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lisired · 17 days

Text

supermodel

pairing: photographer!haechan x (f) model!reader

genre/warnings: smut, angst, hollywood!au, photographer!haechan, model!reader, descriptions of vomiting, fluff, unsolicited comments, mentions of alcohol use (not while expectant)

summary: Five years ago, you left your hometown and ex to recreate your identity in California. Now, you're a staple of the fashion industry and on the front cover of magazines everywhere. Your hard work has paid off, but when you realize that you might be pregnant, you have to decide whether you want to be a full-time model or a full-time mother.

word count: 23k

a/n: at last, here she is! thank you for your patience, i know it was a long wait. this is a sequel to love jones. as always, feedback is appreciated!

Smiling from ear to ear, the giddy butterflies in the pit of your stomach just wouldn’t leave. Given that they’d been there for five years, it was safe to assume they never would.

Five years of romance. To celebrate, you and your boyfriend decided on cooking your own dinner at home. Your boyfriend was not a qualified cook (a couple of incidents and he was strictly prohibited and sidelined from food preparation duties) which made the night both fun and a nightmare.

When Haechan asked you for dinner suggestions, you were very adamant that you wanted lobster. Which surprised him, given that you’d been to a handful of seafood restaurants and you never expressed a taste for lobster, though he reckoned you wanted to be fancy for your five-year anniversary.

“Baby,” you whined. “Is it just me, or is it really hot in here?”

“It’s hot because you’re here,” Haechan flirted in a heartbeat. Some things never changed.

You rolled your eyes, whining, “Seriously. Aren’t you about to burn up? I feel like I’m going to die.”

“Only thing I feel like I might die of is hypothermia. If anything, it’s kinda cold to me, baby.”

You frowned, finding that questionably odd. You had already taken off his insulating leather jacket, left in nothing but a tank top, and you didn’t want to remove any other layers in fear of getting lobster juice all over yourself. Maybe it was a metabolism thing.

Haechan pointed to your wine glass with his own. “Aren’t you going to drink that? You always want wine.”

Glancing down, you noticed your filled wine glass that you had hardly touched. Even when you were out celebrating with your agent and a couple of other staff, you declined the offer for wine. Your agent was shocked. She knew you loved to get wine drunk. “Not really in the mood.”

If your boyfriend thought that something was out of the ordinary, he didn’t say anything.

After a while, you started to forget about your suspicious behavior. Time quickly lost its meaning as you chatted with Haechan, running your mouths like the two people who never shut up that you were. To this day you still perfectly matched each other’s energy. Five years down, a lifetime left to go.

You were twenty-six now, Haechan twenty-eight. Though your grandmother liked to joke that you were catching up to her, sometimes you didn’t feel like you were pushing thirty. Notably when you were with Haechan. His ability to make you feel like a teenager in love needed to be studied.

In those five years, not only had you developed your relationship with the love of your life, but you also made your name known within the industry. Of course, your success wasn’t without a couple of setbacks and near career-ending allegations, but you somehow came out on top in the end.

Haechan also had a lucrative career. From being hired to take pictures of lowkey performers on tour to becoming a chief photographer with his own studio that worked with wealthy media moguls, he had obviously come extremely far. And he was only getting more popular amongst affluent patrons.

All in the span of five years. You never would have guessed. Five years ago, you lived in a condo downtown. Now, you lived in a comfortable house with Haechan and you couldn’t be happier.

Out of nowhere, you started to feel as if you were going to be sick. You stood from the table, muttering “bathroom” when your boyfriend tossed you a baffled look.

Haechan let you be. He figured you just had to pee. You were doing that more often for whatever reason.

Though you tried to be indifferent about the sudden involuntary motions in your stomach, you were quick to make a beeline for the bathroom in fear of vomiting all over the floor.

You headed straight for the toilet and kneeled on the floor, bracing your hands on the seat while you retched and dry-heaved into the bowl. Your mouth felt almost painfully dry afterwards and all you could taste was the scorching feeling of bile.

This was absolutely ridiculous and you didn’t understand what was happening to you. Though you weren’t particularly a fan of lobster, you could usually handle seafood. Maybe having Haechan help you cook wasn’t the smartest idea.

Speak of the devil, he called from the other side of the door, “Baby, you good in there?”

“Uh, no,” you muttered just loud enough for his ears.

Haechan’s voice sounded alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

Wincing at the sight of greenish-yellow vomit, you flushed the toilet and stood to vigorously wash your hands. “I kinda threw up.”

“What? Was it something you ate? Baby, I love your cooking, but I’ve been trying to tell you that all that butter is not good for your stomach.”

“I really don’t think that’s the problem,” you droned irritably.

Haechan joked, “What - are you pregnant or something?”

Something about those words made you freeze right in the middle of drying your hands with paper towels. Pregnant, you realized. It was all coming back to you. Haechan fucked you raw not too long ago. And you couldn’t remember the last time you had a period.

Silence was never a good thing for either of you and the worry was evident in Haechan’s voice. “Baby, you’re not actually pregnant. Right?”

Your eyes were wide as you exclaimed, “I don’t know!”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” you said shakily.

The door opened, Haechan revealing himself. He was quick to notice the panic on your face and grabbed your hand in his, crooning, “Baby, talk to me. What’s going on?”

You inhaled a deep breath through your nose, exhaling one large puff of air. “Okay, remember I had my IUD removed?”

Haechan’s brows furrowed. “Uh huh.”

“And then I went off the pill because they were giving me migraines,” you added frantically.

“Yeah, so we started using condoms.”

“Right,” you said, nodding your head. “But that one time we ran out…”

Haechan continued, “And you begged me to fuck you anyway?”

“That’s not the point,” you hissed. “The point is we had sex without a condom, I don’t remember having a period, and now I’m puking everywhere.”

“Well, if two plus two equals four…,” Haechan trailed.

You snapped, “Can you be serious for once?”

Haechan grabbed your wrist, kissing the back of your hand tenderly to console you. “I am being serious. I think we should buy a pregnancy test or ten. Just to be certain.”

You reminded, “It’s late. All the pharmacies are closed.”

“Then, we go first thing tomorrow,” was Haechan’s solution.

His touches were enough to ease your mind for a little. You nodded in acceptance, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes. This was a frightening moment and you were glad that you weren’t alone.

As soon as the following day, you and Haechan were on your way to a local pharmacy on his motorbike. His red motorbike, might you add. Though the sleek black one was directly involved in a number of good memories, one too many stunts had maimed her. You surprised him with another one for his birthday last year and he fell in love without a second thought.

The pharmacy was busy at this hour. Though Haechan’s suggestion of getting ten pregnancy tests was somewhat dramatic, you did make sure to grab a couple packs of two. It was better to be safe than sorry, after all.

You rushed to the bathroom the second you were back home, telling Haechan you would be back after a moment to tell him the results. You were clear that he waited outside the door. Your brain amassed hectic thought after hectic thought and it was driving you crazy.

Over the next couple of minutes, you sat antsily on the toilet lid and waited. According to the instructions on the box, your fate would be decided in as little as a few minutes. If you waited too long, your results could display inaccuracies.

You were just so scared. If you were pregnant, that could change everything. Your nerves were worked and you could feel the stress in your shoulders as much as you tried to feign a semblance of order.

When the three minutes were up, you braced yourself with one big breath and found the courage to check the lines.

You sucked in a breath. Not a single one was negative.

“Oh my god,” you gasped.

“What’s wrong?” Haechan asked frantically, leaning against the door. This was just as nerve-racking for him as it was for you.

“They’re positive,” you exclaimed. “All four of them!”

That was Haechan’s cue to open the door, immediately grabbing a hold of you. You looked like your weight would drop to the floor any second now. “Okay, babe. Breathe,” he whispered.

You braced your hands on the counter. “I can’t. This is too much.”

“Sit,” Haechan said, holding you steadily in his arms. Like hell he would let you go in a time like this.

You sat on the fluffy toilet lid again, your head spinning. Nothing could describe how light your limbs felt in that moment. Or your head.

“There’s a one percent chance they’re wrong,” Haechan told you in reminder.

You shook your head. “Really? You think all four of them are wrong?”

Haechan took your tone in stride. “That’s not what I said. What I meant is I think you should contact your doctor. We can’t be too sure.”

Well, you couldn’t argue with that logic. It was the obvious thing to do. The second you calmed down enough to speak without shaky breath you called your health care provider and scheduled an appointment with your physician.

In a couple of days, you met with your primary physician, Haechan insisting that he wanted to be there. You made no argument. This baby was his just as much as it was yours and he made it a point to remind you that he wanted to be a part of every second.

For half an hour, the nurse's kind words in between constant beeps as she asked you for medical information was all you heard while your thoughts waged war. Even the faint chatter from the small TV mounted in the corner of the room didn’t register.

Footsteps jolted you out of your thoughts for a moment and you were a little more at ease when your doctor finally entered the patient room. There was a fleeting, kind greeting and she recounted your concerns as you’d briefed them over the phone just to be sure she was correct.

It was the most tense moment of your life. Had you not been holding Haechan’s fingers with one hand and bracing the chair with the other, you would have been chewing your nails.

After a couple of non-invasive tests, a suspenseful few minutes, and a transvaginal prenatal ultrasound, it was concluded that you were seven weeks pregnant. The whole room was reeling. Your doctor told you that she would have to run a few scans to ensure that you weren’t exposed to a high-risk pregnancy, but you could decide within two weeks if you wanted to terminate through medication.

Not only were you seven weeks pregnant, but seven weeks pregnant with dizygotic twins. Non-identical, your doctor explained. If you preferred, you could come back in three weeks to determine the sex.

“Twins,” you rasped. “Two babies. Wow.”

Sitting in your car, you gripped the seatbelt with your life. Haechan insisted that you take your car instead of his bike considering that you were more than likely pregnant, and since he didn’t know the risks associated with pregnant mothers on a motorbike, he decided it was better to play it safe.

Though your doctor revealed that minimum travel within the first few months of your pregnancy was generally not a threat unless you were going a lengthy distance. Much to your boyfriend’s happiness.

It was quiet while you two sat in the parking lot, save for the Mark Lee song playing faintly on the radio. He was grammy-nominated now.

There was a long pause before you could speak. Haechan was the same, looking paler than usual. You almost couldn’t breathe. Your head was still stuck in that neutral-toned hospital room and the scent of antiseptics still wafted through your nostrils.

The whole parking lot was upside down as you fretted, “I’m pregnant. Oh my god. Wow. I’m pregnant!”

“Hey,” Haechan started, reaching over the center console and grabbing your hands in his. There was another pause before he continued speaking. “We’re pregnant.”

Your eyes flickered. Then, you burst into laughter. That was the last thing you expected him to say.

Haechan was grinning, glad that he could make you laugh even if it was just for a moment. Your doctor was clear that stress was very harmful for the kids. “I’m serious!”

“Okay,” you replied. Though you were still giggling. “We’re pregnant.”

“You better know.”

You sighed, leaning against the door window. The ultrasound displayed not one, but two tiny embryos currently sharing your uterus. And they were only growing.

Handing the ultrasound to Haechan, you let it all sink in, starting, “When I was twenty-one, pregnancy was the last thing on my agenda. Jae wanted to slow down, but I didn’t want to stop. I was just getting started. I mean, I still am, it’s only been five years.”

Haechan flinched at the mention of your ex. It was rare that you brought him up in conversation. For good reason. “And you’ve still accomplished so much.”

“Yeah, but I wanna accomplish more. If I have a baby, I have to take a break from the grind to be a mother. And god forbid I let somebody else raise my kids,” you grumbled.

Haechan quickly saw what the problem was. “Okay, baby, stop. This isn’t the end. You’re pregnant, but that doesn’t mean you become my housewife and die. I wouldn’t ever try to put the brakes on you.”

“I know, but…”

“Listen,” he said. “We can always make more babies another time. Your life isn’t over.”

You huffed, “I have, like, four years before that ship sails and it’s in god’s hands.”

“Anything could happen in four years.”

You heaved another breath. “True,” you replied. Even two years from now you could decide that you wanted to settle down.

It just felt like there was so much at stake. You were a model, for fuck’s sake. Very much a celebrity. Not only did you love your job and having two babies mean you would have less time to devote to yourself, but everyone would be watching them the same way they watched you.

When you went out, there was guaranteed to be a camera not far behind. You couldn’t even get lunch with a friend without being borderline stalked wherever you went. Masks and disguises barely helped.

Anybody that was a friend of yours was a friend of the media. Your whole life was on the internet and there was always a magnifying glass being held close to your face. Every second of your life you were being examined and judged by people who didn’t even know you. Expectations were a constant weight on your shoulders.

“If I have these kids, I don’t want them to grow up in the eyes of the media,” you started sternly. “I subject myself to judgment and scrutiny every day I step out of my house. Babies don’t deserve that.”

Haechan bobbed his head in agreement. “Then, I watch them. And if I’m busy, then we get a babysitter.”

You huffed, “And trust a stranger with our child?”

The look of horror on Haechan’s face immediately declined that offer. “I’ve got family here. We can pay my cousin or something. Look, baby, we’ll figure this out. Together.”

You squeezed his hand, stifling tears. There was so much weight on your heart. It was almost suffocating until you remembered that you weren’t alone.

For the next couple of weeks, you mulled the decision over. You didn’t tell anyone that you were pregnant - not even your grandmother or Haechan’s parents, who referred to themselves as your in-laws, even though you and Haechan weren’t married.

That thought tickled something in your brain. Marriage, you hypothesized. And a family. Deep down inside, it was something you always wanted, but you never knew when. You always figured the day would come where you would just know.

That day had come.

It isn’t the end of the world, you consoled, having had time to be reasonable with yourself. You were far enough in your career where it wouldn’t weaken your income if you took some time to be lowkey. Haechan, the brainiac that he was, even suggested you endorse baby products.

Everything felt so earth-shattering to you that you’d been confused into thinking weighing your options meant you only had one choice. Your mind was quick to wander, wondering if that was a symptom of carrying a developing baby.

You breathed easier when it finally hit you that you didn’t have to choose between the career you loved and starting a family with the man you loved. Because you wanted both and you would have both. Even if it was in moderate amounts.

At ten weeks, you were back in the doctor’s office to determine the sex of your babies. Haechan was hoping for boys while you were hoping for girls. Imagine your shock when Doctor Stakes congratulated you on carrying a boy and girl.

By the end of the first trimester, you decided that you would be keeping the babies and your career. Haechan was both over the moon and a little anxious knowing that he would be a first-time father. Neither of you knew what you were doing and that made it as scary as it was exciting.

Still, nobody knew. Outside of your symptoms, it wasn’t too obvious. Your baby bump wasn’t very big yet.

“No smoking, no drinking, no hot tubs or saunas, moderate caffeine intake, no raw seafood,” you grumbled, recalling Doctor Stakes’ very detailed explanations of what was and was not healthy during your pregnancy.

“Well,” Haechan started, plopping down on your shared mattress. “She did say we could still have lots of sex.”

You immediately rolled your eyes. “I believe her exact words were sex will not hurt our babies as long as my pregnancy is without health complications and I don’t start to experience bleeding, high blood pressure, and premature contractions.”

Haechan gently grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his lap, retorting, “You look fine to me. How do you feel?”

“Good,” you sighed, getting comfortable on his thighs. “Different, but not bad different. Good.”

Haechan leaned into your ear and purred, “Which translates into good for lots of sex.”

You playfully hit him, pretending to be irritated. You knew he was only kidding. Kind of.

Doctor Stakes was straightforward but thorough in her explanations, walking you through the route of pregnancy with more than a couple of recommendations prioritizing the best potential health of you and your unborn babies. She said that sex was perfectly fine during the first five through six months. Something about your babies being cushioned by your abdomen and amniotic sac fluid.

Whatever the hell that is, you remembered thinking. She also suggested you enroll in a parenting class just so that you knew what to expect. It was not rare for first-time parents to take them and they were apparently super helpful.

It seemed strict, but you knew it was best for your children’s development, especially in the early stages. Though you would miss the freedom of your old life. “I kind of miss alcohol just because I can’t have it.”

“I’m not giving you any,” Haechan said, voice stern.

You snorted. “I wasn’t asking. I’m not an idiot. It’s just… this is my life now. It’s gonna be hard.”

Kissing your cheek tenderly, Haechan replied, “Well, if you can’t drink, I won’t drink either.”

That surprised you and you wanted to know if he was joking or not. “Seriously?”

“Duh,” Haechan said. “Like I said, we’re pregnant. Anything you can’t have, shit, I can’t have it either. I guess we’re both abstaining.”

“You don’t have to,” you whispered, though you liked the idea of him doing it anyway. It made your heart flutter.

Haechan shrugged. “Yeah, but I would feel like a dickhead for enjoying things that I know you can’t have right in your face. Besides, my liver is probably screaming ‘thank god.’”

You snickered, bringing your lips to his. That turned you on. You couldn’t even explain it. There was just something so hot and attractive about the words leaving his mouth and you decided you wanted him.

Letting your eyes flutter closed, you quickly tangled yourself in thoughts of him and him only; like a stimulant that only got more lethal with every hit. Sometimes it did feel that way. Like pleasure of this magnitude was too mind-numbing to be free.

Innocent touches became gestures of desperation. Haechan kissed you like he couldn’t get enough, hands zipping to your tender breasts while you looped your arms around his neck. He somehow only got better at kissing. You didn’t even know how that could happen.

Almost like you brought out the best in each other.

“Fuck,” you groaned, eyes snapping open.

Haechan instantly noticed and was quick to halt his actions in case he was causing you discomfort. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s just my boobs… They’re a little sore.”

Haechan chirped, “Nothing I can’t take care of.”

You giggled when he carefully lowered your weight onto the bed, lifting your shirt above your head and quickly getting rid of your bra. A moan left you when he caught a nipple in his mouth, gently kneading the other one in his hand.

There was something so addictive about the feeling of your boyfriend’s warm mouth on your body. You couldn’t help but exhale and moan, just comforted by the fact that he was supplying you warmth. His hands wandered, too, always soft and tender. Whatever moisturizer he was using was doing god’s work.

“Babe,” you sighed out. Both your mind and body were relaxed and that was exactly what you needed, all things considered.

His tongue passed over your erect nipples, feeling them harden at his touch. Your boyfriend’s goal was to make you feel completely worshiped and he was doing a great job, for lack of a better word. Given that you were the one responsible for carrying and birthing two babies, he concluded that god could only be a woman.

But you were getting way too worked up and it was driving you to the edge. “Baby,” you called. “I want more.”

There was an erotic wet sound when Haechan pulled away from your boobs. “Are you sure? I was just kidding about the whole sex thing earlier.”

“No you weren’t.”

“No I wasn’t.”

You snorted. Classic Haechan.

Haechan quickly sobered again, whispering, “But I still wanna make sure this is what you want.”

You appreciated his concern, but the longer you waited, the quicker the heat pulsed between your legs and you couldn’t shake it anymore. “Haechan, I literally could not be more sure when I say I need your cock inside me.”

King of playing it cool that he was, Haechan pretended that those words weren’t like throwing gasoline on a field of already blazing thoughts. At least until he got inside you. Then, he had no thoughts. Brain empty. And he couldn’t help but bare his soul to you.

Pussy made him talk. There was absolutely nothing that he could hide when he was balls deep inside you.

Haechan shifted between your thighs, thanking god that you decided to wear a skirt today. His patience was wearing thin by the second and knowing how much you wanted him only strengthened his need.

You could only feel your heart thumping and his body heat wafting over you. Other things seemed so much smaller and irrelevant than they were.

Your panties came off with a yank and your glistening folds had Haechan’s undivided attention. “Shit, you’re so wet. I didn’t even do anything,” he said marvelously.

“Shut up,” you huffed, though it wasn’t sincere. Little things about him being committed to being a father turned you on. He didn’t understand how scary it was to be alone.

Haechan chuckled. “As you wish.”

You knew it wouldn’t be too long before he opened his mouth again and you weren’t complaining.

Overcome with want and the need to do something, you lifted yourself up and crawled towards Haechan to help him undress his pants down his legs. Haechan let you do as much, but the second his bare cock was out, he was gently pushing you back down.

You pouted, lips tucking out. “I wanna do something.”

When you were comfortably on your back, Haechan started to rub his cock. “No,” he said, borderline teasing. “You can lay here and let me take care of you.”

His cock had your attention, your eyes fixed to how hard he was. “Okay.”

Haechan parted your legs again, gentler than typical. “On the plus side,” he started, holding his dick between your thighs. “I can’t get you pregnant if you’re already pregnant.”

You quipped, “That’s actually not impossible. Something called superfetation. I heard about it a couple of months ago after searching on Google for too long. It’s super rare, though. Don’t worry.”

“I am about to superfetate this pussy,” Haechan groaned, obnoxious.

“You’re turning me off.”

Haechan laughed.

After a moment of coating himself in your wetness and hearing your soft moans, Haechan decided he couldn’t take it anymore and slowly penetrated you. His jaw unhitched, more than a couple of sounds escaping him.

You weren’t any better. He just made you feel so full. You liked when he made it seem like it was only the two of you and you existed for each other.

Haechan was painfully hard inside you and desperate to move, though not before he said without room for argument, “Tell me if you want me to stop or if it hurts.”

You simply just nodded. There was nothing you wouldn’t do if it got him to fuck your brains out.

Then, Haechan started to move. His hands were on your hips, serving as an anchor so that he wouldn’t lose himself completely as he drowned in your wet pussy. In a similar manner, you braced your hands on his shoulders, holding onto him for dear life.

You were gazing at Haechan with one fatal combination of love and lust. They couldn’t be separated. Not after all the things that had been done and all the words that had been said. All you knew was that you had bared your body to him in the same way you’d bared your heart.

“Baby, don’t stop,” you sighed, eyes fluttering shut. “Don’t stop.” There was a pressure building inside the walls wedged between your legs and it only came out when he was steadily rocking his hips into you.

The whole room suddenly seemed a thousand degrees hotter and Haechan couldn’t breathe, exhaling loudly with labored breath. He couldn’t take that your pussy was so warm and tight, grumbling, “Fuck,” in between moans, smacking his hips into yours uncontrollably.

For a half second, you made eye contact with Haechan, just before he was sucking at the pulse on your collarbone and you couldn’t help but cry out his name, his chest creating friction against yours just enough to not be uncomfortable.

Haechan willed himself not to tighten his grip at the arc of your hips for the sheer reason that he didn’t want to hurt you. Not only did he not want to hurt you any more than you asked for, but the reminder that his children were growing inside your belly made him treat you like you were fragile.

He wanted to ask you to marry him, but he was terrified that it was way too soon. This pregnancy wasn’t even planned. You would probably have a heart attack if he asked for your hand in marriage. He was no stranger to being chided for moving too quickly, though it was just his nature.

Little did he know, you loved that about him. He could come off too strong sometimes, but beneath his fast jumps to get started was a zealous boy with big hopes for the future.

“I love you,” Haechan whispered, lips brushing against your skin.

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his again. “I love you. You’re my everything.”

“You’re my everything and then some,” Haechan flirted.

“You’re my everything and everything in between.”

Haechan started, “You’re my everything and…”

All it took was a kiss to the lips to effectively shut him up, grabbing his head and steering him closer to you. Like you weren’t already skin to skin. You sucked his tongue in your mouth, moaning at how his cock hit your sweet spot.

You were just so consumed by him - entirely. Though you knew that there was no closer the two of you could be, you’d be damned if you didn’t try.

Haechan’s hands wandered up to grab a handful of your breasts, gently squeezing the soft skin in his palms. He couldn’t get enough of the way you panted and sighed at his touch. There was no need for oxygen when he had you and he kissed you breathlessly until he thought he was going to die.

Haechan exhaled with his mouth hanging open, “You cheated.” His lips were perfectly swollen, the sight winning a smile out of you.

You giggled.

With how your walls were kneading and gushing around his cock, Haechan knew that he wouldn’t last. His mouth watered at the thought of coming inside you since it had been so long ago. That one time just short of two months ago excluded, obviously. Though he hadn’t meant for it to happen.

But first and foremost Haechan wanted to get you off and he steered a hand between your legs, thumbing your clit. You squirmed instantly, sensitive.

Little moans of his name kept escaping from your lips. “Haechan, I’m going to come if you keep doing that,” you warned, though rocked your hips into his to match his pace. The pleasure was different from before and the intimacy was even more intense.

Haechan chuckled breathlessly, staving off his orgasm for as long as he could. “That’s the point, baby.”

There was a resoundingly wet squelch as Haechan continued to bulldoze his cock into your cunt, breezing through the air. Your hands flew to your face as you covered yourself, embarrassed, but he pulled them away just as quick. “Don’t hide.”

“Don’t you hear that? I’m embarrassed,” you blurted.

Haechan shook his head, peering down at you with misty eyes, and growled, “Sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

You were breathless. Haechan silenced you by capturing your lips in one incapacitating kiss and you swore your heart stopped beating for a second.

He made it too easy to forget. Forget the all-consuming worries of eventual childbirth. The threat of kissing everything you’d ever known and wanted goodbye. And the fear of raising a child that might end up making the same mistakes as you.

No words left your mouth as you parted your lips in a silent scream, trembling with the pressure of orgasm. You were a total disaster - you couldn’t stop moving, shaking and grinding yourself onto him even as your orgasm aggressively passed.

Your orgasm ripped the soul out of you without leaving anything behind in a merciless act of overkill and you only slacked onto the mattress when it felt completely over. You heaved for breath, almost like you would never breathe again. You had never felt anything so vigorously. Every thought vacated your brain.

Haechan was obviously not far behind - if the frequent pitched moans you were milking out of him were any indication - and you were borderline begging him to fill you again. This was a different strain of desperation than the kind that got you pregnant. This was more lethal.

Your walls were pulsing around him and Haechan couldn’t take it, hissing your name when he came with a sharp cry. His hips didn’t still until he rode out his high, both of you moaning in a delighted sync when his cum dripped.

“Fuck,” Haechan sighed, finally noticing how fast his heart was pounding against his chest.

You started, “That was…”

“Intense,” Haechan finished.

You nodded in agreement. Though it was enjoyable nonetheless.

The two of you just sat there and wallowed in the afterhighs of sex for a bit. You were too exhausted to move and Haechan didn’t want to leave you alone. He spooned you in his arms for a total of fifteen minutes while the two of you chatted incessantly until you decided you finally had mustered enough strength.

Time was a blur when Haechan helped you to your feet - not that you needed it yet - and led you to the bathroom where he proceeded to run the shower for both of you. After playfully washing each other’s backs, you went back to the bedroom clad in nothing but towels.

