#i had to give the dog water from my water bottle because his bowl was empty and nothing was coming out the sinks

[zamisriza-the-resurrection]

Water and other utility companies not telling someone when their automatic payment failed should be a federal crime with heavy fines and up to twenty years in prison. Also if the payment system is so bad that it's failing every other month then guess what buckos?

YOU SHOULD UPDATE YOUR GODAMN PAYMENT SYSTEM TO ACCEPT AUTOMATIC DIGITAL PAYMENTS ITS 2023 FOR FUCKS SAKE. TELL SOMEONE THAT THE PAYMENT FAILED DON'T JUST RANDOMLY TURN OFF THE WATER WITHOUT TELLING SOMEONE "oh hey, your payment is late maybe the auto payment that you've set up five fucking times now failed again can you try again real quick?"

ITS A PHONE CALL OR A TEXT OR AN EMAIL. FUCKING USE IT

[anders-jjk-drabbles]

𝒫𝑜𝓁𝓎!𝒮𝒶𝓉𝑜𝒮𝓊𝑔𝓊 𝓍 𝒢𝒩!𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇: 𝒮𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝒟𝒶𝓎

ᵃᵘᵗʰᵒʳˢ ⁿᵒᵗᵉ: ⁿᵍˡ ᶜʰ ²⁶¹ ᴴᴱᴬⱽᴵᴸʸ ⁱⁿᶠˡᵘᵉⁿᶜᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉ ᵗʰⁱˢ. ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉ ᵃ ᶠⁱᶜ ᵒᶠ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵒᶠ ᴳᵒʲᵒ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴳᵉᵗᵒ. ᴺᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁱˡᵉʳ ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ ⁿᵉᵉᵈᵉᵈ!

Synopsis: Typically you were the one who always got sick, but when you woke up this morning, it was Satoru and Suguru both who fell under the weather!

Content Warnings: illness (implication of being chronically ill), Use of terms like but not limited to, "mucus". For those who are easily disturbed by words like 'snot' I kept that light and there's nothing super explicitly there. Gojo and Geto refer to the reader as 'bunny'. No use of reader or Y/N. Brief mentions of Jujutsu world and society. Nothing too serious.

ᴾˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ˡᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᶠ ᴵ ᵐⁱˢˢᵉᵈ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ! ♡

word count: 1.4k

You were used to getting sick. The fevers, chills, mucus, etcetera. Between Satoru, Suguru and you, more often than not it was you who caught whatever plague was rampaging through Tokyo at the time. Whenever you were sick, the two men pampered you in their own little ways. 

Suguru, who always made sure there was a pot of your favorite homemade soup hot on the stove. Who checked your fever with a kiss to your forehead, and would braid your hair back to keep it out of your face. While Satoru, would be the first to bring you meds and a bottle of water. He would sit with you for hours, holding you close while you binge-watched shows together. Whenever you would sigh and explain to him that he would get sick. Satoru would give you his signature shit-eating grin and tell you, “Don’t worry, bunny. Suguboo and I are the strongest. So we won’t get sick from a little measly cold.”

That was, of course, until both of your boys woke up sicker than dogs this morning.  Satoru’s face was bright with fever, and Suguru was coughing up a lung. Whatever they had brought home, it hadn’t gotten you. Both of them were completely out of it. Satoru was a clingy mess, hugging your thighs as he burrowed his head into your lap. Gently, you stroked the strands of sweat-soaked white hair from his forehead. He sniffed loudly, voice nasally from congestion,  “Bunny— why does this fucking suck so bad? You never act this miserable when you’re sick.” 

From the opposite side of the room, Suguru sat at the dining table, his head covered with a towel as he leaned over a bowl of steaming water. At Satoru’s whine, he lifted his head slightly, long black hair braided down his back in a French braid. A loud indignant sniff filled the room as Suguru grumbled, “It’s because, Satoru, they’re always sick. When you’re used to something it gets easie—“ His teasing chide was cut off as he released a hacking cough into his elbow. A groan escaped his lips as he returned to the head-sized cavern of steam he trapped himself in.

“My poor babies,” You cooed, smiling softly as you rubbed Satoru’s back soothingly.  It was true. As you had grown up you got sick constantly, you grew used to moving about and just weathering through whatever storm came your way. If it wasn’t contagious and just part of your usual strew of symptoms and not knocking you flat on your ass— You still existed as if everything was almost normal. “Well ya know, angel,” You patted Satoru’s back to get his attention, “Suguru has the right idea. Some steam inhalation would really help.”

In response, Satoru only wrapped himself closer around you on the couch. A muffled whine pressed against your stomach you hardly understood other than his strong disagreement to the idea. “Can’t hear ya, baby.” You giggled, pulling his hair slightly until he blinked up at you with his pretty blues and a sweet pout. 

“Don’t wanna.” Satoru huffed, sniffing indignantly, “It feels weird. Makes my head too hot and it makes me more miserable.” 

You snorted at his response, rubbing Satoru’s back soothingly. Turned out that when the strongest sorcerers got sick, they were whiny. For a while you sat there with Satoru, holding him close as he sniffed and coughed into your lap. Suguru hunched over the bowl, coughing and hacking. With a pat to Satoru’s shoulder, you murmured, “Okay, Satoru sweetie— I need to get up. I’m gonna make you both some soup.”

He whined again, pressing his forehead against the flesh of your stomach, “Nuh-uh. I’m cold and you’re warm— stay, bunny, please.”With a laugh, you shook your head slowly. “Just a little longer…” You promised easily, rubbing the back of his neck, causing contented little groans and whimpers to escape his pretty lips. A few more moments pass as you agreed and sat with him for a few minutes longer but their combined sniffing and miserable faces was more than enough to convince you. They needed something to eat here soon—

 So with a huff, and a whine of protest from Satoru, you pushed him off of your lap and back onto a pillow on the couch.  “Rest, honey.” You gave head an affectionate pat as you walked past him into the kitchen. It took you a few minutes to decide what you wanted to make, going through the cabinets and fridge as you looked through ingredients and spices. As you bent over to pull out a stock pot from the cabinet, Suguru’s hands squeezed your hips affectionately as he pressed his forehead against your shoulder blades,  “Thanks for taking care of us, bunny.” He hummed in the back of his throat, as you straightened up and he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. Compared to earlier, he definitely sounded less congested.

 The little moment in the kitchen was interrupted by Satoru’s loud groan from the couch, “Can one of you at least come and hold me? I’m miserable over here.”

Both Suguru and you burst into a fit of laughter.  He kissed your cheek and left the kitchen to join Satoru on the couch. While they settled in you hauled the pot onto the stove and got started on the soup. Meanwhile, Digimon’s theme song started in the background, bringing a sense of warmth and continuity to your chest. 

Last time you had been struck down by a nasty flu, to help you feel better Satoru had put on Digimon because the show always helped him. You never minded, not truly. When you were sick you’d drug yourself and fall asleep to the Digimon battles. Hardly ever, did you really pay attention to whatever was on the TV when you were sick. Hearing it now and the disjointed sneezing and coughing from the next room was just a mildly humorous reminder that even the strongest sorcerers need to rest and recoup. 

As the soup came to a beautiful finish. The smell wafted through the apartment. You peeked around the corner, mouth open and ready to call your boys that food was ready and to ask if they wanted anything else with it. Only to see them passed out on the couch in a tangle of limbs. Satoru’s head was tucked in the crook of his boyfriend’s neck while Suguru had an arm and a leg thrown over the white-haired sorcerer.

A small smile formed on your face as you quietly snuck over. You picked up a folded blanket hanging over the arm of the couch and draped it over the both of them. Just as you turned around to head back to the kitchen- a large hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging softly. You look back only to be met with vibrant gazes of violet and blue. 

Satoru’s hand held onto your wrist as Suguru reached for your other hand. Suguru’s velvety voice groggy with sick and sleep, “Come nap with us, bunny, please.”

How could you deny a request like that? A smile spreads on your face, “Oh… fine. Better not get me sick though.” You tease. Satoru huffed indignantly, as he pouted before yanking you into the cuddle pile. As you adjusted around, a sense of rightness filled your chest. It was natural the way you fit in their arms. The next episode of Digimon queued up right as your head found its spot on Suguru’s chest and held a tight grip on Satoru’s hand.

Turns out— Them being sick meant sick days for all of you. Within 48 hours of them waking up feeling sick and beginning to recover. You were sick once again.  Surrounded by a pile of tissues, and a cup of soup from the batch you made a couple of days ago, you sniffed miserably once again> The fever they had been battling now sent chills down your spine. Satoru’s face was still mildly flushed with fever, wondering aloud how you were sitting up when you looked so dizzy and out of it. Suguru scrolled through TikTok on his phone to keep his mind off being ill. At least all of you got to be together. Sure it sucked being sick but being sick with them? Made all of it a bit easier.

Looks like the Jujutsu world would have to wait. For now, your sorcerers and you? You would rest.

Hope you all enjoyed!!!

Please like, comment and reblog!

[mysouleaten]

THIEF !! [part two]

PLATONIC! pet shop owners! baji, chifuyu and kazutora x teen!reader

summary... lets see what our thief is up too today?

warnings... one cuss word?, weird girl talking bad about strays

[part one] [part two] [part three]

it was a beautiful morning

you were feeding some stray cats near your apartment. you haven't been living with your parents for about a year now, leaving when you were fifteen and lived in your apartment ever since so yeah you are a sixteen-year-old teen going to high school, beating up delinquents, and working two jobs

what a life, right?

needing to eat and have a roof above your head was a priority, and so did the strays around your apartment complex need too

most of your money would go to the strays outside, but you were smarter with your money, making sure there was enough left for you and your basic human needs

looking back from your spot on the couch to the living-room balcony

a couple of stray cats are licking at their empty food bowls and meowing at you to fill it again

smiling softly and standing up to get the cat food bag that was strangely light and walking towards the balcony

some cats quickly jump off to get away from you, some were still new and hadn't gotten used to you, but others stayed, having been here much longer, and were used to you

pouring the cat food into the four bowls-... well only two

you look inside the bag to see it empty, frowning upon the sight and smell you look at the cats "sorry I don't have enough...ah I have to get more" you pause before clicking your tongue and standing up

but the cats didn't seem mad at the lack of food most instead meowed and two of them even rubbed against your legs and went to eat from the two full bowls

you roll up the empty cat food bag and go back into your apartment to throw it away into the garbage bin

you head to your room to get dressed and to thief some more pet food for your stray babies

damn...you also need to get dog food too...

before actually thieving from the pet shop, you decided to stop at a convenience store to buy yourself some lunch

plus if the owners did see you come in they wouldn't find you that suspicious because you already had a bag with paid stuff in it! you're so smart, pat yourself on the back

walking into the convenience store, one of the employees greeted you, greeting them back and walking to the far back, you found a couple of snacks you liked and some hot food you can put in a microwave

picking up some cool water bottles from a fridge you made your way to the front to get your stuff scanned

"hello! will this be all for you?" a girl, around your age asked

"yeah, that's all" you nod and she gives a light smile and starts to scan your stuff and put them all in one bag

"1533 yen!" she said and you gave her the cash

"I heard there's a pet food thief on the loose," she giggled and you looked up from your phone "hmm?"

"yep, people around the area think is funny that someone is stealing pet food," she said and he scanned your hot food

"really? what about the owners?" you ask with a light smile

"one of them is losing his mind and the other two, I think stopped trying" she barks out a laugh

"re-" before you could say anything else, the girl cut you off and you didn't like what you heard

"but like seriously? how pathetic can you be to steal from a pet shop? it's really sad, but I bet it's for those stupid little strays! I wouldn't bother to feed those-" she went on a rant like she was your long-time friend, and it safe to say you were.. not her friend

"can I please have my change?" you ask and her face heats up and she quickly apologizes and bows her head

"you have.. a great day," you say and she nods

you leave the convenience store with a sour taste in your mouth

'she did not need to say all of that..' you thought, putting your hands in your sweatpants pockets and letting the bag hang off your wrist

you started to walk down the street with a deep frown on your face, you didn't even notice how you sped up your walking until you bumped into someone's shoulder

"sorry, my bad," you say

"it's fine, are you ok?" you look up at the stranger, he had white hair with two black streaks in his hair and a cool snake tattoo on the side of his neck

"your tattoo looks cool" you blurt out

he puts his hand on this tattoo "oh thanks! I know right?" he said

you nodd and then look away "uh mhm sorry again" you bow your head lightly and walk off

'that was a little awkward, damn me and my big mouth..' you thought

you were just in time for some other people to walk into the shop and you followed them in, covering your entry with their bodys

you also noticed the same white-haired guy from earlier 'how'd he get here before me?' you furrowed your brows in confusion but didn't dwell on it for long, you needed that cat food

you looked at the new shelf stacked with cat food 'man I don't have enough..'

looking away from your wallet and looking back at the shelf and then looking around the aisle

a rush hour just hit the pet shop and it worked in your favor. you smiled and grabbed some of the cat food cans and started to take off the wrapper. no one noticed you do it, because they either were looking at the cats or puppies or they were also trying to find pet food themselves

'this is great' you thought, you grabbed a sticky note from your pocket, scribbling a note with your non-dominant hand, and stuck it on where the stolen goods were

you stuck out your tongue a little and walked away care-free

again following a small group of people out of the store, but this time you stayed near the shop and leaned on the wall next to the doors, waiting for the hot-headed owner to find your message

you needed a good laugh before leaving..

"HOW?!- FUCK!"

well he found it alright, you gave a small giggle and kept leaning on the wall

you stayed staring at your phone for another couple of minutes before someone interrupted you, "hey kid.., there's a rain storm coming soon, you better start getting home"

you looked to your right to see one of the owners, he had his hair up in a bun with two strands in front of his face, and a small mole under his left eye

you raised your brows and looked up--dark grey clouds started to slowly drift towards your direction and the wind was picking up--..yep there's a storm coming, you looked back at the shop owner "thank you, sorry for standing here so long"

he nodded "its ok, just get home safe" he waved and left back into the shop, flipping the sign to 'closed' before walking further into the shop and hearing muffling voices inside

you leaned off the wall and started to walk back home, you needed to get your friends into your apartment before they all get soaking wet

this made you speed up in worry for your furry friends

puppies!!! and happy valentines day!

[formulaforza]

carousel-- c.sainz

paring: carlos sainz x reader word count: 670 a/n: dad!carlos

They installed a permanent carousel downtown a few months ago, just a couple blocks away from your house, right in the middle of the park you took your daughter to play in. She’s been bugging you since it got installed to go for a ride, but they don’t take card and you always forget about it when you’re getting ready to leave the house with her. 

You remembered last week, though, and after paying and waiting in line for fifteen minutes with an impatient toddler, she got too scared to ride it. Another fifteen minutes later you were able to convince her to sit with you in one of the carriage benches, but she was completely horrified at the idea of riding on one of the horses. 

She woke you up early Saturday morning, jumped into the bed and tackled you awake. You got up and made breakfast–actually made it, didn’t just give her a bowl of cereal and popped a bagel in the toaster for yourself–while you waited for Carlos to get back from the gym. 

“¿dónde papi?” She asked, for the millionth time since you put a plate of pancakes in front of her. He’ll be home soon, you told her again and again until he was actually home, walking into the kitchen with his gym bag still slung over his shoulder, empty water bottle in his hand. He kissed the top of your daughter’s head, stole a piece of fruit from her plate and got a pint-sixed scolding, patted Piñon’s head, kissed you on his way to the bedroom. “Morning,” he spoke against your lips. 

“Morning.” You say. “Want to come to the park with us?”

“Oh, my goodness!” He gasps, dramatically, makes your little girl giggle around her fork. “The park!? Is this true, nena?”

“Si!” She giggles. “We bring Piñon.”

“Well then,” He turns back to you with a smile. “How could I miss it?”

– –

“Mami, we go on the ride?” She asks, tugging on your hand as soon as her eyes land on the colorful carousel.  You consider telling her you don’t have the money, but you know Carlos does, know he won’t pick up on it until it’s too late. 

“I don’t know, nena.” You told her, “You had no fun last time.”

“No, Mami!” She whines, “I be good.” 

You play with Piñon in the park, the three of you, for over an hour before she’s back on it again, asking to ride it and promising that she isn’t going to have a meltdown. You give in, because you’ve been working on picking your battles and in the grand scheme of things, another trip around the carousel seated on the benches isn’t going to be the end of the world. 

Carlos stays with the dog, watches from behind the barricade, and you wait in line with your daughter. Predictably, she refuses to get on. Nena, por favor, you plead with her, but she isn’t budging. “You want to go with Papi?” You can literally see the lightbulb go off in her head before she nods. 

You should’ve known–she’s been a daddy’s girl since before she was born. You swap places with him and watch on with Piñon, watch Carlos hoist your little girl up onto one of the horses, strap the belt around her little body and stand next to her. He takes a picture of her, one you know you’ll be grateful for when you see it, her cheesy smile making him laugh at his phone screen. 

They really are the best of friends, you never could have convinced her to get on the actual ride, but you doubt Carlos even had to ask. They giggle like they’re both little kids the entire time, Carlos winks at you once and the next time around the both blow you kisses. 

“Did you have fun?” You asked when they got off, while your daughter scratched the dogs ears. 

“Super fun.” She said, smiled, absolutely beamed up at Carlos. Only him, only her father, only her hero.

[drpeppertummy]

ok this is such a mess & totally all over the place but i dont CARE i aint messin around with it anymore

[hunger, stuffing]

"Hey, Leon!" Shel greeted his friend as he walked through the door, grocery bags in hand.

"Y'know, most people knock when they enter somebody's house," said Leon, smiling up at him from the couch.

"Knock knock, baby! I'm makin' you dinner tonight," said Shel, heading straight for the kitchen.

"Oh, for Christ's sakes, Shelly, you do not have to make me dinner," called Leon.

"Get in here and help, then! And leave the bottle!"

