tile: Get out, get out, get out.

Within an hour of Kie’s suicide, Sarah. She’d run from the Château in her grief and was killed, her bones snapping in the air by an unseen puppeteer. She had sobbed for John B as JJ tried to stop the bleeding, Sarah’s eyes unseeing. Her cries still echoed in JJ’s ears.

Y/n and Pope had been nowhere to be found, though alive they must be. At least, John B and JJ hoped.

John B sat in a puddle of sweat, eyes wide and tears cutting tracks through the dirt on his face.

JJ sat up next to him, dark circles under his eyes. “Who?” The word had become a staple of their day whenever the other was awoken with nightmares.

“Kie.” John B’s stricken look scared JJ, and he searched his friend for injuries. Finding him unhurt, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, adjusting his cap.

“C’mon, JB. Today’s the day.”

“The day we get out?”

“The day we find Pope and Y/n. They’ve gotta be where she used to hang out before she knew us,” JJ reasoned, pulling on a fresh shirt. “Her hideout in the woods, that shitty little tent that she liked to call her apartment.”

John B got up, too, moving much slower than JJ as they got ready. “And if… if they’re not there?”

JJ swallowed, pulling back the curtain to look out the window. “They will be.”

--

Y/n froze as the things chittered, feet away from the entrance to the clearing. She held her breath as one of them came within a few feet of the hastily crafted vine canopy.

The chittering and snuffling went away, stalking footsteps following, and she sighed heavily.

“Hey, Pope?” Y/n asked as she sat by the fire. “D’you think J and them are still alive?”

Pope shrugged, staring silently at the fire.

“I do. JJ and Kie, at least.”

Pope shook his head.

“Not JJ?”

Pope nodded.

“You think Kie’s dead?”

Pope nodded again.

“I think you’re wrong.”

Pope smiled softly. “‘Cause you had a crush on her.”

“Well- yeah, but we’re still friends.”

Pope looked up at her. “You want them to be alive. I get it. But I don’t think they are.” He looked around. “This place kills. It’s dangerous.”

--

JJ felt along the ground, searching for the tent flap he knew was buried amongst the foliage.

“Motherf--” The flap slipped through his fingers. He pulled back as the two people inside held their breath. A branch snapped behind him, the crack echoing in the dark woods. He thrust out a hand, silencing John B. He pointed at the curtain of leaves and vines in the dim red light. 

“You heard that, right?” Pope breathed, voice shaking.

“Uh huh,” Y/n cleared her throat, sitting upright in her sleeping bag. “But it’s gone now. Right?” There was a sort of besieged hope in her voice, perhaps how someone speaks when they don’t believe what they’re saying.

“Hey. It’s JJ,” JJ barely opened his mouth, wanting to remain quiet in his dangerous, unfamiliar surroundings. It looked just like home, but he knew it was different here. He heard shifting in the tent and saw a light flicker on, dimmed by a hand over the bulb.

“JJ?” The tent flap opened from the inside. “For real?” Y/n's eyes met JJ’s. Her mouth dropped open, hope lighting anew in her eyes. “Oh, my God.”

Pope muscled past Y/n urgently, searching for John B. Upon finding him, he let out a shaky breath and pulled him into a hug. John B’s arms wound around Pope's back, gripping Pope's shirt and grounding himself on the evidence that Pope was alive.

“John B-- God, I thought you were dead--”

John B squeezed Pope tightly as his eyes darted around for what felt like the millionth time. “Just relax, Pope. I’ve got you. Breathe. We’re going home.” His hands smoothed Pope's shirt, rubbing warmth back into his skin as goosebumps rose on his lower back.

The gentle pitter-patter of rain began on the dead leaves above, creating a disorienting crunching that none of the teens cared for.

“JB,” JJ stood up, shining the flashlight around the perimeter of the clearing. “Let’s go home.” 

--

Pope lay sleeping on the couch, still shivering from the rain. John B draped a second blanket over him and sat by him on the floor.

“Do you think they’ve seen what we have?” He spoke softly, bending the bill of his hat.

JJ shook his head, laying a gentle kiss on Y/n's temple. “No. But I’m sure they’ve seen things we haven’t.” JJ met John B’s eyes. “Equally as bad, if not worse.”

John B’s bright and carefree eyes went darker still with another shadow of pain and vengeance.

“I wish we could free them,” JJ mumbled, an altogether different person as he looked at the girl he loved. “Send them back where it’s normal. Get them out of this hell.”

John B agreed as Pope stirred, swiping at his eyes.

“If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?” John B’s words were meant for Pope. “I would take you there if I could. I’m so sorry that I got you into this mess.”

--

They wouldn’t get out. Not alive, at the very least. The creatures had followed the four back to their safe house, their perfectly hidden Château, and told their master. Now they would surely perish.