For once, it was comfortably silent when you slipped back into bed. Then, to your surprise, Haechan started to cry. You gasped, “You’re crying!”

Hot tears stung Haechan’s eyes. Few things brought him to literal tears. He was just so over-thrilled to be the father of your babies. “Yeah.”

You cradled his face in your hands, kissing his lips. “We’re making two babies. We’re going to be parents. For the next eighteen years, they’re going to be our most paramount priority.”

Haechan knew that. You weren’t the only one that was going to be taking a step back from the grind, at least until you both grew a little more familiar with the parenting life. His decreased hours were non-negotiable and it helped that he was one of the co-owners.

Not only was he going to be a father, but he needed to take time to be an even more devoted partner to you. Both of you were responsible for these children and the very last thing he wanted was for you to feel like you were carrying the weight by yourself.

Wiping the tears out of his blurry eyes, Haechan said, “I can’t believe you let a guy like me get you pregnant.”

You furrowed your brows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That I’m not exactly the type of dude people look at and go ‘he’s going to make an incredible father.’”

You liked that Haechan was being vulnerable with you. He started doing it more often ever since he realized that his indifference could drive you away. His feelings were deeper than he tended to lead on. When it came to you, he was an open book.

“You’re going to make an incredible father. There. I said it,” you whispered.

Haechan smiled, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. That was all he needed to hear.

At sixteen weeks, your baby bump still wasn’t protruding even though you were definitely carrying twins. Doctor Stakes reassured you that everybody’s journey was different and your pregnant belly very well might not pop up until the end of the second trimester.

And since you hadn’t announced that you were pregnant (you were conflicted), you working was still fully expected. Nobody asked questions. You considered yourself pretty damn slick.

That was, until your agent knocked on your trailer while the crew were breaking. She was a down-to-earth, middle-aged woman named Patricia.

“Hey,” you greeted, letting her inside. “Something wrong?”

Shutting the trailer door with a thud (this particular company tended to have faulty trailer doors), Mrs. Patricia shook her head gently. “Not particularly. I was curious about something and I wanted to speak with you woman to woman.”

That had your undivided attention. You set down the water bottle you’d been gulping back and prompted, “Yes?”

Mrs. Patricia started, “Excuse me if I’m overstepping, but… are you expecting?”

You blinked. “Is it obvious?”

“It’s in your nose.”

Your hand went up to your nose and you exclaimed, “What’s wrong with my nose?”

She gave you a look that sternly told you to lower your voice and replied levelly, “There is nothing wrong with your nose, but it is swollen.”

You had no idea what she was talking about and it was evident on your face.

Mrs. Patricia explained, “Fluid retention. I had a swollen nose and hands during my pregnancy with my twenty-year-old, but it went away after my postpartum period.”

“Oh,” you replied quietly.

“Congratulations, by the way. I think you would benefit from following up on the symptoms of pregnancy, just so that you know what to expect,” she suggested. “Again, I don’t mean to overstep.”

Though your mind was at a billion different places, you forced a smile and said, “No, it’s okay - thank you!”

But the second you came home, you were a different person.

“Babe,” you called out, setting your keys in the tray near the door. Haechan told you that he would be home by now and you saw his motorbike parked in the garage. “Babe!”

Given the distance, his voice was faint, but you heard a faraway, “I’m coming!”

You stood there and patiently removed your shoes while you waited. There were now a handful of other things weighing on your mind and you didn’t know how to handle it by yourself.

Haechan zipped downstairs, pleased to see you at the end of a long day. His hair was a beautiful mess at the top of his head and you could only guess he had been playing video games with Jaemin and Mark.

Not that you were concerned about any of that right now.

“Hey, baby. How was your day?” Haechan asked, coming up to you to trap you in a bear hug. Like he did everyday.

But you weren’t at all in the mood for any of it, ignoring his question completely. “Is my nose swollen?”

That obviously wasn’t what Haechan thought you were going to say. “Huh?”

“You heard me.”

Haechan drew back, realizing you were in one of your moods again. Doctor Stakes mentioned that you were prone to mood swings and he would just have to deal with it in the gentlest way he could. “I mean, I didn’t wanna say anything, but it’s a little...”

“Oh my fucking god,” you exclaimed, stepping around him and bolting for the kitchen.

Haechan was hot on your heels. “Babe, wait up!”

You threw open the snack pantry door, scanning them for your favorite chips, before remembering that you finished the bag last night. “Fuck, I forgot to order from the store!”

The words were right on his tongue, though Haechan knew better than to tell you to calm down. He was no stranger to your temper. His voice was level, calm. “We can always order more.”

Fresh tears dampened your face, burning while they blurred your vision. Reality was a mean little bitch with a hard punch. “Damn the chips! I can’t believe this.”

Haechan assumed it was a model thing. They were strict about your appearance and you always had to look a certain way. It was part of the reason why he never saw your career as an option for himself, though he wasn’t going to snitch about your junk food indulgence.

Tentatively reaching out for you, Haechan kissed your face and cooed, “Hey, baby, listen to my voice. Your body is going to change. The doc said that’s completely normal. It’s nothing to lose your shit over.”

“It’s everything to lose my shit over!” you wailed. “I’m not mad about my fucking nose - I’m mad because I know nothing about bringing a baby into this world and I’m going to be a shit mother!”

“Don’t you dare say that,” Haechan told you, stern but still tranquil. You wholeheartedly envied it.

“It’s true,” you huffed, sinking against the refrigerator. “My nose is swollen. I literally didn’t even know that was a thing! If I don’t know minor fucking details, how am I going to know how to parent?”

While you knew your agent had no foul intentions by commenting about your nose and there wasn’t a single mean bone in her body, you wished she would have kept it to herself. You couldn’t stop thinking about how you didn’t have this under control. This baby-making shit was not your strong suit.

Other than the sex itself, although that was the last thing on your mind right now.

It was completely unexpected for Haechan’s voice to drop the way it did. You had never seen him so serious. “We can take classes. Doctor Stakes recommended them, you know.”

You grumbled, “Why didn’t Doctor Stakes tell me that I was going to get a new nose?”

“She did, actually. Something about…”

“Fluid retention, I know. My agent told me,” you replied snappily. You were finally calming down, though hardly. Pregnancy came with its fair share of frustrations. Though it was also accompanied by the lack of energy to express them all.

Haechan helped you off the ground, clearing your face of any tears with his thumb. “Is she the one that commented on your nose?”

You shrugged your shoulders but answered, “Yeah.”

“I think your agent should mind her bitter, decrepit business,” Haechan spat, though his tone was completely noncommittal.

You snorted. “She’s not bad, Haechan.”

“I don’t care. It’s bad manners.”

You couldn’t argue with that. But it was nothing worth getting a new manager over and if anything you would just talk to her about boundaries. The only reason she was even on set was because you wanted her there.

“The point is,” Haechan started, grabbing your hands and locking your fingers in his. “Every problem has a fix. I don’t know shit about this, either. You think I’ve been a father before? Must I remind you that you’re the only girl I’ve ever came inside of?”

You folded your arms. “And the only one you ever will.”

Haechan snickered, bobbing his head. You were lightening up and he could breathe a little easier. “Yes. And the only one I ever will.”

You let out a shaky breath. Though you still felt like ripping your hair out, you no longer felt the need to scream. Your lungs had had enough for one night. “Fine.”

“We’ll take classes together. I already managed my hours, so I’ve got time. You should tell the people you work for that you’re pregnant,” Haechan suggested.

You nodded. His constant touches killed your doubts again. Ultimately, they were no match against the love of your life. “How are you so nonchalant about this?”

Haechan shrugged like he had absolutely zero clue. “Old habits die hard, I guess?” He was internally panicking, but excellent at hiding it. Always had been.

You hummed. Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing ever.

“And by the way, you’re beautiful. Swollen nose or not,” Haechan said. “I think it’s cute.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Cute?”

“Yeah. Fits your face.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want to put up with a hysterical pregnant lady,” you droned.

Haechan didn’t try to deny it. Instead, he decided to lighten the mood, chirping, “Well, that’s what I get for being silly and not wrapping my willy.”

You forced your lips into a line, fighting a laugh. “That’s so stupid.”

“No glove, no love,” Haechan persisted, eager to get a laugh out of you. He wanted to see your shoulders shake and your nose do that cute thing it always did when you laughed at his jokes.

You playfully exclaimed, “Quit it!”

“You can’t go wrong if you shield your dong.”

That was the last blow your self-restraint could take and you finally burst out laughing like he wanted you to.

Haechan was sporting a triumphant smile. He was always glad to put a smile on your face. Even (especially) for the most idioticly absurd of reasons.

Your outburst eventually fizzled out and you thought back on something he said a couple of minutes ago, musing aloud, “Speaking of telling people that I’m pregnant, we haven’t told the clique.”

Haechan nodded. “I haven’t even told my parents. They’re gonna be so mad we waited almost twenty weeks. My mom’s been nagging me about when she can expect grandkids.”

“We should have a party. Get the gang in town and host a gathering at your parents’ house or something,” you proposed.

Haechan’s brows furrowed. “Like a gender reveal party?”

You winced. “Goodness, no. Just, like, I don’t know. A pregnancy reveal party. But they can guess if they want.”

That wasn’t the best idea. Mark and Ryujin would probably have opposite guesses and flip the table over. Grabbing your wrist to press a kiss to the back of your hand, Haechan said, “Well, you know Mark’s been in Canada for the past two months and Winter is everywhere, but I’ll see what we can do.”

You didn’t want to get your hopes up - nowadays it was rare for all of you to be in town at the same time - but that had you excited. You couldn’t wait to share the good news. “I had another idea, too,” you whispered softly.

Haechan led you to the living room so that you could sit down and asked, “What’s that?”

Once you were off your feet, you played coy and confessed, “We should have a photoshoot at your studio when my bump gets big. Just me, you, and the two babies in my belly. A grand reveal to the entire world that I’m officially a mother.”

“Sold,” Haechan hummed in approval.

You couldn’t stop smiling. A part of you couldn’t wait for it to happen. Doctor Stakes mentioned that it could feel like your stomach grew out of nowhere.

Within the next couple of days, you communicated with your consultants and the management at your agency and notified them of your pregnancy. You divulged that you were sixteen weeks along and fully intended to be a mother to your children.

And in no uncertain terms. Given the flexibility of your schedules and hectic hours, they agreed that it was only fair you took off as much as you took on. You were offered six months, which you accepted thankfully, and were told to inform them when you would be starting two weeks in advance.

When you delivered the news to Haechan, he couldn’t contain his excitement. Everyday the ongoing reminder of your looming childbirth settled in. His kids were developing inside your womb. He was going to be a father. You were going to raise two kids together in your shared home and every time he realized, he fell more and more in love with the thought.

Only a few weeks later you were at his parents’ house watching Haechan and his father set up from the kitchen. Though you wanted to at least help with the baking, his mother was unshakeable in her ways and rigidly told you to sit and not move.

She wanted her grandkids delivered in the best possible health. His parents were enthusiastic to discover that you were pregnant, though not without slight scolding. But they weren’t against a celebration.

“I knew it. You know, a mother always knows,” his mother had told you while her son and his father were in the living room.

You heard a knock at the front door a couple of hours later and separated from Haechan who was making out with you while his parents weren’t looking to greet your friends. The first person you heard was Mark.

“What up,” Mark exclaimed when he strolled inside like he owned the place.

Ryujin wasn’t far behind, obviously, but behind her was her boyfriend, Sunwoo. Every now and then, you were reminded that the guy actually existed, although he had come home from Chicago years ago.

You gave them each kind hugs. “Hi, guys. Long time, no see.”

Ryujin spat, “Mark gets a Grammy nom that he didn’t even win and acts like he’s too cool for us now.”

“God forbid a man gets busy and goes to his home country,” Mark droned in stride. “Besides, I’ll get it next year.”

You nodded in approval. That was the spirit.

“It’s good to see you, man,” Haechan said, pulling Mark in for a brief hug after doing the same with Sunwoo and Ryujin.

Mark patted him on the back. “Same, dude. It’s good to have all of us together again.”

Sunwoo picked up some candies that were collecting dust in a bowl on the coffee table. “Are these peanut butter?”

“Yup,” you retorted.

He quickly sat it back down.

Ryujin explained dryly, “He’s allergic.”

Pinching Haechan’s arm, you gave him a stern look, knowing he was on the verge of a snicker.

You remembered something and mentioned to Mark, “Oh, by the way, I’ve been hearing your new single on the radio. It’s really good.”

There was a faint blush across Mark’s cheeks. “Thanks,” he chirped.

“I did the cover art,” Ryujin added.

Mark whined, “Why can’t you ever let me have my moment?”

You chuckled. It was good to have them all back. Other than Sunwoo, you were pretty updated on what they all had going on and though it drove them out of the city sometimes, you were endlessly happy for them. Mark was obviously the next big thing and was busy making global hits, touring the seven seas.

On the other hand, Ryujin worked from home more often than not, typically only leaving California to go on vacation. She did art commissions notably for wealthy patrons and pitched in with Mark’s creative team whenever needed.

Chaewon was also frequently home, owning a hair and nail salon here and all. You and Winter definitely took pictures and credited her in your Instagrams stories. Speaking of Winter, she was everywhere, much like you. More than once, you collaborated in a photoshoot or went to Paris Fashion Week together.

Which left Jaemin. He was much more lowkey. After giving his master's degree last year, he finally started to work as a mechanical engineer. You couldn’t believe how smart he was, having skipped a grade and all.

The others showed up a little later. Your stomach was turning with a mixture of nerves and excitement. You couldn’t wait to get the news off of your chest. You smiled when Haechan looped an arm around your waist, almost like he could sense your whirlwind of feelings.

Some dancing and singing at the top of your lungs later and your worries were promptly forgotten. Chaewon, Winter, and Ryujin danced with you while the boys were laughing in their own circle. The whole room was entirely too chaotic and Haechan’s parents escorted themselves out minutes ago.

Now it was time for the kids to really party.

Mark, under the impression that this party was just a small get-together for friends who didn’t get to see each other often, glanced at you and asked, “Okay, rum, tequila, or vodka?”

You winced. “Oh, no. I can’t.”

Mark gaped. “What? I’m on tour for a few months and now you don’t drink?”

“Yeah, um, about that,” you said, gesturing for Haechan to cut down the music. “I have something to tell you guys.”

“You’re taking care of your acne? You’re breaking out more than usual,” Mark blurted without malice.

Haechan cocked him a glare, deadpanning, “You know, Mark, it amazes me how you can always be so close yet so far away.”

Everyone was gazing at you with baffled looks. Then, you set your hand on your stomach, and it clicked. Mark gasped, “Don’t tell me…”

“I’m pregnant,” you announced, giggling when Haechan curled his arms around your waist as he hugged you from behind.

He was quick to correct, “We’re pregnant.”

“Yes,” you said with a chuckle. “We’re pregnant.”

The nerves were back with a vengeance. You knew they were all going to have distinct reactions and the anticipation was killing you. You thought they might have chided you for being stupid.

As it turned out, there was a chorus of excited noises and “congratulations” that you could hardly make out. Everybody was trying to speak over each other and you had to add, “Okay, one at a time. Please.”

Chaewon wasn’t shocked, almost like she expected it to happen, but had her hands on her hips in her typical fashion. “I’m your best friend and you didn’t tell me you were pregnant?”

You winced. “Sorry.” Expected backlash, you thought.

“It’s okay,” she said, shoving Haechan out of the way to pull you in for a hug. Much to his annoyance. “I’m so happy for you.”

You chuckled at the sound of Haechan huffing from beside you. “Thanks.”

Mark was next. There were literal twinkles in his eyes. “I’m going to be an uncle?”

“Absolutely. Your niece and nephew are going to love you,” you retorted happily.

Winter gasped, “You’re having twins?”

You bobbed your head. “Yes. One girl, one boy. We both wanted different things so I guess that was the universe’s way of being a diplomat.”

Winter snorted in amusement. She could already guess what your preferences were. “Oh, wow. Congratulations. Jaemin and I definitely aren’t having kids, so I’m cool with being the rich auntie.”

“Mm, three rich aunties. They’re going to be so lucky,” you dragged.

Haechan droned, “And extremely spoiled.”

You giggled.

Sunwoo and Ryujin walked up to you. Ryujin was staring at you in adoration. “Have you painted the nursery? If not, can I please help?”

That was an absolute no-brainer. “We haven’t done a lot of things. We need as much help as we can get.”

Sunwoo glanced between you and Haechan and said, “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, man,” Haechan said, holding out his hand.

Sunwoo firmly shook your boyfriend’s hand. Then, he looked to Ryujin, parting his lips to speak, and she snapped with a shake of her head, “Nope. Never.”

Sunwoo frowned.

You giggled. It didn’t take a genius to understand he was about to ask her about having kids someday.

Jaemin looked like he couldn’t believe his ears. Though, he had to admit it made sense. You and Haechan just couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. “You’re pregnant?”

“Very.”

“Wow,” he replied, shaking his head in disbelief. “And I thought we had enough Haechan walking around.”

“Dude, I’ll kick your ass,” Haechan hissed.

Jaemin threw up his hands in a gesture of innocence. “Kick my ass after the party’s over.”

Winter wandered over again, a drink in her hand, and quipped, “You know, this whole time I thought you were going to get Haechan pregnant.”

That got a giggle out of you. “No worries. I’m gonna peg him tonight.”

Haechan was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

While you went to go find Chaewon and whisper something in her that made a smile crawl its way onto her lips, Haechan and Jaemin excused themselves from the room for a minute.

The garage was hot and stuffy, a stark contrast from the ventilated and free energy of the party, but it was the perfect place to have a private conversation ideally without any unwanted listeners.

Haechan mounted one of his dad’s old bikes (his father was still an avid bike fan no matter how long it had been since he rode one). He wasn’t going anywhere, but he needed a distraction.

Holding a beer, Jaemin nudged his best friend and asked, “You don’t want a drink?”

“No, I can’t,” Haechan replied, voice distant.

Suit yourself, Jaemin thought. Then, thinking back to something you said, he teased, “Guess she was serious about that pegging shit, huh?”

Haechan snapped, “Do I ask you how you’re fucking Winter?”

Jaemin made a face before downing what was left of his beer. “Good point, my friend.”

Haechan was obviously in his head, which meant nothing good. As always. He wasn’t unhappy - the opposite, rather - but this was one of those days where everything felt unreal.

If there was anything he knew, it was that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. His little voice in his head snapped, Damn eighteen fucking years. You were his until he died.

The silence was getting off-putting, thus Jaemin started, “So, a baby.”

“Yeah,” Haechan answered blankly. It was almost like he wasn’t ever there. His surroundings be damned.

Jaemin was officially miffed. “You wanted to come out here to talk to me about something, man. Open up, brother. What’s on your mind?”

Haechan shook his head. He was in desperate need of direction. He huffed, “I don’t know, bro. I’ve never felt shit like this before.”

That piqued Jaemin’s attention. All he could think of was how badly his brother in everything but blood needed a drink or a cigarette, though he correctly assumed he was abstaining for your sake. “Like what?”

“That’s the thing. I can’t explain it. I mean, I put a baby in her,” Haechan started, conflicted. “Two babies. You know that we wavered a long time before she decided that she wanted to keep them?”

“Well, I do now.”

Haechan’s features were tensed in his typical pensive gaze. “I support her regardless of what her decision would have been, and I made sure she knew that, but I was secretly hoping that she wanted to keep it. Because I realized what I wanted.”

Jaemin prompted, “What do you want?”

“Everything. I wanna do the whole nine. I wanna start a family with her. I wanna pick up the kids after school. Make the three of them breakfast in the morning. I wanna spend every second of my life next to her. When I die, I want to be buried next to her grave.”

Jaemin tilted his head with suspicion. “Haechan, do you wanna marry her?”

“Yeah. I wanna marry her,” Haechan answered. He was finally confirming it - aloud. “Is it too soon?”

“That’s not for me to decide,” Jaemin said kindly.

Haechan sighed.

Jaemin gave him a pat to the shoulder and added, “Hey, bro. The worst she can say is ‘no.’”

There was a war-waging storm inside of Haechan. He was prepared to kiss the ground that you walked on. “She’s the mother of my babies…,” he trailed.

Though Haechan tried to blink his tears away, his emotions and love for his family was too goddamn strong. His heart beated for the three of you. This paternal responsibility added a brand new meaning to his life. A different purpose.

Jaemin noticed his best friend’s tears and immediately opened his arms. “Dude, come here.”

Haechan marched over and let Jaemin sweep him into a borderline aggressive hug. There was thunder in his heart and he could feel it shaking everything he’d ever known. This kind of euphoria was foreign to him, but he never wanted it to stop.

When he pulled back, Haechan wiped his face and muttered, “Don’t tell them I cried.”

Jaemin snickered, patting his friend on the back. “Don’t worry, man. I got you for life. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Haechan blew out a shaky breath. “By the way, my girlfriend and I talked, and we decided that we want you to be the godfather.”

Jaemin pointed to himself with his finger. “Me? Why not Mark? What do I know about god?”

Haechan snickered. “Think of it as being the highest ranking uncle.”

“I like that. Uncle Jaemin. It’s got a nice ring to it,” Jaemin replied, nodding with approval.

“What about Dad?”

Jaemin grimaced. “That’s not funny. I have nightmares about that.”

Haechan laughed.

As soon as that was over, Haechan and Jaemin slipped back into the party so naturally it was almost as if nothing ever happened. He found you sipping on an iced tea in an attempt to quench your thirst.

You cocked a brow at him. “Everything okay?”

Haechan bobbed his head. Then, he stole your glass out of your hands and took a sip, much to your annoyance. “Yeah. Why?”

“Just asking,” you replied, snatching your drink back.

Tempted to giggle, Haechan held it back when a thought crossed his mind. “I’m not having second thoughts.”

“I know.” You also knew his secret, familiarized with the little gleam in his stare, though you decided against mentioning it.

Haechan grinned, taking your available hand in his, and asked, “Wanna dance?”

“I was wondering when you would ask,” you retorted, setting down your glass and leading him to the center of the floor.

Heat fluttered in your chest when you felt Haechan get closer to you. With his hands at your hips and yours at his shoulders the two of you started to sway around the floor, earning a number of exhilarated noises from your friends in the room.

But it still felt like it was just you two, like it did all those years ago when you realized for the first time that there was something so different about him. For lack of a better word, he was just so mesmerizing. You remembered wanting to know everything there was about him.

Bliss made you close your eyes and make a wish to the stars, hoping for an eternity with the man you loved and the life you made together as partners.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Sunwoo excuse himself from this fascinatingly beautiful moment to accept a phone call. Not that you minded. You were entranced in that moment and everything else had little consequence. Your heart was dancing inside your chest and on the floor.

Haechan pressed a kiss to your brow, looking at you with total undeniable affection. His eyes were sparkling again though not with tears - with adoration. This man would steal the moon for you and then proceed to wish on every star for a thousand more moons to gift you.

Only if he knew that there was an impending danger he should’ve wished away.

Sunwoo entered the room again and walked towards the two of you, which made you both stop and curiously gaze at him before he said, “It’s for you.”

You were baffled. “Who is it?”

“Jeno.”

Haechan’s face paled.

Without thinking, you took the phone and pressed it to your ear, then said less than amicably, “Hello?”

Jeno’s voice was quick to fill your ears, an air of surprise to his tone when he spoke your name. “Hey. Don’t hang up, please.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t,” you hissed.

The room was silent while you talked. The music was cut again and everybody’s eyes were fixed to you, watching this phone call unfold with interest. Nobody dared to say a word, but the disdainful feelings were pretty much obvious. The anger in Haechan’s eyes almost matched the ire in yours.

“Because I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” you repeated. “That’s all you have to say?”

Jeno sighed from wherever the hell he was. “Listen, I want to talk, but I don’t want to have this conversation over the phone. I was thinking maybe we could meet up somewhere.”

“Just a second,” you replied, handing Sunwoo back his phone while you dragged Haechan over to a corner.

Judging from the mere force of your actions, you were clearly upset and it didn’t take a genius to point that out. Haechan was ready to pummel this guy to the ground for your sake. “What happened? What did he say?”

“He wants to meet up. I guess he wants to apologize,” you whispered.

Haechan exclaimed, “What?”

You put your finger to his lip. “He said that he was sorry.”

Frustration made Haechan cross his arms with a mean-looking scowl on his lips as he huffed, “And you want to entertain this fool?”

You shrugged. You were obviously angry and feigning indifference, covered head to toe in unadulterated rage, but there was something in you that wanted to give Jeno the benefit of the doubt. “Call it curiosity. But I’m not going out pregnant. I’m not ready for the world to know yet.”

“Okay, so I go.”

You had already thought of that, pondering all your options in a five-minute time span, but quickly responded, “Yeah, but I kind of wanna be there when shit goes down. How about we invite him over?”

Haechan was seething. “You want to invite him over to the house where we’re going to raise our son and daughter?”

“We need a bigger house anyways,” you answered flatly, exhaling a breath.

“Bigger than ours?”

“Bigger than ours.”

Haechan frowned for a moment, though after a moment or two of contemplation, he relented. “Fine. But I want to do all the negotiating.”

You bobbed your head. “Fair.”

Haechan politely asked Sunwoo for his phone again, then switched on a dime when he spoke sharply, “Hello?”

Neither of you could see the way Jeno’s eyes flickered with shock. “Haechan.”

Haechan snapped, “Don’t give me that shit, man. Did you change your number?”

Jeno faltered with confusion. “No?”

“Good. I’m going to text you our address. You’re going to be at our front door step tomorrow afternoon at two o’clock sharp or else you’ll be turned away at the door. And you better tell me something I want to hear or I’m kicking your ass.”

There was a lull of silence as Jeno processed those words.

Haechan immediately added, “Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Goodbye,” Haechan said, promptly hanging up the phone and returning it to its owner.

Mark was not shockingly the first to speak. “That was… intense.”

You shrugged. “I thought it was hot.”

“Of course, you did,” Mark teased.

Haechan shook his head. It felt like the more the days passed, the more there was on his mind.

Regardless of unfortunate events, you refused to allow them to ruin the celebration. Assertively, you demanded that somebody put the music back on and encouraged your boyfriend to bust a move. Socializing and having fun was the quickest way to make him forget the unforgettable.

Even though you were less expressive in your contempt, it obviously put you at unease as well and you were also in fine need of an effective distraction. A drink would have been nice for knocking back inhibition, but you’d resigned yourself to the fact that you had months before that was a viable solution.

Plus something that you learned as you bordered closer onto your thirties was the significance of letting loose without the need for recreational use. There was something more special about bonding sober.