Leon sighed and pushed himself off the couch, leaving his beer on the coffee table. As he stood, he suddenly became aware of how awful he felt. His head ached terribly, and so did his stomach. He tried to remember if he'd eaten lunch earlier and wondered if he'd been too busy to bother. Groaning, he trudged into the kitchen, got himself half a glass of water, and collapsed into a chair, letting his head fall against the table.

"Y'know, I wouldn't have to come over here if you'd ever take care of yourself," said Shel.

"You don't have to take care of me, Shelly," Leon mumbled into the table. He raised his head and downed the water.

"Well, I don't," Shel agreed with a shrug, tossing a pile of freshly rinsed vegetables onto the cutting board. "But I look at you looking like this and I think, well, things could shape up for this guy. You're like those sad dogs they put in the commercials. Y'know, with the song and all."

"Gee, thanks," said Leon, unable to hold back a grin. He pulled himself out of the chair and joined his friend at the counter, propping himself against it on his elbows. Shel smiled and patted him on the back.

"Alright, what're we makin'?"

"How's chicken noodle soup sound?"

"Sounds pretty great," said Leon. His stomach growled in agreement. It was chilly out, and Leon's old house had a way of refusing to keep warm. The idea of a hot bowl of soup was immensely appealing, particularly after a long, busy, dreary day like today.

Shel put Leon to work chopping vegetables while he prepared the chicken, and before long they had a pot simmering on the stove. The kitchen smelled wonderful. As they cleaned up, Leon found himself feeling much better than he had been before Shel arrived. Mentally, at least. He determined that he must have forgotten lunch after all. His head was pounding, and he was so hungry he was beginning to feel sick. He winced as his stomach growled loudly.

"Jeez, Leon, didn't you eat today?"

"I was busy," he confessed, dropping himself into a chair with his arms wrapped around his belly.

"Oh, Leon," Shel groaned. He reached into one of his bags and pulled out a loaf of bread. Opening it, he tore off a hunk and passed it to his friend.

"Thanks," he said, smiling appreciatively up at him. Shel gave him a firm pat on the back and pulled up a chair beside him, knees creaking as he sat. Another whining growl rose up from Leon's stomach, and he took a small bite of the bread. The two sat for a few moments in silence, then Leon looked up.

"You're a good friend, Shelly," he said softly. Shel smiled at him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Y'know, I didn't mean what I said. 'I wouldn't have to come over here.' I don't think about it like that," said Shel, gazing off into the distance. "I like coming over here. Y'know, you're my friend. I'd be happy to take care of you. Even if I didn't think you needed it."

"Shit, Shel, I'd take care of you too if I knew how."

"One step at a time," said Shel. "First we teach you how to take care of yourself. Quit drinking, buy a cookbook, all that stuff. Then when my knees give out entirely, and you better learn quick because I give 'em about a year, you can carry me around everywhere so I don't have to blow all my retirement money on a wheelchair, what do you think?" He turned his gaze back to Leon, grinning. Leon laughed.

"Shelly, I'd carry you to the ends of the earth," he said, throwing an arm around his friend. Shel hugged him tightly. Again, they sat quietly together, until the silence was broken once more by Leon's hungry tummy. The bread had helped to ease the queasy ache in his stomach that not eating for so long had caused, but it wasn't nearly enough to stave off the hunger. In fact, it had only helped his appetite.

"Alright, alright," Shel chuckled. With a soft grunt, he stood himself up from his chair to check on the soup. He tasted it and stirred in a final dash of pepper while Leon set the table. Dinner was ready at last, and Shel ladeled them both a good-sized serving. Hearing Leon's stomach growl again, he added a little extra to his friend's bowl.

"Damn, that smells good," remarked Leon as they sat down to eat.

"I'll give you the recipe," said Shel. "It's not so hard. Kind of thing you can make Sunday and then have all week."

"That's smart." The hot soup was a tremendous relief to Leon's empty stomach. It was well-seasoned and loaded with a variety of vegetables. Between those and the chicken and noodles, there was far more solid than liquid, making it a hearty and filling meal. The baguette Shel had brought, fresh from the store and still warm, accompanied it perfectly.

"I used to be good about that kind of thing," said Leon, blowing on another steaming spoonful. "Meal planning and stuff. Back before all that shit happened." Shel nodded understandingly.

"It's hard to come back from," he said.

"Yeah." The two were quiet for a moment as they ate, then Leon looked up again. "I appreciate how much you help me, Shelly. Really."

"Well, you know I know how it is to go through a tough time." Leon nodded.

The two friends chatted as they ate, talking about their lives and their plans and their problems, and Leon was so distracted by the conversation he barely noticed how quickly he was filling up. It wasn't until a lull in the conversation that he realized just how tight his belly felt. Suddenly winded, he placed a hand against his stomach. It was surprisingly bloated. He paused for a moment, then brought a hand to his mouth to stifle a burp.

"You gotta slow down, Leon," said Shel, smiling. Shel had a way of taking his time with just about everything, eating included. Leon, on the other hand, had a habit of eating far too quickly, often swallowing a lot of air in the process. He leaned back in his seat, one hand still resting on his bloated tummy. He felt absolutely stuffed. He still had half a bowl of soup left, though, and he intended to finish it. He brought up another quiet burp, trying to reopen the space in his stomach that had been filled by air. It helped a little, and he picked up his spoon again.

Though he was still full, Leon's appetite had yet to falter. The soup was the best thing he'd eaten in ages. He tried to follow Shel's advice and eat more slowly. It was easier now that he wasn't ravenous; his full belly could only expand so quickly. And expand it did. Apart from untucking his shirt and kicking off his shoes, Leon hadn't bothered to change out of his work clothes, and his belt was tightening noticeably around his tummy. He paused again, reaching down to try and inch the belt lower on his waist, but his hips made it difficult. He'd always hated his pear-shaped figure, particularly after discovering that he was a man, and the belt squeezing him around the middle wasn't making him any happier about it. He gave up on it and kept eating, wishing he'd gotten changed when he had the chance.

Finally, just as his stomach reached its limit, Leon finished his soup. His belly felt tight and stuffed, almost aching, but at the same time, he felt good. The soup had warmed him up from the inside out, and it was the first decent meal he'd had in over a week. Sighing, he leaned back in his seat again, hand on his belly. It bulged out noticeably, but he didn't care. He was full and sleepy and comfortable, although he'd be much more comfortable once he could finally change into his pajamas. His stomach gurgled softly as it worked to digest the big meal.

Eventually, Shel finished his soup as well, and Leon cleared their dishes and began cleaning up. Shel tried to help, but Leon refused, insisting that he relax. Truthfully, the help would have been appreciated--working with his bloated tummy poking out was bringing back memories of pregnancy--but Shel already did so much for him, he didn't want to trouble him any more. It didn't take long, anyway; they'd gotten most of the mess cleaned up while the soup was cooking.

With the kitchen looking slightly more in order than it had before Shel arrived, Leon sat down once again, his soup-filled belly sloshing gently with the change in position. It was dark out now, and rain pattered softly against the windows.

"Gosh, I'm stuffed," he said, yawning. Shel smiled, pleased. Leon's eating habits were awful, and any time Shel got him to eat a decent meal was a victory. The rain began to pick up, and Leon glanced over his shoulder at the window.

"You oughtta stay the night," he said, turning his attention back to Shel. "It's miserable out there."

"I don't wanna intrude on your space."

"Oh, come on, it's the least I can do. Besides, you know you're always welcome here." A gust of wind sent a harsh spray of rain against the window, and they both looked up.

"Oh, alright," Shel agreed. "You're sweet, Leon."

The two stayed up and chatted a while longer, but they were both sleepy, and it wasn't long before they decided to head off to bed. Leon lent Shel a pair of pajamas--they were a little short, but certainly not too tight--and changed into his own. It was an enormous relief to finally get out of his uncomfortable work clothes. The waist of his pants had left an angry red mark around his tummy where the belt had grown too tight during dinner. He was surprised and a little embarrassed at how much his tummy stuck out now that it wasn't being compressed by his outfit, but it was what it was.

They turned off the lights and climbed into Leon's bed--the couch is awful, but I don't mind sharing if you don't, he'd offered--and pulled up the covers. The rain that had deterred Shel from leaving was now a soothing sound, accompanied by their soft breathing and the occasional gurgle from Leon's full belly. Shel yawned and laid an arm over his friend as though it were the most natural thing in the world for him, and Leon didn't complain. He hadn't been held in years, and it had been even longer for Shel. He hesitated for a moment, then turned onto his side, belly sloshing gently as he did, and wrapped his arm around Shel, who hugged him in return. His heart pounded in his chest, but Shel seemed perfectly serene.

Shel placed a hand on Leon's side, taking comfort in the gentle rise and fall of his full tummy. His eyes were closed, and Leon quietly studied his face. He knew from pictures that Shel had been a particularly pretty man when he was younger, and that prettiness had begun to fade with age, but it still came through from time to time. Now, Leon thought, was one of those times. His stomach let out a soft gurgle, and Shel idly rubbed his side. Leon blushed at the sensation, but he didn't mind. He couldn't recall his ex-husband ever having touched him so gently, especially where his soft belly was concerned, and it was nice. He yawned, and with a sleepy sigh, he closed his eyes.

[cat-soda]

i got a little container for my nayuta ice cream nui and immediately started thrashing him around like a feral dog and then i was like “haha nayuta if he was at an amusement park” and that’s how this ficlet was born

———

worth a thousand tummy aches

nayuta throws up after this rollercoaster too, which takes him to three for three, and it’s funny in a kinda-not way because as soon as he’s not heaving over the toilet bowl anymore, he wipes his mouth and says, “that was fun. what’s next?”

or, nayuta is determined to make sure that shiki has a good time at the amusement park. ft. nayuta who is still kinda sickly, belated birthday boy shiki, and ultimate third-wheel/professional bag carrier kanata.

[AO3 Link]

nayuta throws up after this rollercoaster too, which takes him to three for three, and it’s funny in a kinda-not way because as soon as he’s not heaving over the toilet bowl anymore, he wipes his mouth and says, “that was fun. what’s next?”

shiki, who had been patting nayuta’s back as he emitted what little he’d eaten for lunch that day, pauses. “um. i’m not sure— i don’t think— that’s not really—” nayuta brushes past him to wash out his mouth then his hands, the water briefly drowning out the sound of shiki’s stuttering. “nayuta, we can just go home, it’s okay—”

“tickets were expensive.”

“—well, we already got to do a lot of things—”

“you’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

“—we can just come back some other time when you’re feeling better—”

“this is as ‘better’ as it gets, shiki. you know that.” nayuta swipes paper towels from the dispenser, more aggressively than he needs to. he stops, breathes, then dries his hands. “you wanted to go on that tower ride, right? let’s go.”

kanata stands just outside the entrance to the bathroom, arms crossed as he carries leftover food and the plushie that nayuta had won earlier that day, and effectively scaring away any potential restroom-needers; when the two of them exit, he raises his eyebrow at shiki, who shakes his head in response. his eyes shift over to nayuta. “alright?”

“yep.”

with nayuta starting off in the direction of the tower ride without even a glance backwards, kanata simply shrugs at shiki before following after him. 

that’s it?! thinks shiki. 

even so, shiki could see it too: the determined set in nayuta’s shoulders, the clench in his jaw. nayuta wasn’t going to be stopped anytime soon. 

or so he thinks.

because later, nayuta stumbles off of the tower ride looking light-headed and somehow paler than ever, and he only just manages to say, “i’m not even nauseous this time,” in an overly proud tone before he starts bleeding profusely from his nose. “aw, c’mon.”

shiki hurriedly thanks the nice popcorn lady for the tissues she gives him and rushes back to nayuta’s side, and then he and kanata herd him over to an empty bench. kanata bends down, retrieving a water bottle from one of his bags and handing it over to his brother. “here. don’t choke.”

“not a baby,” grumbles nayuta as he removes the tissues from his nose, examining them to see if the bleeding’s stopped enough yet. he begins to take careful sips from the bottle.

ignoring him, kanata watches his face with sharp eyes. “what do you think? can you keep going?”

nayuta hesitates, glancing up at shiki, and for a moment, shiki worries that he’s going to say yes. then he sighs, gently shaking his head. “‘m dizzy.”

kanata nods in approval. “‘kay. we’ll take a break here until you’re ready, then.” standing to sit beside him, he ruffles nayuta’s hair, smirking when nayuta glares up at him. “finish that water,” he says, pulling out his earplugs and closing his eyes. 

“yeah, yeah.”

shiki takes a seat on nayuta’s other side, hands twisted together in an attempt to avoid fretting over his friend. are you okay? is sitting on the edge of his tongue, but the defeated slope of nayuta’s neck makes it feel redundant to ask. (he kinda wants to touch it, too, but he’s not sure if he’s allowed.) he sits stiffly instead, listening to the excited squeals of children and almost jumping out of his skin when nayuta slumps against his side.

“i ruined it again…” shiki hears him whisper. in a louder voice, nayuta says, “i’m sorry, shiki.”

“what? no. why?”

“i really was feeling good today,” he insists. “and i really, really wanted you to have a good time. but i…” he trails off, balling his hands into fists.

“nayuta…” shiki places his hand on top of his friend’s. “i don’t need to ride thrill rides or anything to have a good time.” he smiles a little when nayuta looks up. “all i’ve ever needed is you.”

nayuta blinks, then grins, a little bit like sunlight peeking through the clouds. hiding his face in shiki’s shoulder, he laces their hands together. “mm. cheesy.”

“that bad?” laughs shiki, guts cartwheeling and stomach full of butterflies.

“yeah. definitely.”

“ew.” they both look up to see kanata’s face full of disgust as he watches them. “did you both just forget i was here or something?”

shiki turns bright red as nayuta notes, absently, “ah. my nose started bleeding again.”

———

a/n: shout-out to my younger sibling who got so heated while talking about tops and bottoms in fandom that her nose started bleeding profusely in the middle of the mall. evie, you’re so iconic.

i want you guys to know that kanata rode one (1) ride with them and then tapped out to watch their stuff instead HAHA

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

Surviving Sokovia - Chapter Thirteen

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Work Summary: 

You were a Sokovian orphan living on the streets of Novi Grad, until Strucker offered you a choice.

Now you are a part of his human experimentation programme, trying to survive an entirely different world of horrors. The kind boy with the beautiful eyes is the only thing that keeps you going.

This story contains dark themes. Please read the notes on chapter one for more details. Dialogue in {these brackets} is in Sokovian.

Chapter Summary: Nowhere is safe for long.

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2882

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist: @mcximffs @noz4a2 @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @lanemarvels @marrigold-2002 @kathrinchek @ifilwtmfc @officiallykuute @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye @rottenstyx

Taglist info.

Previous Chapter

Notes:

Sorry it's late, I was supposed to be going on holiday on Tuesday but it got cancelled because my parents got Covid. I'm sick (not Covid) so if this chapter reads a little weird in places, sorry about that, it was hard to focus on anything. warnings for violence, threat to dog, pregnancy stuff

---

Bathing Odeta turned out to be more of an ordeal than you’d been expecting. Although it was ostensibly for her own good, she resisted as you tried to get her into the tub, and struggled and whined as you scrubbed her clean.

It took a lot of treats to keep her still. You were very grateful that Pietro had had the foresight to get you some dog shampoo at the pet store.

Pietro.

All of your feelings for him crashed over you like a wave, leaving your head spinning. A fresh stream of tears poured down your cheeks. Odeta stopped whining for a moment and nudged your shoulder with her nose.

“{He’s just so…}” You took a shuddery breath, searching for the words. “{… good? You know?}”

Odeta just stared at you. She did not know.

Your hands were covered in dog shampoo, so you couldn’t wipe your eyes. You awkwardly manoeuvred your arm so that you could rub your face with your sleeve, but that didn’t really help.

The dog was clean enough now, so you pushed yourself to your feet using both hands on the edge of the tub.

“{You can get out now},” you said, gently nudging her in the right direction. You managed to catch her with a towel before she sprinted back into the bedroom and gave her a rub down. She was surprisingly docile for this part. Perhaps she was just as desperate for physical affection as you were.

Her claws were long and ragged. You had considered trimming them, but you didn’t really know what you were doing and you didn’t want to hurt her.

Odeta settled herself down in the nest of blankets you’d made for her beside the bed. You were thankful that the hotel staff had been so accommodating.

You poured a small amount of food into one of the plastic bowls you’d found in the bag from the pet store, and water into the other.

You were trying to be careful. You knew first hand that stuffing yourself after years of poverty was a bad idea, so you elected to give Odeta small regular meals rather than one big one.

Once you were certain that Odeta was settled, you changed into your pyjamas. Pietro had packed a freshly laundered set, which was another thing you were very grateful for. They were soft and warm and comfortable.

You drew the curtains across the glass door that led to the balcony and got into the bed. The sheets were icy cold. You huddled down, but your teeth were chattering.

Your hand went to the phone on the bedside table, but you hesitated. Room service reminded you of the intercom system at the Hydra base. Once you were pregnant, they had pretty much given you whatever you asked for, but you had always been wary of asking for too much.

Still, you were cold. You picked up the phone.

“{Hello, room service},” came a voice at the other end.

“{Hello, I’m sorry if this is an unusual request, but would you be able to provide me with a hot water bottle?}”

“{A hot water bottle?}” asked the man, sounding incredulous.

“{I’m in room 116},” you said, and you heard the man let out a sigh. Evidently he’d been instructed to give you whatever you wanted.

“{Yes, madam. Of course}.”

“{Thank you}.”

While you waited, you switched on the TV that was mounted on the wall opposite the bed. It took you a few tries to figure it out, but once you’d got it working, it turned onto a news channel.

Ultron’s face flashed across the screen, and you cringed. The newsreader was talking of imminent threats, and sightings of unusual robots. You changed the channel. You kept changing it until you reached a kids’ channel. There was a cartoon playing that you weren’t familiar with.

You supposed you were going to have to get used to cartoons. “{This is for you, my love},” you said, patting your bump.