--

JJ swung in the hammock, eyes on the dark red sky above that promised rain again.

“Damn. I miss blue,” Y/n sat beside him, her weight dipping the hammock. 

“I miss the clouds,” JJ replied, taking her hand.

“I miss flowers,” Y/n gestured to the dead grass and wilted, dead daffodils around them.

“I miss the ocean.”

“I miss my mom.”

“I miss your mom, too.”

Y/n made a face, “My mom hates you.”

JJ laughed. “I miss avoiding your mom when I snuck in.”

Y/n smiled, then it faded. “Are they dead too, d’you think?”

“No, no, sugar,” JJ wrapped his arms around her. “No, I bet they’re still in the right world, the one with flowers, the ocean, and blue skies.” He pulled her closer. “The world where I fell in love with you because of how the ocean made your eyes light up.” He kissed her shoulder. “The one where our friends are, where your family is.” He kissed the back of her neck. “The one where everything is right and makes sense.”

“The world where you love me?” She whispered, leaning into him further.

“I love you no matter where we are, baby,” The air turned humid, and the rain was warm as JJ turned Y/n to face him. “You’re here with me, and that’s what matters.” He kissed her shortly. “Let me show you how truthful I am.”

--

Pope felt John B’s grip tighten on him in his sleep. He shifted, slightly uncomfortable. His mouth was dry, his tongue like sandpaper.

“JB,” Pope mumbled, disentangling himself from John B's arms. “I’ll be right back.” Pope wiped sweat from his forehead and left the room.

Pope stopped by the door to put on his shoes and went outside, taking in his surroundings. The rain barrels were full, and Pope made his way over, remembering that John B had told him about Kie's decision that the water was safe to drink.

Pope put his face in the barrel, filling his mouth with the salty-sweet taste of freshwater. Then he noticed a gray slate that folded into a grotesque flower inside the barrel, level with his reflection, and screamed.

Y/n and JJ jolted up in the hammock, eyes searching the property. John B practically hurled himself off the porch as the creature ripped into Pope's stomach, gorging itself.

John B stopped dead in his tracks, then yelled in anguish. He tried to charge the creature, but JJ stopped him.

“No, John B, no,” JJ shook his head, the color drained from his cheeks, his lips turning white. Y/n clutched JJ’s arm, sobs wracking her body.

“JJ--” John B’s eyes flitted from Pope to JJ and back again. The creature looked over its shoulder, chittering as it seemed to look at John B, blood dripping from its mouth.

“We can’t do anything for him, JB. He's gone,” JJ’s voice rose as he spoke, trying to convince himself of what he said. “It’s too late. But you-- you can still get away. You’re not dead yet, John B.”

John B clenched his jaw, turning away from Pope as tears pricked at his eyes. 

--

JJ’s horror was palpable. His even breaths had turned to shocked wheezing as he stared at the bump evident under Y/n's shirt.

“This can’t be happening,” John B mumbled. “You were given one job.”

“It only happened once!” Y/n retorted, eyes on JJ.

“No shit! I can’t believe you fucked around and got pregnant!”

“Look, dude--”

“You can’t-- there can’t be a kid here! It’ll die or give us away. We have to get rid of it--”

“You’re just upset your girlfriend’s dead!” JJ yelled. “I have the opportunity to do something great, like actually being there for someone who needs me, and you’re just trying to fuck it up because there’s no pussy left for you!”

Silent tears ran down Y/n's face. She reached out to John B.

“JB--”

John B shoved JJ and ran out the door, hurtling out of the yard.

JJ blinked, staring after his best friend. “Shit.” He raced after John B, following as best he could as the clouds darkened the sky.

“JB-- come back! You’ll die out here--” Thunder boomed, lightning streaked across the sky, hitting some twenty feet from JJ, who picked up the pace, footsteps falling in time with John B’s as he advanced. “John B, you’ll get hit! Please, man, let’s just go home!” 

Lightning lit up the sky again, and when the spots cleared from JJ’s eyes, John B was nowhere to be seen, save for a lone shoe, a busted, filthy Converse on the ground. “God-- damn it!”

Something hit JJ like a truck, throwing him to the ground as it stabbed through him. Thunder sounded again, lightning struck--

He coughed, blood spattering across his shirt, then fell backward, dead. Y/n skidded to a stop, her knees drawing deep tracks in the dirt as she grabbed at his body. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her chest heaving as she tried to draw breath. The cyclone came down hard and fast, surrounding her, and everything went dark.

--

The sky was blue once again, white clouds dancing across it. The grass was green, the flowers yellow and blue and purple. The ocean roiled with fervor, waves crashing against the beach.

The cuts healed themselves, blood pulsing under her skin and color rising back to her cheeks, making them the healthy pink they should be.

Y/n opened her eyes, blue meeting blue. She lifted a hand. JJ pulled her out of the bed of flowers.