Priorities shifted. Like how you were steadily beginning to value your personal life over your career and image. When you were in your early twenties, everything felt more life-and-death than it was. Now, the most pivotal moment of your life would be successfully giving birth.

Later that night, those were the thoughts battling in your mind until noon that day. It seemed like every day you were making changes in your day-to-day routines to accommodate your new life. Changes that you were so certain at one point would feel like the end.

You knew now it wasn’t anywhere close to the end. If anything, it was a new beginning and a transition to a new stage of your life. You were standing at the threshold of parenthood.

That wasn’t to say you were going to remain indoors for the rest of your life until you wilted and succumbed to eventual fate. Or become a housewife and die, as Haechan had humorously put it. Granted, you realized how vital it was to be a little more laid-back and would undoubtedly shelter your children, but you were already fantasizing about sending the kids to the grandparents for a fun night out.

You wondered if Jeno had changed. All things considered. He was older, too, and closer to Haechan’s age than he was yours. Though five years didn’t seem like too long ago, you had seen a quantity of things occur in that time.

And you weren’t just talking career-wise, though that technically helped your case. You were in no way a stranger to the upward spiral of Jeno’s career. Like you, he had a successful career in the fashion industry, walking down runways and posing for big shot photographers.

On more than one occasion, you’d been invited to events at the same time, though you had considered yourself lucky to not have any face-to-face encounters with him and simultaneously practiced your professional skills if it inevitably were to happen.

Maybe it was for the better. A way to prepare you for the hell that was today. Still, you couldn’t deny being anxious as you lounged on your couch.

Checking your watch and noting that it was a minute before two, you exhaled, “What if he just doesn’t show up?”

Not a moment later, the doorbell rang. Oh, you thought to yourself. He’s always been punctual.

“You have your answer,” Haechan droned.

You took three stabilizing breaths when you watched Haechan leave the room to answer the front door. Maybe you should have let him take care of this. No, chided the voice in your head. This is both of your history. He shouldn’t go through this alone.

Especially not when he was evidently opposed to it and only agreed because it was what you wanted.

There was a disturbance in your brain when you saw Haechan round the corner and return with Jeno. This guy had essentially been off of your radar for so long that it was jarring to be confronted with the fact that he wasn’t a figment of your imagination.

Jeno spoke your name. “Hi.”

You waved. As of this second, you didn’t have anything to say to him.

“You can sit,” Haechan said when he sat next to you on the loveseat. He sounded bored.

Jeno perched on the chair across from you, fumbling with his hands. You didn’t know Jeno for as long as Haechan had, but you still had never seen him anxious.

You scanned your memory for any recollection of him being anything other than cocky and confident and ultimately turned up empty. His raging ego and dilated pride was his vice and had cost him more than you’d ever known.

Impatiently, Haechan prompted, “Well, are you here to twiddle your thumbs or…”

Normally, you would pinch his thigh for rude comments, but today he had a free pass.

Jeno lifted his head to meet both of your eyes when he finally started, “I’ve spent six months trying to practice what I would say if I ever got the chance to apologize.”

Both you and Haechan had your arms folded, stubborn. Save for the unignorable vexation, your faces were borderline inscrutable. He picked the wrong duo to fuck over. The two of you were unrelenting.

Jeno let out a little sigh and promptly continued, “I say six months, because it took me four years and a half to understand just how badly I fucked up. At first, it didn’t bother me that I lost seven friends on the same day. I was arrogant. I thought I didn’t need friends.”

You almost laughed. Almost. That much was obvious.

“And I had that mindset for a long, long time. There’s just something about when you’re super young and you feel like you have the whole world at your feet. Obviously, the popularity didn’t help. When I started to become famous, people wanted to hang out with me.”

“Yeah, that tends to happen,” you quipped smartly. “They see you’re the next big thing and they hold onto you because that’s what you’re there for. To be their one-way ticket to stardom. Then, when they get what they wanted, you’ve exhausted your purpose.”

“Yeah.” Jeno bobbed his head in agreement.

Haechan was not here to have a conversation about the brutal reality of being a superstar in the industry and his jaw clenched. “What made you realize that you fucked up?”

“What she said,” Jeno replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is a shallow job. Nobody was really my friend. I was either just their ride to fame or an accessory to make them look good. I realized how much I missed not only you two, but the whole gang, because you were the only people who cared about me beyond the surface.”

Haechan sighed.

Jeno’s voice got quieter. Not emotional, but dangerously close. “In our clique, it didn’t matter if you were on track to being a celebrity or just some guy. You know?”

“Yeah. I know.”

You frowned.

Haechan added, “So, you get lonely and decide you need us?”

“I know how that sounds, but…,” Jeno trailed. “But I’m sorry. I’m sorry for taking you for granted. I’m sorry for competing with you instead of being your friend.”

Haechan’s lips were in a hard line.

Jeno flitted his gaze towards you. “I’m sorry for using you. It was beyond fucked up.”

“To be fair, I was using you, too.”

Jeno bounced his leg against the ground, attempting to thwart his nerves. At the back of his mind, there were many unspoken thoughts. “Yeah, but you didn’t leave a woman in the street by herself. I still haven’t forgiven myself for that. If something happened to you, it would have been all my fault.”

Just the thought triggered something spiteful inside you. “I’m glad you realize that.”

Knowing you better than anybody, Haechan could sense the fire smoldering inside of you, slipping his fingers through yours and squeezing. “This has been… whatever, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’re stressing my baby mother out.”

Jeno spluttered, “Baby?”

“Yeah. A baby.”

Jeno’s eyes flickered in shock. “Wow, um. That’s amazing. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you replied, tone completely noncommittal. “We’ll think about it.”

You watched Jeno bob his head and reply with a quiet “thank you” as your boyfriend stood to see him out. With how your brain was practically like a wildfire, it felt like the epitome of madness.

Haechan came back only a couple of moments later sporting a sour glower.

You relaxed when he sat next to you. You didn’t realize that you’d been so stiff. “Well, what do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Haechan lied without realizing, because his skepticism wouldn’t allow him to admit his true feelings.

Well, you knew exactly what you were thinking. “He seems genuine. I don’t think he has an ulterior motive. I mean, he’s doing great, he doesn’t need us.”

Haechan prompted, “But?”

You heaved a breath. Sometimes you hated that Haechan knew you so well. Better yet, he understood you perfectly.

“But I don’t forget as easily as I forgive,” you said quietly, drifting endlessly in your thoughts like spacetime.

Haechan huffed, “Me, neither.”

Without many uncomfortable amounts of stressful thoughts, your life went on. The world kept spinning no matter what you were going through and it did you no good to subject yourself to strain while you were carrying twins. Your doctor was clear that the risks associated with pregnancy grew with more than one child.

Your body was undergoing so much change that you didn’t even step outside because you didn’t want the world to know that you were pregnant until you announced it yourself. Given that it was your first pregnancy, you wanted it to be unforgettable.

The baby bump felt like it happened overnight. You couldn’t stop gawking at yourself in the mirror, in disbelief that there was something coming to life inside of you. They were starting to move around, too. You cried when you noticed the fluttering in your belly, almost like butterflies.

Every day you were counting down the seconds until the photoshoot until in a blink, the day had finally come. Haechan, the gentleman that you had fallen in love with, had everything set up at his studio and was rigid with the staff, though nonetheless polite. You were beaming. Not many opportunities arose for you to see him work behind the scenes and it was heartwarming to see him be so attuned to your needs.

It was one of the most fun and rewarding shoots you’d ever done in your life. And it would be the most noteworthy. The vibe was nothing less than ethereal and it was full of kisses and laughter. Haechan’s hands and lips on your belly. Holding your hand while you looked into each other’s eyes with the utmost adoration.

Holding the physical pictures between your own fingers, you sobbed. You were very emotional these days and half expected Haechan to poke fun at you, but he never did. He was the same way, passionate about the undying love he had for you and your unborn children.

There were a couple of pictures that you didn’t release to the public. Those were just for you and your loved ones. They were more vulnerable, sentimental pictures where you and Haechan couldn’t but stare at each other with a tearful gaze.

The moment of truth, came the little voice in the back of your head while your finger wavered over the share button. Half of you wanted to hand your phone over to your PR team, but it was important to you that you were the one to disclose.

You took a shaky breath just before pressing the button and tossed your phone to the side. What was said online wasn’t any of your concern. You didn’t want to know.

Outlets rushed to cough up the news. Your social media accounts were bursting with likes from people all over the globe. People you were friends with in the industry didn’t hesitate to call and congratulate you on the pleasant surprise. This wasn’t a secret anymore. Now that it was out there, it was everybody’s business.

When the deed was done, you chose to focus on yourself and the life surrounding you in every capacity rather than what was out of your hands, and made peace with the fact that public opinion was inevitable. What you could control, on the other hand, was how exposed you were to stranger’s thoughts.

The next few weeks were filled with yoga and child development textbooks. Haechan was taking pictures weekly to document your belly growth. He had already decided that he was going to start a photo album specifically for your children while they grew older.

You told him that you couldn’t think of a more beautiful idea.

One Friday came and brought a handful of errands along with itself. You were undoubtedly pregnant now, but not so much that you couldn’t complete tasks by yourself, though Haechan thought that that was debatable. He thought it was ridiculous that anyone expected you to do anything and upheld that you deserved princess treatment.

But you had a medical opinion that said staying active during pregnancy was beneficial for you and the babies, and Haechan resigned himself to defeat.

Apparently, the universe wasn’t in your favor, because your car started to have complications. First, the sunroof vehemently refused to open. Then, like a total drama queen, your car decided that she didn’t want to start.

The most exasperated breath escaped your mouth. You didn’t know the first thing about getting a stubborn vehicle to start and you knew Haechan didn’t either. Besides, not only did you not want to disturb him while he was working, but you were equally stubborn and wanted to prove that you were capable of handling yourself.

Out of options, you had a really, really bad idea.

Something unfamiliar stirred in your gut when you pressed your phone to ear, hearing it ring. Anxiety. Or maybe it was something else. Something unidentifiable.

Jeno sounded a little startled when he spoke, as if he thought you called him by accident. “Hello?”

“Hi, Jeno,” you said less than enthusiastically, rubbing your forearm. “I’ve got a serious favor to ask.”

Though you couldn’t see, Jeno perked up at those words. He was completely desperate. “Yeah, sure. Anything. What’s up?”

Providing a little humor, you replied, “Assuming that you actually know how to work on cars and that wasn’t a lie to impress me, my car kind of won’t start and trying to guilt trip her into functioning doesn’t seem to be effective.”

Jeno snorted. “Did you check the battery?”

You almost started to panic. “No. Was I supposed to?”

“Uh, how about this. If you want, I can come check it out,” Jeno suggested, then immediately regretted the decision. He didn’t want to try and insert himself into your lives too quickly. “But only if you want me to.”

That wasn’t the best idea, considering your boyfriend was intent to hate Jeno’s guts and would not approve of him standing in his garage alone with his baby mother, but your options were already few, so you replied, “That’s fine. You know where I am.”

“I’m on the way,” Jeno said. You could hear him shuffling around in the background.

“Okay. See you soon.”

You hung up without giving him a chance to respond and released an uncertain breath. Don’t make me regret this.

Waiting with bated breath and folded arms, your gaze upturned some thirty minutes later when you heard a blue Mercedes Benz turning into your driveway.

And then Jeno started to walk over to you.

“Hey, sorry I couldn’t make it sooner. Traffic is crazy today,” Jeno said when he stopped just shy of your toes.

You waved him off. “You’re good. Thirty minutes isn’t bad for California traffic. Thanks for coming over.”

“No problem,” Jeno replied. He didn’t waste much time on small talk, getting straight to what you called him over for. “Let’s see what’s wrong with this bad boy.”

“Her name is Mariposa,” you corrected, but your tone wasn’t malicious.

Jeno threw his hands up. “Where’s my manners? I should’ve asked. Sorry if I offended you, Mariposa.”

You snickered. “Don’t apologize to her. She’s caused enough trouble today.”

Jeno chuckled.

While you kept yourself occupied in the corner, not wanting to disturb Jeno as he tried to figure out why your car was acting like a bitch, his brain was totally divided. Half was focused on thoroughly examining your car, while the other was hooked on the fact you remembered something he told you five years ago at dinner.

Jeno was pondering, hoping. Maybe you just had a good memory, especially when it was convenient, but he hoped that someday, there would be room for him again in your lives.

Even if he had to spend years proving that he was worthy.

Jeno separated himself from the lifted hood of your car, dusting his hands off. Your eyes were stuck on him with gut-eating anticipation. “Looks like your alternator is weakening. Smells like burned wires and the serpentine belt smells like smoke. Your engine’s probably leaking.”

“English, please.”

“Your alternator’s not alternating and your shit’s fucked,” Jeno replied, blunt.

“Oh.” That certainly wasn’t what you wanted to hear.

“Don’t worry. The good news is that it’s nothing that can’t be fixed,” Jeno reassured, pushing the lid back down. “The bad news is that I don’t have the tools to work on it for you.”

You ran a hand through your hair. “Guess I should call a mechanic.”

Jeno bobbed his head. “That would be a good start.”

You were anxious to ask, but did it anyway, “If it’s not too much trouble, would you mind hanging around? One look at my neighborhood and the obvious fact that I don’t know a damn thing about cars, and anyone would try to scam me out of more money than I need to spend.”

“Yeah, of course,” Jeno replied, dipping his hands in his pockets. “But, uh… won’t Haechan mind?”

You snorted. That was an understatement. “Oh, definitely, but his vehicle knowledge starts with one wheel and rides with two. I don’t think he has a say in this.”

Jeno snickered.

The mechanic came half an hour later and you let Jeno handle the bulk of the talking, only chiming in when the guy asked specific questions like how long you’d been experiencing complications with your car.

Between the mechanic peeking under the hood and Jeno pointing out to him your car’s tenaciousness, you understood enough of their exchange to know that fixing her would take a solid two hours. Unfortunately, this guy was stretched thin, meaning he would have to tow it back to his shop and have you pick it up tomorrow.

“This day cannot get any worse,” you grumbled underneath your breath.

Jeno was frustrated for you and it wasn’t even his car acting a damn fool. After he seemed to hesitate a little, he asked, “Will Haechan be back soon?”

“Nope. He had most of his hours cut, but apparently there was a really huge crisis at his job. It’s going to be another hour or two.”

“Dammit,” Jeno groaned. “Well, if you want me to, I wouldn’t mind driving. You seem really stressed and that’s not healthy for the babies. I mean, obviously you know that, but...”

His nervousness was not lost on you and you resisted a chuckle, interjecting, “Jeno, I would really appreciate the help.”

“Okay, cool,” Jeno said, whipping his keys out of his pockets and tossing them in the air. “Where to?”

Gently helping you get into his car, Jeno made sure that you were safe and comfortable before he took the driver’s seat and braced his hands on the wheel. He was certain that your lover would have his head on a stick for driving you around without his knowledge, but he had a moral obligation not to leave pregnant ladies under tension.

Besides, he had to prove his loyalty somehow. It didn’t matter how much Jeno insisted that he’d changed. Neither you or Haechan would be convinced until there were no doubts.

Your head was against the door, temporarily appreciating the air conditioning until you just couldn’t take the silence, asking, “So, how’s life? Last time we spoke, you were talking about people being shallow.”

Jeno nodded his head quietly. “I’ve been scared of meeting new people. I have a few friends. Other than that, I have my family and girlfriend.”

Your brows furrowed. That was new. “Girlfriend? Congratulations. I didn’t know.”

“Thank you,” Jeno replied, heat rapidly flushing his cheeks. “She’s the one that encouraged me to apologize. Even if you guys still hated me in the end, she said it would be good to get it off my chest.”

That was interesting. Nobody saw the day coming where Jeno of all people would choose commitment. “Is she in the industry?”

“No, she’s actually a banker,” Jeno replied, chuckling.

“Really? How did your paths cross?”

“It’s a long story,” Jeno said, but you could see his eyes sparkling with happiness. He must’ve really liked her.

Pointing to the road in front of you, staring at the red light glaring back at you both, you shrugged your shoulders. “We’ve got a long day.”

For the duration of the total ride, in between stops, you chatted with Jeno to pass the time. It wasn’t the easiest thing to relax around each other, each for your own reasons, but you managed. And truth be told, it wasn’t all too bad.

Your chronic cynicism was the only thing standing in the way of your forgiveness. But Jeno had no apparent reason to drive you around and assist you with errands if it wasn’t simply out of the kindness of his heart. There was nothing that you could give him that he didn’t already have. Except maybe loyal companionship, but he’d already made it clear that he wasn’t lonely.

Only hours later did Jeno finally pull back into your driveway. Most of your errands just required having to speak with people, but noting that you were probably out of your favorite snacks again, you opted to head to a couple of stores. You also figured you would need some chocolate when it was time to placate Haechan after he realized you’d been with his worst enemy all day.

When you were home, Jeno refused to let you carry a single item. With your bags in his hand, he opened your front door and dropped your bags off in the kitchen.

The sound of his front door opening was all too familiar and it was no surprise that Haechan rushed downstairs, having returned only maybe half an hour before you, and chirped, “Baby, you’re home!”

You wrapped your arms around him. Haechan gently hugged you back, careful not to harm you. His warmth was appreciated, but remembering you had a little surprise, you pulled back. “Don’t get mad.”

Haechan gave you a look. “Why would I get mad?”

Surprisingly on cue, Jeno returned from the kitchen, trailing, “I put the food in the...”

Jeno and Haechan locked glances as it was like a deer crossing paths with a mountain lion. Though you could feel Haechan tense, rather than his hold slackening, it tightened. You could see the anger flickering onto his face within a blink. “What is he doing in our house?”

“I just said don’t get mad,” you groaned, winding a hand through your hair. You cocked your head towards Jeno and said to him, “Jeno, thank you for helping me out today. I owe you one.”

“No, you don’t. I’m endlessly indebted to you,” Jeno quipped, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Damn right,” Haechan murmured under his breath.

Nudging him in the side, you ignored Haechan’s whine of pain. “Well, get home safe. Thank you again.”

“No problem. Have a good night,” Jeno said, seeing himself out.

“Get home safe?” Haechan repeated when Jeno disappeared.

You heaved a little breath and asked, “Do you want him to die or something?”

“Well…”

“Stop,” you hissed, breaking out of his arms and moving to a chair. “He really helped me out today. My car broke down and he came to check it out. Then, when the mechanic took my car, he volunteered to help me with my errands.”

Haechan followed behind you, confused. “What? Why is this my first time hearing about this?”

“Because you had a work emergency and it wasn’t worth interrupting you over. I can handle stuff by myself, you know.”

“I know you can, but…,”

“But you’d rather me call you than the guy that fucked you over, yeah, I know,” you huffed.

“You just finished my sentence.”

Your brows furrowed, wondering how that was in any way significant. “So?”

“So, this is going in the completely wrong direction,” Haechan said, cooling off for your sake. The last thing you needed was stress or a petulant baby daddy. “Let’s calm down and go upstairs.”

You opened your mouth to say something, anything to oppose him, but closed them when you realized you’d fallen short of things to say. “Fine.”

Haechan helped you to the bedroom. The stairs were definitely a problem lately, courtesy of the additional pressure on your uterus. You had to be extra careful coming up them now.

When you were sitting on your bed, Haechan quietly came beside you. You released a tiny breath, not pleased or disgruntled, but of the will to leave whatever just happened downstairs. It was to be expected.

After a minute of silence, Haechan finally said, “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “Don’t be.”

“No, I should be. You know I never want to make you feel like I think that you can’t do anything yourself. But I need you to know that I’m still there for you to lean on when you need me.”

Thankful that he was lying down, you lowered yourself to rest your head on his chest. Your lips were tugged into a faint smile. “Do you remember our first date?”

Haechan cocked brow. “The real one, or the unofficial first date?”

I still think the unofficial date was the real one, but whatever. Obviously, you would never say that aloud, because then it would spark the debate over what your actual first date was. You ignored his question and continued, “You said that you would never try to control me, because you’re a grown man and I’m a grown woman.”

“Have I?”

You answered bluntly, “No, you haven’t. That was five years ago, you know. I’m pregnant with our baby and even if I hate this next part, I have to depend on you a little more now.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I should make a sign-in sheet for everybody that enters your life,” Haechan said.

“Two things can be true at once.”

Haechan said nothing, because there was nothing that needed to be said. You were so similar. That was why your relationship worked. Both of you needed time to yourselves, but the fact you were having a baby together forced you to readjust.

It wasn’t just about what you or Haechan needed anymore. Your two babies would be entering the world any day now and they took precedence in your lives now. There would be difficult choices and there would be compromises. For both of you.

You found his fingers, blindly lacing your fingers through them. “I don’t forgive him, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Oh.”

You continued, “I think I probably will, eventually, but not yet. Not right now.”

“You said that I would rather you call me than the guy that fucked me over,” Haechan rewinded, squeezing your hand.

You made a face. “Yeah, I did, but I was irritated and I cut you off. It’s a bad habit that I still haven’t let go of. And it will probably happen again.”

Haechan snorted. “You weren’t wrong, but at the same time, I think I might forgive him too. Not right now, obviously, but eventually. Like you said.”

“Why?” You were confused. You saw how Haechan’s demeanor switched on a dime when he noticed Jeno was in his house.

“Because he helped you. And anyone that treats you respectfully without an ulterior motive is alright in my book.”

There was movement in your belly and it wasn’t the babies for once. It was the butterflies.

Haechan draped his other arm over you, smiling gently as his hand touched your belly. “By the way, is this a good time to mention that I have something to tell you?”

Your face tensed with curiosity. “You’ve already put it out there. Might as well cough it up.”

“Okay, well…,” Haechan started. His confidence seemed to be dissipating. “I was thinking that we should go on a babymoon before the kids get here.”

A single brow lifted from your face. “What?”

“Like a honeymoon, but it’s not a honeymoon. It’s a babymoon,” Haechan explained vaguely, sitting up in a way that meant he was serious.

“Okay, but wouldn’t we go on a babymoon after we had the baby?”

Haechan gave you a look. “Baby, do you really think that we're going to have that kind of time after the babies are born?”

When he put it like that, the concept made a little more sense. “Fair point. Where would we go though?”

Haechan shrugged. “I was thinking Florida, but of course I’m open to suggestions. This is an us thing.”

“Florida’s good with me,” you said without complaint.

“Then, Florida it is.”

Only two days later, you were on a plane to Florida with ample snacks and water. Haechan didn’t like to waste any time and you didn’t understand the point in waiting either. The clock was ticking and you were already in the third trimester.

Sure, it was a last-minute vacation, but you checked in with your doctors and after a few evaluations, they had little problem with you traveling through air for a couple of weeks.

Florida, specifically Miami, was ripe with obnoxiously hot weather in spite of the faded summer. December was similar in California, cheerful and sunny with occasional rain showers. Given that you were raised in the north, it was an exciting change of pace.

Which was why you were glaring at Haechan in disappointment when you watched him pull three sets of familiar black leather from his suitcase. Your arms were crossed. “Did you really need to pack three different leather jackets?”

“Yes, absolutely,” he said without hesitating. “Come on, babe, you love seeing me in black leather. It’s what made you fall for me.”

You mercilessly quipped, “Actually, I’m pretty sure that’s what made me turn you away.”

“Whatever,” Haechan retorted, pulling another leather jacket from his suitcase.

All you could do was shake your head. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear the same leather jacket twice.”

Haechan chuckled. “Now that’s an exaggeration. Besides, I need to have plenty to pass down to our kids. They’re gonna have to look extra cool when we go biking together. I can’t be seen with anything less.”

Your heart draped over your racing heart. “Haechan, you cannot take our kids on a motorcycle.”

“Of course not. Not with you knowing about it.”

Your heart was skipping. You were absolutely going to need to have a conversation with his mother. He’s definitely his father’s son.

“I was kidding. It was a joke,” Haechan said playfully, but the mischievousness in his countenance was obvious.

You rolled your eyes. “Sure it was.”

Whether it was or wasn’t, Haechan would never tell you. You would just have to cling to hope that he wouldn’t do something like that without your knowledge. Though you trusted him endlessly, the little snicker coming from his parted lips made you a little unsure.

Then, the vacation started, and you tried to keep your mind from drifting towards the aftermath of pregnancy. Well, as much as you could with the added pressure weighing down your every footstep. Haechan didn’t want to leave you out of his sight for the next two weeks lest something happened to you.

Though you weren’t due for another five weeks, he wasn’t taking any chances. He waited close by when he surprised you with a prenatal massage and always kept your phones charged in case of emergencies.

He’s going to be a wonderful father, spoke the smitten voice in your head in rhythm with your soaring heartbeat. He was vigilant, careful. You knew with total confidence that your children would be in the greatest of hands.

Still, in spite of your mutual worries, neither of you would allow them to stand in the way of your fun. He wandered around the beach with you, sticking your toes in hot sand and taking a dip in the water.

Sporting a two piece swimsuit, you felt somewhat self-conscious meandering just shy of the shore in front of so many people. Though you’d convinced yourself that you were doing a good job at hiding the truth, Haechan grabbed your hand and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” It was an obvious lie, because you replied way too quickly.

Haechan’s steps slowed, cocking his head to look at you. “That’s a lie. You answered too fast. And you didn’t ask me why I asked.”

Your shoulders slumped in defeat. “It’s just… that I feel a little exposed.”

Even though that was vague as hell, Haechan knew exactly what you meant and he wouldn’t stand for it for even just a second. “Babe, you’re beautiful. That’ll never change, even if your body wil,” he said, stopping dead in his tracks.

Your eyes stung with tears. You’d been outside lately, but never this exposed. Never this far into your pregnancy. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t feel like this.”

Haechan shook his head. “Don’t you dare apologize to me. You can feel however the fuck you want. Just remember that I love you regardless of what you look like. And your body’s only changing to cater to the life we’re about to bring into the world.”

That reminder was all you needed. As long as you had Haechan’s love and enough of your own to supply your children, everything else ceased to matter.

For half a second, you thought about how tired he must’ve been of having to provide you reassurance, but you shooed the thought away. Everything Haechan did for you was because he cared. There were more than a handful of times where Haechan would randomly confess how gorgeous he thought you were and how much he loved you.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Haechan set his arm at your backside. “You have nothing to thank me for. It’s the truth.”

“I know, but I don’t know how I would do any of this without you. You make everything easier. I feel like I can breathe as long as you’re with me.”

Haechan’s heart was unstill. He couldn’t imagine his life any other way. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” he confessed, the sound of his voice featherlight.

You wanted to test that theory. Mischievous, you squeezed his hand and leaned onto his shoulder, asking, “Would you rather go back to the room?”