You hadn’t expected to get much out of the cartoon. Except for maybe the sound of other voices, so that you could kid yourself you weren’t alone. But by the end of the second episode, you were hooked. You cared about the characters – their trials and tribulations, their wants and needs – and you wanted to know where they were going next.

You were so enthralled that you almost missed the gentle knock on your door.

“{Come in!}” you called, and the lock clicked.

“{Your hot water bottle, madam},” said the concierge. He looked down at Odeta and his lips curled into a frown.

“{Thank you}.”

“{Can I get you anything else, madam? Something to eat?}”

“{I…}” It was only then that you noticed how hungry you were. That was strange. You were normally very aware of your stomach, but today had been an awfully long day. “{That would be nice, thank you}.”

You picked an option from the menu, and the man gave you a short, sharp nod, before leaving you alone again. You went back to your cartoons. When he returned with a bowl of creamy mac n cheese and a glass of juice, you ate it ravenously, so enraptured that you barely noticed your cartoon had ended.

A different show had begun. You didn’t like this one so much. You set your empty bowl down on the bedside table and turned the TV off.

It was very quiet all of a sudden. Odeta was sleeping. You put your hot water bottle under your feet, tucked a pillow under your bump, and closed your eyes. Your hands grasped for another pillow, hugging it close to your chest.

You could almost imagine that it was Pietro. The feeling of his bare skin against yours, his firm muscles, his smell. They were all so clear in your mind. You hadn’t been away from him for more than a few hours at a time in years. Now, the future stretched out in front of you, yawning and alone. You couldn’t help the fear that now that you were out, maybe he wouldn’t come back for you. He was free now, and all you were was a reminder of the cage he’d once been kept in.

You tried to push the thought away. It was a cruel, uncharitable thought. However Pietro felt about you, he would never abandon the mother of his child. You hugged the pillow tight to your chest and let sleep take you.

*

You slept fitfully, your dreams plagued by Pietro in the clutches of Ultron, or Hydra, or some beautiful Avenger woman. Your subconscious couldn’t seem to decide if you were more afraid of him getting hurt, or him realising that the only reason he’d ever wanted you was because you were his only option.

Eventually, you decided it was light enough outside to get up. It was only 7am, but you couldn’t bear the thought of going back to sleep.

On your bedside table, your phone buzzed. You grabbed at it clumsily, almost knocking it to the ground. You’d never had a cell phone before, so it would take some getting used to. There was a text from Pietro. Your heart leapt.

{Not allowed to talk details but me and W have linked up with the Avengers, managed to retrieve the cradle, I will be back with you as soon as I can, I love you – P}

Your heart was thudding. Slowly, correcting your many mistakes along the way, you typed out a response.

{Odeta is keeping me company, please stay safe and give my love to Wanda, love you}

As a way of expressing your feelings, it felt entirely inadequate. There weren’t words to encompass the love, the anxiety, the quiet spark of hope that filled you. ‘Love you’ was the best you could do while typing on a tiny screen with clumsy fingers.

Odeta let out a little whine, so you filled up her food bowl for her. Room service brought you breakfast, which you ate with gusto.

Even after eating, Odeta still seemed unsettled. She was pacing up and down, and you realised with a start that she probably needed to use the bathroom but didn’t know where to go.

“{Come on, Odeta},” you said, getting to your feet. It was snowing outside, so you dressed warmly, very aware of the anxious dog pacing around the room. You shoved the bag of treats into your coat pocket and led her out into the hallway.

You hadn’t left the room since Pietro sped you here, so you were completely unfamiliar with the layout. You followed signs to the stairs.

There was a man behind the reception desk that you didn’t recognise, but he seemed to regard you and Odeta with suspicion. You gave him a smile, but he didn’t return it.

“{Excuse me},” you asked, feeling exceptionally awkward, “{Is there somewhere I can take my dog where she can… uh… relieve herself?}”

The man’s lip curled upwards into a half-smirk. “{Your husband asked that we take care of this for you. He didn’t want you to strain yourself in your condition}.” He gestured at your pregnant belly. “{The concierge can take her outside to relieve herself, and he will clean up after her. You don’t need to worry}.”

As if he’d just been summoned, the concierge emerged from the door behind the desk. The receptionist said something to him that was too quiet for you to hear, and the other man nodded.

“{I can take the dog},” said the concierge, stepping towards Odeta.

She backed up, a low growl emerging from her throat. This entire situation was making you uneasy.

But they were right. It was cold outside and it would be hard for you to bend down to pick up after Odeta. The sooner this was over with, the sooner you could go back to your room.

“{It’s okay, Odeta},” you said, petting her head. “{You can go with him. It’s alright}.”

She still looked uncertain. The concierge was standing by the door, looking impatient. You gestured for her to follow him, and reluctantly, she did.

As soon as the door closed behind her, the regret began to creep in. Odeta had kept you company this whole time. Being separated from her was not what you wanted. You went over to the glass door and looked out.

The concierge had walked her a little way up the road. Here, from a distance, you could see him shivering. As Odeta stopped to do her business, he paced, seemingly anxious. Why?

Feeling suddenly very cold, you looked over your shoulder and found that the receptionist was gone. There was another man standing in his place, trying to appear casual, but you could see the shape of the handgun stowed away in his jacket.

The strange expression on the receptionist’s face that you’d taken for smugness, or perhaps contempt, was something else entirely. Guilt. A vine erupted from the ground and dragged you to the ground. A dart – a tranquiliser, no doubt – sailed over your head.

Hydra had found you.

“Now, now, miss,” said the man behind the desk. Your eyes flickered to the side, and you saw two more men, slowly advancing on you from either side. “There’s no need for anyone to get hurt. If you come quietly-”

“Fuck you,” you spat, and a wall of branches sprang up in between you, shielding you from then. Before they had a chance to react, you burst from the hotel, stumbling into the street.

Up ahead, you saw the concierge and Odeta. He was holding her by the scruff of her neck, but when she saw you, she turned and bit down hard on his arm. You heard his howl even from this distance.

“ODETA!” you called, and then began to run. You crossed the street, cars honking and swerving to avoid you. By the time you got to the other side, Odeta had caught up with you. You were scanning the area for an exit when a hand closed around your wrist.

There were two Hydra agents, one on either side of you. Odeta buried her teeth into one’s calf while you slammed your elbow into the other’s chest. Your vines curled and twisted up from the ground, binding them both. You didn’t look back. You just sprinted.

It was the hardest run you’d ever done in your life. You were years out of practise, five months pregnant, and trying to avoid slipping on the ice. Even with your head start, you knew they’d catch up with you eventually.

Heart hammering in your ears, you realised that you recognised this street. Through the burning pain in your lungs, your eyes fell on a familiar restaurant. When you were homeless and starving, they’d sometimes give you food. You stumbled through the doors, finding the place empty apart from the owner, an elderly man with dark, sad eyes.

“Mr Constantin,” you breathed, trying to focus and stop the world from spinning. Bewildered, the old man said your name, and you nodded. His eyes fell on your pregnant belly and you saw his face twist in sympathy. “{Please. There are people after me. Can I hide here?}”

He opened his mouth. Then he closed it. Wordlessly, he nodded, beckoning you over to him. Odeta was hot on your heels.

“{Here. Storeroom}.” He opened a door and ushered you inside. You heard a key turning in the lock. It was dark in here, and there wasn’t much room. You could feel Odeta’s cold, wet nose pressed against your hand. You exhaled.

Now that you were no longer running, it was starting to catch up with you. Your lungs hurt. Your legs ached. There was a pain in your side. You didn’t have much time to recover, though. As you leant against the wall, trying to catch your breath, you heard voices from outside the door.

“We are looking for a pregnant woman and a dog.” The words were so quiet that you strained to hear them. You crouched down, putting your arms around Odeta.

“I haven’t had any customers yet this morning,” said Mr Constantin. “And I haven’t seen any pregnant women.”

“Well, I’m sure you won’t mind if my men and I have a little look around.”

“I would really rather you didn’t,” he said, but you could already hear the footsteps of the soldiers moving about the place. There was a clattering as tables were turned over, and you heard more than one plate smashed. You cringed hard, and held onto Odeta tighter. She let out a quiet whine, but luckily the ruckus outside was more than enough to cover the sound.

It felt as though you were in there for an age. Eventually, the noise died down. Footsteps headed towards you again, and you held your breath. The door handle inches from your head began to rattle, but the door didn’t budge.

“What’s in here?” asked the Hydra agent.

“That’s the old storage room. Cleaning supplies, mostly.”

“Open it.” The tone of the man’s voice brooked no argument.

You heard Mr Constantin fumbling around outside the door. Your lips turned downwards, and you braced yourself for whatever was coming next.

“Ah, my idiot son must have taken the key with him. I don’t have it.”

The door thudded and you jumped.

“That’s okay. I can just kick it down.”

“Sir,” said Mr Constantin, “I really don’t-” He was cut off by the sound of a two-way radio crackling to life.

The sound was so fuzzy that you couldn’t make out the words, but when it stopped, the agent said, “Men, we have orders to withdraw.” You put your hands over your mouth to stifle the sigh of relief. Odeta rested her head on your shoulder.

There were the sounds of the soldiers leaving. You waited. And waited. After a few long minutes, you heard the key turn in the lock again, and then the light was flooding into the closet. Mr Constantin said nothing, but held out a hand to help you to your feet.

“{Sir, thank you so much, you saved my…}” You deflated, staring at the damage that surrounded you. Tables were broken. Plates were in pieces on the floor. Cutlery and napkins were scattered everywhere. “{Your restaurant…}” Your voice came out in a whiny, distressed tone.

Mr Constantin waved his hand. “{They are just things. Things can be fixed}.”

Tears pricked at your eyes. “{Thank you}.”

“{Here, let me make you up a plate of something}.”

Your heart ached. “{Thank you, but I need to leave. I’ve caused enough trouble for you}.”

“{Child, if you’re in danger, then you ought to stay here}.”

You shook your head. Internally, you could hear Pietro’s voice yelling at you to stay here, stay safe, but you couldn’t do that. Hydra was dangerous. They would kill Mr Constantin if they had any inkling that he’d been harbouring you, and you couldn’t let that happen. They might be gone for now, but they’d be back, and you had a feeling that they wouldn’t leave without a more thorough sweep next time.

“{Thank you},” you said, “{But I really can’t}.”

He looked displeased, but nodded. “{Is there anything I can do?}”

“{Can I use your phone?}”

Next Chapter

[detentiontrack]

Welcome to kitty wrapped 2/26-3/5 !!!

A new weekly post where I post the epic highs and lows of collector zoloft's behavior throughout the week (mostly lows)

Starting off strong

Bad behaviors

Stole my favorite pens and stashed them under the bed so I had to use pencils for 2 days

Walked on my keyboard during an important zoom meeting with my school and then tried to bite me when I gently moved him off

Meowed and yelled at me whenever I tried to pet him with my cold hands + made me warm them up before giving him the pets HE insisted on

Started doing this lovely thing where he catches + kills bugs and then puts them in his water bowl like he's trying to make cucumber/strawberry infused spa water

Knocked my pill organizer into his water bowl and made me panic because we are currently snowed in and can't get to the pharmacy + some of my meds I can't refill yet for another week (they are okay but jfc)

Tried to eat my DSM + the tabs

Put his entire head in the pickle jar and now his head smells like pickle juice

Realized that my pill bottles are the loveliest toys and has been hiding them (it took me 2 hours to find my Adderall today)

Ate my cereal

Ate my rice

Ate my pickles

Ate a pita chip + made me panic thinking he was going to die bc I didn't know if it was safe for cats (he's fine and very happy with himself)

Violent behaviors

Bit me.... Bit me SO many times

Scratched me when I tried to put on his sweater (which he loves once it's on him)

Woke me up this morning by scratching my head so hard my scalp BLED because he was attacking the string lights on my headboard

Attacked and bit my toes any time I moved my feet under the blankets

Terrified my mom's dog (who is so scared of him) just for fun (he backed her into a corner and just stared at her while she shook)

Bit my brother's knee bc he smelled like outside

Bit my ear WAY too close to my piercings so I would wake up and feed him (it was 4 in the morning & still dark out)

Used my head and stomach as a launching pad to jump up on my headboard while I was sleeping (somewhere he's also not allowed to be btw)

Hid under the bed every single morning and attacked my feet from under it whenever I made the bed.

Bit my face while I was crying

Good behaviors (there are some!)

Cuddled so nicely against me for warmth at night

Shared his favorite blanket (even though it's technically mine)

Laid on my stomach and let my pet him when I cried

Let me hold him tight in my arms when I was having a panic attack (he usually doesn't let me hold him)

Chirped politely for me to replace his water instead of just flipping it over and making a mess

Compromised with me and let me put laundry on him so he didn't have to get off the bed (he fell asleep immediately after the laundry was on him)

Is the most handsome little man in the world <3

[sassylady1103]

Camden Park

I must have been really tired after my adventures in the Nuka Cola bottling plant or just plain unobservant, because when I woke in the morning, the first thing I saw down river was a white structure unlike anything I’d seen before!

Colleen was up already, of course, and brought me a bowl of Sugar Bombs we’d found at the plant. They were her favorite as a kid, but I don’t understand the appeal. I keep it to myself, though. I think it has more to do with her life before the Vault than the actual cereal.

“Col…do you know what that place is there, down river?” I asked, pointing toward the huge white structure.

She squinted toward where I’d pointed and smiled. “Well, I’ll be…it’s still standing. That, baby sister, is Camden Park, home of the Widow Maker.”

Widow Maker? What the heck was that?! She saw my confusion and laughed “It’s a roller coaster at an amusement park. They liked to give them crazy names to make you think the rides are wild or scary. It was fun, back in the day….” She trailed off, lost in memories it seemed. She shook her head a little “Spent many summer days there with Mom and Dad, cousins, friends…all long gone now.”

She went back to tend to the fire. I looked back at the roller coaster, wondering what it was like to go to such places with extended family that I’d never known.

I followed Colleen to the fire. “I want to see it. It’s so close and I’ve never seen anything like it! I must go!”

Colleen looked at me for awhile, like she was wrestling with a decision. “I need to get this vaccine going before anyone else gets infected with this plague. Too many people are pouring into this area looking for gold or a place to start over, and they don’t know the dangers. I don’t even know if I can make this Nuka Cola idea work, but I gotta try. But.” and she looked at me solemnly “ I feel like I can trust you on your own now. Go. Have fun checking out the grounds. Be careful…I know there’s scorched in there, but I think you can handle it. If you aren’t back at camp tonight, I’m coming down there.”

“Really?! I can go? Thanks, Col, I won’t let you down!” I hugged her awkwardly over the camp stove.

She laughed as she tried to right herself. “That’s fine…just if you see any, bring me some funnel cakes. I always got some when we were there. May not taste the same, but it’s for the memories anyway.” she shrugged sheepishly.

I gathered some purified water and some cram and headed off to Camden Park. I couldn’t wait to see what an amusement park was!

The sun was high and hot about the time I got to the gate, but I barely noticed. I looked up at the huge blue cat on the sign wearing a pink bow tie, pointing toward the entrance to the park. The sign read “Camden Park. Rides. Picnics. Fun for all.” I followed his gesture and passed a large park map on a sign, posted for guests convenience. Like Colleen said, the large white structure I saw from camp, that grew larger as I got closer, was labeled Widow Maker. There was also The Strip Miner, a Carousel and Radioactive Roundup. The map key mentioned games, a store and something called Sugar Heaps. Maybe that’s where I’d find some funnel cakes.

Heading into the entrance, I ran into a girl dressed as the blue cat on the sign. It was the oddest thing I’m sure I’ve ever seen, so of course I had to talk to her! “Hello, um, I’m Mags…do you work here?”

“Hey, stranger! Ready to toss some dross, ooo maybe muck up a storm, or, how about chowing down on some DELICIOUS hot dogs! All of the above, and MORE are possible at wonderful Camden Park!” The girl was so excited, and I was a little taken back. Was this place still operational?

“Wow, um, sounds great, but you didn’t say who you were…”

“Me??” She seemed shocked. “Why I’m Mr Fuzzy! Don’t you recognize me?”

“Oh, from the sign? I see…I’ve, uh, never been here before. So you’re the mascot of the park. Are there attractions here that are still running?”

“Why, we have more than I could ever name! There’s the world famous Widow Maker roller coaster! The gravity defying Radioactive Roundup! And who could forget the Strip Miner? That one’s a doozy! Tickets are rrrright this way and despite all the visitors, the lines are looking short. It’s like you have the park all to yourself!”

“Visitors? People like me….or the Scorched?”

“Scor-? Uh, anyway, yeah. I mean, they’re paying customers, too, after all.” She blurted out.

“Right. So what’s your real name, and don’t tell me Mr Fuzzy. I know it’s a suit. I can see your eyes inside that mouth and you’ve got a zipper. Just be straight with me.”

“But, I am Mr…I’m, oh whatever…Name’s Brenda. Been livin here since the war. My sister used to work here. She was Mr Fuzzy when I was a kid. Put the suit on…I don’t know why…but the Scorched leave me alone. So I wear it. Everyone’s gone, but I’ve seen some people come around now and again. Maybe they’ll fix the place up, ya know?”

“You lived here? With others?”

“Yeah, camped inside the Widow Maker. Seemed safe. Like walls to protect us. Just…no food. Others would go out and sometimes not come back. Some got the plague. They’re the customers in there…” she glanced toward the park “Then it was just me.”

I felt heartbroken for this strange girl. “Have you ever left here? There’s some settlements closer to Charleston. I’m sure they’d take you in…”

“Naw, this is home now. I don’t wanna leave. I enjoy greeting newcomers such as yourself. Who’s gonna introduce the park to people who never knew such a thing if I left? I’m good here.”

“Well, if you ever change your mind, and find yourself up at the Charleston train station, ask for Colleen. She’s my sister and she’ll help you.” I knew she would never do it, but hoped all the same.

“Thank ya kindly. You gonna get in there or what? Daylight’s wastin! Don’t forget to visit the gift shop!” She ended the conversation by waving me toward the entrance and casually strolled over to the park map, looking busy pressing flyaway corners back onto the wood.