“Hey, baby,” He grinned, glowing with a fresh tan.

“We were wondering when you’d get here,” Pope added, stepping up beside them. The world is as it should be. Blue skies, green grass, the ocean waving hello. But be careful,  or the world may just turn Upside Down.

[edmundhoward]

(from other blog!)

🔥 choose violence ask game 🔥

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

shan't be posting a screenshot, but the take that ‘defending katherine parr is defending thomas seymour’ is actually repugnant. her actions wrt elizabeth can and should be criticised — but within their proper context. katherine was a brilliant woman but she was also a woman, and legally, socially and culturally her husband overpowered her. she lived in a patriarchal society. she was negligent, at best, complicit, at worst — but she did warn ashley to keep an eye on thomas and elizabeth, did berate her husband for his ill-treatment, and did ultimately send elizabeth away. she was also pregnant with his child and the pregnancy seems to have been difficult. and elizabeth loved her; she was more her mother than anyone else. putting her on the same level as thomas seymour is just so gross to me.

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

i PROMISE you anne boleyn does not receive the ‘worst’ historical abuse of the six wives/female historical figures. the idea of an evil, manipulative, promiscuous anne boleyn is nowhere near as culturally prevalent and pervasive as you insist it is. she very much does not have it anywhere near as bad as is claimed.

people simply do not care about anne boleyn, far more than they actively hate her — and where she does get treated with misogyny, it’s on a similar level to other female historical figures. it’s not distinct to her. moreover, what is unique to her is the level of revisionism and attention she gets. as another post has already put it: “anne's reinvention has been the most powerful and vocal in historical circles. anne is the center of almost all revisionist efforts in tudor historiography”. none of the six wives have been researched, revisited, reimagined and rehabilitated or simply discussed even a fraction as much.

we've already been over this. at this point i honestly believe insistence over this simply comes down to people looking for a thing to feel persecuted and exceptional over, while lacking the academic curiosity, talent and integrity to actually go and find something more tangible than the single most popular person in tudor history.

10. worst part of fanon

the hypocrisy/doublethink is truly something in this fandom sometimes. ‘monarchy was sacrosanct’ so therefore the commons unfailingly accepted the divine right of kings, except for all the times when they didn't and all the numerous recorded instances of royals being slandered/revolted against... but simultaneously, recognising the use of myth/prophecy and mysticism/faith in discourses of the time is ‘lionising’ historical figures, so we can't talk about henry vii and allusions to y daroganwr or king arthur but we can compare anne boleyn to classical mythology. sure!

13. worst blorboficiation

i recently saw that michael hick’s ‘the self-made king’ book about richard iii (which i haven’t read, so for all i know is very good but the title has always put me off) in a bookshop, and it reminded me how profoundly intellectually dishonest ricardians are. whether or not hicks’ book is sound, the popular/fandom approach to idealising richard iii is legitimately insane. truly i believe the only reason for mutilating the historical richard like this — to turn him into some fantasy merrie olde englande caricature of a medieval king — is to appropriate him into a racist, xenophobic, classist conservative ideal of monarchy. for as much as they might talk of him being ‘self-made’ or ‘socialist’ (as professional-at-failing-upwards matt lewis described him), they clearly do not care for such ideas, because they are centering them around (a fundamentally flawed understanding of) medieval monarchy. it's so ugly.

14. that one thing you see in fics all the time

i don’t read fanfic, but i see posts abt them and edit aus a lot and a consistent thing that i just cannot understand is the ‘fix-it’ narratives that have the women having numerous pregnancies. why? especially because the dates given essentially prove that in these aus, women never get to spend any time not pregnant or getting impregnated — including the historic protocols of lying in, churching etc., or religious conventions (sex was forbidden on certain days etc). it all basically creates an image of a husband who disrespects his wife by constantly trying to impregnate her, and a woman forced to endure the physical demands of constant pregnancy/labour with no regard for any other facet of her life/personhood. especially since these aus give these women a diabolical amount of children (including forcing twins/triplets on these women). it’s just so blatant that queenship/womanhood = being a broodmare. and, worse, these aus have the nerve to give these children horrific names.

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

not directly what was asked but it’s genuinely exhausting how predominantly complaints about katherine howard being called a stupid slut have become wrapped up in this idea that katherine can only be worthy of sympathy if she did not willingly have sex. so often people trying to defend her, and criticising misogyny directed at her, ultimately constrain her to a fundamentally sexist idea — that sex can only be something done to her, as an unwilling participant. otherwise the implication is that comments about her intelligence or promiscuity are justified. there is no benefit to whitewashing katherine’s sexuality, and the insistence on characterising her almost exclusively as a victim is distressing. and it’s tiring having to repeatedly point this out. it simply feels like katherine howard is talked a lot but rarely as a fully actualised person in her own right.