What that meant was obvious to Haechan, but it still surprised him. Your sex drive wasn’t as active lately. And not only that, but he was too busy becoming a father to focus on his libido. “Would you be there?”

“I would do a lot more than that,” you retorted.

Haechan pressed, “But would you want to?”

“Babe, if I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have asked.”

Haechan nodded. It’s not like you were ever afraid to tell him what you wanted. Or what you didn’t want, for that matter. Plus it had been a lifetime since the two of you had sex, and he couldn’t blame you for wanting to get it in before exhaustion became the only thing that drew you to bed. “Say less.”

The walk back to those canopy chairs was eager. Haechan wanted to return to the room as quickly as he could, but patiently remained at your side.

After collecting your beach towels and rinsing off loose sand (as much as you could in public), you and Haechan walked side-to-side back to the hotel. The sight of your suite coming into view five minutes later made you release a shaky breath of relief.

You and Haechan locked lips almost the second you stood behind the door. Haechan couldn’t wait any longer; he was bursting. Ever since you introduced the idea some twenty minutes ago, all he could think about was putting his hands on you.

His hands were quick, loosening the string behind your back. Some weeks had passed since he touched you like this. Maybe a month. Now he was remembering what it was like to be caught in your path.

You separated yourself from him, exhaling, “Bed.”

Haechan grabbed you by the waist and guided you to the bed. When you were there, you climbed your own way up the mattress, with him following closely after. A hand crept into your bare chest and the other behind you, gently craning you onto your back.

Your lips connected again. Fire ascended over you, starting in your heart and stretching elsewhere. His lips were so pretty and kissable. Throwing your mouth against his and sucking on his tongue was something you simply never got bored of. You just couldn’t explain it.

Haechan pulled back again a couple of moments later, staring at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “Better?” he asked, eyes sparkling with wonder.

“Mm-hm,” you sighed contentedly, lacing your fingers through his beautiful head of hair.

Haechan extended an arm down your calf, teasing the skin before cycling your legs into the air and ripping your panties almost right from underneath you. He so badly wanted to touch you everywhere, gnawing at his lip with an insatiable hunger. “I’ll never get tired of this,” Haechan said wantonly. “Tired of you.”

That was without question. You could feel his half-hard cock growing at the edge of your swollen thigh. Arousal shot through him like a firework and it would take little to nothing to get him excited.

Your heart throbbed in sync with your pussy and your leg, still in Haechan’s itching palms, tensed insatiably. There was nothing that turned you on like being wanted.

Wishing he would take off those stupid swim trunks, a dangerous thought wrecked through your brain and you asked, “Can I do something this time?”

“Not a chance.”

You snapped, “And why not?”

“Because it’s my responsibility to take care of you. And right now, I just wanna make sure you get wet enough to take my dick,” Haechan replied.

Your next best option was begging. “Please? I’ll get wet just from seeing your pretty face scrunch. Killing two birds with one stone.”

Haechan’s lips parted to turn you down, but he started to mull over your suggestion. Hope nipped at your heart, twinkling in your eyes. Blowjobs shouldn't've hurt the babies. And he knew you wouldn’t be able to lie on your back for very long anyway. “Fine. How do you wanna do this?”

You were beaming. With Haechan’s help, you kneeled on the mattress before crawling over to the edge of the bed. “I read something online. Let’s try you standing here while I lay on my side.”

Per your request, Haechan shifted to the edge of the bed, stepping out of his swim trunks where his dick was desperately poking around for attention.

You leaned onto your left side, excitement making your heart beat quicker. And your pussy throb, but you were happily focused on someone else right now. “Feel free to use my mouth.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Haechan said, though he would try not to.

Pressing your lips against his inner thighs, you brushed them over his skin, feeling his legs tense at your touch. So, so sensitive. You could only imagine what would happen when you sucked his cock into your mouth.

You reached out to grab a fistful of his cock, just after spitting into the palm of your hand, and started to pump him slowly. More often than not, you started off tentatively; you liked to tease him. There was no point in getting him off if you couldn’t see the irritability and desperation on his handsome face.

Haechan’s breath hitched. His cock was twitching. You seemed to always know what to do with your hands, in spite of the fact that you never let his cum too quickly. But you knew exactly how to wreck him.

“You don’t have to tease, you know,” he said, voice a little distant like he wasn’t even there.

“I know,” you replied offhandedly. “But I want to.” And I know you pretend not to like it.

Haechan huffed, but he was only half upset. Part of him liked when you had total, unmitigated control of his pleasure.

You didn’t release your grip on his stiffened cock when you’d had your fill of teasing him until you sucked the tip into your warm mouth. There was a breath on Haechan’s end, light and shaky, and you couldn’t wait to replicate it.

Your cheeks were hollowed. You were eager to take most of him down your throat, but were cautious about your pacing, given that it had been a minute since you sucked the soul out of Haechan. Even you were reluctant to give him head during the first trimester because of the morning sickness.

“Fuck,” Haechan whined shakily. He was remembering what you said about using your mouth even though he hated that the idea appealed to him.

Haechan’s fingers gripped the sheets, opting not to touch you in case he went too far. His face was tense with pleasure and those featherlight moans were like music to your ears. You took more of him, hopeful to throat every inch, and looked into his hazy eyes to watch as it broke him just the way you knew it would.

The heat was getting to be too much. His thoughts were racing by quicker than he could articulate them, all coming from his mouth being gentle sounds. But his head was saying, She’s going to be the death of me. And I’m okay with that.

Then, he couldn’t hold back any longer, and started to thrust into your mouth. Though there wasn’t any warning and you only half expected it, you somehow willed yourself to relax. It was so goddamn hot. Pretending that it was your cunt his stiff cock was fucking got you even wetter.

Even you were moaning and the vibrations shooting through his cock made the room whirl a little. And as if it couldn’t get any better, you pinched the skin of his thigh between your nails, plucking a lethal whine out of him. “That’s making me crazy, baby,” he exhaled, another groan escaping him when he met your stare.

You pressed your tongue flat against his shaft and Haechan swore he saw Michael Jackson looking down at him for a second. Please, was at the back of his throat, but he didn’t want to cum. Not right now. He wanted to cum when he was deep inside of you.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Stop,” he panted, blinking as if to clear the haze from his eyes.

You grinded to a halt when you heard those words and noticed him no longer fucking your mouth, wiping saliva from your lips with the back of your hand. Your cheeks hurt, but it was worth it. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t wanna cum,” Haechan said, gravel. “Not unless I’m inside you. And even then, I might nut too quick.”

You waved off his concern and replied, “It’s okay if you do. I might tap out soon.”

“Duly noted. What’s the plan?”

You beckoned Haechan forward with your hand, watching him creep closer. When he bent down to your level, you whispered something in his ear.

A few moments later, Haechan was behind you in the bed, your naked back flush against his bare chest. Your breaths were thick and rough while you became entrapped in his body’s warmth. Bending your knees, you counted down the seconds until he would be inside, holding your breath when he entered from behind you.

And you released it when Haechan grunted at the squeeze of your vice-like cunt upon the first couple of thrusts. You were soaked, just like you said. Getting him off must’ve really done a number.

His voice was so close to your ear, closer than you thought. “You know the drill, baby. Tell me if you can’t take it.”

You nodded. It was all you could do not to splinter then and there.

Haechan was tentatively prodding, slow. He was careful not to do you any harm, because if he did, he’d never forgive himself. Luckily enough, what you were feeling was far from painful. With every inch he reluctantly pushed into you, your head was deeper into the clouds.

There was nothing like being skin to skin with your lover, heart to heart. That was the better half of the appeal when it came to sex nowadays. Pleasure was seeked by the togetherness of intimacy, less than the emphasis of orgasm.

But he certainly still knew how to get you there.

“You always feel so good,” you moaned, stretching your hand to reach his forearm. This whole trip had been nothing short of romantic thus far.

Something about your praise made all of the blood flow to Haechan’s dick, heavy and quick. “You ready for me?”

“Mm-hm. Move, baby,” you whispered, knowing he was testing the waters. “Just relax. You’re not going to break me, I promise.”

Haechan acknowledged your consent with the quietest of sounds, starting to pace himself in and out. His rhythm was steady, but none too rough. It was loving.

It tickled when his lips grazed the back of your throat in a litter of kisses, breathless giggles escaping you. Wheeling your head, you turned to give him a peck on the mouth, watching the smile coax its way onto Haechan’s face. He has the prettiest smile ever. And I’ll do anything to protect it.

Anything and everything. It was no secret that Haechan doubted himself sometimes. He rarely spoke to you about it, not wanting to lump his feelings on top of yours because he thought yours were more significant, given that you were the one bringing these children to life. But you wish he knew how incredible he was to you.

Though you never failed to remind him. Even now, just looking into his eyes with total adoration, Haechan couldn’t understand. He wanted to see himself the way that you saw him. Thanks to your relentlessness, he was getting a little closer.

Reaching out to touch his cheek, you whispered, “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone as much as I want you.”

“Fuck,” Haechan groaned, like those words alone would be the death of him. Which wasn’t too far from the truth.

You playfully teased, “You always say the most romantic things.”

Haechan’s face flushed, but those explicatives were at the tip of his tongue. When he was deep inside you like this, his hands cupping your hips, it couldn’t be helped. “That’s funny. I was about to say the same thing,” he lied, losing himself with every sweet thrust.

Your lips parted in a laugh, but it was cut off by a moan. Between the sight and sound, Haechan couldn’t tell which was better. Watching you burst with rapture turned him on. Listening to you burst with rapture turned him on. You turned him on.

All you could feel was ecstasy. It had been said, but the whole world stopped when you were alone with Haechan and it didn’t affect you. When he was fucking all the stress out of your body, in spite of the heat scorching down your skin, you could somehow breathe.

You faced away from him again, eyes fluttered closed. You were imagining him, even though he was right behind you. There was no space between your bodies and sometimes it was as if you were one person. Like you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began.

Which was ironic. Your first encounter wasn’t so long ago, even if it felt like a lifetime had passed since then. You still vividly recalled wanting nothing to do with him.

Yet here you were. Carrying his baby, his offspring. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Haechan extended his hand over your lower stomach, reaching out to touch your clit. Your reaction was instant. You gasped, elevating to highs you never knew were in reach. Sex hit different knowing the extremes you were capable of when Haechan was giving himself to you completely.

“I’m so close, baby,” Haechan warned. He could feel it approaching, but it didn’t matter to him if he didn’t cum either.

That excited you. Your core throbbed and you purred, “Give it to me, baby boy. Cum inside of me.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Haechan told you, coming up on the edge. He rocked into you harder, wincing his eyes closed.

You didn’t skip a beat. “Why? Too afraid you’re gonna bust a nut?”

When Haechan said nothing, you grinned to yourself. Then, his other hand came to your boobs, gently touching your nipples. You sighed out, breathless.

Now it was you unraveling. Like clockwork, your back started to arch away from him, your body too stimulated from his hands on your nipple and clit. It just felt so good - the whole room started to spin.

Moving your hair out of the way, Haechan leaned even closer to you. If possible. You were obsessed with his mouth nipping at the shell of your ear. Voice at the back of your neck. “You’re gonna be a great mother. I can feel that you are,” he said, breath tickling your neck.

You whimpered, listening to his gentle tone factored with the hot sound of sex thumping throughout the room.

“Our kids are going to love you from the moment that they lie on your chest and get to see you. They’ll grow up lucky that they get to call you their mother, because even before they were born, you’ve done nothing but your best to care for and nurture them.”

“Haechan…,” you trailed. Your eyes watered.

Haechan added, “And I’ll be there, proud as ever. Because if there’s any woman that’s fit to raise a baby, it’s you.”

Only seconds ago you didn’t think you would be able to go any longer, sensing yourself on the brink of tapping out, but that spiral ripped it out of you. You shuddered with climax, shifting away from his touch. The sweetest cry escaped you and you found his hand to anchor yourself through your orgasm.

That did it for Haechan in the end. He came just at a glimpse of you finishing on his cock, moaning your name darkly. Stifling his sounds into your shoulder. You milked his load out of him and Haechan swore it was mind-numbing to its core.

A moment passed before you each stilled. Sticky sweat connected your gleaming skin as you released open-mouthed exhales in an attempt to stabilize your breath. For a second, eyes fluttering, your brain was peacefully empty.

Minutes later, you cocked your head and squeaked, “I’m going to the bathroom. Just rest. You don’t need to follow me.”

Haechan nodded, finally pulling out of you. Something about times like this made his heart swell and his skin swelter. Those moments of silence after.

Wobbling inside the bathroom attached to your suite, you shut the door behind yourself, in spite of knowing Haechan would probably come in a minute or two. There was a gigantic smile on your face. Finding somebody that cared about you so much was a blessing.

You meandered over to the toilet so that you could pee. Then, when you finished, you came to the sink to wash your hands of germs. The mirror in front of you was wide and tall. You stared at your reflection, letting out a contented little breath, and set your palms on your tummy.

As to be expected, Haechan’s voice sounded from behind the door when you didn’t return a couple of moments after he heard you flush. “Baby, are you good? Can I come in?”

You quipped, “Haven’t you come inside of enough things?”

Haechan snickered, twisting the knob. Very funny. He was pleasantly surprised to see you slowly rubbing a hand over your pregnant belly, softly smiling even if you didn’t realize that you were.

Haechan came up to you. Your heart quickened when you sensed his warmth behind you, kissing your shoulder. “Was I too much?”

You shook your head. “It was amazing. I didn’t think I would make it that far.”

“What can I say? I’ve never not blown a woman’s mind,” Haechan joked, lips brushing the back of your neck. A litter of love bruises were there.

You rolled your eyes. Then, you giggled.

It was silent for a little while. Both of you were too in awe to speak. With your focus drawn entirely to your children, it was all too easy to become paralyzed with adoration. And they weren’t even born yet.

Haechan’s hand came around your hip, dropping below your ribs. You could feel him hesitating - his body tensed against your skin - but he ultimately said, “Not to be that guy, but I’m kind of glad you’re taking a step back.”

“Really?” You knew that. His happiness was never not clear to you.

“Yeah, baby, I mean…,” he trailed, thinking. Longing. “Spending more time with you, bonding as a family has really changed me for the better, I think.”

I know what you mean, came your thoughts, but you just hummed. Haechan knew that you were listening. And you knew that he wanted to talk. Your fingers crept up his arm, reassuring.

Haechan’s mind was racing. Blaring. “Becoming a father hasn’t just changed my life. It’s changed the way I look at life. Life is short, baby. The most beautiful moments of life are short, but they’re meaningful, because I have you. And I’ve got to make that count.”

You shook your head. “We’ve got to make that count.”

Haechan nodded, chuckling. “Yes, you’re exactly right. This is a group effort.”

Your eyes lifted to look at him in the mirror, and you finally realized your lips were curled. “You’re gonna be a good father, you know,” you said levelly.

Haechan let his hands wander over your belly, running them gently over the flesh. There was a twinkle in his gaze and a beaming smile at his lips. “I can believe that now. And I owe all of the credit to you. I know what I want and who I am. You’ve made me see things from a different point of view.”

“Ironically, I feel the same way,” you said, finding some amusement in this moment of clarity. “It seems like only yesterday I was terrified of having a baby. I didn’t want things to change. The future was so scary.”

“And it’s not anymore?” Haechan asked.

“A little,” you confessed. “But knowing that I have you makes it easier. And knowing that our kids have someone like you, I can relax.”

“You know what they say. The best matches are people who bring out the best in each other.”

You bobbed your head. “Sometimes, I can’t tell if I grew because of you, or if I grew with you. But I think it’s both now. And now we get to do that for a lifetime.”

Yeah, I get that, Haechan thought. You don’t have a single clue, do you? Just how badly I wanna seal the deal, tie the knot. But I’ll take it one step at a time, because I know how you are. You’re slow and steady, baby. And I’m reckless and quick, but we make it work, because you know what you want. And so do I.

“Yes,” Haechan sighed happily. “Yes, we do.”

A quick tear escaped your eye, but you wiped it away. You were overwhelmed in the best way.

Haechan kissed your cheek, knowing all of your pleasures and your pains. And he kept them inside his heart in a vault. “I hope they have your eyes.”

Your brows furrowed in wonder. “I think our genes might be evenly distributed.”

“That is not how it works, baby.”

I know, but I want to have hope. It’s wishful thinking,” you replied, sighing.

Haechan chuckled. “Either way, they’ll be beautiful. And they have a handsome father and breathtaking mother to thank.”

“That’s so vain,” you retorted. But you didn’t disagree.

Haechan kneeled to the floor, sitting just shy of your stomach. His hands were still lovingly touching you. “Hi, son and daughter. It’s Daddy. I’m sure you’re sick of my voice by now, but that’s too bad. You have to deal with it for eighteen years.”

You shook your head, a stupid smile on your face. Your cheeks hurt. Somehow, you just couldn’t get enough of this boy.

“Mommy says that Daddy is vain. Can you believe that? Me, of all people, vain. I mean, if you look as good as me one day, you will be, too,” Haechan said exaggeratedly.

“Babe, be careful what you tell our kids,” you chastised.

“She’s scolding me now. Mommy can get scary when she’s angry, you know. You better not wind up on the receiving end of her wrath.”

You snorted.

“Anyways, all I really wanted to say is that Mommy and Daddy love you very much. We can’t wait to see you,” Haechan whispered. Your heart burst when he pressed his lips to your belly.

You just knew that he was the one for you.

The rest of the vacation - or babymoon as your babies’ daddy enthusiastically dubbed it - was a breeze. Before you knew it, you were on a flight back home. Beach air and rushing water was over. And California had never been more foreign.

Back in your own home, you spent your hours reminiscing in between yoga sessions. You were grateful that Jaehyun suggested the babymoon. It was a much needed period of relaxation to distract you from the looming disaster of childbirth.

And you were sitting just at its door. Because your pregnancy was considered high-risk and you were not inclined to have a c-section delivery, your doctor recommended labor induction. When you didn’t go into labor after twenty four hours, you started to feel unnerved.

You had nightmares about what would happen if things went wrong sometimes. Your doctor and childbirth educator made sure that the risks were outlined and clear. One wrong move and you could lose your kids, not to mention that anything could happen to you.

That was why Doctor Stakes wasn’t willing to risk natural birth. Having twins alone constituted a high-risk pregnancy and they were actively monitoring your babies positions to make sure they weren’t breech.

Haechan was restless, but he tried to keep it together for your sake. He called your name, hand in yours. “Baby, I can feel you tensing. Breathe,” he told you calmly.

Your voice trembled, “I’m scared.”

“I know. I am, too, but I’m right here with you. We can overcome anything as long as we’re together.”

You bobbed your head and sucked in a breath. Had he not been there with you, it would’ve been a hell of a lot scarier.

An eternity and a half seemed to pass before you finally went into labor. The contractions started at a distance and you likened them to the preparation trials you endured during the second trimester. Then, they were shorter apart, and the pain intensified so much it felt as if there was no air.

At the first nick of pain, you immediately pressed for an epidural. Your childbirth already wasn’t natural. And if they thought you would be able to do this without medication, they completely overestimated you.

It took fifteen minutes for a nurse to administer the epidural and another fifteen for the effects to settle in. Haechan never let go of your hand unless he absolutely needed to and he was staring at you with a newfound respect. And his respect for you was already in the heavens.

“This is crazy,” you wheezed, pulse quickened.

“It is,” Haechan agreed. “But you can do this. You’re stronger than I ever have been.”

You tugged your lips into a smile. “I’ve been thinking about us. Instead of the risks and stuff.”

That was a pretty good idea. Haechan said, “Talk to me. Tell me about it.”

“We got a new house, like I said. The kids are roughly five years old. They’re helping you make omelets because you know that I like them. There’s a cat. We let them name it. And I’m completely oblivious to what’s going on.”

Haechan snickered. That sounded like his offspring and he hadn’t even met them yet.

You added, “I thought about something else. There’s a private photoshoot. You’re the photographer, of course. The kids are in your leather jackets, but they’re oversized on them. The whole thing is so cute.”

Haechan kissed your cheek. His heart was thumping in his chest like a hammer and there was a sudden gush of warmth shooting through him. “I bet it is. I can see it playing out in my head right now. We should have a shoot like that one day. With all of us in black leather.”

You chuckled. It was tempting.

There was so much action in the room. People were moving from place to place to ensure that your babies were delivered safely. Your midwife assured you that the process was moving smoothly.

With that out in the open, you could breathe a little easier. Though you and Haechan still had no intention of separating from each other. The nurses would have to forcibly pry him away from you.

“It’s time to push,” came your midwife’s level voice.

The nurses were helping you realize when you needed to push. The movements felt like a distant pressure in your lower back, courtesy of the epidural. None of what was happening to you seemed real and all left to ground you in reality was the knowledge that it was really happening.

“This is happening,” you said shakily. “Oh my god. This is actually happening.”

Haechan uttered the dreaded words, “Babe, relax.”

“No! I’m never doing this again!” you snapped dramatically, overwhelmed with all the motion. “You need to get a vasectomy!”

Haechan took your outburst in stride. “I’ll do anything you want.”

“Fuck,” you exhaled, an invisible cool shiver running down your spine.

The first push alone was exhausting. You started to feel lightheaded and as if you would faint from the pressure. There was a lull of relief when the nurse permitted you to take a break to regain strength.

Tears stung your eyes. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can,” Haechan told you in a heartbeat.

Your confidence in yourself started to dissipate, but with your faithful partner and a dedicated team of medical staff reassuring you through the process, you forced the negativity out of your head and focused on your children.

“Another push,” your midwife urged.

You took one big, stabilizing breath before it was ripped out of your lungs again. Your legs had gone completely numb. There was still a slight degree of discomfort in your back that heightened a little with every push, but you winced your eyes closed and rid the thoughts.

“Breathe with me, baby,” Haechan said during the next break.

With what little strength you had, you nodded your head and followed his breathing patterns. Your heart seemed more tired than the rest of you as you physically shook. The blood was rushing through you to a painful degree.

You squeezed Haechan’s hand, which was what you had already been doing. His metacarpals were brave soldiers. “Tell me something.”

In typical Haechan fashion, he was cool as a cucumber. You would never guess that he was terrified for your life, but he pulled himself together. “Anything?”

“Yes. Anything.”

“When I was eleven, I wanted a leather jacket exactly like the black and red one Michael Jackson wore in Thriller,” he confessed. “Then, my mom got me one. And I hated it.”

Your brows furrowed. “Why?”

“It was black and orange.”

You snickered. Now you were thinking about an angry little Haechan being a sulky and petulant mess.

When it was time for the final shoves, you had just enough energy to will yourself to keep pushing. Your body was being put through the most gruesome test ever. But you kept the negativity to a minimum and thought only of your family for your own sanity.

And then it was done. There were loud whimpers. Your baby girl was given to you first, followed by your son. You couldn’t remember a time when you were more occupied with emotion.

Haechan gawked in awe. For a moment he couldn’t even believe that this wasn’t just a dream and fought off tears the best he could. You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop the tears blurring your vision. Your kids were here at last and they were the light of your life.

The first hour was spent making plenty of skin-to-skin contact and bonding with your babies. Haechan was smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt. He was already obsessed with the tiny little humans he’d helped make and all of your mutual sacrifice seemed so worth it.

There were many things that had to happen before you could leave the hospital, but two days later, you were at home resting. Sleep was all you wanted (even though your vocal children had other plans). Which, after the exhausting process you endured only days before, was well-deserved.

One week passed since you were discarded from the hospital. After a period spent catching up on rest to the best of your ability, you started to accept visitors. Chaewon and Jaemin, the wonderful godparents that they were, assisted with fielding phone calls and text messages from curious loved ones.

The mood in your home was different the day you and Haechan allowed visitors. Your bedroom was like a club and Haechan was serving as a bouncer, letting them in one-by-one in case you got overwhelmed.

Chaewon had seen the babies a little earlier than the others. She was your best friend, after all. “They’re so cute,” she’d gushed.

The babies in question were nested comfortably on your chest. They were also resting. There was a smile tugging at your lips, irresistible. Your heart was at peace.

Ironically, Mark was the first to show up. Again. “Yo, yo, yo. Where’s my niece and nephew?”

“Shh. They’re sleeping,” Haechan scolded from the door.

Mark’s eyes were wide, lips parted. “They must be sleepy, huh?”

You quipped, “Yeah. Apparently, wailing all night long is exhausting.”

“I was thinking they’d be tired of Haechan’s shit, but yeah, that checks out too,” Mark retorted.

Haechan cursed under his breath. Then, he said aloud, “If I wasn’t a better man, I would pummel you to the ground.”

“A better man, my ass,” Mark taunted. His words were promptly followed by a gasp and he put his hands over his mouth. “I meant… my butt.”

You giggled.

Mark switched on a dime. Concern washed over his face, tenderness in his eyes. “Dude, are you okay, though? Like, pregnancy is huge. It had to be eventful.”

“It was a lot of things,” you murmured, briefly bringing yourself back to that moment. You weren’t going to miss it too much, but it was beautiful. “I went through so many emotions. But I’m happy we’re all here.”

Mark bobbed his head. “Yeah, I am, too.”

When he exited the room, Winter promptly entered. And she gasped at the first sight of your babies, eyes dampening. “Oh my god!”

Her reaction made you snicker. “Yes, I know. They’re adorable.”

“Understatement of the year,” she drawled. “These are by far the cutest kids I’ve ever seen in my life.”

You grinned. “Thanks.”

Jaemin poked around the corner. Much like Chaewon, he had already seen your babies and spoken to them, cooing and babbling. “Somebody’s sleepy,” he retorted.

You bobbed your head. “They should be.”

Jaemin didn’t miss a beat, “Guess they got sick of putting up with this guy.”

Haechan’s eyes narrowed and he hissed, “You’re late. Mark already made that joke.”

Winter giggled. You stifled one on your boyfriend’s behalf.

There was a gap in between the next visits large enough for you to take a nap and you didn’t rouse until shortly before your fifth visitor.

As if it wasn’t obvious, you ignored Jeno’s nervousness. He looked a little surprised, lips parted when he caught a glimpse of your kids from the door. After he made small talk with Haechan, he entered and said, “Wow.”

Your babies were awake now. And surprisingly calm. For now. “I know.”

Jeno cleared his throat. “They’re beautiful. Congratulations, both of you.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, staring adoringly at your kids.

Jeno searched tirelessly for things to say. He didn’t want the wrong words to come out of his mouth, but you personally inviting him over shocked him. He asked, “How was labor?”

“Laborious,” you replied dryly.

Jeno snorted.