I walked inside the park to immediately be greeted by the looming wood structure of the Widow Maker. I could see two sets of tracks interspersed inside the structure and along the top, with bright red cars frozen along the ride. Maybe it would have been fun…

I looked to my left…ah, the Sugar Heaps shack! There was the typical protectron vendor, so I went to see if I could find Colleen some funnel cakes. Of course he was out. Who sells dog food and whiskey at a place for kids? I explored this side of the roller coaster, since it seemed to divide the park. The Radioactive Roundup was definitely out of order, tilted completely off its base. Couldn’t quite imagine how it was enjoyable. The carousel was a mess, but still beautiful…the carved horses like nothing I’d ever seen. I wished I could bring them home with me.

Turning back toward the entrance, I ran across an overturned food cart. I poked inside, and to my delight, I found 2 boxes of Cotton Candy Bites and a box of Funnel Cake! I placed them in my backpack carefully as I made my way to the other side of the park.

This side had rides, games and a place to buy food. The Shunt N Bunt ride, with little cars in it, looked like it could be fun, depending on what you were supposed to do with the little cars, but the Strip Miner ride, which Brenda promised was a “doozy”, made no sense to me. It was just benches attached to an arm of some sort in an odd alignment.

The games were manned by Mr Handies, and they invited me to play, promising to reward me with Mr Fuzzy tokens. As it was getting late, I decided to go ahead and eat my meal in the picnic area instead. Just had to clear out some ticks first.

As I ate, I tried to imagine families like mine here, eating lunch, playing games, riding rides and having fun. It was a lovely spot by the river, and I could see people possibly coming by boat for a day of fun. Would we ever have places like this again? would people fix this place up like Brenda hoped?

After I finished eating, I decided to see if there was anything left here that was useful. I found a few Nuka Colas and some dirty water, along with some chems in the first aid kits. There weren’t too many Scorched, and they had been easy to put down. I wondered how Brenda would feel about me killing them.

I decided to avoid her as I left the park. I was walking the tracks of the park’s train ride, when I came to a red painted bridge, next to the river. I had intended to use it to get to the back of the park and sneak through the parking lot to the road. It was here that I ran across the body of a young woman. She was dressed in a tattered black dress, with green stripes. It seemed vaguely familiar, but I didn’t think on it too much. I checked her pockets. There was a tattered veil and a holotape, but not much more. I decided to hang onto them, though I’m not sure why. I moved on to the road and made my way back to camp, immediately forgetting the girl, wondering how Colleen had fared, and if we’d ever come back here and find Brenda still walking around in her Mr Fuzzy suit…

[reeia]

10 thoughts about Japan (Osaka to be Specific)

WARNING: there are too much amazement here!

                                               Garden Koko-en, Himeji

They don't really know how to express their care to the foreigners verbally but with their facilities, you’ll see, they care BIG TIME! First of all they made the AC centralized! Haha.. It was 8degrees when the plane landed at Kansai International airport. Woah! I only got two jackets, I wasn’t expecting Japan to be that cold, I’ve checked the weather beforehand but still I’ve never experienced that before...It was summer in the Philippines (March 25, 2017) yet it’s so cold in Japan. I guess it is called tail of winter and early spring though. I was really not prepared; in fact I have brought a flip flops & citronella lotion. Hahah (summery feels!) Apparently I wasn’t able to use those. It’s too cold for those mosquitos to fly around Japan, they can’t because they have thick jackets as well, but the truth is they all died!

 Still about the facilities, let’s talk about the comfort rooms. Toilet bowls have buttons for washing uranus, haha..really designed for pooping and as I have seen, mall toilets seemed like wifi connected cause there’s a wifi symbol on screen. So high tech! I couldn’t miss the experience so I tried it! hahah 😊 😊 😊 The comfort room will definitely give you comfort!

                                                  at Piole Mall Himeji

3. Wide sidewalks, it’s obvious that they prioritized safety for the pedestrians and drivers inside their vehicles are courteous, when green lights turn they wait few seconds before they go. (Now imagine that situation in Manila, some drivers are just so impatient and rude). Okay too much of comparing, bad vibes are starting to cover up my feel good mood right now for this Japan review. Hihi. I’d loved to mention I did not experience traffic congestion at all on my stay there.

4. Vendo capital. You’ll find vendo machines on almost every side of roads and railroads. You will never get thirsty; you’ll find variety of drinks from water to juices to sodas, (vendo kaya ng mga uhaw sa pag ibig meron?) LOL. Fare for train, vendo. Fare for buses, vendo. Open parking spaces, vendo, they don’t hire guards.

5. Safe place. Even if I had put my wallet in the front pocket of my bag pack, there’s no thief. My friend’s bag’s zip tends to open most of the time, I just told myself "great that we are not in Manila.". Houses have small gates or none, Japanese’ knows they’re safe.

                                                       Hyogo, Kobe

6. Super clean environment and disciplined locals. There are trash bins for bottles, papers, some for left overs and for other garbages. No one’s littering. After eating at a restaurant people will dispose or bring back to the counter what they’ve used (utensils), so a crew will just have to wipe the tables. :) At the streets I saw some dogs being walked, one pooped, but the owner has a plastic bag on his hand and grabbed it. 😅

                                                         Dotonburi

7.  Cool architecture. House exteriors are so cute, simple and ideal. Buildings have PVC exterior walls, I’ve knocked on to curiosity, interiors are plywood, I think those are assembled house, only stairs and roof deck were made of concrete, well I believe columns and beams as well. Even comfort rooms, toilet, wall, tub and floor were built altogether, so they would just install them quick. I loved the accordion door at the apartment I stayed in it made me want to take that home. 😂 Also I had time to go to a children playground, I’ve notice even the high storey houses have PVC exteriors but looks like concrete. Cool!

8. Fashion city. I think I belong there, it seemed like every street is a runway, they don’t care about what people may say, whatever outfits they wear they never run out of fashion sense, skirt over leggings, long skirts, loose jeans, boots, knee high socks, hair dresses. From babies to oldies, they soooo cute!!!! ♥

9. FOODS! I loveeet!!! Sushi, grilled eel, oyster, takoyaki, chocolates, ice creams, all that I’ve eaten there were sooo oishi! Worth the expensiveness! 😂 😂

                                                   Matcha X Sakura

10. The spending. Japan has a high cost of living, as shown on their bodies because they choose to walk and bike. I spent more on foods and transportations, well those were the things I’ve only got to spend onto. My train fare ranges from 160-970yen (x .44 for php), taxi costs 1000yen and above.

11. Oops I am making it 11 because this is the one thing I’ve really liked about experiencing the country. You'll hear "arigato" everywhere; I didn’t even heard one uttered "bakero". Japanese' are always grateful that’s why they are successful. Beautiful people. ❤️ Try to walk around the streets of Philippines, what are you hearing?

two of my goals there, to have a picture with a pure Japanese and to see a cherry blossom. Too bad I wasn't able to prepare a good camera. I have borrowed my friend's phone but she sent the pics through facebook and quality diminished. :(

BUT I am probably coming back! ❤️ 🌸

[sunkissedpages]

instead of you [part fourteen]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption

word count: 2.6k

series masterlist

“Just that you’re not technically a chef yet,” Tom explained defensively. “You’re not certified.”

“A chef doesn’t need a piece of paper to call themselves a chef,” Leo countered. “Anyone can be a chef. But don’t tell the WAC I said that.”

“Yeah, Tom haven’t you ever seen Ratatouille?” you teased.

“Great movie,” Leo added. “Sam, great job on your dough,” he reiterated.

Sam stuck his tongue out at his brother across the table who rolled his eyes in response as Leo picked up his ball of dough and rolled it in his hands.

“Tom, yours is still a little tough. Keep working on it.”

He nodded and took his dough back to continue kneading it. You noticed his jaw clenched subtly in frustration, but he didn’t say anything else. You watched as he rolled the pasta dough with a little more force, maybe a little too much.

Leo checked yours next and gave you similar feedback to Tom’s, even though Sam had helped you with yours. You didn’t want to think about what kind of feedback you would have gotten on your own.

Your dough was still flaking apart when you went back to working on it, and you tried desperately to hold it together with little success. Sam had left your side to help his mom so you were on your own.

At least Tom was also struggling. You felt a little better knowing he was miserable too.

You were starting to sweat with effort, you were so out of shape that even cooking had you catching your breath. You had thought this was going to be fun, but instead you were having flashbacks to high school P.E. class.

Leo made his way down the rest of the table and checked everyone else’s dough before circling back to you and Tom. He took over for Tom and instructed Sam to finish kneading yours so that he could move on with the lesson. It was embarrassing to be singled out, but Sam assured you it wasn’t your fault. He wasn’t making much progress with yours either.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with yours,” Sam whispered to you.

“I probably did it wrong,” you hissed back.

“I watched you do it, you did it the same way as everyone else.”

“Then why is it being like this?”

“Sometimes food has a mind of its own,” Leo interjected, making you realize the entire class had been listening to you and Sam’s back and forth. “This is good enough, though. We can set it aside with the other balls of dough to let them rest while we make the fillings.”

You and Tom set your sad pasta balls on the counter with the others before moving to the sink to rinse your hands.

“I think they’ll still taste good,” Tom said thoughtfully as he offered the bottle of soap to you and pumped some into your hands.

“I hope so.”

“It’s pasta, it’s almost impossible to fuck it up.”

“Yet somehow we still managed to.”

“Some would say it’s talent,” he said and shrugged.

You bumped his shoulder with your own as you fought over the water stream. You managed to stick your hands in first and Tom put his above yours only for you to shove them away.

“Hey!”

“You’re completely ruining the purpose of washing my hands!”

“I have soap on my hands, you have soap on your hands, what's the issue?”

“And you’re washing off your germs and they’re going on my hands now!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll wait my turn,” he seceded and let you finish washing your hands before he rinsed off his own.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Making the fillings for the pasta was a much simpler process than making the dough. All you had to do was mix certain ingredients together. It didn’t matter what order you added them, if you whisked fast or slow, the only important thing was that everything made it into the bowl one way or another.

You worked in pairs for this step. Sam mixed together the pesto filling while you did the parmesan-truffle one.

“This is different than the pesto I make,” he said, looking at the mixture in his bowl.

You frowned. “But I like your pesto.”

“It’ll still be good, baby,” he assured you with a kiss to the forehead. “Don’t worry.”

When the fillings were done it was time to revisit the balls of dough and roll them into pasta. Sam explained it to you like rolling Play-Doh, but it was far more difficult in your opinion. Play-Doh was nowhere near as stubborn as this. The pasta dough somehow retained tension, and would bounce back every time you tried to stretch it.

Sam ended up having to help you and Tom because both of you were starting at a disadvantage with your fucked up dough.

“I never want to hear you say I have it easier than you ever again,” Sam warned as he folded your strands of dough into raviolis.

The class had moved on to the final step, shaping and filling the noodles, but you had already tapped out. Sam was done with his portion before you had even finished one so he had taken over for you.

“I’m sorry for saying that,” you said, remembering all the times you had teased him for stressing out over his ‘soufflé final’ or ‘crepe labs’. “I would much rather be writing a paper right now.”

He shrugged. “Everyone has their strengths.”

“I’m starting to think that Ratatouille movie was bullshit,” you groaned.

“How ironic,” Tom snorted across from you.

He was really starting to get on your nerves. But you let his comment go, not allowing your temper to get the better of you. He was still Sam’s family, even if they had a... complicated relationship.

When the class finally settled in the dining room of the restaurant to eat you were sweaty, sore, and exhausted. You could feel your skin sticking to the leather seat, and you felt severely underdressed. Back in the kitchen you hadn’t been so self-conscious. But now you couldn’t stop thinking about your appearance.

The atmosphere was much more sophisticated. The lights were dim, and soft music played in the background. All of the other guests were following an unspoken black-tie dress code while the fifteen of you were still wearing your disposable aprons, only now they were covered in flour and egg yolk.

And to make it worse-

“Smile!”

Nikki held up her phone and motioned for you and Sam to scoot your chairs closer together. You took a deep breath and complied, leaning your head against your fake boyfriend’s and managing a grin. You really didn’t want this moment to be immortalized, but you didn’t want to be difficult either.

The camera flashed once, then again. Sam wrapped a hand around your waist and pulled your body against his, pressing a kiss to your cheek for another picture. You scrunched up your face as the flash went off, the tickle of his breath against your skin and the feather-light touch of his lips making you squeeze your eyes shut.

“That’s a good one!” Nikki complimented, even though you were sure it wasn’t as flattering as she was making it out to be.

The pasta was served with a glass of red wine for everyone. Sam was right, the pesto was different from his, but it was still good. It was no match for his recipe, but the handmade pasta did give it a few bonus points. You were sure you hadn’t gotten any of the noodles you made because all of the ones on your plate were perfect. It didn’t feel fair that you got to enjoy somebody else’s hard work while they got your shitty excuse of a ravioli.

But as the wine dwindled from your glass the negative thoughts began to ebb away too. Your muscles, though still sore, relaxed slightly and you rested your head on Sam’s shoulder as everyone else finished their meals around you. The conversation carried on without your contribution. Your social battery had died hours ago, but you were content to listen to the Hollands chat with other students at the table.

You weren’t a huge fan of wine, but the one served with dinner was palatable, and to be honest you weren’t one to turn down complimentary alcohol anyway. It tasted more expensive than anything you had ever drank, like the equivalent of velvet on your tongue. You finished your glass and the rest of Harry’s.

-

The next few days in Florence passed in a similar fashion. You ate a lot of carbs, drank a lot of alcohol and let the business of the itinerary overwhelm you. It was getting tiring, living in an act. Trailing along behind the Hollands like a dog, worn on Sam’s arm like an accessory.

You had known what you were getting into, and you were trying your best to enjoy the experiences- because who the fuck knows when you’ll ever get to go on such a nice vacation again, but pretending to be in love with your best friend was a harder feat than you had thought.

It felt like being in a school play. Every move and phrase had to be intentional. You tread the lines of your relationship with rehearsed expertise. And you had to watch what you said, because everyone’s eyes were on you. At least that’s what it felt like.

Sam’s parents were easy. They fully bought into your lie, seeing what they wanted to. They usually left you to your own devices, too. His brothers were the ones who needed convincing. Not even Harry, though. Tom was the problem. Tom was always the problem.

You were in Rome now, walking back to the hotel from the Colosseum. Sam had his arm slung around your shoulders and was talking his twin brother’s ear off about the Gladiators and inaccuracies in films about Ancient Rome.

You didn’t think you’d seen him this excited the entire trip. It was cute, the way he talked with his hands and looked off into the distance whenever he was really engaged in something. Harry was also cute. He was trying his best to keep up with Sam, nodding his head at all the right points, asking questions when there was a pause in conversation.

“Yeah, gladiators fucking unionized,” Sam explained. “They put their lives on the line all the time, ya know? Might as well get benefits.”

“If I was a gladiator I’d join their union,” you said, adding to the conversation for the first time in a while.

“There were women gladiators too, babe! You totally could’ve been one.”

You laughed. “You remember my season on the intramural dodgeball team? I wouldn’t last a day. But I appreciate the thought, Sammy.”

You had dinner in the restaurant attached to the hotel lobby. Nikki passed around her Canon for everyone to look through the pictures from the day while a bottle of limoncello was passed around the table.

You’d scarfed down your pasta and passed on dessert in favor of another shot of limoncello. Rookie mistake.

In the past the sugary drink had always tasted like cough syrup to you, but this batch tasted like straight-up lemonade. You were tipsy, bordering on drunk, but nowhere near blacked. Nikki and Dom turned in around shot three, leaving the tab open for the four of you. Sam went upstairs next, having gone too hard too fast on the limoncello (he was on shot five when his parents went back to their room).

Then it was just You, Harry, and Tom. You told Sam you’d join him in a bit after the pianist played a couple more songs. In all honesty, the music reminded you of Sam. Back at school you could always find Sam in the music hall if he wasn’t in the culinary building. You’d always hear him playing as soon as you walked through the double doors. You could always tell it was him at the keys by the way the playing sounded. He was self-taught, but still a genius in your mind. He didn’t need any formal training to make beautiful music, and that’s what you loved about it.

When he moved out of the dorms and into an apartment he bought a keyboard, and you’d spend nights together in his room illegally pirating sheet music for him to learn new songs. He’d play whatever you requested, and if he didn’t know how to play it he’d teach himself.

The pianist in the restaurant played with a little more expertise. The notes sounded refined, perfected. Sam always told you that perfect music was restrained music, that real music had flaws, that a song should sound a little different every time it was played.

After an encore of Beethoven the man at the piano stood from his bench and took a bow, passing his hat around the room to collect tips. Tom dropped a bill into the hat and you did as well, handing it back to the man afterwards. He dumped the contents of the hat into a briefcase and closed the lid of the piano, thanking everyone in the audience for their donations.

“Well, I think I’m going to head up now,” Harry said, yawning for emphasis. “We still have to get up at the ass crack of dawn even though we’ll all probably be hungover.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tom said cockily, then turned to you. “One more shot?”

The bottle of limoncello was almost empty anyway. Might as well finish it off, it’d be a shame to let it go to waste, right?

“Hit me.”

“God, you’re both going to be so fucked tomorrow,” Harry groaned.

“We’ll be fine,” Tom insisted, rolling his eyes at his younger brother.

“Good night, Harry,” you sang, waving at him as he walked off.

“Yeah whatever.”

Tom wasted no time pouring you both a shot of what was left of the limoncello. The restaurant was beginning to clear out so he worked fast, filling the glasses up to the marked line. You both took one and clinked them together before throwing them back.

You winced at the burning sensation in the back of your throat and put the glass back on the table, searching for something to chase the shot with. Your eyes fell to Tom, lingering on his cheeks, his lips, both pink from the alcohol or something else. You flicked your gaze down to his neck, his collarbone that was peeking out from the neckline of his shirt. You thought about how it would feel to kiss him there, to run your tongue over a love bite you’d given him.

You forced your gaze back to his eyes, hoping he hadn’t caught you staring. You had to act uninterested, you couldn’t let on to- but he was staring back. His eyes were intense, and almost impossible to read in the darkness of the room. You knew you should look away, knew you had to keep up appearances, but you couldn’t.

Later you’d blame it on the alcohol, but in that moment you knew the limoncello wasn’t what was making your head spin, or your what was making your vision cloudy.

You were about to leave the table, about to rush to the elevator and back to Sam but then suddenly Tom was kissing you. He cradled your head in his hand and tilted your chin up to meet his lips. It wasn’t desperate or messy like most drunk kisses were. Instead, it was delicate. You swore you could feel every line of his lips against yours, feel his heartbeat through his hands on your cheek.

It was only for a second, not enough time for you to react or reciprocate and then he was pulling away, eyes wide with panic.

“Please don’t tell Sam.”

logging off before i get yelled at but lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

forever tags: @mischiefmanaged49 @bookingbee @cloverrover @captainbuckyy @perhaps-he-schnapped-blog @awkwardfangirl2014 @the-queen-procrastinator @tastingthestarz @sleepybesson @everythingbooknerd @sunshine96love @bitchymathematician @livingincompletesilence @melsbooktrash @swim-deep-or-die @fizzy828 @spider-slutt @theamuz @nedthegay @astroasethic @stuckonspidey @darlingtholland @sgtbookybarnes @tinyplanet-explorers @mildcockandballtorture @uglypastels @gennyld @devin-marie @r-wooooosh @hell-yeah-peter-parker @itssnowingandimstuckinside @relise-thefury @osteporosis @legendsofwholock @peterunderoos @fuckyeahhomerun @nobelwarriorheroes @delicately-important-trash @thwip-it-real-good @claryfray101 @softholand @tomhollandseverything @cool-ultra-nerd @jillanaholland @dinasaur36 @farfromhaz @hanlons-wp @moon-390 @parkerstylesperalta @httpchrisevans @screeching-student-unknown @almondholland @noisyzineeggsbandit @5sos-microwave @quackson-love @smilealways19 @quackeroos @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @wolvesofwinter @mukesnugget @mytonycinematicuniverse @itsjusttor @percysmcu @peterquillzsblog @lovewolfspirit @biebsmylife95 @a-disappointing-teen-author @justanotherusername80 @b-buckys @sunkisseddreamer @hufflepuffprincess24 @princessxcryxbaby @tinyyoungblood @holyfrickfracks @amii-nyc @clara-licht @veryholland @captainamirica @ultrunning @cocoamoonmalfoy @nellbellzz-blog @bookfrog242 @honeymoonlover @nellabellaa @its-the-solar-system @spiitfiires @tomhollandfangirl1 @parkeromanoff @randomstufflol29 @pogueslandia @hollandswife @bunnyweasley23 @determined-overthinker @madz-holland

send me an ask to be added/ removed from a taglist

[t-o-m-hollands]

Summery: You and Tom bet on who will touch the other first after he comes home from filming. Both refusing to give in you resort to some teasing measures to get the other one to break.

Pairing; Tom + female reader.

Themes: Light-hearted, lots of teasing. Established relationship. Fluff. Cocky Tom. Cocky reader too, let’s face it. They are both stubborn idiots. Lots of horniness all around. To be honest, very little plot and mostly smut. Bit of fluff as well though. 

Warnings: Unprotected sex in established relationship. Masturbation. This work is strictly +18.

A/N: Not beta-read, I’m wine drunk and wrote this in like 2,5 hours so it is what it is. 

It was such a stupid fucking bet and he wish he never agreed to it. It is all your fault, he decides, as he watches you bend over into downward dog, your breathing rhythmic and even as you stretch your beautiful body. He tries to look away from your ass, honestly he does, but you’re wearing those light grey yoga pants that practically has him drooling and the fabric is hugging your body so perfectly it would be a crime to look away. 

Plus, he’s pretty sure that’s the whole point of you doing this, practicing yoga in the living room right in front of him as he’s supposed to be working. The whole point is to have him staring, so he doesn’t feel too bad about it. 

It had all started the week before he was set to return from filming. He had teased you (and sure, in retrospect that was a terrible idea and he should have known better) had said that you would jump him the first chance you got, that he probably wouldn’t even get through the door before you had him out of his jeans. You had retaliated with an accusation that he would be the one all over you and obviously he had to deny that.

It had spiraled, neither one of you willing to give in and admit defeat and now here you are; a full day after his return and he hasn’t as much as hugged you. 

Because whoever touches the other first loses the bet. 

And now here you are, in front of him; wearing skin tight yoga pants and bending over. 

A part of him, the midsection of his body to be precise, wants to just give in; to hand you the victory - fuck his pride. But the part of him, the rational part he likes to think, that has him bashing up golf clubs every time his dad beats him in a golf round; refuses to give in.

So what if he hasn’t seen you, hasn’t felt your body in over three months? Or that he now has your magnificent ass right in his face as he’s trying to concentrate on his dull emails. So what? He’s not faced by that, he’s a man of the world after all. 

You lean forwards again until you’re on the ground, turn to your back and start to slowly but steadily push your hips up and down, in what Tom can only assume, is referred to as the ghost fucking position. 

“Aren’t you supposed to answer emails?” You ask and he doesn’t even need to look at your face to know that you have a smug smile on your face.

“I am” he mutters, looking away from your body on the floor and back to his phone screen. 

You laugh, and he pretends not to hear it, while you pretend that the visible hard-on he’s sporting doesn't make you want to climb into his lap and give in to both of your temptations. 

The bet was stupid and totally his idea.

Tom comes out of the shower, drops of water still pouring from his wet hair onto his sculpted chest. The only thing he’s wearing is the white towel wrapped around his waist and the silver Rolex on his wrist. Seeing you standing in the kitchen and slicing tomatoes he sends you his widest smile. 

And you thought you were playing unfair with the yoga. 

He sits down by the bartop, all bare chested and golden. “Anything I can help with?” he asks as you place the tomatoes in the salad bowl. “A change of music perhaps?”

You throw a left over piece of tomato at him and it hits him square in the chest. He just smiles wider, completely unfaced. “Leave my dinner playlist alone, yeah?” You tell him, resisting the urge to give him the finger. 

“So tense” he snickers and leans his head to the side, “I know what could help you relax.”

“Throwing more tomatoes at you? Because we need them in the salad, Thomas.”

He stands up and moves around the kitchen island until he’s behind you, careful as not to touch, framing you against the bench with his strong arms on either side of your body. You can smell him, fresh out of the shower, feel the warm radiate from his body; it is as he’s already holding you. He’s so close, it’s like every cell in your body is reaching out for him. 

And it’s been so long. 

Three months of twisting and turning alone in bed, of only your own hands as company and him on the phone screen as he encourages you; tells you how goddamn gorgeous you look fucking yourself for him. Three months of only seeing him on the phone; not being able to touch him and feel him for yourself, to taste his skin. To just see him spill all over his own hand instead of being there, catching it all with your tongue. 

But it will have to wait a little while longer, because although you might love him, and the way he makes you feel, there’s no way you’re giving in just yet. 

Slowly turning around, carefully as not to touch him, you reach for the bottle. “You can open this, since you wanted to help” you say and hand him the wine, “that would help me relax.”

He smiles, unbothered by his failed attempt at luring you to defeat, and steps back. You stir the pasta sauce, trying not to look at his bare chest as he’s leaning over the kitchen counter, looking for something. Finally he finds the corkscrew and sits back again at the bar table. He gets to work with opening the bottle, his strong veined hand wrapped around the throat of the bottle, as the other inserts the screw. His brow is furrowed in concentration and he’s biting his lip. Around his wrist the Rolex watch reflects in the light. Uncorking the bottle he pours blood red liquid into two wine glasses and hands you one before taking a sip from his own, brown eyes looking at you from over the rim of his glass. 

“Put a fucking shirt on, Thomas” you mutter, going back to chopping vegetables.

The song and dance of torturing each other continues for the following two days. What goes on between you can only be described as a red-hot war. 

“Oh for fuck sake!” Tom’s voice booms over the living room. 

“Too direct?” You ask, eyebrow raised.

“No, no not at all” he answers, voice dripping with sarcasm, “no please, keep deep-throating the banana, it’s incredibly subtle.”

Slowly he wakes, blinking into the dark night. The alarm clock on his bedside table tells him that it’s just after 2 am and for a few long seconds he stares at it.

A rustling of sheets beside him in bed and it hits him. He’s home, home in his own bed with you laying next to him, as it should always be. Except that things aren’t the way it should be. 

Because of that stupid goddamn bet. 

The sheets rustle again and he wonders if you are awake as well. But then he hears it; a soft moan. 

Turning over in bed at lighting speed he stares down at you. “Are you fucking touching yourself?” He asks, heatedly. 

Your answer is another soft moan as you look up at him, pupils blown wide and lips parted. Tearing of the duvet he looks down at your naked body, at you hand, covered in slick, moving over your clit.

Fuck. 

He moves over, leans over you; his legs on either side of yours and his arm on each side of your face, carefully making sure that he isn’t touching you. A slight catch of breath is all the sign you give of having been surprised, your hand keeping it’s gentle pace. 

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, voice low in the quiet room. 

“You” is your breathless reply, “you touching me.”

“Think this is how I would touch you?” He asks, snickering. He’s holding his body over you, looking into your lust-filled eyes. “I’d go much slower at first, tease you. Slowly move around your clit until your hips are bucking up and you're begging me for more”.

He moves his head, so that his lips are almost touching yours. Almost. 

“You’re so good at begging after all” he murmurs against your lips, moving his boxer clad hips so that they almost touch you and you groan, your face telling of vexation and volatile bliss. But you do as he says, follow his instruction with the movement of your hand. 

“Good girl” he whispers softly against your lips. 

“Then I’d slide one fingers inside that wet cunt, still slow; still teasing.” 

You whine, but you do as he says. Slowly you move one finger in and out of yourself, as the other hand is still circling your clit. “Need more” you moan but he just smiles.

“Such a greedy little thing, aren’t you?” He teases with a devilish grin, tilting his head to the side, looking down at you with sparkling eyes. “But your hands are smaller than mine, so maybe you should add another finger.” 

You insert your middle finger as well; and moan. “Faster” you beg, but he shakes his head and so a string of curses fall out your mouth and all he can do is smile at it. 

“That filthy fucking mouth of yours” me mutters. 

“Well if you shove your dick into it instead then this stupid fucking bet will be over and we’ll both get off.”

“You know, I’ve really missed your fantastic sense of humor while I’ve been away” he answers dryly, but with a smile. 

“Tom” you whine. “I need more.”

He wants to kiss you so badly, to press his lips against yours and taste you; to remove his boxers and sink into you in one swift movement until your hoarse and wanton whines turn into satisfied moans, soft and sweet like honey. 

“Go on then, darling” he says, voice huskier than usual in the dark night. “Speed up for me.”

You do, your body hungry for satisfaction, hunting your orgasm with determent, sharp movements. 

“Fuck,” he swears, “fuck you’re soaked.” He looks down at your wet slit, your rapidly moving fingers, your hips bucking up to meet your hand. Looking back into your wild eyes he groans, his mouth still dangerously close to yours.

“The whole room smells of you” he moans, and it’s true. The scent of your arousal mixes with the scent of your perfumed skin and this is the closest he’s been so far to falter; to give in to temptation.

Your head is thrown back against the pillows, throat exposed, soft moans escaping freely. He wants to touch you everywhere, feel the softness of your skin with his rough hands, his wet mouth, his teeth. He’s breathing hard and he hasn’t even been touched, but he feels the want of touching you in his bones.

He wants to wrap his lips around your hardened nipples. To suck, bite, lick and kiss them until you fall over the edge. 

“So fucking beautiful” he breathes out. Even if he had wanted to he wouldn't have been able to look away from you. “But it’s my hand your fucking, remember? Think I’d wouldn’t fuck you harder than that?”

And god, he wish it was his hand you were fucking, wish he could feel you come; hot and wet and pulsing around his fingers. Instead he is left to watch. Watch as the movements of your hand speeds up until fucking yourself with a carnal kind of need, until you fall apart at the seams; luscious bliss spreading over your features, and your tense body relaxes until you soften against the mattress;  loose limbed and starry eyed. 

And he is left to take care of the his erection all on his own.

A thin layer of sweat is covering his chest and his muscles are taut as he forces his arms to carry his weight into another push-up. 

“Thirty-six” he groans out, his voice strained and deep from the physical effort, curls of brown hair falling over his face as he lowers himself to the ground again. “Thirty-seven.”

You couldn’t look away even if you tried, your eyes fixed on the muscles of his back, and the way they move as he moves. 

You feel agitated and frantic and in that moment you want nothing more than to lay down beneath him; look up at him as move above you with swift, powerful moments. It’s beyond reason, the carnal tug inside you as you watch him and it is absolutely maddening that he hasn’t given in yet to his desire; because you know he desires you, have seen it in his dark eyes, always following you around the room, over the last few days. 

But you are not going to be the first one to give in. 

“Forty-two” he moans out, and the sound of his heavy breathing and deep groans vibrate somewhere far inside you.

You’re not. 

You just need a change of tactic, that’s all.

The pub is packed tonight, but the more secluded pool area section is scarce of people. Tom sips on his beer, scrolling through instagram; waiting for you, as the speakers blast out ‘Galway Girl’ for what feels like the hundredth time since he came in. He’s been visiting a friend while you’ve been at work, having decided this morning to meet up at the pub after for a meal and a game of pool. 

A text pops up on the screen, beside your picture. It simply says ‘Look up’. 

He does. And fuck. 

Oh, fuck no. 

Oh, for all that is holy, surely you wouldn’t be that cruel to him.

Not the white shorts.

Not the white shorts you had worn last summer, the ones you know very well turns him on like nothing else. The ones you had worn that time when you had driven down to the beach on bonfire night; the time when you pulled him aside from the rest of the company and he had ended up fucking you against the birch wood tree just some meters away from all your friends, your shorts around your ankles and your nails digging into his back as you tried to bite back you moans.

Surely you wouldn’t be this cruel to him, because he’s pretty sure he’s going to die. He hasn’t had sex in over three months and you show up looking like this  and he’s pretty sure he’s going to die. 

He’s just not sure about whether this is going to be heaven

or hell. 

He watches you as you walk through the pub with long confident strides, the goddamn heels you're wearing extending your legs, and the fabric of the white tank top stretching over your chest. Your lips are painted blood red, as if you are ready for battle.

He’s not the only one in the pub staring at you but you keep your eyes fixed on him, burning into his eyes, as you move across the floor. 

“Honey” you greet him. “Got one of those for me as well?” You nod to the beer in his hand, frozen mid movement to his mouth. 

“Why?” He asks, trying to regain the upper hand. “Feeling thirsty?”

You laugh dryly, looking down at his crotch, where he’s painfully aware a bulge is showing. Instead of commenting on it he hands you the other beer bottle he ordered and watches as you wrap your red lips around the opening, swallowing down. He feels warm all over in the stuffy pub and he pulls at the collar of his t-shirt. 

He reaches for the cue sticks and hands you one. “Alright, darling” he sighs, knowing very well what kind of teasing hell you are about to put him through tonight, “let’s play.”

The playlist has gone from Ed Sheeran songs to Mumford & Sons and the pub is still packed with people, though the pool area remains empty apart from you and Tom. It's warm in there and Tom takes big gulps from his third beer of the night. He can feel sweat forming on his back, his brow, his chest. 

You’re not helping the situation. Although he’s pretty certain that helping is opposite of what you’re trying to do. 

“You’re so fucking annoying” he whines, as he watches you hit the white ball perfectly, resulting in two of your striped balls ending up in the pockets. He’s leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and mouth in a thin line.

He fucking hates losing. 

“You know what you should do?” You ask, lining up against the table, arched back as you bend over with your cue stick; giving him a full view of your fucking fantastic thighs, “try to fuck it out of me.” You hit another perfect shot and a third ball goes in. You look over your shoulder at him, still bent over the table, and wink.

Standing up straight you turn to him. Swaying your hips to the music you lift the beer bottle to your red lips and you swallow a mouthful. Placing the bottle next to you on the side of the pool table you walk over to him, standing so close you’re almost touching. 

Almost

In fact, you might as well be, for he can smell your perfume, mixing with the scent of your shampoo. Can feel the heat radiate of your warm body. It’s been so long since he’s held you and his entire body is painfully aware of it. 

With your lips just centimeters from his you whisper; voice husky and low, “I know how bad you want me, honey.” You move your face so that you’re almost kissing the stubble on his cheek, mouth nearly pressed against it. 

“You want my hands” you whisper again, looking up at him, your hand hovering right over his erection, carefully as not to touch it, and he nearly bucks out to meet your hand. He’s glad that the area is more secluded, part of the wall hiding the pair of you from view. It feels like there’s just the two of you in the entire world; might as well be for all he cares right now. A blush colours his cheeks as he stares back at you.

 “You want my mouth” you breathe against him, your lips curled into an evil smile. “You want my tongue” and you lick your lips before biting it, eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“You wish I was on my hands and knees right now, so you could fuck my mouth.” you finish. 

His skin feels tight and overheated, but he keeps his tone casual as he replies, “actually I wish you were bent over the table so spank that arse of yours, but sure, I wouldn’t say no to a blowie.”

“What’s stopping you? You think you can hold on forever? You know I’m not going to give in, Tom. You know me. Can you imagine going to sleep tonight? Untouched? Again?” 

There’s no use he thinks as he plunges in for a kiss, pulling you tight against him; eager to touch as much as you as possible with impatient hands. 

He tried to beat the devil at her own game and he lost.

“Think you lost, honey” you say between kisses as he’s pressing you up against the front door. 

“Don’t give a flying fuck love, just keep touching me and I’ll die a happy man.” His voice is breathless and hoarse and his hands are all over you; as if he can’t get enough. Your hand is in his soft hair, holding on, as the other is cupping the bulge in his trousers, stroking him through the fabric as he whimpers in your ear. 