Haechan wasn’t shy to brag, “She was a champ. I’ve never been more proud.”

Your face was warm. And so was your heart.

“I’m sure she was,” Jeno said, gleaming.

You tilted your head. “Would you like to hold one of them?”

Jeno gawked. “Can I?”

You nodded.

“Okay. Yeah, sure,” Jeno stammered out.

Glancing down at your son, you cooed, “You wanna go to Uncle Jeno? Yeah?”

Shock flickered over Jeno’s face, as if he couldn’t believe the words leaving your mouth. With maternal cautiousness, you handed him your closest child, which happened to be your son. Jeno watched for his head without having to be instructed, holding your baby as if he would shatter.

These babies were a part of you and Haechan, and Jeno swore that if there was anything you ever needed him to do for them, he wouldn’t hesitate to come running.

“Hi,” Jeno greeted, smiling at your son. “You’re really lucky, you know. You have the best mom and dad on the whole planet.”

You smiled softly.

“Am I…,” Ryujin trailed, strolling down the hallway. Imagine her shock when she noticed Jeno standing there. “Late?”

Jeno cleared his throat. “Ryujin.”

Ryujin’s arms folded. “Jeno.”

“You look good,” Jeno said, mouth suddenly dry.

Ryujin was eyeing him, skeptical, as if she still didn’t trust him. But you could see the sadness in her stare. “You, too,” she replied quietly.

Jeno gently placed your son back in your arms, making sure he was secure before he released his grip.

“We forgive him, Ryujin,” Haechan said, even if it took months.

Ryujin’s eyes flickered. Jeno stepped in front of her and glanced at the floor. If there was something he wanted to tell her, he lacked the courage.

“Look me in the eyes.”

Jeno did it. He would do anything to make his mistakes up to the people he owed to.

Ryujin wrapped her arms around him. Jeno stiffened for a second, not expecting that of all reactions, but gently hugged her back. While they were reconciling, you and Haechan glanced at each other. There was a telepathic exchange of thought between the two of you.

Then, Ryujin pulled back, and whined, “Ugh, I just realized something. We’re uneven again.”

Haechan snorted in disbelief. Of course that was what she was worried about.

“Not if you include the kids plus Haechan and I’s future cat,” you quipped smartly.

Ryujin beamed in amusement. “I think I can work with that.”

Glancing down at your two lovely kids, the cutest of hats on their tiny little heads, you grinned and said, “Yeah, so do I.”

#lee haechan smut #haechan smut #nct dream smut #nct dream x reader #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct

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blues824 · 10 months

Note

Can I have headcanons about how Malleus would react when he tried ice cream cake (a combination of both his favorite and least favorite foods), fried ice cream and gelato for the first time, especially during his birthday? Bonus points if he compared ice cream and gelato and tasted both of them just to see which one he likes better.

Gender-neutral reader.

Malleus Draconia

When you invited him to Ramshackle so he could taste-test a few different things for his birthday, he was very excited to do so. You said that you had ice cream, and he loved both of those things: his Child of Man, and ice cream. He actually wasn’t patient enough to go there normally, and actually teleported to your dorm in pure excitement.

However, the ice cream came in a plot twist: it was in different forms!

The first thing you had him try was ice cream cake. It was a bit hard to get him to agree to try it, as he didn’t like cake, but you promised that he only needed to have a small slice and that he needed to try all three layers. He decided that it wasn’t a full cake, and thus he had no need to worry. Plus, you were holding the fork up to his mouth, so if he was being fed by his beloved, it wouldn’t be so bad.

He actually quite enjoyed it. It was a two-layered chocolate cake with ice cream for the filling, and he actually wanted another bite. After all, it wasn’t eating a whole cake if you were sharing it with your beloved. However, his feelings kind of soured when he learned that you had baked the cake with Trey Clover. You’ll have to excuse him: his draconic instincts make him a bit… possessive.

Anyways, the next thing to try was fried ice cream. At first it didn’t make sense, but you told him how exactly you did it and it started to click for him. However, since he had the first bite of the ice cream cake, he deemed it your turn to have the first bite of the fried ice cream, so you did. It was definitely very sweet but also very crunchy, and you held the fork to his mouth again and he took a bite.

Malleus ended up liking it better than the ice cream cake, mainly because it was topped with whipped cream and a cherry. He did that thing where he took the cherry stem and tied it in his mouth, making you a bit flustered. He told you that growing up in isolation had him learning many different tricks, and tying cherry stems with his tongue was one of them.

Up next was what looked like normal ice cream. You said it was called gelato, and he made a note to research about it later. Anyways, it was thicker than the ice cream his retainers would get at Sam’s shop. You held a spoonful up to him, and he took a bite. Bro immediately fell in love with the gelato. It was his favorite that he tried that day.

You found the look of joy on his face absolutely adorable as he gently took the spoon from you and scooped up some, and brought it to your lips this time. You took a bite, and you accidentally bit into it. You shivered and when he asked what was wrong you told him that your teeth were sensitive to the cold (so are mine lol) and you bit into the frozen dessert. He let out a laugh before continuing to dig in.

You then asked if he liked gelato or ice cream better, and he declared that gelato was his favorite over ordinary ice cream. He asked, like a very happy little boy rather than the future king of Briar Valley, if he could have some more and you nodded your head with a smile. You then told him that it would be at his birthday party that you were planning for him, and he grew even more excited.

#twst #twst x reader #twst wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #malleus #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twst malleus #twst malleus draconia x reader #twst malleus draconia #twst malleus x reader

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babyleostuff · 8 months

Note

Ok ok but how cute would they be when you try to teach them how to make your favorite comfort foods, i feel like there would be so much playful banter

oh my god, i love you so much for this request this is the cutest shit everrrr 😭 i low key cried while writing this, cuz i'm never going to experience this (i'm really fighting for my life here)

teaching them how to make your comfort food | ot13

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d probably whine at some point that it’s to complicated and that he’s already lost, but at the same time he’d fight you for the knife, because he insists that it’s too dangerous for you to chop the ingredients on your own

𓆩♡𓆪 when you get past the whining stage though, he’d be actually so excited to learn how to make your comfort food, and (he would not admit this) for some reason he was very touched by the fact that you wanted to show him how to do it

𓆩♡𓆪 because it surely must be very personal to you, and the fact that you want to share it with him??? His tummy is all warm and fuzzy from the amount of love he has for you

𓆩♡𓆪 but then again, he’d randomly tell you that you’re doing something wrong and how you’re supposed to do it, which shut up Choi Seungcheol

𓆩♡𓆪 you actually called him by his full name once and he got whiny again

YOON JEONGHAN

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d try to gaslight you that he already know how to make it, which??? how???

𓆩♡𓆪 you’d drag him to the kitchen and tell him to make it then, to which he’d just give you his sweetest smile and say that he was just joking - nothing new when it comes to your “devil dressed in a disguise of an angel” boyfriend

𓆩♡𓆪 but that would be the perfect opportunity to actually teach him how to cook your comfort food, so you’d put on some music, give him one of your matching aprons and get to work

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d question everything you were doing, acting as if he was the pro here, but anytime you’d turn back to him, again, he’d have his sweet smile on his face, acting as if he wasn’t just bossing you around

𓆩♡𓆪 but after some time, he’d get really invested in the cooking and he’d abandon the teasing to actually focus on you and how you were explaining everything so patiently, looking so happy to teach him how to cook your favourite food

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d be the type to roll up your sleeves and kiss your forehead, while still focusing on what you were doing, just because he didn’t want to miss any of the steps

HONG JOSHUA

𓆩♡𓆪 you’d think that it would be just a normal afternoon cooking time with Joshua, where you’d spend some nice quality time together, make your favourite food and listen to some comforting music, while you did all of the corny relationship things, right?

𓆩♡𓆪 wrong

𓆩♡𓆪 for some reason, the one time that you actually wanted to show him something important and dear to you, he decided to pull out the most random moves on you

𓆩♡𓆪 it’s not that he ignored the fact that you were about to teach him how to cook your comfort food, no - he loved it, but why make it an ordinary cooking session, when he can make it fun and very much unforgettable?

𓆩♡𓆪 so when you’d try to show him one of the steps, he’d take the ingredient and do something very much questionable, while having the prettiest smile on his face and saying “look at this, darling”

𓆩♡𓆪 in the end, not only did you teach him how to cook your comfort food, but it turned out to be one of the best and fun dates you’ve ever had

WEN JUNHUI

𓆩♡𓆪 I don’t know why, but I feel like he would giggle at everything that you were doing??? You could literally be cutting a steak with a machete, and he’d still laugh??? I don’t know, but I’m sure he’d be all giggly and smiley if you’d drag him to the kitchen, trying to persuade him to cook with you

𓆩♡𓆪 but he wouldn’t be able to say “no” to you (he never is)

𓆩♡𓆪 the moment he messes up, he turns into the poutiest baby, apologising for doing it wrong, but when you mess something up - he just straight up laughs in your face, which is so not amusing Wen Junhui (but then he does something wrong again, and you laugh at him in revenge)

𓆩♡𓆪 still, he’d try his best to focus and follow your directions, looking at you and mirroring your movements carefully, as to not mess up your comfort food, that he knew was important to you

𓆩♡𓆪 no matter how it turned out in the end, you were still proud of him for even trying and grateful that he found some time in his crazy schedules to do it with you

KWON SOONYOUNG

𓆩♡𓆪 we know he doesn’t quite know how to use a kettle properly, so putting him in the kitchen is a bit questionable, but you thought it would be a fun activity to cook together, especially because you’d teach him how to cook something that is important to you

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d really try to keep up with you, looking frantically around the kitchen with wide eyes, acting as if never had to cook before (at some point he’d try doing something to make you laugh, but he accidentally knocked over the flour, so the kitchen ended up looking like a big mess)

𓆩♡𓆪 to be honest, he lost the grip on what you were doing after adding like the second ingredient, so he just decided to improvise and see what happens, which led to you chasing him around the house with a kitchen cloth

𓆩♡𓆪 but you knew he tried, he really did, and he put a lot of love into the making, so no matter how it turned out it, the most important thing was, that it was made with love

JEON WONWOO

𓆩♡𓆪 okay, making him cook is a dangerous thing and Wonwoo in the kitchen usually equals disaster, but you really wanted to teach him (+ you’d get to spend some quality time together)

𓆩♡𓆪 you’d tell him to get some salt to which he’d pull out a bag of sugar, BUT to his defence he forgot to wear his glasses, so he couldn’t really tell the difference (at some point he also almost burned the pot and you almost threw him out of the kitchen)

𓆩♡𓆪 but after a while he got a hang of it, and actually started doing a good job, so as a reward you decided to peck his cheek anytime he got something right - which wasn’t the best idea, because he got so distracted every time you did it

𓆩♡𓆪 also, when you fed him small spoons to check if everything was good, his answer was always “tasty”

𓆩♡𓆪 but to be fair, it really was tasty, and because Wonwoo was so proud of himself, he was flexing for the next week how good of a cook he was (you did most of the work, but that made no difference to him)

LEE JIHOON

𓆩♡𓆪 when you proposed teaching him how to make your comfort food he simply nodded, trying to act indifferent, but the slight blush that adorned his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by you

𓆩♡𓆪 he was actually a lot more focused on the cooking than you thought he’d be, which made you so happy, you couldn’t stop smiling the whole time

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d turn on some music, and you’d fall into a comfortable conversation, making sure that he was getting everything right from time to time

𓆩♡𓆪 at one point, you tried to open a jar, which you were struggling with, and instead of helping you Jihoon stood by, his arms crossed across his chest, looking all smug (are you trying to flex sir?)

𓆩♡𓆪 you had no other choice but to give him the jar, which he opened with ease (who would’ve guessed)

𓆩♡𓆪 at the end, he even suggested himself that you should do it again some other time, trying to act as nonchalant as he could - despite that, the happiness was so prominent on his face :(((

XU MINGHAO

𓆩♡𓆪 you know that soft smile Minghao has when he looks at his members - that smile would be apparent on his face for the whole time that you were cooking, and even after when you were eating it on the sofa, cuddled under a blanket

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d be attentive to your every move, but at the same time he’d tease the shit out of you (I’m sorry, how am I supposed to hold the spoon according to you Minghao?)

𓆩♡𓆪 but you knew that it was all for fun and games, because would he roll up your sleeves if he didn’t love you? Would he hold your hair back anytime you’d lean over the pot? Would he put his arm around your waist when he was standing closer to you?

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d also blow at the spoon anytime you wanted to try the food to see if it was okay

𓆩♡𓆪 you’d probably giggle a lot about some random stuff, slowly realising how domestic you were being, which made you both a bit shy, because you both knew that this is how you’d love to spend everyday

KIM MINGYU

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d act all Gordon Ramsey on you and try to teach you how to make your comfort food. Which, excuse you Kim Mingyu???

𓆩♡𓆪 but seriously though, he’d be over the moon, because well - he loves cooking for you, and now he’d be able to make that one special dish that always brightens up even the gloomiest days for you

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d be so so so focused on you and what you were doing, so that he would get everything right later on

𓆩♡𓆪 it’d be so adorable, honestly - he’d have like this cute little pout, while his eyes would follow your every move and he’d ask a bunch of questions and ughhhhhh

𓆩♡𓆪 at some point he’d try to make it corny as well, like wrapping his arms around your waist from the back, putting his head in the crook of your neck or on top of your head, kissing your cheek from time to time

𓆩♡𓆪 Kim Mingyu focus, it’s not the time for your puppy-like behaviour

LEE SEOKMIN

𓆩♡𓆪 the amount of love he’d pour into making your comfort food is astronomical - he is so focused on doing everything perfectly, because it’s your comfort food, and it makes you happy, so he has to get everything perfectly

𓆩♡𓆪 but you’d have to take some breaks in between, because his attention span is rather short

𓆩♡𓆪 at one point he just randomly started singing and dancing to “Fighting”, because he was struggling with something, which okay??? Everyone has their ways of dealing with stuff, I guess

𓆩♡𓆪 and because he is so random with his antics, once, he spooked you to the point where you dropped a bowl full of ingredients to the ground

𓆩♡𓆪 but over all, you had such a great time and you were laughing so much to the point where your stomachs were aching, but you wouldn’t have it any other way

BOO SEUNGKWAN

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d make the whole experience so funny, there would be a second where you didn’t want to crumble from all the laughing

𓆩♡𓆪 even when he was silently judging your ingredient choices, giving you his famous side eye, you laughed so much to the point where your stomach ached (in the best way possible)

𓆩♡𓆪 when you insisted he was doing something wrong, he threw a tantrum, waving the spoon, causing some of the food to land on the walls

𓆩♡𓆪 and he never touched the spoon again, so you ended up doing most of the work yourself

𓆩♡𓆪 but that didn’t change the fact that he was paying attention to your every move, and he was already planning when he’d make you your comfort food by himself to surprise you

CHWE VERNON

𓆩♡𓆪 you’d have to write him a manual on how to use the kitchen and a VERY specific recipe (at least two pages long), before he even stepped into the room (otherwise it would end with a fire)

𓆩♡𓆪 did someone say fire??? Uh, take off your mask now / 이제는 해제 now, it's time to dance now, uh (ooh-ooh!)

𓆩♡𓆪 even if he can’t cook and does not do it often, he’d really try doing his best - like, just take a second to imagine his confused, yet focused face (he’s the babiest of them all, I can’t anymore), and you’d have to be very patient with him, but it’s okay, because he’s trying :(((

𓆩♡𓆪 he would constantly be asking questions, and nudging you with his shoulder to get your attention, so you could check if he wasn’t messing anything up

𓆩♡𓆪 and even if he was, if he added too much or too little of something, you’d still tell him how great of a job he was doing

𓆩♡𓆪 it made him so smiley, and he blushed a little at your words :(((((

LEE CHAN

𓆩♡𓆪 oh, he was so happy when you suggested that some time you could try teaching him how to make your comfort food, to which he went “some time? Let’s do it now”, and he dragged you to the kitchen himself

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d take it so seriously, even when you assured him that he doesn’t have to get everything perfect, as long as it’s edible it’s fine, but he insisted (he’s such a perfectionist, I swear) that he has to get everything right

𓆩♡𓆪 guys, I can practically hear his laugh echoing in your kitchen when you joke around

𓆩♡𓆪 then again, Chan isn't the best cook out there, so there were times where you just wanted to laugh at him for being so clumsy and oblivious, but he looked way too cute for you to do that

𓆩♡𓆪 so you just stuck to helping him out (also the way he smiles when you put your hands around his waist to guide him, I NEED HELP)

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d spoon feed you after, because why not

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star

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hades-in-bloom · 8 months

Text

Shower Thoughts

Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

summary: Leon has just returned from another soul-crushing mission—and you didn't happen to be home yet.

warnings & contents: heavy angst, our sweetpea is hurt; suicide trigger/thoughts; implied severe depression; assumed older Leon; implied military training on the reader; more hurt than comfort; mentions of death and violence, and blood; could be read as age gap but could be none; the reader could be of any gender; there's light at the end of the tunnel.

a/n: I was craving some angst but didn't plan it to go that far; oh well. Our sweet boy deserves all the happiness though—but author is a bitch. Also, I don't believe Leon would be seriously considering harming himself, but I do believe that he's an empathetic human being kidnapped in his youth to do a shitty job, so there could be a moment of weakness; otherwise, “we owe it to the people who died alongside us, so we have to continue living.” As always, proceed at your own risk. DNI minors & if mentions of suicide affect you. This is a work of fiction and shouldn't be used as guidance on how to behave in similar sensitive situations. Masterlist

***

Leon rubbed his hands under the hot tap forcefully, willing to wash off the blood; the water coming off his fingers was clean for a while, but he seemed not to notice it—after all, there was always blood on his hands, whether others could see it or not. The man only stopped when the touch started to hurt, his abused skin red from friction.

“Shit,” Leon grunted under his breath and turned off the faucet angrily, his breathing ragged. Others might say that it was adrenaline still rushing through his veins, but he knew it wasn’t it. For how long he’s done this job, he was past the prolonged adrenaline rush a while ago. Leon put his palm over his forehead, barely covering his exhausted eyes; his hands slightly shaking.

How many more people had to die before this shit would end?

He remembered them all, those he couldn’t save, and he only kept counting. Leon knew he wasn’t supposed to—saving ordinary folk was a luxury in his position—but it was hard for him to accept who he had become. The extensive bathroom mirror in front of him, he couldn’t level his gaze to take a look at himself, and when he did, his teeth clenched, and his glance shot into the corner of the reflection—there was his essential gear, a pistol and a knife, thoughtlessly dropped on the bathroom floor.

Suddenly, he felt exhausted. A carnal thought made him blush in a fever—wouldn’t it be so easy? Leon was never the type to look for easy ways out—but he was only of flesh and blood, too; isn't he only human? Despite what reports said about him always being “the survivor” and “the golden boy.” Screw the odds.

He picked up his gear from the floor, his palm sliding across the pistol barrel. Leon counted the bullets left in the magazine with another hand, pulling it back into the grip compartment right after; his facial expression was unreadable, deprived of emotion. In moments like this, the man wasn't sure if he could feel anything anymore.

Wouldn't it be so easy, after all? Maybe after that, he'll be able to wake up from this bloody nightmare.

Consumed by his thoughts, he didn't hear how the keys screeched in the lock of the apartment door, and you came in.

You noticed his jacket on the hanger, and your eyebrows shot to your forehead in surprise.

“Leon?” you called to him, dropping bags full of groceries next to the kitchen island; your body tensed in anticipation. You didn't expect him so early. After his assignments, he usually barged in the middle of the night and not in the light of day. You didn't complain, though. You missed him.

You gently knocked on the bathroom door when you heard muffled sounds from another side. “Hey,” your voice was calm and soothing. “Can I come in? Do you need help?” At this point, you got used to his bruises and stitches, caring only about him getting back home in one piece.

There was something more to his injuries this time.

“Shit,” Leon cursed under his breath again when you stepped into the bathroom, despairing of getting a word out of him. You were worried; he could see it on your face. You quickly noticed his scalded hands, the right one behind his back, hiding something. He looked like a curious teenager who got caught watching adult movies.

“Hey,” his lips stretched into an unnatural smile. “Sorry, I didn't hear you come in…”

“You should've called me,” you scolded him calmly, making a step forward. His body tensed and froze as soon as you stretched your hand toward him, and you held back a frown. “…I would’ve been home in a heartbeat.”

The man’s eyes were bloodshot, his lips chapped, and his breath ragged; and then you saw it—the reflection in the mirror betraying him—his long fingers clinging to the gun. Your mouth went agape, and you dashed forward with a precision of a trained police officer.

“Give it to me,” you hissed, your heart beating in your throat. You were scared—you haven't been that afraid of in ages. Leon gasped, bamboozled, and his hand easily let go of a weapon. You didn’t ask—you slapped him across the face, letting your frustration out. “Are you mad? What were you going to do with this thing?”

You would react differently if he wasn’t hiding it; somehow this bothered you more than anything. After all, Leon should’ve known that you wouldn’t fumble at the sight of a gun, which made his attempts to cover its presence even more pointless.

His cheeks flushed, and he gulped, incapable of looking at you; he was confirming your worst fears, and after giving him a long stare, your hand covered your mouth to stop you from sobbing.

“Moron,” you grunted under your breath. His head got even lower, and you saw a tear falling onto the lightly colored tile. It took you a moment before you grabbed him into an angry, desperate embrace. His hands wrapped around your waist, then one shot into your hair, pressing at the back of your head, pulling you closer. His face was buried into your neck, and his body shook violently as he let himself cry.

You held him painfully close as long as it was necessary. “I am sorry,” you whispered next to his ear while he clung to you like a drowning man to a lifeboat; you sounded hurt and angry—and hopeful. “I am so, so sorry.”

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beenbaanbuun · 2 months

Text

inhaler w/ yunho

i wrote this bc i’m sick at the minute and so my asthma is 10x worse than usual and (as always) i have no fucking clue where my inhaler is :D

——————————————————————————

forgetful!asthmatic!reader who always misplaces your inhaler mixed with clueless!boyfriend!yunho who can’t help but feel a little lost

okay so we all know he’s a sweetie pie but i just feel like he’d be a little nonchalant about the situation when he first finds out

he just kind of brushes it off because asthma’s a pretty common thing, right?

and like, it just means you get out of breath a little quicker, doesn’t it? nothing to worry too much about

besides, you seem to have it all under control - what could he possibly do to help that you don’t already do for yourself!

there’s no point in him worrying over something that he doesn’t need to

but then he’s over at your apartment for a movie night, the two of you snuggled up together on the couch

he’s trying to pay attention to the film, but he can’t help but notice that you’re breathing a little heavier than usual

he keeps an eye on you out of the corner of his eye, just because he’s a good boyfriend and he wants to make you’re you’re 100% okay

and despite the way your chest is rising and falling like you’ve just come off of a 4 mile run, you seem perfectly happy

you’re not behaving out of the ordinary or doing anything you normally wouldn’t, so you probably have it all under control yourself

so once he’s sure you’re not dying, he stops checking on you so much because you seem like you’re fine, other than the obvious

and even if you weren’t, he wasn’t going to overstep and assume anything; you’d let him know if you needed his help

but then after a few more minutes, he hears you take a really deep breath, like you’re trying to fill your lungs to the brim with air

that in itself is a little concerning, but then he hears you wheeze as you take in the breath, the tightness in your chest now audible

his gaze shoots to you again, only this time he’s definitely concerned about you

“are you alright?” he frowns, “what was that?”

you look at him confused, eyebrows furrowed because you don’t understand what he’s talking about

“what was what?”

“the wheeze thing you just did,” he confirms, “are you alright?”

and as he says that it dawns on you that this is the first time he’s ever properly seen the effects of your asthma

like sure, your asthma has an effect on damn near everything you do but yunho’s never bore witness to it when it’s at its worst

when you don’t even have to move to be out of breath; sitting there is simply enough to make you feel like your lungs have decreased by 50%

when breathing is a chore in itself and to even feel like you’re getting enough oxygen, every breath you take is heavy and deep

when alongside each of those deep breaths comes a wheeze that you have to learn to block out before it drives you insane

it almost seems like a good thing that yunho has never seen it in full force before; it means that days like this aren’t as regular as you think they are

“it’s just my asthma,” you shrug, “nothing i can’t cope with, yun.”

you say it like it is because it is just your asthma; it’s nothing you haven’t been dealing with since you were a child

but yunho feels like he’s going insane because how are you so nonchalant about not being able to breathe?

“do you need your inhaler?” he asks, “if you let me know where it is i’ll grab it for you.”

you think for a second

you know you should take it, but for some reason you can’t place your finger on where you had it last

“i’ll find it later,” you tell him, knowing it’s likely that you’ll have to scour the entire apartment to find it, “don’t worry too much, okay?”

yunho just stares at you with his mouth gaped because how could you sound so unbothered about the fact that you sound like you’re dying?!?

and what do you mean by ‘find it’? surely you’d know where it is since since it’s, y’know, your medication??