“We should probably get inside,” you whisper. “Unless you want your neighbors to witness me give you a hand job on the front steps.” 

He groans, but steps away from you. His hair is ruffled and his pupils are blown wide, spit from your previous kissing covering his lower lip. You imagine you look just as disheveled. 

“Think you need to learn a lesson in delayed gratification” you tease, not being able to stop yourself. 

His eyes go even darker and he takes a step forward again, cups your chin and looks you straight in the eye in a way that has bolts of excitement shoot up your spine. “Before the night is over” he says in a slow, gruff voice, “I will teach you all there is to know about delayed gratification.”

He digs in his pockets, pulls out his keys and unlocks the front door, guiding you in with a hand on your lower back. 

He feels as if someone has lit a match under his skin. His whole body is screaming with vehement urgency for yours. His hands can’t get enough of you; his lips never want to leave your soft lips again. Your soft little noises are filling his head and he hardly even registers your hands unzipping his jeans; until you’re pulling them, alongside his boxers, off of him in a sharp tugging notion. 

“Filthy girl, I fucking love you” he moans out between kisses as you wrap your soft hand around his hard cock. 

He pulls at your tank top and for a moment your skin separates entirely from his as you step away, so that he can remove the fabric from you. Yanking at the goddamn jeans shorts he pulls them down around your ankles and you step out of them.  Your underwear soon follows suit along with his t-shirt until you both are free of any inconvenient clothing. 

He needs your warm and soft skin pressed against his, needs your soft little moans in his ear as he fucks into you, needs the taste of your sweet skin on his tongue. 

He lifts you up on the bed and soon follows suit. Reaching down he slips a finger between your legs, feels how wet and warm and slick you are and groans loudly against your shoulder. 

Lining up against you, cock in hand he looks at your lust filled eyes. “Next time I’ll go slow, yeah? I’ll take my time.”

Your answer is your hands on his shoulder, pulling him against you and he slips inside you with an ecstatic moan. You moan as well, wrap your legs around his hips. He starts moving, thrusting in and out of you with greedy dragged out jabs. The wet sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room and mixes with your whimpering mewls. 

You are so hot and tight and wet around him and the pleasure is so intense it’s bordering on painful. His face is so close to yours, it is as if you are sharing breaths. 

He wants to punch himself from denying himself this for several days when he already had to go without for months.

“Did you think your hands could stand in for mine while I was away? That it could measure up at all?” He asks you, voice thick with lust. He’s so full of want for you and you’re all soft noise and wandering hands. Your warm breath on his even warmer skin. His lips on your nipples; kissing, sucking, biting. 

You writhe beneath him, unable to lay still as you buck your hips up to meet his; fucking into him. He’s not going to last long but neither is you and holding on is a losing battle. Like he said, next time he will go slower, gentler, softer. Drag it out for an entire night. But you both have too much built up pressure inside you to last now. He feels like a bomb about to go off, sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine, as he fucks into you with even greater force. You’re hot and swollen and hugging onto him so perfectly he feels like he’s going to lose his mind if he doesn’t get to come soon. 

But he knows that you are close. Feels it in your nails, dragging along his back, in the sharp movements of your thrusts, in your laboured breathing against his shoulder. He feels it in the way your cunt squeezes around him.

“I’m coming” you whimper and he wants to cry from the relief as he feels you spasm around him.

“Fuck” you moan out as your breathing calms down, and he’s holding you pressed against his chest. “Haven’t had a decent orgasm in months, I wasn’t prepared for that.”

“You really can’t function without me, can you?” he says with a smug smile and honestly, hadn’t you’ve been so blissed out you probably would have bitten him. 

A/N: I honestly don’t know if any of this made sense. I’m drunk and tired and I’m going to bed. If you read it, please leave your thoughts. 

[angelguk]

→ on my mind 02 — a jeongguk scenario

member: jeon jungkook

word count: 25.6k

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

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

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

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

header credit @dee-ehn <3

read the first part here

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

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

You could do this — it’s just a test.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Those are the longest five minutes of your life.

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

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

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

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

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

It’s one line. Negative.

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

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

Jeongguk knows right away something is off.

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

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

“Seungmin?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wouldn’t let you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

→

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jimin’s got her. She’s fine.”

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

“Three days isn’t long,” You comment.

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

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

“Go ahead.”

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

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

“No particular reason. Just curious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Inside,” you murmur, “Cum inside.”

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

→

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two lines. On all three tests. Positive.

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

Pregnant. You’re pregnant.

→

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

It's Soomi.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The tears reappear, dripping down your cheeks fast.

“We stopped,” You croak out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really? Why? If I may ask.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

→

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

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

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

You’ll tell him tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

→

“You stink.”

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

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

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

“That bad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“....Bread.”

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

“No. Just plain bread.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

→

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you say. “We’d like that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, that’s our baby.”

→

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jeon–”

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

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

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

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

“But I want to you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“All of this, only for me, right?”

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

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

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

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

“Forever.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

→

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

Family.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

→

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That would be nice, thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He does.”

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

And you do, fondness creeping forth from your chest. “It was the worst day of my life. He cost me an important job.”

“And he ended up giving you this,” Yoona returns, moving to slip her hand into yours. “A fair trade doesn’t you think.”

“Not a bad one at all,” you say. Your laughs are as light as the dawn sun just breaking beyond the horizon, coloured bright like the paint on the wall of your child’s future room.

“You’re gonna miss this,” Yoona says, squeezing your hand softly. “Once it’s all gone and everyday feels like a challenge… These moments you’re gonna miss them.”

“You miss being pregnant?”

“Maybe,” Yoona wonders out-loud, the look she gives you sneaky. “Jonghyun needs a sibling.”

“God please, give yourself a break. And besides,” You glance at your tummy. “He has a friend on the way.”

Another moment of silence falls, as you both stare at your future while your hand clings to your past and present.

“Remember what I said, at my baby shower?” Yoona whispers, her fingers gripping onto you.

“I remember.” It’s funny that she brings it up, considering what happened that night.

“Well… I’m happy we’re doing this together.” You pause, turning to face her, the smile on her hips matching yours.

“I’m happy we’re doing this together too.” And when she pulls you close for a hug, you remember the girl you once were, unsure and stumbling. It feels nice to know that Yoona was there for you then, and she’s here for you now.

(The shower is more than a success, filled with memories you’ll treasure for ever – and images of Taehyung in a diaper stamped into your memory forever. Yoona and Soomi were right through; having one gave you moments to remember and it felt warm, to be surrounded by the tender adoration and love for your family celebrating the start of something new.)

→

Your baby is late. It’s fitting actually, because that’s something you would do if you were about to be born. But it’s starting to get on your nerves. There’s an unspoken edge hanging in the room, amplified by the constant concerned looks Jeongguk has been throwing your way since your child decided to hang in your womb for a little longer. You’ve been trying to ignore it, but it’s hard when he’s checking up on you for contractions and when the hospital bag has been sitting beside the door for three whole days now. You drown his concern (and yours) with bowls of popcorn and a strange new-found interest in watching old romantic comedies. Jeongguk paces around the apartment while Bridget Jones gets locked in a Taiwan jail for attempted drug smuggling. It would have been a funny moment, expect Jeongguk’s pacing as has the baby moving too and now there’s a tiny foot trying to murder you from the inside. So much energy, an obvious mark of Jeongguk’s genes because any child of yours would definitely prefer to not move instead of brutalising their mother’s insides.

“You’re sure we shouldn’t just go in? Get a check-up or something?” Jeongguk heads peaks from the living-room door frame, locks tousled from the fretting of his fingertips.

“No,” you return, shoving a handful of popcorn in your mouth. It’s more for the effect rather than from enjoyment because for some reason it tastes weird. “We called already, babes. It’s okay, leave the baby alone they’re not ready for the world yet.”

A hard kick into your ribs and you immediately regret saying that. Maybe the baby should just come out – you’re ready for them to.

There’s a line of worry digging into his forehead. “Are you sure? I don’t like this – what if something’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you say. And fortunately as far as you and the doctors know, nothing is. All the ultrasound and check-up appointments had confirmed that your baby was growing steadily and healthy inside of you. Maybe they just wanted to stay in for a little bit before meeting the word.

“Y/N…” He shifts into the room, beautiful face weighed with concern. “We can go just to check–”

“I’m not doing that Jeongguk.” It’s firm and a little mean but he was fussing like he was the one with a huge baby sitting on his bladder.

“Alright.” It’s a quiet resignation. He moulds into the pillow beside you, careful not to brush against your belly. During the early stages you didn’t mind but now there was a sensitivity that left you irritated and vexed if his hand lingered for longer that five seconds. But you can feel him staring at it and a part of you feels bad for dismissing his concerns. You reach out without a second thought, guiding his palm to the side of your tummy where the kicks echo through.

A huff drifts from his mouth, soft and wondrous. “Strong little girl,” he mumbles, following the pads of the kicks as they breach from under your skin.

“Girl? Did my mom tell you?”

“It’s definitely a girl. She’s stubborn for staying in there when I want to me her. Exactly like you.”

You flick his forehead, caught off guard by the awe sitting in his wide doe eyes. “Mean.”

“How?” Jeongguk whines, petal lips forming a pout. “Bubba, your Mom is calling me mean. Imagine – me!”

“And you called her stubborn.”

“I called you stubborn, she’s a by-product of you so it’s still really your fault.” That playful glint surfaces with an ease that shouldn’t leave you breathless. You hope she has his eyes

“Jeon, shut-up before I something terrible happens to you.”

“What’s the worst that could happen? It’s been six years of empty threats. If you wanted me gone you wouldn’t have had my kid.” You close your eyes in frustration, missing the very important airport scene that all romantic comedies tend to milk to the point of death. Jeongguk laughs at your misery, cooing with the baby kicks against your belly again, as if she’s laughing with him.

She. You’ve been avoiding any gender nouns since the baby shower but now that word seems fitting. A little girl. Your daughter.

“You’re both horrible people,” you return, idly dropping popcorn in your mouth.

Jeongguk gasps, as false as the acting displayed on your television. “Bubba did you hear that? Mom called you a horrible person and she was calling me mean!”

You whack his head, whining when the baby responds to his silly comment with a fist into your stomach. “God, Jeon stop. She gets hyper when you talk to her.”

“She?” Jeongguk raises an eyebrow, still smiling.

“She,” you return.

He falls quiet, staring at your stomach with careful consideration before you see it click in his head. “Anyway, as I was saying –”

“Jeongguk!”

It’s too late and your girl is already awake, kicking and punching every which way like you’re not the sole thing keeping her alive. Jeongguk just giggles but moves with to resettle the pillows behind your back, alleviating what discomfort he can. The tension that gripped the air suddenly lets loose, a calmness filling your head as the evening draws to a close. You only get anxious when you have to slip into bed with him, stomach too far stretched out for you to attain any source of ease. Jeongguk’s already learned to read you well, giving you space and extra pillows where he can, the only thing you hold onto during the night his hand. Somehow, you fall asleep, until your body jerks you awake, a searing pain bleeding through your lower limbs. The ache eats through your grogginess, pulling you up and out of bed where you find with a sudden violent shock that your pyjama pants are soaked. And yet you never panic, fumbling for the lights and heading to the bathroom to pat yourself awake before the next wave of pain stings through.

You poke Jeongguk awake, his eyes snapping open with an urgency that startles you.

“What’s wrong?” His back rips from the mattress as he twists to take you in. “Are you hurt? Sore? Hungry?”

“None of those. I think my water just broke though.”

“Your – what? W-water? You think?” There’s a pause, and then Jeongguk is bounding from the bed like he’s being hunted down and chased. The paleness that sweeps over his face coaxes a giggle out of you, which is immediately washed away by another brief bout of pain.

“Shit,” the word is mumbled again and again under his breath as he runs through the house, collecting last minute things. In a moment he’s guiding you to the door with no shirt but shoes on, keys gripped tight in his hand. “Do we do the breathing thing now? And when was the last contraction? I need to time them.”

“Jeongguk,” you sigh, “Could I change first. I don’t think going to the hospital in Micky Mouse pyjamas is very fitting. And you need to put a shirt on.”

He freezes, spine straight and forehead beading with sweat. “S-sorry–shit. I’m just freaking out let me help you.”

“I’m freaking out too, Jeon. But let’s be calm about it right?”

“Right,” he returns. “But we seriously need to get to the hospital because of the baby comes right now I might faint.”

“Not helping. Jeongguk!”

“Yeah, of course. You put out the set you wanted in the first drawer right?”

“Second drawer. The light blue ones.”

He leaves you staring at the hard wooden floors of your home as he runs to get them, a slight sweat building down your back. The contractions are still spread out, not frequent or concerning just yet. You wanted to stay home for a little to be frank, but judging from the frazzled nature of Jeongguk’s movements you’d rather not ask your boyfriend to wait before rushing into the hospital. You watch him with fondness as he dresses you in the living-room, doe eyes wide with concern and stuck on your stomach. There’s a shirt over his head at least, and a change from his sleeping sweats into clean dark ones.

“Jeongguk,” you whisper.

“Yes?” It’s said with high-alert. “Does it hurt? Should we do the breathing–”

“Jeongguk,” you interrupt. “I think you need to calm down.”

“I am calm.”

You give him a look.

“Okay, I’m not calm,” Jeongguk returns. “But I’m also facing the very real fact that our baby has decided to come into the world in the middle of the night and you’re not freaking out at all which is making me very nervous.”

“I am,” you reply. “I’m just trying to contain it because I don’t want to make it worse. And while I love you Jeongguk I need you not to go crazy on me right now. And I thought you wanted to meet her, she’s decided to come today since you were complaining about it.”

He frowns, lips puckered in an exasperated pout. “Sorry–just–it’s just–I didn’t think it was going to be this scary.”

“It’s not. We just need to get the hospital and everything is going to be okay. So let’s focus on getting into the car first and then we can do the breathing practises, okay.”

Jeongguk stills, eyes drifting to your stomach. You see his shoulder fall lax, a sudden protectiveness lingering on his face. “Okay, let’s start with that.”

→

You were wrong. Very wrong. About everything. Staying at home for even twenty minutes more would have been the worst decision you had ever made because when you baby decided to come into the world, she decided she was coming in fast. Viciously fast. Maybe Jeongguk’s crazed concerned was warranted. Your contractions speed up and get worse during the brief trip to the hospital, and by the time you’re walking in past the doors you’re considered maiming Jeongguk so that he never gets the idea that you want a child again. The staff is incredibly helpful, leading you to your room and bed while Jeongguk calls his parents and yours. It feels both rushed and like everyone is taking their sweet time with you, as if there was a baby literally trying to rip its way out of you. The nurses take the noting of the times Jeongguk recorded, immediately pointing out that your contractions have speed up but not enough to head down to the theatre. Soomi arrives during the two hours they give you to settle, occasionally popping into the check your dilation and contractions.

Her hair is a mess and you can hear the faint sound of Jimin consoling Jeongguk in the hallway. Which is stupid because he’s not the one giving birth, you are.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Soomi starts, drawing near with a container of food. She notes the look of disdain you throw it’s in direction, quickly discards it on a nearby stool.

“Thinking about killing Jeongguk,” you respond. The epidural you requested is not kicking in fast enough.

She laughs, a bright thing that eases you edges a little. “I said the exact same thing when Bora decided to come.”

“Where is she?” You ask, forcing a smile when Jimin walks in the stupid spawn of evil who put you in this hospital bed.

“Taehyung’s. Seokjin and Yoongi are coming tomorrow morning. You think she’ll be here by then? Soomi inquires. You catch the slip of her tongue, a faint smile spreading on your lips as you mumble a greeting to Jimin.

“So it is a girl,” you comment. Jeongguk halts beside you. Maybe you won’t murder him just yet.

“W-well, I – I mean – well, yes it is.”

You’re glad Soomi was the only one who knew. A secret kept right until the last minute.

“I told you,” Jeongguk interjects. “I had a feeling.”

“And I’m feeling like ending your life, so maybe don’t talk right now.”

Jimin’s laughter is loud and unabashed, a direct contrast to the nervous blush staining Jeongguk’s cheeks.

“And now you know why I was scared of Soomi, right?” Jimin comments, ignoring the threatening glare his wife spears into his head. “Have you picked a name yet?”

“Not really,” you return, noticing Jeongguk’s sudden silence. You reach for his hand, heart aching with the fear you might have heart him. He responds automatically, clinging right back onto you. “But there are ideas. We’ll know when we see her.” You say the last sentence while staring at his face, mind already conjuring the image of your girl. Will she have his nose? His cherry cheeks? Will she smile like him? You hope she does – Jeongguk has the best smile in the world. He’s staring at your face like he’s wondering the same, gaze flicking over your features with careful consideration, a gentleness in his eyes that warms you heart even when your contractions decide to resurface, clamouring to be heard in the waves of pain that follow.

“Hey,” there’s a soft hand on your head. “You’ll be okay.” Jeongguk looks worried but you can see him trying to hide it, shoulder tense but his eyes soft.

You respond with a mumbled noise of agreement. “Yeah, when this baby gets the hell out of me. Can somebody call the nurse; my beeper isn’t working.”

Jimin does, leaving Soomi and Jeongguk to hang over you like grey clouds in the sky. You stop focusing on them, letting the murmurs of their encouragement fade into the distance as your focus settles on the bright luminescent hospital lights. Everything shifts into a state of surrealness, marked by moments of doctors prodding you and Jeongguk catching your gaze from his place at your side. Eventually you’re pushed into the theatre room, followed by a trembling Jeon Jeongguk in scrubs and a mask. Soomi and Jimin linger in the hallways while the only thing you hear is one stupid word.

You push until you think you’ve split into two, squeezing Jeongguk’s hand because he should go through this pain too. He doesn’t protest, mumbling words of comfort in your ear while you attempt to crack the bones in his hand.

“You’re doing so well – see look she’s almost here,” he murmurs, hand a grounding force when he strokes your cheek. “Just one more, my love. One more push.”

And then finally, finally, you hear that cry, the pressure in your hips waning. It’s immediately replaced by a quiet awe descending on your both. The nurses congratulate you, cleaning and swaddling your baby up before hastily placing her on your chest. If the tears on your face are from pain or love you wouldn’t know. They are one and the same right now, the splitting of your heart aching in your chest as the love for your child pours out. She’s got his nose. You see it instantly, her eyes are still shut, but you think she has his eyes too. She’s so adorable and too tiny for the world. You feel it then, the fierce need to protect her from anything and everything. Jeongguk’s drops down to your level too, enclosing you both like he feels it too. There’s no need for words to be said, the silent exchange of wonder between you two enough as your baby breaks into weak forlorn cry.

Her name is a quiet decision, vocalised by Jeongguk reaching to graze his thumb across her small cheek. “Hello Jieun-ie…. Hi baby... Don’t cry bubba, we’re here. Hmm, we’re here my love.”

→

Jieun is a blessing. There’s something about her gummy little smile and those chubby mochi like cheeks that makes your heart warm with adoration. She’s got Jeongguk’s eyes too, little stars trapped in her loving gaze. It’s almost addictive, how soft and plush she is in your arms. You want her to stay small and tiny forever, under the protective gaze of her mother. Even the slightest thought of anything negative happening to her, makes your heart seize with terror. You didn’t know it was possible to have space for this much love in your heart but Jieun’s carved out a place just for her, a home in your heart besides Jeongguk.

You try and think of that love and warmth during moments like this - when she’s up all night, screaming her lungs out. You’ve checked her diaper, nothing. You’ve gently directed her wailing mouth to your nipple, immediate rejection from her chubby hands. You’ve rocked her around the room for the past forty minutes, softly bouncing her against your hip, but to no avail either. She’s not hungry, or dirty or tired. You’re lost on how to ease her back to sleep and your patience is quickly wearing thin. The gurgle of spit on your shoulder isn’t making the situation any more tolerable either anyway.

“Why’s my baby crying,” Jeongguk coos from the bedroom, voice groggy with sleep. You’d left him in bed and taken Jieun out when she’d gotten fussy, afraid to rouse him. He’d picked up some long shift once again and it pained you to see him shuffle to work early in the morning with barely any sleep on his face.

“I’ve got her; you can go back to sleep.” You try to reassure him but the incredulous look he gives in you in response has your put together facade crumbling. “I don’t know what’s wrong.” It’s mumbled in the cool air of your apartment, the shame in your tone drawing him closer.

“Hungry?” He says, there’s a hand against the small of your back, warm from the bed he was wrapped in.

“No,” You whine back, briefly closing your eyes when Jieun lets out a particular ear splitting wail.

“Oh no, baby. Don’t cry. Daddy’s here.” You press her into his hands wordlessly, a heavy weight on your chest when you finally take a look at him. He looks like he’s been run over by a truck, skin pasty and flat from sleep. His hair sticks out haphazardly from his head, a wild brown mane that’s overdue for a cut. There’s shadows under his eyes and a deep line forming between his eyebrows. A consequence of how often he frowns at things. Like he’s doing at Jieun now, eyes barely open in the dim light filling your living room.

You subconsciously reach out, pressing the pad of your thumb between his brows and massaging until his gaze relaxes. Jeongguk looks at you perplexed, murmuring sweetly into Jieun’s ear while he stains his shirt with her snot.

“Premature wrinkles,” you softly mutter. His eyes flash and then he’s shaking his head, gaze focused on Jieun.

“Bubba, why do you keep crying? Hmm?” He lifts her up gently, sniffing her bottom while she protests violently. “You’re not dirty either.” He cradles her tenderly once again and for a brief moment, she closes her mouth, wide eyes on her daddy. Neither of you move, frozen by the hope that she's satiated. And then her lips purse tightly, followed by them falling open with a thundering wail.

“Jesus,” Jeongguk whispers, hands gently running along her back. “Where do you get your lungs from? Huh bubba?” Jieun responds with a miserable cry, grubby hands flailing through the air. You catch one for her marshmallow fists, bemused when she smacks your hand away.

“What is wrong with her?” You can’t help but ask, feeling like you’ve been thrown off a boat and left to drown. Parenting shouldn’t be this difficult —  she’s only five months.

“Honestly?” Jeongguk's face seems down. “I don’t know either.” He rocks her softly and is rewarded by a softer cry. It takes a couple more minutes of bouncing from Jeongguk for her crying to wane away. You cautiously move closer, taking her hand into your own again, heart thumping when she grabs back at you tightly. You trail your thumb against her tiny fist, glancing up to find Jeongguk staring at your joint hands with a weird look in his eyes.

“Should we go to bed?” He asks, peering at you beneath his long brown bangs. Jieun hiccups at that, immediately falling silent when she nuzzles in her father’s neck. They have the same soft wavy brown hair, but Jieun’s is a little bit sparser, not as thick as her Daddy’s. You gently pry your hand away from hers as you nod, a pleased sigh coming from Jeongguk.

The bed is cool, sheets tipping towards the floor. There’s only a fraction of warmth against your skin when you finally crawl in, bones going soft at the touch of the mattress. Jeongguk makes a move to settle Jieun in her cradle but you shake your head, hand gesturing to the space beside you. He gets in without another word, gently resting her body between the two of you. Her breathing is even, eyes fluttering every other moment, teasing dreams you won’t ever hear and she won’t ever remember. You hope they’re good regardless.

You can’t help the wandering hand that settles on her plush little thigh, fingers grazing against the soft skin there. She’s so big already, it’s insane to see her grow so quickly right before your eyes. This was the girl who was kicking your stomach at every chance and sitting heavy on your bladder. The little baby that demanded you eat pickles with ice-cream and Cheetos dipped in chocolate syrup when she was in your belly. It’s surreal to see her sighing and gurgling outside of your body. It also makes you nervous, how little control you have over her environment. There’s no way you can ensure that she’s comfortable and safe at all times. Or happy and fulfilled. Which hurts like hell. This is your baby and you would do anything to protect her.

Maybe Jeongguk must feel the same because he pipes up, breaking the quiet of the night. “Are you worried? About Jieun?”

“Of course. Aren’t you?”

“All the damn time,” He mutters. You look up, eyes landing on the heavy gaze that’s directed at her sleeping face. “I’m so worried. What if we’re messing this up? I know we’ve barely started but sometimes it feels like too much. I don’t want to see her cry or you tired all the time. How do we know we’re doing the right thing? I want to make sure she’s stable and safe but there’s so much more to come and I’m going to mess up. I know I will.”

It’s a lot for you to digest. The way he blurts it out — it sounds like it’s been on his mind for a while now. It’s a stark contrast to the surety you were greeted with in the delivery room and the man who wanted this to happen in the first place. He doesn’t sound regretful, just terrified of the uncertainty of the future.

“Jeongguk,” You say, trying to wipe the exhaustion from your voice. He needs someone to lean on right now, and even if your heart feels heavy with the words he’s said, you’ll pretend to be that person anyway. “That’s okay. I’m going to mess up too. There’s no manual on how to do this. No one knows how to be a parent. Every child is different. We’re never going to be perfect. We just need to try our best at this.” You reach for his hand, intertwining your small fingers against his larger bigger ones. You give them a squeeze, pleased when Jeongguk looks up at you. “That’s all we need to do. Not everything will be perfect. We just need to try our best to make Jieun happy. Right?” He nods at that, holding your hand tighter. “And stop worrying. She loves you. You’re a great dad.”

He stares at you deeply, still gripping your hand. You watch that soft smile slip onto his face in silence, a warmth bubbling in your chest.

“And you’re a great mom,” He whispers back. You ache to lean over Jieun’s sleeping body, press a chaste kiss against your boyfriend’s lips. But a loud gurgle from her has both of you glancing down concerned. She’s kicking her legs gently, mouth halfway open and drool around her lips. You wipe her mouth fondly, letting go of Jeongguk’s hand to do so.

“We should sleep, shouldn’t we,” He mumbles, burrowing his head into the pillow.

“We should.”

“Hmm. Goodnight bubba,” He whispers at Jieun and then he glances up, eyes soft. “Goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight Jeongguk,” You return, giddy for some stupid reason. “Goodnight Jieun-ie.”

There’s a beat of silence, when the air is only filled with the rise and fall of your chests in union, punctuated by the occasional sigh from Jieun. And then Jeongguk is kicking your feet beneath the blanket, eyes open and on you.

“I love you,” He whispers, crust forming around his eyes. You kick him back, a warm feeling settling in your chest as your eyes flicker between your baby and the love of your life. It’s oddly perfect, despite the lack of sleep, despite how groggy the both of you are, despite the uncertainty of the future. None of that matters at that moment. Because you’re here, in your home, in bed with the two people you hold near and dear to your heart. You’ll tackle it together, whatever challenges the future holds for you. Because this is your family.

“I love you too, Jeongguk.”

[soft-boi-eli]

Ayo do you write for poly relationships?

If that's so, could you do a cc!Karlnapity x male reader? Quackity is hella stressed because of law school and is very tired so the others just

Do little things for him, like acts of service and just, being supportive---

Feel free to say no if it makes you uncomfortable :>

Yep. I myself am poly but not in a relationship yet. So I am perfectly comfortable with it.

We believe in you.

Summary: quackity needs some tlc. With the stress of law school higher then ever you, karl, and sapnap decide to take care of him while he studies.

Pronouns: he him his

Quackity. The hyper happy streamer. Was in his office/streaming room studying for finals.

The stress he was under was immense and all you and your two other boyfriends wanted to do was comfort him and help him through this intense time.

You were monitoring how much he has eaten or drank today. That counter was at zero. The amount of times for a stressful break was monitored by karl. And the bathroom breaks by sapnap. With all of the counters at zero you guys went to work.

You were the only one that could cook in this house. The others would burn it down. So you were always on dinner duty. Or lunch. Even breakfast.

Whipping up some tomato soup and grilled cheese you were quick to plate it. These we're quick simple and the best thing for them to consume.

While sapnap and karl were harassing him to get up you were setting up the living room for a mental break for him. Setting it up for two episodes of the show you guys were watching you yelled up to them. "guys I'm done. And if you have to drag him."

You were making him take this break. Whether he liked it or not. Cramming can be useful yes. But not all the time. Not for hours on end with no food or water. Watching your two boyfriends literally dragging your third one down you smirked.

"So. You thought that you could get away with not eating, drinking, or even bathroom breaks. You thought wrong." Quackity stared at you. That look. He's seen it before.

"No. No! If I don't study I can't pass!" He was desperate to get out of their arms. Walking up to him you squished his cheeks. "Hun. It's gonna be an hour at max. You need to eat. Get some water. We're worried. You haven came out of that room for over 6 hours. Meaning you haven't eaten, haven't filled your water bottle, haven't used the bathroom. It's not healthy. And your brain needs fuel. Not energy drinks." He looked at you for a moment.

What you said was true. Every human needs it. But he just wanted to finish his notes. The ones that he said would be done in less then three hours. The ones that he could study for the final exam with.

But all three of your guys puppy dog eyes won him over.

"Fine. But no longer then an hour." He fully gave in. Letting go of his face you smiled. "Great! I made grilled cheese and tomato soup." Quackity looked over with stars in his eyes.

"You could of just said that Mi Amor. You know I would die for you soup." Rolling you eyes to him as he quickly picked up his plate and bowl.

This man.

He was scarfing it down like he was a starving man.

I mean waking up, studying, and not eating at all does that to you.

As the show played quackity seemed to relax a bit more. That was all you wanted. Him to sit back, relax, give himself a break.

Sadly the two episodes were over faster then they began. Leaving quackity to go back upstairs. Laving his three worried boyfriends.

"Okay guys." They looked at you confused for a sec.

"Every hour we bring him something. Water, a snack, blanket, hot drinks, cuddles. What ever you want. Just make sure he's taking care of himself alright?" They nodded.

"Good. Who's on first hour duty?" Karl was quick. He was nearly springing out of his seat as he raised his hand.

You were fine with it because your took at least two hours.

You were making cookies.

You knew the boys couldn't resist any of the baked goods you made. After all you were a cooking and baking youtuber.

So as the hours passed by the guys kept reminding quackity to take breaks. Telling him to go to the bathroom, stretch his legs a little, have a hug.

So when you finished the last batch it was your turn up there. Bringing a plate full of cookies and milk with you, you knocked gently.

"I swear to God sapnap if you're there again I'm going to ki-." He opened the door and looked directly at you. "Not sapnap this time I brought cookies though!" He greedily grabbed the cookies and milk, letting you in as he did so.

"So studying been going well?" He shrugged. "Could be better could be worse." Laughing lightly you sat in one of the chairs there.

"But way better now that you brought me cookies." Shaking your head you stretched. "Honestly if I didn't decide to learn. I would of never met you guys. But boy am I happy for that. Now I'm with my three handsome boyfriends. One of them ever so cuddly. The other quite the amazing voice. And lastly my extremely smart boy who is going to help so many people when he passes his finals." He tilted his head at you.

Standing up you kissed his forehead. "I belive in you alex. Just remember that your mental health is just as important as this exam." Your voice was soft on his forehead.

"Yeah! You are one of the smartest j have met! Don't you dare give up. But don't you dare mentally strain yourself!" Sapnap was loud.

Rolling your eyes you looked at the two in the door way.

"Yeah! We're here for you alex. If you need a small break we'll always be right here for you! Be it a hug, kiss, cookie, a tv break. Even just an hour of us laying in bed doing nothing except talking. We're here for you!" Karl was quick to add on. God you loved them yet they always tend to get way to cheesy.

"God you guys. I have no clue what I'm going to do with you three. I can't thank you enough." Quackity was about ready to break down in tears. With the ruffle of the hair you smiled brightly.

"No need. You are going through something that you need to work hard on. We aren't going to let you not take care of yourself." You opened your arms. On arm around quackity already.

You were inviting the other two over to join the hug.

Rushing over their arms over layed quackity and you. Squeezing the life out of you both.

God. Don't let this dream come to an end.

Bouns:

At the end of the day. All you, sapnap, and karl knew was the day coming to an end. This wasn't going to end with out quackity.

"Hey. Alex. How close are you to being done?" He turned to you. You hadn't really interuped him the whole time only every once in a while to bring up a snack. He looked up and down your pajama clad body.

He shook his head lightly. "You get comfortable with karl and sapnap. I'll be there in about 15-20 minutes." Nodding lightly you walked up the stairs. Leading to the massive room. This was the room you all shared. While also having your own room for when you wanted to sleep separately.

Karl and sapnap laid awake in their respective spots. "He's not coming to bed?" Sapnap asked. You shook your head.

"He said 15-20 minutes." Crawling between the taller ones you left space for quackity to crawl in.

He was a little off from the 15-20 minutes. He took 30 instead. But you weren't complaining one of your main sources of heat for the night was now in the bed, curled up, head on your chest, hands lightly intertwined with the other two.

Leaving your hands open to lightly comb his hair back and massage his scalp and back. This man was studying for at least 12 hours. And he deserved it.

There was no complaints from anyone. Not even quackity which was quite unusual. Except for the fact he had passed out almost as soon as your fingers started at his scalp.

His little snores brought a smile to your face while little giggles came from karl. While a chuckel came from sapnap. It's unusual for quackity to fall asleep first. But you wouldn't change it.

Not for the world.

*Ahem* I am now one year on testosterone! God it's been a weird journey but I do feel happier about myself.

Also I loved this fluffy tooth rotting oneshot. It made me happy to shower quackity, karl, and sapnap in love. They deserve it!

Anyways I hope you enjoyed and have a good day/night/morning/evening.

Eli out.

[agustdakasuga]

Reflection Of You | Chapter 17

Genre: Historical!AU, Timetraveller!AU/ Different Dimension, Romance

Pairing: SUGA x Reader, Yoongi x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, Idol!Suga, King!Yoongi, Guard!Seokjin, Guard!Jungkook, RoyalAdvisor!Namjoon, Servant!Jimin, Servant!Hoseok, Prince!Taehyung

Summary: Confirming you were dating the famous Min Suga of BTS, you knew you were bound to make some enemies. But what you didn’t expect was to be cursed, leading you to meet a cold-hearted, arrogant king that shares the same face as your rapper lover.  

It’s hard for Yoongi to open up. It’s hard for him to show the feelings that he’s been bottling up all those years. But maybe, just maybe, it’s time to let all of them go. 

Seokjin had come to inform you that Yoongi requested your company for dinner in the dining room. He waited for you to freshen up and escorted you and Jimin there. It was like deja vu as you took your seat to wait for Yoongi.

“The great king of Joseon, Min Yoongi, will be making his entrance.” Jungkook announced. Seokjin and Jimin bowed. 

“Long live the king.” They chorused. You remained seated this time, not even standing or bowing to Yoongi. Yoongi entered and stared at your still seated form, a small smile grazing his lips. You will never change and that’s what he liked about you. 

“Still refusing to bow down?” 

“You’ll live long enough, even without my wishes.” You scoffed. Yoongi chuckled and sat down in his spot. He waved at everyone to exit the room, leaving the two of you alone.

“How was gardening?” Yoongi asked as you poured alcohol into his cup. 

“It was so fun! I learnt a lot from the gardener! We planted some seeds and some plants that were already in pots.” You rambled. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” Yoongi reached out to pat your head. The simple gesture was something he did so often now that it didn’t even seem weird to the both of you anymore. 

“And I didn’t know advisor Namjoon is also an avid gardener. Apparently, he waters the garden plants every day and he even has this huge plum tree!” You continued, even using your arms to try and show how big the tree was. But of course, it was an underestimation. Yoongi watched you with amusement, taking a sip of alcohol. 

“Is he now?” Yoongi asked. Of course, he knew that Namjoon liked plants and did all that but he thought he would entertain you a little. 

“Yeah. Jimin says the plums are sweet when harvested and the plum wine that is made from them is really good. I hope to try it sometime.” You nodded with a hopeful smile. 