“well i am worried,” he says with a frown, “do you not know where it is?”

again, you shrug

“probably in the bedroom but i’m not too sure where,” you say, “or it could be in one of my bags. maybe my black one!”

yunho kicks himself for not being more attentive of the issue

party because he feels like maybe he’s been ignoring just how bad of an issue your condition really is

but mainly because he should’ve known that no matter the condition you would definitely not be as attentive as you should be

“i’m going to find it,” he gets up from the sofa and begins to walk past you but you grab hold of his wrist to stop him

he just looks down at you with a cocked brow and an unhappy look on his face

even you staring up at him with puppy eyes can’t stop him from feeling agitated at you and your inability to see this as an issue

“yunho, sit down,” you command, but he doesn’t, “yunho, i’m being serious. i’ve dealt with this millions of times; i know how to cope without an inhaler.”

he still doesn’t sit, waiting for you to elaborate

because it’s not that he doesn’t believe that you’ve dealt with it a whole bunch, but he isn’t too sure on whether to trust your method of dealing with it

especially when your method of dealing with most things is ‘let it sort itself out’

“i just need to sit here for a while, alright?” you rub your thumb along the wrist you’re holding, as if you’re trying to comfort him, “it won’t help it, but at least it won’t get worse.”

that sounds an awful lot like ‘letting it sort itself out’ to him, but he doesn’t argue with you about it…

because he can’t help but notice that you’re talking to him like he’s a scared child; all soft and quiet like any loud noise might frighten him

and he realises that maybe he is a little scared of the whole situation, because he’s never dealt with it before

not with anyone, let alone someone he loves as deeply as he loves you

perhaps he just wishes you took your own safety a little more seriously than you seem to be doing, even if he knows deep down that you know better than he does

and maybe he just wishes he doesn’t feel so helpless in this situation, no matter how small it may seem to you

you seem to notice that though

“if you want to do something to help, you can get me a hot drink,” you throw a gentle smile in his direction, “i’ll take my preventative inhaler when it’s time for bed, and we can find my blue one before we sleep”

he thinks it over for a few minutes, trying to hush the voice in his head that tells him he needs to solve this before the problem gets any bigger

he knows it won’t; you’ve told him that it won’t and he believes you

you know what you’re doing, he repeats like a mantra in his head

“do you want cocoa, tea or coffee?” he finally mutters

“coffee,” you say, kissing his arm gently before letting him go, “now stop panicking otherwise you might be the one in need of medical attention, and i won’t know how to help.”

he snorts out a tiny laugh, and you can’t help but think about how nice it is to watch the worry drain from his face

“coffee it is, my little steam train.”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #yunho fanfic #yunho x reader #ateez fluff #yunho fluff

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mailjeevasfan · 1 year

Note

hiya! i really love the way you write for all the characters. may i propose: how dn characters (up to you!) would be if they were jealous 🤲 ty in advance! <3

thank you very much!! <333

(two posts in one day. crazy times for mailjeevasfan)

-light, l lawliet, misa, matt, mello and near

-death note x reader

༺♡༻

how death note characters would act if they were jealous ❦

light yagami - as usual, i believe he’d be different pre/post death note.

pre - he’d probably be very stoic and wouldn’t show it but would be eager to feel like he had you all to himself again. he’d be extra affectionate later on and you’d be a little confused but hey you’re okay with it

post - i’m debating saying he’d write their name down LMFAO i mean if he really loved you then he’d probably be willing to go to such brutal lengths by this point in the story. despite his claims that he only kills bad people, he proved many times that this was not true. ANYWAYS in the moment he’d just give whoever it was a full death glare and then be very close to you when you got home later.

l lawliet - kind of similar to light, but his death glare would be LETHAL. he would be uncharacteristically scary until you snapped him out of it. seeing as he’s pretty unemotional, he’d be blunt about it when you inevitably asked him later why he was acting so strangely. if you teased him about it he’d be completely unfazed

misa amane - would be noticeably frustrated. you’d notice it very easily and go to spend time with her instead whilst she had her little hissy fit. later on you’d tease how affectionate she was suddenly being and she’d be visibly flustered but would feign indifference about the situation

matt - would be as chilled as he usually is, even if it isn’t that way on the inside. he’d casually find an excuse to pull you away from whatever situation it was that you were in, and you’d pretend not to notice. his imperceptible jealousy was kind of endearing to you and you’d give him some extra love

mello - would wanna beat the shit out of whoever it was and you KNOW IT. i almost want to say he would but i’m gonna leave that up to you PFFT ok but seriously he’d probably be super blunt. like why are you talking to them? ummm they are mine???

later on he’d casually try to get closer to you and you’d TOTALLY tease him. he’d probably just kiss you and tell you to shut up

near - once again, full stink eye but he would remain SILENT. like fully silent he would not say anything to anyone, the man would simply stare until someone caught on (which they definitely would, he’d probably intimidate them tbh). if you joked about it to him, he’d be a little rigid at first but would tell you that it was a completely regular and ordinary reaction………….right?

༺♡༻

#death note #mail jeevas #mello #mihael keehl #l lawliet #light yagami #misa amane #matt #death note x reader #near #nate river #mail jeevas x reader #l lawliet x reader #misa amane x reader #light yagami x reader #near x reader #mello x reader

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hwan-g · 1 year

Text

DAYS OF CANDY. seo changbin

pair. bouncer! changbin x fem! reader (+ seungmin, chan, minho) | genre. slight gang activity, bad boy, infatuation at first sight, angst, smut | warnings. profanity, brief violence, depictions of toxic/abusive behavior, mentions of murder, mental struggle, age gap (unrelated to plot), unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, generally flawed characters | word count. 14.9k | in the same universe as route 66 and midnight diner but can be read as standalone.

synopsis. a lot of things happened in motel rooms, even more happened between him and girls like you, girls that ride on his bike and have him by the balls.

It was an ordinary night, when you made the wrong choice.

You’d heard of the reputation Route 66 had built for itself, knew how hard it was to get past the two infamous bouncers at the door, and of that one incident on the 16th of February, the one that made it on the news and forced the club to shut down for a whole month. The owner, Bang Chan, refused to give any statements, and the entire ordeal was soon forgotten, swept under the rug by people that refuse to acknowledge the existence of gang activity in their city.

You had a high school friend that worked there as a bartender, someone you’d been quite close to once, but drifted apart from when you first got together with your boyfriend. Minho still called you sometimes—he hated texts, hated how impersonal they were, and would rather hear your voice instead—just to see how you were doing, if you still worked at the same retail store you started at right after graduation, and that he hopes you’re doing okay, that he’s only a phone call away if you ever need him, and you know you can always just come visit me, right?

You knew that, wished you could say it was easy for you to do that, but that was merely denial talking. You worked a full time job that took up most of your time, and when you weren’t selling clothes, you were washing and folding them, you were consumed by a man that refused to let you take one step away from him, an apartment that felt more like a prison than a refuge. There had been a social life once, but that seemed lifetimes ago now, nothing but a distant dream. There had also been a time where your boyfriend was your whole world, and you’d love for nothing else but to be in his presence always, stuck to him like glue, but that had also withered away somewhere, and died.

Freedom seemed like paradise now. Being alone, elsewhere—you prayed for it every night before going to bed, even in your sleep. It was detrimental that something gave, and soon. You wanted to call Minho again, wanted to ask how he was doing for once, and not the other way around. No more rushed interactions, or seething looks; hands as fists, skin on skin, anger as teeth—

There was a birthday party at Route, your boyfriend’s brother was turning twenty-eight, and had invited seemingly every person he ever came across. Of course, that wouldn’t run on 66; all who entered that door had to be handpicked especially by the two men guarding it, and that was no easy task. You’d been once, a quick drink with a coworker on a regular Thursday, which turned out to be a confessional session with Minho until two in the morning, at which point he declared you entirely too drunk to return home and left his shift early to take you to his house and let you sleep it off in his bed.

Lee Minho was a good friend. He cared for you like no other man had ever done in your life, and it was not an obvious thing for him. You had to earn his respect, his time; not everyone could do it, certainly not many were willing to, and even fewer actually succeeded. It was effortless with you because you actually tried, you took the extra mile, and you never demanded anything of him. You just were, orbiting around him, once a sun to his planet, now an old survival instinct. He had lost many family members over the years; you’d held his hand as his parents passed away, held him when he cried, stayed on the phone on graduation day as he told you he wouldn’t show up, and could you pick up his diploma for him?

Many times you wondered where it all went, how it came to this. He’d been your closest friend for so many years, but as you stare at your boyfriend already picking a fight with the brown-haired man you’d come to know as Kim Seungmin, you realize that you let him go—let it all go—for a stupid, stupid boy that had sucked the fucking life out of you, and could just not stop doing it to anyone he ever interacted with. You’d been so naive, so incredibly dumb.

It made sense now, what you really had to do. But how you did it—that was your first mistake. You thought you were destined for a mundane life, an ordinary existence. No one could’ve prepared you for this.

“Say, should I call the cops on you, or fuck you up myself?” An extremely muscled man appeared through the underground bar’s entrance, black locks falling over his forehead, obscuring dark eyes. “I’ll be nice and make it your call.”

He locked eyes with you for a single moment, before his hard face turned its attention back to your boyfriend currently gripping your arm so tight it felt like all blood circulation had stopped. His strong arms flexed, the skin veiny, rock solid in the white button up, and his chest looked ready to pop out of that black vest with the business tie, all formal, all currently stirring something incredibly dark within you.

If you had a voice, you’d beg him to make that call, plead with him for a chance at freedom. But you didn’t, you couldn’t possibly find it at that moment, as the other man flashed his gun discreetly, a deadly warning to your boyfriend’s ominous words. You had to give it to him, no matter how sick to your stomach it made you—he had ways to hurt people, ways to make them disappear. He liked hurting you the most, his precious girl. Sometimes in ways that couldn’t be visible to the naked eye.

“Time’s ticking, fuckface,” the seemingly older guy threatened, getting closer to his target’s face. You whimpered, looking down to hide your discomfort, but not before you noticed him studying the movement. “Let her go.”

“Fuck out of my face, before you regret it,” your boyfriend snarled back, and shook you forward, yet refusing to release you. “You go inside, find my brother and tell him these two assholes are giving me trouble.”

Brown-haired boy laughed as the other one smirked. “Are we giving him trouble, Seungmin?”

“I don’t believe so, Changbin.” But both guns were glinting in the night sky, their intentions clear.

Changbin stood with both arms crossed in front of him, menacing, terrifying. “We just wanna be your friend, pretty boy. Let the girl go, so we can chat and braid our hair, yeah?”

If he’d only loosen his grip, then you could tug and pull away. Your brain’s autopilot had been turned on since before you left the apartment, there were responses but no reactions, and you were pretty sure both men could tell you’d been through this many times before. You always made it very apparent, in hopes someone would finally help you, someone would dare. It wouldn’t always be like this, but you had to make it happen. The man’s attention on you whispered of many things, but freedom—freedom was the first one promised.

“You’re the funny one, aren’t you?”

The smirk widened, a hand resting on the metal against his rib. “Perhaps we should let the pretty thing next to you decide that one. Last warning.”

You saw the exact moment you vanished from your boyfriend’s mind, his touch leaving you at once, murder written across his face as he got close to the bouncer, a punch ready to land, the violence you were so accustomed to coming to a climax, finally, a firework taking flight, a missile bomb launching—

The sound of clicking, multiple gasps from behind you, and then you saw it. Smooth black underneath his jaw, Changbin’s finger on the trigger, head tilted, smile wicked, sinister, his friend mirroring him, standing a breath away, on the ready—they were going to shoot, they were going to do it, they’ve done it before, you can smell it off of them, the gunpowder, the crime, the sin. You almost reach out, but for what? You wouldn’t stop it, you didn’t care to. You’d let it happen and slip past his caving body to find Minho, to announce you were free, to drink yourself oblivious and swear you’d never again become prey for men to feast on.

The end, so close.

“Walk away before this gets ugly,” Changbin stated, contained anger and ice cold amusement both evident in his tone. “We turned away your entire entourage, there’s nothing for you here.”

“Johnny, maybe you should go—”

The malicious eyes were on you again, once beautiful, holding so much in them, and you remember yourself wishing you could drown in all of it, for as long as possible, until eternity ceased. You loved this man once, with all your heart, but he was nothing short of a stranger to you now, and if he had died just moments prior, the thought of being glad for it scared you to your fucking core.

What sort of person had you become next to him? No more.

“I should go?” he asked incredulously, and his lips curled. “Fuck it, stay here for all I fucking care. No one will ever come back for you, (Y/N),” he spat, pointing a single finger at you, already walking backwards, away from you, forever. “Remember that.”

Both bouncers moved in front of you, hiding you from your, now, ex boyfriend’s view once and for all. You hadn’t even realized how much you were shaking until Changbin reached a hand out to take your fingers in his, his touch warm, the rings he wore cool against your skin, a juxtaposition. The red neon signs above your head made you dizzy, the weight of what had just happened pushing on your shoulders, tearing you from the inside. Three years of your life, given to a man that had left you as quick as a bullet.

Perhaps you should’ve killed him yourself. Now the moment’s wasted, there will be other victims, more misery—and your stuff, all of your things were in that apartment. Who was going to retrieve them, where were you supposed to go?

Was this a bad idea? If you pushed past them, maybe you could yell out, try to reason…until you figured how crazy that sounded. Still, a sick part of you wasn’t ready to be abandoned by him, and could not stand the thought of being alone. Tears blurred your vision, and you squeezed Changbin’s hand one time, eager for direction.

“Is Minho working tonight?” you question quietly, the music from inside the bar slipping through the cracks of the steel door.

Seungmin had gone back to his post, profiling people and opening the door for them once he received their money. Changbin had pulled you to the side so gently you’d barely noticed you’d been moved. The metal was gone, and its owner was searching to meet your gaze, to ask if you were okay, but to no avail. Your eyes were glued on his boots, the leather of it, the shoelaces tying up to black pants that fit snugly around toned thighs. He was handsome, a faint thought that shouldn’t have crossed your mind at a time like this, but you couldn’t look past it, either. He smelled of amber and he’d just popped something in his mouth.

You look up just in time to make out the red of his lollipop. Raspberry. It clicked against his teeth as he sucked on it; you were so near to him the stick of it was grazing your lips. You faltered, and took a step back. He let you, but he never once let go of your hand.

“He’s not, sweet thing,” he replied softly, giving you a curve of a smile. Draped in red, he appeared dreamlike. “No one’s gonna hurt you, yeah? You’re safe with me.”

You nod, but you can barely hold his gaze. He chuckles, sensing your struggle. Your throat is dry, your heart in shambles; you could really use a drink or two, before you made another terrible mistake. You needed to call Minho, let him know of your situation. Perhaps he would understand, and let you stay at his place until you figured what to do with your belongings, and the lease on your name. You couldn’t risk going yourself, but Changbin, maybe, if you could find the guts to ask something like that of him—

It didn’t feel right to involve your other friends, the ones not related to weapons and abuse, the ones that will never know what has happened to you, what will always remain part of your story, no matter if you’ve escaped for the time being or forever. Johnny was the vengeful type, and he certainly would not let it go. Anger had made a monster out of him, and everyone would pay for your insubordination. He didn’t take well to change, certainly not when it involved you. It was simply a matter of time.

You took a deep breath, your chest rising and falling deeply. The bouncer in front of you rested his hands on your arms, rubbing soothingly there, waiting for you to speak, to tell him what to do.

“I have to go, I need to—I’ll—thank you,” you stumble through your words, turning to leave, hysteria bubbling in your chest, anxiety for what would become of you. “How could I ever repay what you did for me…”

“You can start with your name.”

Your eyes snapped to meet his. His mouth was moving, tongue rolling the lollipop around, and his hands dropped from your skin, as if he sensed how overwhelmed you felt. You were grateful for that small action, though a part of you wanted it, no, needed it, back. It felt grounding, real, like if it wasn’t there you’d float away somehow, incorporeal, a ghost.

Before you can even think about it, your fingers reach for his forearm, and his warmth wraps around your bones at once, the skin there, so human. Changbin seems alarmed, but remains patient with you, understanding. Your mouth is dry, but you try to swallow anyway, and his weight shifts, his gaze never drops, Seungmin is calling him—

“Yes, Kim?” he answers, but the connection is not tethered.

“The boss wants you in the back. Hey, beautiful, can I see an I.D—”

“He can wait,” he grunts, and that’s it. He’s back in your world, the one where your hand on him is the only thing keeping him alive, your eyes staring up at him the only way he’d prefer to die.

Fuck him, he’s the one in trouble, isn’t he?

“Sure, he can,” you distantly hear the brown-haired man mutter to himself sarcastically, after the two girls entered through the door. “He’s widely known for his patience.”

It brings you back to Earth. “You should go,” you encourage, smiling awkwardly, fingers unwrapping themselves hesitantly.

Changbin shakes his head, takes the stick out of his mouth. He faintly smells of red syrup. “I really fucking shouldn’t. Where are you gonna go? Do you have a place to stay?”

“I’ll figure it out, you honestly don’t have to worry about me, I can—” But you could do what? There was no way for you to finish that sentence.

He straightens his back, and it somehow makes him taller, more formidable. There’s something unreadable swimming in his expression, something between anger and compassion, and it knots your stomach, because the last thing you want is for someone to feel sorry for you. This is why no one knew, why you never said anything—you hated the pity, the charity that would come out of something like this.

A victim. You weren’t one.

“You’re with me. I’d be the last person that saw you tonight, and if something were to happen to you, I wouldn’t be able—” he stops, sighs. He looks back to where Seungmin is standing, and brings those thunder eyes back to haunt you. “Just. Please, answer the question. Do you have a place to stay?”

It’s not what you expected. This man cares, he’s like Minho. But unlike him, there’s an edge to Changbin that you’ve never seen on anyone else, like he’d tear himself apart to help you, do whatever was physically possible to make sure you’re safe. It was kindness, pure and unfiltered, and a sense of principle that no one has ever shown you before. It felt warm, like him. So, you accepted.

“(Y/N),” you blurted out, moved by his persistence. He blinks. “My name is (Y/N).”

His smile is a thousand watts. “Nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

“She’s Minho’s ‘special girl,’” Seungmin declares, eavesdropping. “All I know about you has been against my will, darling, know that.”

Changbin smirks, and lights up, digging his elbow in the bouncer’s rib. “He means he’s charmed,” he says apologetically, rubbing his neck.

A smile breaks out on your face, and you wonder how is it possible to feel at home with two people you’ve practically just met? Your heart was beating right out of your chest at the thought of spending more time with them. So much so that you nearly forgot all about the bad.

It still lurked though, waiting for the right moment. For both of you.

“Another one, is it?” Bang Chan commented teasingly, counting money against the counter. “Are we collecting them or what?”

You blushed, as Changbin sprung out to wrestle his boss in your defense. Route 66’s owner laughed a throaty sound, and surrendered, coughing and fixing his black button up. You noticed his square jaw, the sharp gaze—the girl staring at him from up on the stage. There were questions, but for some reason you had no voice to ask them.

“It’s nothing like that, Bang,” the bouncer next to you stated, rather embarrassed. “The party of twenty that we sent off? She came with one of them.”

To that, Chan perked up. There was another girl working the bar, smaller and much quieter looking than the first one, and she smiled at you when she caught your eye. You smiled back politely, and turned back to the man talking to you. The place was dark, drenched in neon, but you could still make out his face, it was so sculpted.

“You’re Minho’s friend, yeah?”

You stuttered, shy. “Y-Yes. I thought he’d be here today.”

Chan measured you. “Personal day,” he explained simply, but his fingers were still moving across the bills. “Why’d you bring her to me?” he addresses Changbin without bothering to properly look his way.

“She has nowhere to go. He was violent with her.”

You heard the hum all the way where you stood. It sounded disinterested, and for a moment you felt yourself questioning what you were exactly doing there, with a bunch of strangers that didn’t owe you anything, but then you remember the black-haired man’s words, and you remain in your place, uncomfortable.

“Take her to 103,” the owner declared. “I’ll contact Lee, see if he answers. The room has been paid for the weekend, so rest, okay? If you need anything, tell Lover Boy here. I’m sure he'll oblige.”

Changbin audibly groaned, slapping his palm over his face. “Can you shut the fuck up?”

“Just saying, baby.”

“I’m going through the back door,” he ignored the pet name, grabbing you by the wrist. “Let Min know.”

Chan was already tuning out, the girl you saw earlier now whispering to his ear. She moved like a cat to you. Or a snake. It felt mystical to watch her.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s already aware,” was his last comment before you rounded the corner to the storage room.

There were two bikes parked in the back. Both a shiny black, though one was longer, vintage. The alley was dark, the bushes along the line of the club’s property well-kept. Your arms unconsciously folded over your upper body.

Changbin mounted the aged motorcycle, turning the ignition switch, the angry roar of the engine and bright lights making you flinch. The chain hanging from his pants dangled, the metallic sound drawing your attention, before your eyes traveled to his biceps, displayed in full force with the way he hunched over the handlebars. You desperately tried to hide it, but your breath was stuck in your throat, your heart jumping at the view.

He was ridiculously attractive, and this wasn’t like that. He’d made it clear, and you— you’d just got out of a messed up relationship. You didn’t need this. And yet—

“Come here, will you? I promise I won't bite.”

Of all things, this was bad in a completely different, yet just as torturous way. You still did it anyway; you passed your leg over the seat, you put your arms around his muscled body, leaning into him, and if your nose caught his burning scent or the berry flavor of his candy you told your silly heart to suck it up and turned your cheek. But ignoring it was futile—there was this intense sizzling between you, and it’d be a flat out lie to say he didn’t feel it, because at every red light, every all-way stop and traffic junction he squirmed and cleared his throat in a manner men only do when they’re rock hard and in need of relief.

“We’re not too far now,” he spoke after a while, taking a left turn and readjusting your hold with one of his hands. His long fingers were cold but sure in their touch. “You okay?” His head turned to show his profile, the soft, dark curls bouncing in the wind, and what was the question again?

“It’s a nice night,” you comment, not able to form any other coherent sentence.

He nods, and takes off again, this time speeding down the road, making passes on cars, taking yellow’s, and never once looking back after that. The sky was pitch black, not a star in the city, and most businesses’ had closed for the day, leaving gas stations and fast food places all on their own, though even those were sparse and far between wherever you were going. There had been a moment, though small, where you doubted his intentions, doubted these people and their words. But these people were Minho’s people, and there was never any doubt about him.

You really wished you had taken your phone with you. It seemed like a good thing to have in a situation like this. The thought of where it is, or rather whom it’s with, made your skin crawl, and your mind wander. What was Johnny doing right now? Had he left the apartment already?

Staring at a spot on Changbin’s vest, you realized he’d just entered a parking lot, a motel named ‘Starlight’ coming into focus, its teal color and neon letters hard to miss. He killed the engine and waited for you to get off, before demounting himself. You lingered a bit as he adjusted the stand of the bike, and cracked his neck. Thin black ink ran down the side of it, lightning or veins, you couldn’t quite make it out from your distance, but before you could analyze it further, he motioned for you to follow him, extending a hand and recognizing what he’s doing.

Your eyes met as his jaw clenched, and his arm fell. It felt like intuition or will, and he was rejecting it all. You should’ve felt glad he was repressing himself, but all you felt instead was empty. You shouldn’t want this, you kept repeating to yourself. He’s just being nice. He’s just being kind. And it was those things, but it was something else, something that was neither your fault nor his; attraction, maybe, or just the simple fact that he felt like the calm sea, enveloping you with the promise of peace. And freedom—he set you free. Call it naivety, and perhaps it was.

You didn’t care.

That was your second mistake.

“It’s not much, but Bang’s family has owned this place for forty years,” he explained to you as he greeted the older man at the reception desk, and got the key that opened ‘Room 103.’

You climbed the rusty metal staircase to the first floor, and followed him closely as he passed the rooms by, all the way until the end of the hall. The breeze was colder up there, but you could spot a tiny star or two. You were far, so much farther that you’ve been in years, and it felt good. Nothing for miles, no one close to you to know where you were, to look for you. No one that cared enough, anyway.

“You won’t kill me, right?” you ask almost absentmindedly, the sky too mysterious, too beautiful to look away.

Changbin unlocked the door and chuckled to himself, forcing his head not to turn your way.

“Not if you behave,” he couldn’t help the suggestive tone, though. “I’m kidding, sweetheart,” he softened up and quickly added when he heard your breath catching in your throat.

He stepped aside to let you walk in the room you’ll be spending the night in, and hesitated to trail behind you. A lot of things happened in motel rooms, even more happened between him and girls like you, girls that ride on his bike and have him by the balls. His dick was so hard it was painful to walk, and there was no excuse for it. He was awful, but there was no intention to go through with anything. He’d bid you goodnight, leave his phone number on the nightstand, and walk out. That’s how it should happen, and that’s how it will happen. You’d been through enough, it was clear to see.

Changbin was not going to force his own bullshit life on you.

“In case of anything you can call me immediately. I’ll answer,” he told you as you sat on the bed and fingered the phone’s cable. “If you want me to go get your stuff, say the word,” he added, sensing your uneasiness.

Your chest expanded and your lips curved, but the smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I don’t want to put you in any more trouble, Changbin. This is enough. Thank you.”

The bouncer shook his head, furrowing his brows in refutation. “You haven’t put me through anything, sweet thing. Let me do that for you, yeah? I’ve dealt with many assholes in my life.”

“Don’t you have to go home? It’s late, I wouldn’t want to keep you—”

“Don’t have one,” he cut you off, and smiled faintly to relieve the tension his words carried. “Tell me where yours is, I want to make tonight easier for you.”

You couldn’t help the pregnant pause after that. Your mind ran, the simple fact that he’d told you something so personal like it was nothing festering into a million different thoughts, all ending with the same question mark. Where did he live, then? At the club? Not possible, right? Then, where? Would he want to spend the night there, with you? You had nothing, even this much was borrowed, but perhaps he could share it with you. If it was allowed. You knew it was risky, and that you couldn’t ignore this for long.

It’d be wiser if he left now and came later when you were asleep. You had to remind yourself this was temporary. If you were to engage in these feelings, they’d take you somewhere you’d have to deal with for way longer than a couple of nights, and you weren’t sure that was a good thing.

He looked like he was thinking the same thing.

The tattoo on his neck was definitely lightning striking, the black of it creeping before cracking down on him, and disappearing underneath his collar—underneath. You wanted to see, run your fingers on it, figure out where it reached. It wasn’t normal, and it certainly wasn’t sane.

But you wanted to, nevertheless. It was a hungry want, an inevitable want. If it didn’t happen right now, it would happen someday, soon, as soon as you both stopped fighting it, a primal instinct. It was because of how he looked and what he’d done for you, how freedom would now seem like a raspberry lollipop and a smooth gun.

“I need to go,” he said, his eyes flitting from yours, body turning away. “I need to go before I do something I regret.”

His pleading tone tugged at you. You put your tongue between your teeth so you wouldn’t respond. He’ll go bring you your clothes and your phone, and he’s going to leave you alone. You ran it over three times in your mind, before it sounded convincing enough to go with.

“You can stay,” you manage to get out, and then you realize it doesn’t sound right. “After, I mean. If there’s nowhere else to go.”

Despite his best intentions, Changbin can’t help but melt at your words. Bless your heart, sweet thing. I was right to help you.

“I’ve had my fair share of Starlight nights, sweetheart. I’m sure you need your privacy,” he leaned by the dresser to write something on the pad by the TV. “You don’t gotta worry about me, yeah?”

It still didn’t feel right with you. “Thank you can’t possibly be enough.”

With a hand opening the door wider, he gave you one last smile and a quick wink, before popping the lollipop back in his mouth.

“It’s enough for me. I’ll be right back.”

Babel is playing on TV, a half forgotten movie about people on vacation, but you can’t even bring yourself to focus on the actors’ faces, much less their words. One line sticks out to you then, ‘Why did we come here?’ but before the weight of it registers, you swing the door wide open, throwing yourself out into the cold night.