“I can get it for you now.” 

“There’s no need-”

“Namjoon!” Yoongi shouted. As if they were listening in on the conversation, Namjoon immediately opened the door with a bow. 

“(y/n) here heard about the plum wine we make from the harvest of plums from your tree. She would like to try some. Fill a bottle for her to have now.” Yoongi said. Namjoon nodded and promptly exited the room. 

“I didn’t mean I needed to try it now, Yoongi. Geez.” You scoffed. Yoongi ignored your comment and continued eating. Namjoon returned with a small ceramic decanter. He bowed and knelt by the side of the table to fill the small cups with the plum wine. 

“Have some.” You said to Namjoon. Namjoon turned to Yoongi, who nodded his head in approval. 

“Thank you.” Namjoon bowed his head as you took the decanter to pour some into a new cup for him. The 3 of you clinked cups before taking a drink. It was sweet and fruity. 

“It’s so good!” You complimented. Namjoon couldn’t help but smile. 

“I’m happy you like it.” He laughed. When he was done, he bowed his head and exited the room. 

“What about you? Did you have a good... meeting?” You asked Yoongi slowly. Yoongi raised an eyebrow at you trying to start small talk with him but he shrugged, being vague with his answer. 

“Whether it was good or bad, I hope you feel happy or relieved that it’s at least over.” You smiled. Yoongi stopped and stared at you. 

“What?” 

“Nothing. Just thinking about something else.” He shook his head and continued eating. You blinked but shrugged and ate as well. Yoongi picked out the bigger pieces of boneless braised meat and placed it onto your plate, surprising you. You looked at the piece of meat as if it was a foreign substance and looked up at him. 

“You seem to always struggle to remove the bones. And you give the boneless meat to the other me. I’ll do the same for you.” He excused. You couldn’t help but laugh as Yoongi acknowledged the ‘other him’. 

“So you acknowledge that there’s another you somewhere out there?” 

“I never said I didn’t. You just don’t tell me much about him, how different or similar he is from me.” He said. 

“What do you want to know?” You asked. Obviously, both Yoongis were rather different but as you got to know the Yoongi in front of you, you do seem to find similarities every now and then. 

“What can you tell me about him?” 

“Hmm... I mean, you look exactly the same, you already know that. You’re both deathly pale and bear resemblance to cats. You both love tangerines and you’re both night people instead of day people. Not that big a fan of sweets...” You listed out. 

“I fail to see how I look like a cat.” Yoongi blinked. It took a long while for your Yoongi to come to terms with the whole ‘lil meow meow’ thing too. 

“Trust me. It’s there. Oh and you both squint like this when you’re focusing on something.” You giggled, mimicking him. 

“You’re finding too much amusement in this.” 

“I don’t think I know you well enough to tell the differences. But my Yoongi... When you first meet him, he just seems cold, guarded and introverted. Yes, he is introverted. But he’s not cold at all.” You said, swallowing your food. 

“He’s guarded because he had been wounded before by the rest of the world. And even when we got together, I realised that he just isn’t one to really show his feelings, or at least verbally. He shows his love and care through his actions. That’s what I liked about him. He was very comfortable to be around and he made me lower my guard too.” You smiled. 

“He sounds like a perfect human.” 

“He’s not, he’s far from it. I am the same. We’ve both come to realise it. Sure, we’ve had our fights and arguments but at the end of the day, we work it out. It takes two hands to clap, right?” You looked up at Yoongi.

“You miss him.” Yoongi stated. 

“Of course. Even before we were together, he was my safety blanket for years.” You said sadly, looking at your food. 

“When I’m sad, he makes me laugh or he cries with me. He worries for me, even when he should be worrying about himself.” Tears blurred your vision. Suddenly, you felt someone pull your head to a chest. 

Yoongi didn’t know what to say. Just like your Yoongi, he wasn’t good with words, he only knew how to show he cared with his actions. 

“Sorry, I digressed.” You said. 

“It’s okay.” Yoongi whispered, stroking the back of your head. He used the end of his sleeve to wipe your tears. Sitting back down, the two of you continued talking as you finished the food. You wanted to ask about Mirae but you knew it was a sensitive topic for Yoongi so you didn’t bring it up. 

“Later, can we walk in the garden?” You asked. 

“That excited about the garden?” Yoongi teased. You flushed, clearing your throat sheepishly. 

“Of course, we can. I can’t wait to see your hard work.” Yoongi finished. That made you feel even more embarrassed. It was like a child pestering her parent to see her artwork. 

“I heard the garden was your mother’s?” You gulped. Yoongi seemed to falter for a few seconds before straightening up. 

“It’s not hers but she did enjoy maintaining it. She worked very closely with the royal gardener to constantly upgrade it to be better. Kind of like what you did today.” Yoongi explained. You nodded your head slowly. 

“Keeping it alive and maintained now is the best I can do for her, even after her death. She would not be pleased with me letting all her hard work go to waste. I’m not really good with plants but I’m glad Namjoon and the gardener take care of it. And now you help maintain it too. My mother would have greatly appreciated that.” Yoongi said. 

“She sounds like an amazing woman.” 

“Hmm.” Yoongi hummed. You mentally scolded yourself, of all topics, why did you have to mention Yoongi’s mother? 

“I felt like I lost the opportunity to get to know her better. My father never let her care for me as a normal mother should. He wanted her to care for him only and that was her flaw, constantly kowtowing to him.” Yoongi continued. 

“I don’t think it’s a flaw.” You said. 

“It’s not a flaw to give up all free will and follow a man, who’s not even loyal to you, like a dog? That you neglect your kid?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow. 

“That’s what you saw, Yoongi. I’m not saying you’re wrong, you could be right but was that how she really felt? Did you ever know her true intentions behind her actions? Maybe she never meant for you to feel neglected. I’m sure you had moments with her where she showered you with love.” You said. 

“Yes, I had my moments with her. But they were always short lived because my father ruined it. Every time I tried to tell myself she actually loves me, she proves me wrong.” Yoongi’s fists shook. 

“What if she was protecting you?” You asked. 

CLANG! 

Yoongi stood up with such force that the low table of bowls and cutlery flipped over, spilling food remnants all over the floor. You stared at the mess in shock, looking up at Yoongi. He breathed heavily, standing over you. 

“Leave.” He warned. 

“I’m sorry, Yoongi. I shouldn’t have-” 

“I don’t want your apologies. I said leave.” His eyes flashed anger as he shook. You immediately scrambled to your feet and pulled the door open. 

“(y/n) nim!” Jimin rushed to you. They had all heard the loud clash but were too afraid of entering the room. You stared at Jimin, lips pressed into a firm line. Turning away from him, you ran to your room. 

“(y/n) nim!” Jimin ran after you, leaving Hoseok, Seokjin, Jungkook and Namjoon. Usually, you would have fought back or argued with him but seeing the resentment and anger in Yoongi’s eyes, you knew he was warning you to leave before his temper took over so you decided to make a break for it. You were actually afraid he would hurt you. 

“J-Jeonha-” The 4 that remained bowed but all they felt was the silk of their king’s robes brushing against them as he exited the dining room. 

“(y/n) nim.” Jimin stood outside your door, knocking softly. He could hear the soft echoes of your sobs. It was like everything was back to the way it was on day 1 when you arrived. 

“I-I just n-need to catch m-my b-breath.” You tried to sound okay to Jimin, who didn’t believe you one bit. 

“Can I come in?” He asked softly. 

“I’d r-rather you n-not.” You croaked from your dark corner in the room. Jimin sighed. He didn’t want to leave your side, he wanted to make sure that you weren’t hurt, he wanted to comfort you and stop your cries. However, he knew that he shouldn’t force you too.

“Please.” He tried for the last time. 

“Come.” Your voice was soft but he heard it. Slowly the door creaked open and Jimin came in to see your huddled figure. Immediately, he went to help you up and led you to the bed to lie down.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.” Jimin whispered. You shook your head, you didn’t want him to feel guilty.

“It’s not your fault. It’s all mine. I shouldn’t have pushed him.” You said.

“What happened?”

“I brought up his mother. And it just escalated too fast.” You explained, regret written all over your face. Jimin softened as your eyes casted down with guilt. He took a clean handkerchief from the cupboard and gently wipe your face of its tears. He didn’t interrupt you and instead continued to listen as you explained what happened in the room.

“Jeonha’s relationship with his mother was always a touchy subject for him. But you didn’t know that.” Jimin spoke. 

“But I knew he was getting angry and uncomfortable. And yet, I continued to question him and doubt his feelings, the feelings he had been bottling up since he was a child.” You said. 

“That’s one of the reasons he resents Taehyung gun.” Jimin explained. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You know how Taehyung gun’s mother is. She was bubbly, kind and loving to Taehyung. She didn’t care that he wasn’t crown prince, he was just her son to her. Jeonha hated seeing them together.” Jimin started. 

“Jeonha wasn’t wrong in a sense... They did share their moments, like I said, they would be in the garden together. But all it took was for the king to call her and she would just leave jeonha there to stay with him. To jeonha, who was just a child, that was betrayal. Countless times.” Jimin explained. 

“And all I did was doubt him.” 

“Not true. You were right too. Jeonha didn’t see the fear in his mother’s eyes. She did try to speak up but what good comes out of defying the king. The king who can hurt your child, the crown prince.” Jimin smiled sadly. 

“How do you know all this Jimin? Aren’t you about the same age as Yoongi?” You tilted your head. 

“My mother worked as one of the queen consort’s servants before me. She saw everything and comforted the queen consort when she was upset.” 

“So Yoongi’s mother was trying to protect Yoongi...” 

“Yes. The king was very obsessed with the queen consort. He didn’t want to let anyone else her, even his own child. Yes, he had a harem of concubines but he always kept her by his side and never wanted her away for too long. She was someone special to him and he wanted her to only look at him. He was willing to hurt anyone who took her away, jeonha included.” Jimin said. 

“Jeonha grew up hating his mother. But a part of him still held to the few memories he had of her. The garden, for example. His mother is also the reason jeonha doesn’t believe in love.” He continued.

“That’s horrible. He must have felt so much hurt and felt all alone.” You hung your head down. 

“But I think you staying by his side has changed him.” Jimin lifted your head up with his finger. You stared at him in confusion. He giggled and just wiped your remaining tears. 

“Let’s get you washed up.” He helped you stand up and led you to the bathroom. You brushed your teeth and he combed your hair, helping you change out of your hanbok and into sleepwear. 

“Wait, Jimin. What did you mean by-”

“Get some rest, (y/n) nim. I’ll see you when the sun rises.” He smiled softly after tucking you into bed. 

“Goodnight, Jimin.” You yawned. Jimin exited your room. He stared at your door for a few seconds before he finally was able to turn and walk away.

-

Yoongi stood in his garden, his anger was slowly starting to dissipate. He scoffed, this dinner was supposed to be relaxing and a chance for him to get to know more about where you come from, ending with the both of you taking a walk in the garden with you showing him your new plants and flowers proudly. 

But you just had to bring his mother up.

“You always ruin everything.” He said to no one in particular. Well, he was referencing his mother, who wasn’t even alive anymore. 

“Why does it always have to end up this way?” Yoongi was now asking himself. He clenched his fists as the resentment for his mother bubbled within him. 

However, what caused his anger to fade was that he couldn’t ignore the memory of your eyes and how much fear was in them. As if you were actually afraid that he was going to hurt you. 

“I’m sorry, Yoongi. I shouldn’t have-” 

You actually apologised to him. He had expected you to argue back or stand against him but all you did was back away with fear and leave as you are told. What was happening to him? There was a dull ache in his chest that was never there before. When you spoke of your Yoongi, why did a new determination to prove that he was the better Yoongi appear? 

Yoongi sighed for the nth time. He lifted his head and stared at your window, which was now closed. Were you asleep? Or were you crying? 

“I swear.” Yoongi cursed himself. He subconsciously started walking and now found himself standing before your door. Gently, he knocked but there was no reply. He quietly opened the door to see you asleep. 

“Yoongi...” You called in your sleep. 

“I’m here.” Yoongi whispered. He honestly didn’t know if you were calling him or the other Yoongi but he was going to assume it was him you were calling out to in your sleep. 

“Just let me...” He didn’t know what came over him but soon, Yoongi was in your bed, holding you close to him. 

“What?” Your eyes shot open in shock, ready to kick the intruder in your bed. But looking down, you saw the locks of blonde. His face pressed into your abdomen as he held you tightly. You felt his tears wetting your night robe and the skin beneath. 

“She told me she loved me. But she never came back.” 

“I’m sorry, Yoongi.” You said softly, running your fingers through his locks. Even though Yoongi was slowly letting his guard down around you, this was the first time he let all his walls down. 

“I’ll never hurt you.” Yoongi looked up at you, moving up so your eyes met at the same level. 

“I’ll never hurt you. I promise.” He repeated, cupping your cheek. 

“Please don’t be afraid of me. Please.” He cried. You still didn’t respond but you did wipe his tears, drawing his head to your chest as you comforted him. Now you really saw it. You saw Yoongi as a child that was hurt by the world and just wanted someone to be there for him and tell him that he is loved.

~~

Series Masterlist

Tag list 1

@veronawrites​ @diamonddia-mond​ @georgie-me-myself-i​ @nlost21​ @aqueenieme​ @nello-rie​ @ireallylikeyourwriting​ @imascreamerbabymakemeamute​ @kimahnjung98​ @kimmieloveswho​ @aianloveseven​ @pb-n-juju​ @myggummy​ @baby-noodles​ @bt21chim​ @cait-with-luv​ @bbgniecyy​ @ggukkieland​ @awsome-small-k​ @huhuehuey​ @yeontanismypresident​ @strangeobjectmaker​ @mariana-mmtz​ @multicolourunicorn​ @zae007live​ @yiyi4657​ @writingdust​ @hqtetsurou​ @fangirl125reader​ @saveme-imfine​ @untamedgrape​ @simplymemyself​ @cheonsa-unnie​ @skyys-universe @carolinexkpop @vishakhas-world @tinyoonsblog @mamemimoimoi @iamsherlocked271 @samararose21 @cherry-suna

Tag list 2

@jinscharms​ @crewzie-chan​ @bunzom​ @socoldasice​​ @raemikaelson​ @kaithezaftig​ @yoonieebear @byeversley @ifellinluvwithdorks​ @lunasilver8​ @min-tata​ @someonekeepstakingmyusernames​ @ximenaxd14​​ @justbangtanthingz​ @danny-boy27​ 

[berylgrace]

149 pretty please <3

thank you so much for this one!! it came out SO soft and cute i can't it's ridiculous

“We started with one, and now we have seven. You have no chill.”

Annabeth sniffed haughtily. “I resent the accusation that I ever had any chill.”

It was impossible to mistake her for someone who had any level of chill as she stood in the living room before her fiancé. Her hair was still in last night’s bun, having loosened as she slept and flopping forwards in a mass of curls across her forehead. She wore his work hoodie and a pair of sleep shorts that were entirely swallowed by it. Her left arm was curled around the front of her body, and had six tiny kittens of various coats and colours nestled in the space between.

Percy laughed. “I would never imply such a thing. Just commenting on your general lack of chill.”

Annabeth sighed, craning her neck down to kiss the head of one of the babies. “Look, I know we should be giving them away to people. But have you considered: we keep them all.”

“Seven cats.”

“Why not? Look at their little faces.”

“I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Because if I look at them, I’ll say yes.”

Percy’s willpower was about as strong as Annabeth’s chill. The two had both been strongly self-proclaimed dog people - that is, until a cat had gotten into their house one evening. When it returned the following night, they decided to leave out a bowl of cat food they’d picked up at the store, and a dish of water in case it was a stray. Eventually they took it to the vet, cooed themselves into adopting it, and discovered afterwards that she was going to have kittens.

They’d agreed to adopt out the kittens, but then they had arrived and they had all been so gorgeous…

“I want to,” Percy admitted, grinning as Annabeth’s face lit up, “But it’s not super practical. What about when we have kids?”

She shrugged, her eyes still focused on the kittens. Gods of Olympus, he loved her. The greatest hero of their time, intimidating and powerful, cunning and strategic - besotted with these tiny fluffy babies. Annabeth’s heart of gold would never not be his favourite thing about her.

“It’s not like I’ll have six,” She replied, “So we’ll be fine. They’ll protect her!”

“Her?”

“We’re having a girl,” Annabeth breezed past her prediction like it was nothing, but Percy trusted her. She was usually right, after all. “Not six girls, though.”

He laughed again, all of the love for her inside him bursting out in the joyful noise. “I mean, if you keep pissing off Hera…”

“Good point. I’ll be nicer when we start trying.” She bent her head down again, this time going along the line to kiss each little baby between their ears. “I just love them so much!”

Right on cue, the mama cat - Bebe, Percy had called her - leapt up onto the couch, clambering into his lap and purring under his touch. Apparently every woman in Percy’s life, human or otherwise, was determined to manipulate him by sheer love-ability. He was one lucky, stupid son of a bitch.

“I do too… What the fuck is wrong with us?”

Annabeth shrugged again. “I don’t know. But I did not spend weeks waking up at stupid hours bottle-feeding this little runty one drops of milk not to keep them all forever and watch them grow big.”

“You sound like my mom,” Percy scratched Bebe’s ears, heart warmed by her happy stretch.

“We are their parents! I’m their mom!”

“Bebe’s their mom.”

“Grandparents, then.” Annabeth joined him on the couch, keeping the kittens close to her chest. In her defence, they adored her - she had a way of making them go from wriggly, restless beasts into snuggly angels, clearly as enamoured with her as she was with them.

It was so ridiculous and wonderful that Percy thought he might explode with love. “Gods, this is all moving so fast. Grandparents already? We’re not even married yet!”

“I know, how terrible!” Annabeth played along, resting his head on hers. “Sometimes a family is an engaged couple, their seven cats, and their future babies.”

Future babies. He couldn’t love her more.

“Miss Chase, it would be an honour to become a grandparent with you.”