The roaring sound that drove you away from your old life. That unique black paint on an expensive, vintage motorcycle you couldn’t stop thinking about. You’d never been on a bike before, had never trusted anyone enough to get near one. It had surprised you; how easily you trusted Changbin, how blindly you followed him into fields of darkness. He could’ve turned out dangerous—he could’ve threatened you. Any sane person would’ve kept their distance, assessed the situation, and gone home. A boring, uneventful life is a life nonetheless. There were bad parts, sure; decisions that were made that could’ve been prevented, people that took advantage of your kindness, but overall—it was fine, it was manageable.

Somehow, you refused to acknowledge the abuse, even then. You protected the part of you that wanted to deny, that wanted to go home and forget about it all. Johnny told you, though, he did—“no one’s coming for you, no one.” Meaning you’re unwanted, meaning you never mattered anyway, silly girl, and what are you talking about? You’ve no home, no returning.

The black-haired man carried a duffel bag across his torso, keys jingling between his fingers. You’d been smothering in that strange room, inked paper on the nightstand, fingers pressing on the digits again, and again, and again. Dialing, then putting the receiver down, a game with no winner. A phone call away, he’d said, but it’d been three tortuous hours and he’d been nowhere to be found. You were stranded in a motel outside of town, no way to escape. Your mind ran, and it ran fast, so to see him walking towards you, to witness him staying true to his word, when no other man had been able to, when nothing was for certain, and fear crept like an ocean wave—it shocked you; shook you, hand over mouth, feet pulling you back to the confines of that space he left you in, door left ajar, only so your lungs could fill with sharp wind, with bright stars peeking their way through.

Changbin was hurt. You saw that, too. He will come to you, face swollen, and you’ll deny, deny, deny.

Because that could’ve been you. Because it would’ve been bad for real, and you will never, ever admit that to yourself. Because that game did have winners and losers, and you were so obviously losing, every.single.fucking.time.

Your love had been a bad love. You don’t blame this man for condemning you.

“Sweet girl?” His voice is rough.

He pushes the thing separating you, and there it is—a cut above his brow, an angry gash on his cheek that will bruise later—you knew this, you did—blood on his white sleeve, scratched up knuckles. You’ve learned to look for the injuries first, but when did that start? Since when have you been covering, hiding, alert, so very sensitive to your own body, to reds and blues and purples?

What the fuck is wrong with you?

The only thing you can say— “I’m so sorry,” head low, quivering.

Changbin finds you on the bed, a reprimanded child, and stares. He looks an ugly sight, that much he knows, but it had nothing to do with you, everything to do with the motherfucker that got to call you his. That apartment had been a mess, beer cans everywhere, smashed picture frames and mirrors—it hadn’t come easy, losing you, it was clear to see, but your ex boyfriend wouldn’t give you up without a fight, and it was far from over.

Still, the bouncer pushed through the door frame, and searched for your belongings. Landed a good punch or two, missed a few, knocked out some teeth. He’d dealt with monsters before, and he wishes he could truly tell you what he’d meant, why he said it. Not much scared him anymore, nothing stopped him. If you have nothing to live for, you go all in. Every moment matters, yet doesn’t at all. An avalanche, a landslide. A suicide mission.

Changbin had seen war, and had returned from it. Retrieving a phone was childsplay to him.

He nears you, drops the bag with your stuff right next to you on the mattress. He crouches in front of you, and despite himself—he grabs your hands. How devastating it is—to know you’re going to lose your heart. How thrilling. He searches for the pretty eyes that looked at him back at the bar. He wants to talk to the girl he freed, the girl that offered what was offered to her.

The selfless one.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he consoles you tenderly. “Did a good deed for a girl that’s worth it. No tears, yeah?” Your tongue comes out to wet your petal lips, and you meet his gaze. He smiles at you, masking the wince it elicits out of him. He wants to keep smiling for you, nevermind the ache, nevermind the effort.

“You should see the other guy.”

You laugh at that, still half crying, and Changbin can’t help it, doesn’t want to. He wipes the tears away, cradles your face in his big hand. You’re so warm under his touch, so beautiful. He wants to do everything for you, wants to stay beside you as you tackle life. But he’s got nothing to provide, even less to his name—he doesn’t deserve you, doesn’t think anyone does. You’ve been through a lot, your sadness tells him. It ripples through his chest, tightens his gut. He’ll stay if you keep him around, though.

He’ll stay, aware of what he can’t have. He sees himself in you, strangely.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, afraid to touch the liquid fire blazing on his features. “Thank you. Thank you.”

He thinks to tell you he can’t really feel pain, not anymore, but you don’t seem ready for that. Instead, he shakes his head, deflects. He reaches for the bag of food, and doesn’t tell you about the nasty stares he got from the people at the overnight deli, either. They don’t know him, they only see what they want to see. Chan taught him that. And fuck them, anyway—that was Seungmin.

“Eat something. Try to get some sleep,” he balances himself on his boots. “Your phone is in there,” he nods at the bigger bag. Misses your skin on his. “Is there— What else can I do for you, sweetheart?”

He’ll never forget the way you looked at him then. For the remainder of his days.

Someone who could care for him, like his brothers, but a girl. You. His own girl. He’d seen the others, how easy it’d been for them. Destiny, or fucking love at first sight, that bitch. He saw and waited patiently for his turn, fists clenched, teeth gritted. The possibility knocks at his heart, beats at his scalp. It could be anyone, but it’s you, he’s sure of it. Until you, there’d been no one, no real prospect. He knows this by how much he wants to stay, by how your fingers felt on his own, how your eyes melted into his. There was attraction on both ends, yes, but he was in no rush.

No rush, and yet one touch from you—

“Where are you gonna go?” You don’t make a move to check your phone, or even make sure Changbin had picked up the right clothes. You just stare at the bloody spot on his shirt, and plead for this to happen.

The amount of self restraint he possesses surprises him. He curses it.

“I’ll figure it out. That’s what I do.”

“Stay.”

He can’t help the chuckle that comes out of him. It’s ironic, really; he would kill to spend the night with you, and there’s no reason why he can’t, except you’ve been hurt so fucking deep, the scars are visible to him without even being there, and how is that even possible. He knows because they mark every part of him, similar ones, and they never heal. They just remain open, gushing, pouring out, and what else can he do but repudiate their existence—it’s haunted him for years.

He’s ashamed of his own homelessness now. Embarrassed of what he’s done, how it’s cost him, how it’ll continue to do so, unless he makes a choice. The choice. But how to take your own life?

“You and I both know how that’ll end, sweet thing.”

You’re a dream; you blink, and then you’re moving, up and closer, hand reaching out, attempting to grab, to hold onto, to insist. You’re stubborn, of course you are. There’s a flame in you he likes. You know how to survive, yet your softness is intact. He wishes he could say the same thing. He wishes he could hold you with no hesitation, no doubt in his mind.

But Seo Changbin ruins things, and he does so knowingly, despite himself always. Especially pretty girls like you, girls that don’t know any better. He’s seen it happen, he’s terrified of it happening again.

“It doesn’t have to,” you say, and he desperately wants to believe it. He’ll even wrap his hand around yours, pretend for a moment or two. “It’s just sleep. You’ve done so much for me. Please.”

He sighs, hates himself for falling into your words only because they sound sweet to his ears. He knows you’re wrong, knows his nature, knows what’s taken place in this very room many times before, and even then, even fucking then—

There’s no shame in him, truly.

“Sweetheart…” he studies your face, memorizes the creases, the lines, the smoothness of your cheeks. “You need someone that can take you home. Someone to take care of you good.”

“You did. You have.”

“I’m crooked. You don’t know what I’ve done… what I’m capable of.”

“I trust you,” you press on, squeezing his fingers, and it’s because of that gesture that he caves.

His lips curve sideways, and he’s itching for candy again. Your words are bitter, are syrupy, and clean, ambrosial. It’ll sting like a bitch when you leave, when you find out the truth. ‘Cause you will, sooner or later. You’ll have to.

Changbin nods, admitting defeat to humor you. “You impossible fucking girl. Fine. A compromise, then.”

You’re elated. You’re glad he’ll be safe, at least for tonight. The least you can do for him.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” he states, putting some space between you again, and pushing curly hair away from his face. “But you gotta promise me right now that you’re going to eat.”

You don’t miss a beat. “I promise.”

His voice drops, then. “And that you’re never going back to him. Or to that apartment. Hell, I’ll find you a job, one where he can’t fucking find you,” his jaw clenches, hands busying themselves with the blankets, throwing them on the bed, anything to release the tension building up. “I’m never letting that son of a bitch near you again.”

“He’ll sure as fuck be damned if he ever steps foot on Route, I can swear that.”

It felt strange to think yourself separate from Johnny. To think you could exist without him and him without you. The bad was there, but there’d been good too, once. It never outweighed and it didn’t matter, anyway, it’d settle in your brain someday, but your heart felt uneasy just by the mention of him. You’d spend so much time convincing yourself you weren’t a victim, that you forgot to see it for what it was—a codependent, extremely toxic environment.

You had to remind yourself that the bruises on your side were still real, and that they would take at least a couple weeks to disappear. For some reason, you hoped Changbin would never see them.

You hoped he would kiss all of them better, away.

Changbin had you shower, and change, staying outside the door the entire time, staring directly at your face and nowhere else. He supervised as you ate, and tucked you into bed after you’d brushed your teeth. No one had done any of this for you before, and you kept trying to communicate that to him. He’s plenty capable of taking care of you, of anyone that comes his way; he’s generous, he owns a heart that beats, that bleeds. That’s more than some people can claim, certainly more than what you’ve encountered, and for that you’ll never forget him, no matter if he decides to keep away from you, to land you softly on your feet and disappear without a trace afterwards.

He changed you, in some way, and that will always belong to him. How many people can say that?

There were dark circles forming around his brown eyes, wrinkles on his previously perfectly pressed button down. The tie around his neck was coming loose, like he’d tugged at it a few times already. This man had really fought for your honor tonight. He fought for you like one would for his own country; for freedom, for release. For prideful reasons, and yet so utterly selfless in the act. It was all for you.

But what did he get out of the deal? A transaction had yet to be made. You wanted to give something in return. Even as he turned off the lights, and lowered the volume on the TV, even as he made sure all windows in the small room were locked, you thought and thought. What could he want? What was missing from his life? You wanted to learn more about him. Sleep was not of essence at that point.

Knowing him was.

“How did you meet Bang Chan?”

Changbin lifted his head, a mass of muscle sitting on a tiny chair in the corner, a figure hard to miss, demanding to be acknowledged, to be seen. He held his phone in one hand, the bright screen illuminating part of his rugged face. Who was he texting? Is there anyone waiting for him, somewhere? The knot in your stomach turned and turned. You kept him here without thinking, too blinded by your own feelings.

“That’s a complicated question to answer,” he said a few moments later. You couldn’t make out his expression, but his tone sounded clipped. “He found me, or I found him. We’re both high school dropouts. I was working on cars, bikes, just any… thing, really, trying to get by, and one day he came by looking for a job. Shit happened,” he chuckled at that, but there was no humor behind it. “Yeah, a lot of shit happened. And five years later, here we are.”

“Doesn’t sound complicated to me.”

“Because I saved you the bullshit middle that no one wants to fucking hear, or remember.”

You clasped your mouth shut, immediately turning apologetic. You didn’t mean to assume, only to figure out. He seemed to sense your silence, its reason, and you heard him exhale through his nose in mirroring remorse, saw him lean forward on his forearms.

“I’m sorry, sweet thing,” he half whispered. “You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”

You closed your eyes, let his voice wash over you in the silence. “I’m sorry, too.” For this. For things you had no control over that happened to him. For things that will continue to happen.

“Ask me more.” An invitation.

You obliged. “And Minho?”

“At the bar. He was the first person Chan hired.”

“How old are you?”

There was a ghost of a smile in his gruff voice now. “Twenty-seven.”

Your heart fluttered. You put a hand over your chest, above the blankets, hoping, wishing your breathing would even out, your thighs would stop pressing against each other. He said nothing, spoke only when prompted, when so many quiet things ran between you, muttering, electricity through a cable, buzzing, excited, dangerous, eager.

“Changbin…”

A pause. “Sweetheart.”

“Do you— Do you like me?”

Another exhale. Inhale. He looked ready to pounce. To run for the hills. You focused on his face.

“More than I should,” he replied honestly. “More than I’m allowed to.”

Your eyes involuntarily closed again, the tension thick, hovering above you like a cloud full of rain. You wanted it to pour, to smash down on you, to crack you open and overflow you.

You wanted him to come closer. To stay forever.

“I allow you,” you murmur. “There’s nothing holding you back.”

Another one of those signature breathy laughs of his you’d grown to want more of. They stretched his handsome face, widened his molasses eyes. This man didn’t laugh a whole lot, that much was obvious. But when he did—God, was it a sight to behold.

“That may be so, darling,” he mutters hoarsely. “I’m holding myself back. You don’t want to deal with the shitshow that comes with me, and I’d never put you through it for the sake of having you.”

A heartbreaking realization. Perhaps you heard wrong. Tears swell up, chest heavy. You beg for sleep now.

“I’m not worth it,” you assume bitterly.

He taps his boot on the carpeted floor. He’s impatient, a bird taking flight. You truly meant it. You’re not holding him back; nothing is.

“Because you’re worth it,” he croaks, voice full of something you can’t quite pinpoint. “Because you’re laying there, so fucking close, and I can’t touch you. I’m afraid to even get near you.”

You swallow, throat dry, all choked up. What does it mean, that you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you wanted this strange man? What does it mean that you had to come out to the desert to find out?

“Why don’t you have a home?”

Changbin springs up, carrying a terrifying purpose in his stance. He’s going to walk out, he’s going to leave, and it’ll all be your fault. You’ve cornered a lion, and it will show you its teeth.

The truth is he’s suffocating. Jesus Christ, he’s never felt this before in his entire goddamned life.

“I burned it down.”

And no matter what he does, he can’t not want.

He’s out the door the next, phone on speed dial, pressed against his ear.

Minho answers a beat before voicemail. His voice is unassuming, a little drunk, a little slurred. The bouncer leans his temple against the cool of the wall, listening to the wind brush past mountains, past roofs and rock and still awakening man-made trees, and he wonders how helping has ever worked in his favor.

How he does it regardless, all knowing. This has been the worst one yet; worse than revenge, worse than faking your own death. His heart was involved this time. This thing he never compromises, this thing he forgets that exists sometimes, bigger and more fervent than ever.

It came back to bite him in the ass, full force.

“Can’t I have one single fucking day to myself, Bin, what is it now—”

“Take her. I beg you—take her.”

There was background noise on the receiving end. Perhaps he was in one of those parties of his again, the ones Seungmin warned him against. Changbin had no use for caution, no reason why he should be scared. What the bartender was into—he had no interest in it, could care less for it, unless Minho was having a hard time there. Besides that, he had enough to worry about, enough on his plate. Always on the brink of overflowing, yet never quite.

This was different. This was the almost that could tilt it all over.

“Take who, Changbin? Are you drunk, too?” His friend laughs, he knows nothing. He didn’t answer his phone to Chan.

“(Y/N). She came to Route with her boyfriend. All Hell broke loose, so I brought her to Starlight.”

“You’re fucking serious.”

Changbin rolled on his back, fist against his mouth, staring up at the night sky, at the stars you were so transfixed by. They had no reason being so bright; of reminding him of innocent eyes, and rose petal lips. He searched in his pocket for a lollipop, unwrapping it with his teeth. Cherry flavored, the color of your cheeks getting out of that shower.

Closing the bathroom door behind him, he’d accidentally caught a glimpse of your legs, those silky things that carried the rest of you. He wanted to wrap them around his neck, he wanted to run his hands up and down the length of them, feel the skin there, and up, up, up, to your cunt, to your fucking soul—

“I don’t know what to do with her, Minho. With myself. I’d never seen her before, I never thought—”

“You said Starlight, right? I’ll be right there. Give me about forty minutes.”

“Don’t— Fuck, don’t really take her, Min, yeah? I just… I need you, man. She needs you, too, I think.”

His friend the problem solver. Similar to Bang Chan, but different in texture. Where the owner was rough leather, the bartender was velvety soft, safe to fall on. With Chan you never knew, it was calculated, it was for the Greater Good, it was give and take. You called Minho, he’d rush over, scold you later.

“I’m fairly sure she’s in good hands, Bin. Keep an eye out, yeah? You’re dealing with the Sharks now.”

He saw that. The tattoo on your ex’s neck. Chan knows how to deal with those better, no bloodshed, no mourning. Changbin just keeps them out, turns them away. If they don’t listen, words don’t matter to him, they don’t count. He’s got a shiny gun under his vest for that. It’s best you never find out, that you never know.

But you will. That’s inevitable, too.

He popped the candy in his mouth and waited. Johnny, was it? His threat rang in the bouncer’s head, shit he’s heard a million times before. Only thing was before he had nothing to lose. Now, he has you. He found you or you found him, that’s how people enter his life, so what? Why the fuck would he give you up? Changbin has killed for his chosen family.

What’s once more? No motherfucker is immortal, himself included.

Only difference is that Seo Changbin doesn’t legally exist anymore. He’s dead. Nothing more than a goddamn ghost.

He won’t dare go back in your room, not without Minho. Your friend will know how to handle you, this, how to better—properly—take care of you. If anything, you’ll choose to go with him, stay over at his place for the time being. Changbin will still trail after you like a surveillance shadow, recording all your steps, memorizing the movements that make you, your nose scrunches, your gentle hip swings. You move like water where he’s nothing but fire. He can only be put out by you, can only diminish himself, evaporate on contact.

None of it changes the way he feels about you.

He’s not sure how long he stayed out there, awaiting the familiar sound of the MotoTec Cali the bartender owned, but he saw it before he heard it, his thoughts too loud, overwhelming every one of his senses. Minho pulled up next to his own Davidson, taking off his helmet and kicking the stand in place. The motel’s sign shone brightly against his pale complexion, and it took his friend a couple of seconds to make out Changbin’s figure on the balcony, leaned over the railing, candy sticking out of his mouth like usual.

“About fucking time,” the black-haired man muttered under his breath.

“Talking shit?” Minho joked loudly, and climbed the stairs. He was obviously tipsy.

“I’m just glad you made it in one piece, Lee.”

Minho’s face was glowing, but his eyes were dilated, worried. He glanced towards the door, and then back at his friend, at his injured state, assessing the situation.

“Me too,” he agreed, before growing serious. “Is she okay?”

Changbin nodded. “She’s fine, he didn’t hurt her.” He took the lollipop out of his mouth, lip stinging. “He pulled a number on me, though.”

“Yeah, no shit. Johnny owns a boxing gym. Don’t underestimate him.”

The bouncer scoffed, spitting on the ground, a piece of his mind on what he thought about that. “He’s a bitch I left moaning on the floor. I got a few of her things from her place,” he neared his friend, lowering his tone, “I’m not— I don’t want her going back there, Minho. Chan let her stay here for the weekend, but you… can you take her in? Until I find her some place nice?”

The burgundy-haired man furrowed his brows, tilting his head in question. “You’re going to find her a place? What’s it to you?”

“Fuck you.”

Minho smirked, and patted his friend on the back, quietly opening the door. “You better keep her close, Seo Changbin, eh? She’s precious to me.”

You were asleep, hidden under a pile of blankets, stirring momentarily only to turn.

The two men looked at each other, then looked back at you. Should they wake you? Best to let you rest. Minho needed to talk to you, though, despite the bouncer’s disapproval, followed by a backhanded slap on the sternum. They went at it soundlessly, before Changbin shook his head and pointed an accusatory finger the older’s way.

Minho sat by you, fingers tangling in your hair fondly, caressing your head. You hummed, not all there. He tried again, this time shaking you softly, hoping your eyes would open just enough to recognize him.

They did.

“Minho?” You mumbled, unsure.

“It’s me, pet. Wake up for me, will you?”

You sat up abruptly, rubbing at your eyes. Changbin glared at his friend, arms folded over his massive chest, leaning against the window broodingly.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, but wrap your arms around him anyway.

He hugs you back tight, breathing in the fresh scent of your hair. “Bin called me. I got worried.”

“I…” you look at the man by the door. His expression softens upon noticing your stare. “I’m okay, Min, I… I left him. I did it. Changbin helped me.”

Minho smiled encouragingly, pulling back just a bit to look into your eyes. “Did he now? I’m so fucking glad, pet, that’s great news.”

You nodded, but your lips curved downwards, concern spreading across your features. “But it’s not, really, is it? Johnny’s vengeful, he… well, you see what he did,” you turned towards your battered savior once again, biting on your lip thoughtfully. “I don’t want him coming after you, I don’t—”

Minho shushed you, bringing you into his arms, hand rubbing on your back soothingly. “Trust me, baby, we can take care of ourselves. We deal with people like him more often than you’d think.”

“Don’t we, Changbin?”

The bouncer said nothing, but the smirk on his face was in full effect. His gaze ran down your soft cheeks, to your exposed neck, to the shirt falling off your shoulder, and he felt his blood boiling, his dick getting hard all over again at the mere sight. Cursed to know, but unable to follow through, his body betraying him…

Heaven and Hell were teaming up against him in the form of you; the sweetest thing he’s ever come across, the only thing that could genuinely threaten his very existence.

“He’s going to take you to work tomorrow, okay? Let me make some arrangements, and I’ll come for you Monday. You can stay with me for as long as you’d like.”

His heart shouldn’t have stopped the way it did when your eyes snapped to meet his, full of surprise, questioning, scared. You thought he was getting rid of you; that you’d been a burden to him, and he was gladly wiping you off his hands and onto Minho’s. Couldn’t be fucking further from the truth, but how was he supposed to voice those words?

I’d put you in my pocket if I could. I’d fucking carry you on my shoulders, if it meant I’d be able to keep you. Fuck his damned heart, his sappy brain. Truth of the matter was—you’re his girl now. A dead man claimed you, and once that happens, everything acquires meaning, everything matters.

He’d have to live vicariously.

“Thank you,” you said, and that was that. You were disappointed, your lids heavy with sorrow, and Changbin would have to talk to you, he’d have to explain.

He couldn’t bear seeing you this way. Not when he first laid eyes on you, not now that he knows what that stirring in his chest meant. Your sadness wrapped around his throat like a chain, squeezing, choking.

Minho noticed the tension between you, felt it in his bones. He couldn’t quite understand how the two of you came to be so close in the few hours you’ve known each other, but he won’t pretend to know how a heart works, its inner secrets, the way it just seems to pick and keep picking. He rises from the bed, leaning to kiss your forehead, and he thumbs your chin, smiling down at you one last time.

“Get some rest. You’ve nothing to worry about, you’re cared for.”

You nod only so he won’t insist, and with that he turns to leave. Changbin passes an arm over his shoulder in goodbye, but his eyes never leave your frame. You’re curling into yourself, blanket over your body, trying to shrink, to make yourself smaller so as to not take as much space, so as to not become too much of a responsibility.

He was getting angry for you. Angry that this seemed to be a familiar practice for you, a trauma response. He wanted to beat that fucker’s face in, gauge his eyes out, tear his arms off. Murder came easy, but this? What he was fantasizing about?

You had to be a specific kind of fucked up to do that, and Changbin has never claimed to be a good person. He was the man you went for for your dirty work, the gruesome stuff, the things no normal person could handle. He did it if it was right, if the intention behind it was justifiable. Scum was meant to be cleaned off, and people like Johnny were just that. A smudge on his bike. Dirt under his shoe.

“Keep me updated,” Minho tells his friend, and waves at you, before the door closes and you’re left alone.

You don’t speak.

Neither does Changbin. Not at first.

But your being angry with him? He decides he doesn’t like it. Not one fucking bit.

“You understand why you can’t come with me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You lay back down, turning away from him.

“I understand.” Soft, weak.

He cracks, scatters to reach you, to not let you slip through his fingers. He wants your eyes on his again. He wants your naked shoulder, the curve of your face imprinting on his palm. He realizes, violently, that he needs you. That if he doesn’t have you he’ll go fucking crazy, insane, absolutely ballistic. The pull you have on him is too strong, the attraction too big, the feeling so intense it makes him want to tug at his hair and scream at the world for shunning him.

You don’t need more than a few hours to fall in love, it turns out. A girl can smile at you and that’s…it—you’re done for the rest of your life, now. No one had warned him about that, but he had witnessed it. In the way Seungmin looks over at the bar, even when the door is closed, like he can see right through it. How Chan doesn’t seem a separate person from that woman; how when she’s around, he’s alert, astute, awake to everything.

Fuck him to Hell, he should’ve paid attention. They don’t call it Route 66 for no reason, he’s sure of that now.

“Don’t make me say it, (Y/N),” your name on his lips sounded important, sounded real. He whispered it again in hopes you’d look at him again, in hopes he’d get to hold your hand once more. “You don’t want someone like me, you don’t need this… Minho knows you better, he’ll—fuck,” he pressed the heel of his hand into his eye, suddenly exhausted. “You’ll be okay there. I won’t have to worry.”

For a while, you left him alone with his words echoing back to him. It scared the shit out of him, how terrified he was of never seeing you again, how each passing second of your silence sliced through him like a knife.

Then, you mercied him. You spoke.

“I didn’t mean to be ungrateful. You’ve done so much for me, and I’m incredibly indebted to you, Changbin,” you kept that same tone from before, and he had half a mind to forcibly turn you, to swoop you in his arms and never let go.

“I just don’t know how to shut my heart to you. I don’t know why it’s telling me to stay, why it’s pointing to you so desperately…”

He did it, then. Passed his arms right under you and brought you close to him, closing the gap that’s been eating him alive. You gasped, hands clasped against your chest, and looked at him, looked at him, looked at him. He drank you in, nose nuzzled against your neck, taking every inch of you in, strong arms tightening around you, lips on your skin.

Lips on your skin. He groaned, and dug his face at the nape of you, ashamed of his weakness, afraid of his inability to control himself. The last thing he wanted was to scare you away. But you… he had no defenses left. He should’ve left when he had the choice.

There’s no choice now.

“The things I want to do to you, sweet thing…” he gravelly muttered. “I’ve been lonely my whole fucking life. I never expected to find you, a thing like you. A girl for me, just for me…” One of his hands traveled up to your cheek, keeping it there, your body fully placed on his lap now. You were consumed, engulfed in flames you had no intention of extinguishing. “Do you feel how hard I am for you, darling?”

His hot breath fanned across your face, raising goosebumps. You nodded, mind jumbled, words long gone. “Yes,” you managed out. “Yes.”

“You think I’m nice,” he continued, his deep voice reverberating through you. “You think so highly of me, don’t you?” He turned your face so his mouth can face yours, with every thought of kissing you, of tasting you. “Give me permission. Tell me I can,” he whispered, eyes flickering, pitch black with desire.

You whimpered, tears stinging. “You can,” you exclaimed. “Please—”

Changbin devoured you. He grabbed your face roughly, fingers bruising in the best way, and attacked your mouth, tongue pushing past your red lips, conquering, spreading like wildfire. You felt dizzy, able only to hold onto him for dear life, and he held back just as unyielding, a solid body against yours, moving with you.

He came back up for a breath, a drowning man at sea. He swept some hair away from your beautiful face, and stared at your swollen lips, the way they called out to him, but he’d already gone too far. There was nothing more left to do but drown, and just as well. Changbin never much cared for living anyway, he’d gladly die for this.

“What am I gonna do with you, sweetheart, hm?” he tore off the blankets, shamelessly running his gaze down your body, your curves, all the ways you could bend. His cock twitched in his pants, restrained, in need of attention. He wanted you wretchedly, hopelessly.

“Half of me wants to tear you apart, the other half wants to tuck you into bed and leave you alone…” he trailed off, licking his lips, thirsty for anything you would give him. “I know right from wrong, I know this’ll be so fucking wrong—tell me to leave you alone. Tell me to stop, baby.”

You said nothing. He inhaled, steadying himself. He had to get a grip, fast. He was losing his entire fucking sense, his mind. He didn’t want it to be like this, not with you, not here. But you were so soft, you smelled so good, felt so good, your skin warm, his heart beating against yours. It had been so hard to resist you, so hard to pretend… Changbin had never been good at lying, always going after what he wanted.

Habits were hard to break.

“You need to stop this, beautiful, I have no strength, I always fuck everything up,” he rasped, fingers creeping under your shirt already, finding their way up to your breasts—so plump, perfectly fitted for his hand, God, he was so full of you, and how to quit you now, there was no way, no fucking way—

“Don’t,” you whisper to him, and kiss his jaw, the faintest peck. “I want this, Changbin.”

“But you don’t know what I’ve done.”

“I don’t care what you’ve done,” you fight back defensively. “I care about what you did for me, and that was everything. It’s everything.”

He’d never even realized how much he’d been suffering with the weight of his actions. It all came crashing down on him now, all because you were on the verge of unlocking him, of getting as close as possible, and what if he poisoned you? What if he infected you with the shit he’d committed, with the terrible fucking crimes that followed him everywhere?

Not you. Not to you.

“I’ve killed people, sweetheart. I’ve buried them with my own two hands.”

Not the earth shattering, ground splitting, apocalypse inducing revelation he was expecting it to be. And perhaps, somehow, it wasn’t. Because he was telling it to you, the girl made for him, the girl put on this earth for him to find, his girl. And his girl would understand, because she’d see right through it. He hoped she would.

He was right.

“Why?” was the only thing you asked.

So, he told you. He figured might as well lay it all down for you to do as you like. If you hated him and never wanted anything to do with him after it, he’d have to suck it up and live with it. He’d still do as he promised, that wouldn’t change. He would protect you with his life, he was obligated to now.

“Some asshole did a hit-and-run on our friend Felix a couple years back. It left him paralyzed from the waist down. Chan swore to find the guy who did it, to make him pay,” Changbin held you close as he spoke, afraid if he let go you might run off. “I took it personally. I hunted the fucker down, destroyed his car—you don’t need to hear the rest. I knew it’d be a lifetime in jail for me, there was no saving grace if they found me.

“So, I died. I faked my own death, burned the house I’d just bought down. Chan held a funeral for me, with a fake body, a fake death certificate… My family thinks I’m dead,” he chuckled, against his better judgment. This was no time for laughing. “They think their son is dead. Their son is a fucking murderer.”

The last thing he expected—you hugged him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and cried into his vest, gun heavy in its holster, a concealed weapon he’s had to carry ever since he started working at Route, a thing that binds him to the Devil, a thing that has nothing to do with you, that shouldn’t even belong in your world.

Changbin was rendered speechless.

“I don’t care,” you choked out. “You’re a good person that did a terrible thing, and I will never hold it against you. If you’re trying to scare me away, it’s not going to work, Changbin. I dated a killer for most of my adult years.”

“And you want to live with a new one?”

You slapped him. He let you, because he deserved it, but grabbed your wrist afterwards, fiery gaze meeting yours. It was a low blow, a punch to your character, and he regretted it immensely. He just couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

Please see this. Please understand why I shouldn’t be the one for you. I never had to be careful with my words, I’ve never cared this much for anyone.

It didn’t matter. You were the one to kiss him this time, hard and bravely.

You kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, and your lips, your soft lips—they were sending him straight to Hell, six feet under and worse, to where he can never find his way out, to where he’d eternally be unable to crawl out. He didn’t need a prophecy for this, didn’t need to navigate through a game to get the girl.

He just had to look into her eyes, learn her name. Make her stay.

Changbin wishes he could say he knew how to be gentle, how to blossom under your hand, open up to your touch. His inexperience messed with him, angered him; he was supposed to treat you differently, he was supposed to take care of you, he’d promised. But you drove him crazy, your every move sliced him, dug into his ribcage and turned.

Call it an old habit. Or self preservation.

He wanted to see you. All of you. And then he wanted to be the one doing the turning, the slicing.

“You want this?” he breathed down your throat, pulling your head back by your hair. You had a beauty mark just under your ear. He wished to kiss it, wished to lick it. Take it as his.

Your mouth opened, your heartbeat irregular.

“There’s no going back if we do this, sweetheart,” he stated menacingly. “I’m not an easy man—I will burn myself to the fucking ground for you.”

None of it was painless to say. Every second near you required a considerable amount of effort. His own personal Odyssey.

“Changbin…” Pleading. For him. For what you want him to give you.

“No,” he growled, pressing his body on yours. “You need to know this. You need to know what you’re getting into. I don’t get sweet things like you in my life, I have no fucking clue how to deal with something good like you, and it sure as Hell won’t be easy letting go of you, if you choose to leave. Do you understand, (Y/N)? Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”

You whimper, completely surrendered to him, and he can almost smell your wetness, your desire for him. He thrusts his erection against your hip, and breathes deeply through his nostrils, nothing but softness, nothing but heat radiating from you. That’s for him, too. Goddamn it all.

“I’ve never had someone like you before, either,” you confess softly, your eyes wet.

Changbin wastes no time, then. He grabs you by the waist and turns you to sit on him straight, eyes boring into yours, legs on either side of him. You steady yourself on his shoulders, lashes fluttering, mouth swollen. He digs his nails on the soft skin, then drags his hands downwards to your dips, your ass. You inhale sharply, your hips unconsciously rubbing against his growing bulge.

“Show me how you like it,” he mumbles, drawing circles above your pajama bottoms. “Show me what to do, darling.”

Biting your lip, you reluctantly grab one of his big hands, and guide it to your breast. He feels your hard nipple through the thin material, wants it between his lips, his tongue sucking—he wants you in his mouth like his favorite lollipops. Wanted to switch the candy for you. You couldn’t be any worse than sugar, but maybe you were.

Maybe he was screwed either way.

“Unbuckle your belt,” you command, and your sweetness has suddenly turned saccharine.

This is the girl that was begging him to kill her piece of shit boyfriend with everything in her back at the club. The one that wasn’t afraid of the gun pointed.

He wanted to challenge her. That one. “Do it for me.” Let me feel your hands, beautiful girl.

You did. Slowly, carefully. Changbin wasn’t even aware he was holding his own breath, until his chest felt ready to explode. Still, he didn’t dare. Couldn’t, with the way your fingers went for his zipper. He was really fucking about to sink himself into you, after humoring himself he wouldn’t touch a strand of your hair.

What a fucking hypocrite.

His cock was rock hard, red, and leaking. You run a finger over the head of it, gathering the precum there, and neared it towards your mouth, your eyes lifting innocently to meet his own. Changbin couldn’t look away, you had him completely fucking hooked. Fucking witch. He was scared of himself, then; scared of what he might do to you.

This wasn’t normal. Wasn’t for the faint of heart.

“Taste it,” he rasped, breath bated. “Put me in your mouth, sweetheart.”

Your lips curved, the finger disappearing between your lips. His eyes almost rolled to the back of his head. He wanted to draw blood. He wanted to punch something, and keep punching it until it died.

He wanted to fuck you into the mattress.

“I can think of something better,” you whisper to him, leaning close to his ear. His eyes follow you, cock throbbing, needing you there, needing you on. “Undress me, Changbin.”

The Devil finally comes to collect.

Your shirt goes first. His hands reach behind your back to unhook your bra, rushed in their ardor, and he feels no more than a mere teenager, creaming his pants for the first time. You have him delirious, raving. Will it always be like this? This spinning, this dizziness with you. He feels like he hopped into a dance he doesn’t know the steps to. Uncharted waters. He hates it.

He shakes off the holster strap from his shoulders, wants that gun as far the fuck away from you as possible, and bends to take your nipple in his mouth, grazing it with his teeth, wanting a reaction from you, anything that would tip the scale back to him. He needed the little control he had before, needed it for what was left of his sanity. You were a dream, spread across his lap, begging him to touch you, to fuck you. No girl had asked before, none had tasted him like this.

Changbin was a giver, but you weren’t letting him give.

“So fucking beautiful…” as he dips his head in between your breasts, as he hooks his thumbs under your bottoms and panties and pulls. You lift for him, and shrug them off, passing your leg over him again once you’re fully naked. “Too beautiful, fuck me.”

He kisses you. Grabs your face and crushes his mouth on yours. He’ll get you to understand, he’ll show you. You moan against him, and it shoots all the way down to his dick. He wants to make the first move; he wants to grab his length and shove himself inside you, wants to bottom out and fuck the shit out of you. It’s an animalistic urge, one he’s not sure you deserve. You’re worth so much more—to be laid down, to be caressed all over. To be made love to. But Changbin wouldn’t know where to begin, and he’d mess it all up. So, he does what he knows and whispers to you, hopes this tether running between you is enough. Hoping his feelings for you are enough.

“Stop me,” he begs one last time, thinking that this could somehow be fixed, could be suppressed, and halted. “You can still run, sweet thing.”

You shake your head and press your fingers on the side of his face. He blinks, heart jump-starting. You actually want this. Him. You want him.

“I’m not going to,” you hush his demons, destroy his defenses.

The room is dark, the TV has stopped its programming. Changbin closes his eyes, listens to the white noise, the static. It luls him, resets him. You reach between you and grab him. He curses, or hisses, and wraps his arms around you tighter. Don’t do this, you don’t understand, you don’t fucking understand, not yet, and I…

You push him inside you, and he groans, forehead falling forward, touching yours. Your breath ghosts over his features, and he feels you stiffening up. He has to move, but there’s not one ounce of strength in his fucking body. So much for all this muscle—it’s useless against you.

“Changbin,” you choke out, hips rolling, demanding friction.

He snaps out of it. “I got you, baby, relax, I have you, I promise.” You meet halfway as he feels you working on his cock, and he thrusts up, hard, slamming you down at the same time.

You cry out and he loses it. Taking in every inch of your euphoric face, he fucks into you forcefully, almost violently, needing to find something in you, to conquer it, to keep it. His dominant hand falls on your ass, slapping, and you bounce down harder, mouth agape, brows furrowed. He loves you like this, this image of you, so free, so eager. Your pussy drowns him, envelops him, a perfectly fitted glove, and he makes sure to graze your walls, to mark his name in there, to have you come back for more, to keep you.

That’s what he’s looking for. To keep you. For you to want him to have you. If you moan out his name one more fucking time… Jesus Christ, has he ever fucked another woman before? You’ve erased them all, you’ve eradicated all memory of them.

You shudder, a thin strip of sweat forming on your chest, and he licks it all his. You taste salty, you taste sweet. You smell like soap, like vanilla. And like him, your juices mixing together, your musks tangling. He won’t last much longer, but he wants you to come first. He wants to watch you cum, coming undone on his cock, on him, while he holds you, while his fingers rub circles on the bundle of nerves between your legs. He wants you filthy, wants you his, wants you forever, like this.

Just like this.

“Look at you, sweet fucking girl, taking my cock so well…” He bites his lip, tastes metal, but doesn’t care. “You ride me so good, baby, let me see you. Fuck yes. C’ mon.”

You’re so warm, half there, eyes shut, focusing on that feeling in your gut, low in your belly, and he can’t wait. He can’t wait for you to flood him, to taste you. You’re loving his fingers, he sees it, as soon as he touched your clit your back arched, your hips loosened. Fuck, he wants to flip you around and take you on all fours. Wants to screw you from behind, have you come like that, too. You’re everything he’s ever dreamed of, everything he will ever need.

“I’m so close, I’m so close, please!” your breath hitches, and Changbin grabs you by the throat, watches how you open your eyes wide, afraid. It sends him over the edge—you send him over the edge. It’s okay, my pretty girl, let it out, it’s okay, goddamn you, let me hear you, listen to that pussy, you’re so fucking wet…

“You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you? I can feel it,” he mumbles over your lips, his fingers tightening their hold just slightly. “You’re gonna make a mess for me.”

“Yes, yes!”

“That’s my girl,” he smirks, and thrusts one, two, three—

Your entire body stiffens and shivers. He blows as you fall limply on top of him, and he shushes you, fingers sliding up to your hair, pushing back, lips connecting with your temple. You make no move to push him off you, to take him out. You really wanted this. You wanted it as much as I did, sweetheart.

He transfers you on the mattress, laying you down gingerly, and is immediately met with cold, with emptiness. What were once old friends, now bitter enemies. He wants to get used to the warmth, to the gentleness you offer. He wants to call these things his, as well.

Most of all, he wants to take you in his arms again. Wants to stick his body close to yours and fall asleep. Something so simple, yet unattainable. Until now. Until you.

Changbin pecks your shoulder as you come down from your orgasm, then presses a hand between your legs, feeling for the stickiness. He slides a finger up your labia, and brings it to his mouth, sucking the clear liquid off. You turn to look at him, knees folding, pulled towards your torso.

You turned shy again. He smiles without meaning to.

“Wanted a taste,” he defends himself. “My fingers will have to do for now,” and he winks at you.

You blush, red spots spreading across your cheeks, and bring your hand over your mouth. Precious. Cute. Changbin lifts your hand from its place and places a kiss on your soft mouth. Thank you, and he wishes you can somehow hear it in his head.

Then, he tucks himself back in his jeans, and straps back up, letting his head fall, his hand rubbing his neck. It wasn’t just exhaustion—his heart was physically hurting. He just had sex with the girl of his dreams. He came inside of her, and laid with her.

She asked him to stay. Twice.

But the truth remained—he had killed, he needed to pay for his crimes. It was only a matter of time before the police pieced everything together, and there was no amount of paying off Bang Chan could do that would keep all of them away. Some people were pure from birth.

Like you. He hoped you would be the death of him so he’d never have to deal with any of it. But that doesn’t sound like Seo Changbin, either. What is there left to do except wait it out, then? He had this golden opportunity to spend some time with a heavensend girl. He couldn’t possibly fuck it up.

He had to take care of her first.

“I have to make a call, sweetheart.”

He didn’t sleep a wink.

Instead, he watched your rib cage expand then deflate, eight hours of it. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to wake you up or not, so he just let you be. If you missed a day of work—well, you deserved a day off after what you went through, didn’t you?

And, either way, it didn’t matter. If they gave you trouble, Changbin had already found you a different job. A better paying one, too, if he was to merely guess. And an apartment, close by to the bar so he could reach you fast if need be. All was ready to go albeit your consent and personal information.

Minho had texted him about an hour ago to ask about you. The bouncer sent a ‘she’s sleeping’ and left it at that. Your friend didn’t have to know about what he’d done, or how you liked it, despite blessing the two of you.

Changbin was regretting it all a little too fucking much. For your sake. If he had no morals, no conscience or basic fucking decency, this would’ve been just another lay, just another poor girl he’d saved. But you weren’t, and this wasn’t.

Wasn’t what? A relationship. A mistake.

Yeah, sleep sure as fuck hadn’t been an option.

Just before the clock struck eleven o’clock, you stirred, stretching your arms in either direction of you, your mouth opening and closing. The sun had been well up in the sky, a warm day with a slight breeze.

Changbin had covered you with multiple blankets, but they had all managed to sneak down to your feet. You were still naked, except for your panties. His cock stirred, and he cleared his throat, messing the mop of curls on top of his head.

Fucking get a grip, asshole.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

He saw you blink up at the ceiling, before you lifted your head to the sound of his voice. Your eyes met and—your lips curved sleepily at him. He smirked back fondly, but didn’t dare get up from where he was sat the entire morning.

“How did you sleep?” You asked, pulling a thinner sheet over you, your cheeks rosy as you rested your head on your arm.

“Great,” he lied. “How about you, love?”

“Okay.” But your face was positively glowing, your eyes sparkled.

His chest clenched. He rubbed a hand over it, trying to appear casual. There was nothing casual about the way you made him feel just then. He never stayed after sex, he never saw how the women he took to this motel looked the morning after.

And he didn’t want to. He just wanted to keep staring at you. He wanted you to look at him back, always.

“What time do you have work?”

Your eyes widened, hands immediately jumping to find your phone, to check the time.

“Fuck!”

Changbin sat back, arms crossing over his chest, watching you run around the room panicked. He’d never get used to the sight of your breasts bouncing, or the way you tucked your hair behind your ear. It was all very endearing, very lovely.

Lovely. Nothing had been lovely before. Fucking Hell.

“Don’t go,” he teased you. “I can think of a few things we can do here.”

Half way in a pair of jeans, you looked up at him like he’d grown two heads. His laugh was throaty, genuine. Your eyes, though. They betrayed you.

“I still have to work, Changbin,” you retorted with an obvious voice, head going through a T-shirt.

“Just sayin’, sweetheart. You look fucking hot.”

You blush, but otherwise ignore him.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re mounting his motorcycle, your body pressed against his. He can’t help but think of last night, of the way your cunt squeezed him deeper, how your nails dug into his neck.

How was he going to go without you for a whole day? After knowing what he does. After having had a taste?

He needed a fucking shower. He needed ten minutes without you so he could get his head straight.

Every time he closed his eyes—there you were, your velvet skin, your breathy voice moaning out his name.

“If anything happens, anything at all, you call me,” he says for what seems like the tenth time.”Immediately.”

You all but groan, gaze flitting guiltily to the entrance of the clothing store you worked at. “Yes,” you reply for what, also most likely, is the tenth time. “I will, Changbin. I promise. Please.”

He nods his head towards your workplace. “Go. Be careful.”

You turn to run, but then stop on your tracks like you forgot something. Changbin leans against his bike, eyebrows raising. He has no time to register what is happening, or why possibly—you kiss him straight on the mouth, bruisingly, and grin widely at him.

He’s dumbfounded. Touches his lips to make sure he’s not hallucinating. Yesterday wasn’t a dream, then. You still wanted him. He drops his head so you don’t see him smiling like a fool.

“I’ll see you later!” You call out.

“I’ll be right here, darling.” And he meant it.

From the corner of his eye, a shark out of water. Prowling.

tags. @ughbehavior, @streetlight-s, @cb97percent, @j-0ne25, @danyxthirstae01, @lix-ables, @koorminii, @choinsaw.

a/n. literally no one asked for this to be so long, and yet it is and i’m so sorry. i do hope you still give it a chance, since i worked quite hard on it. i left it as an open ending, in case i want to add a second chapter to it, but as it stands, the story is finished. hope you like it, and as always, thank you for reading lovelies! 💕

#changbin scenarios #changbin smut #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz scenarios #stray kids changbin #skz changbin #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #chagbin fanfic #changbin imagines #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #changbin x reader #—mine.

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l0velybvnny · 10 days

Text

will we ever find a way to make our time last forever?

summary: y/n an average student is assigned a mission for the promotion of grade two. what happens when she dies on the mission and ten years later satoru finds her standing in-front of him? she’s supposed to be dead.

paring: curse y/n x satoru gojo

word count: 1184

y/n was ordinary. she was an ordinary sorcerer grade three, had ordinary grades average looks but she was content she had the best friends in the world in her eyes.

suguru, satoru and shoko her best friends. sure at times she would feel less than them how could she not? shoko was an excellent rct user and suguru and satoru were special grade sorcerers with incredible techniques. how could she not feel less less than them at times it was normal.

of course, they always reassured her. satoru might’ve been rude in some eyes but she knows he tried her best to comfort her with his own ways. shoko by far understood her the most which helped in a lot of ways and of course suguru was calming, pointing out the pros in her strength she was always grateful for the young man he seemed to help her get out of dark places.

so why couldn’t she help him? why was she the last to find out he massacred that village. one hundred and twelve people. her best friend— of course she noticed how he was different after the stat plasma failed mission but there was no way, she shouted at satoru not believing him one bit when he told her taking it as one of his stupid pranks only when she saw his oddly serious expression she began to splutter over her words in shock running away to her dorm room as she covered her ears ignoring his yells for her.

as the days grew, the remaining three grew apart satoru deemed as the strongest was constantly on missions. shoko had more patients than ever and when she didn’t she was spend more of her free time doing whatever in the laboratory safe to say y/n didn’t see her supposed best friends as much as she did before.

but it just so happens the higher ups wanted to promote her to grade two. finally— after so long in an excited hurry she went to go tell shoko and satoru only to not find them looking around the campus when she finally decides to forget about it she’ll tell them after her promotion she goes outside the campus looking up at the bright sky. it hadn’t been that bright in a while, she knew it was a good day with a giddy smile she runs towards the car and hops in the driver taking her to the location of her mission.

dead— is what satoru hears a few hours later from yaga. in shock his glasses fall off his nose looking at the older man in full shock his usually bright blue eyes going even more dull.

“l/n is dead, satoru she died on her mission against a special grade curse. it was unexpected no one could’ve predicted it, the curse was only supposed to be a grade two.” the man’s sighs running his fingers through his hair stressfully as he looks down at the report of his student.

“huh?!” satoru, nearly yells in shock memories flooding back to him suguru the first year haibara— now y/n? his best friend the only he had left is dead? his mouth agape as she stares at masamichi. “no—“ he splutters out recalling how he was the one who vouched for her promotion he want to congratulate her on the mission and go with her but he was to caught up in a mission which was supposedly a special grade only for it to turn out to be a grade two— did the higher ups do that? did they set her up like? for what reason? why..

masamichi senses the boys distress placing a hand on his shoulder even though satoru might be a pain in the pass he was still his student he didn’t want him to stress something he couldn’t control he to thought it was a coincidence how the missions got messed up like that but everyone in the jujutsu society knows that was no mistake they wanted to get her out the way she was another distraction to satoru gojo but of course yaga wouldn’t tell him that even if he knew he wouldn’t be salt in the wound.

“it wasn’t your fault satoru, it was a mere mistake the locations got mixed up nobody’s to blame here. he says, keeping his hand firmly placed on satorus shoulder which is now shaking.

satoru sneers at the man looking up at him through his dark sunglasses. “mere mistake? you call that a mere mistake?! that “mere mistake” cost her her life! she—“ he chokes up thinking about how much pain she must’ve be in a mere third grade against a special grade curse. storming out, satoru vows to never let anything like that ever happen to any again as long as he’s around.

nearly ten years later, he kept his promise now at twenty eighth he saved the life of yuta okkotsu and he’s postponed yuji itadoris execution until he can figure out what to do letting him be a kid for a while longer. running his fingers through his snowy hair, he walks into his apartment taking his blindfold off as he does but what he doesn’t expect is her—

y/n standing in-front of him, her usual self now ghostly a grayish blue hue even going as far to say she’s transparent her feet slightly floating above the ground. she looks exactly the same, wearing the same jujutsu tech uniform she died in expect her usual sparkly eyes are dull and lifeless she’s staring at him like she’s confused herself.

“y/n?” satoru voices in shock, taking slow careful steps towards the girl not wanting to frighten her despite the urge to wrap his arms around her— is he even able to do that in her current state? last time he check ghost aren’t real staring down at the girl as she looks up at him confusedly trying to mutter something but no words coming out she reaches out her hand and tries to grab his only for it to completely go through him furrowing her eyebrows she tries to speak again.

“s’toru?” she says her voice even different from when she was alive instead hoarse and quiet instead of the usual lively tone it used to be. satoru nods his head, pointing at himself.

“yes that’s me, what are you doing here? you’re— you’re supposed to be dead? i don’t understand?” he mutters confusedly, putting his hand up and trying to place it on her head only for it to go completely through her like she’s not there at all.

“don’t.. know..” y/n mutters confusedly, staring at him as he stares at her in poorly concealed shock his blindfold off making it much easier to see his reactions than it being on. satoru ponders for a moment, before coming to a horrible realization did— did he curse her? after all these years of not being able to properly grieve over her. shit. he did, she cursed her brought her back from the dead and made her into a cursed spirit.

#anime #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #curse reader #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x fem reader #second post!!!#maybe angsty later if anyone wants to me to continue?#cw death #gojo satoru #yn x gojo #Spotify

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ownedbyfictionalwomen · 1 year

Text

Protector

Alpha!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

When you change your mind about having sex with your loving boyfriend, it draws out more fears than both of you were expecting. A little smut + angst + fluff! 18+ 1.4k words.

“Good morning, Mr Barnes.” You shouted across the fence, ignoring the disapproving expressions on your parents' faces at your outburst, their features souring even at the mention of your neighbour.

James Buchanan Barnes tended to have that impact on people- inciting fear that eventually modified itself into hate. And you were the shining sun in that black hole of detestation. Always greeting him when he was otherwise ignored, opening the door for him when others would slam it shut in his face, and offering him comfort when people broke him down.

That’s what mates were supposed to do: protect each other. And the fact that you did it so fiercely would always make Bucky proud to belong to you.

“Do you need any help with that?” You asked, signalling towards the paintbrush in his hand as he continued on painting his front porch, applying the colour you had told him to buy last week. Of course, the two of you had to go to the hardware store two towns over to avoid the rumour of your relationship from leaking, but it had been worth it.

Walking through the isles, hand in hand, like an ordinary couple (still receiving the odd few stares, obviously) had been your first taste of what freedom could be like if you just let go of the opinions and ignored the toxicity that was forced down your throat daily, especially by your own parents.

The two of you were forbidden to be seen together.

His species were never meant to mix with humans- banished to the wilderness years ago, driven away with pitchforks and burning torches, never to return again. For the most part, the wolfpacks had kept to their forests, hiding amongst the greenery, away from human civilisations. But all it took was one whiff of your scent to fill the alpha’s nose, and he was practically on your doorstep, begging.

At one point or another, he questioned whether buying the house right next to yours was going a step too far, maybe forcing the relationship too much. But every insecurity is pushed right out of his head every time he hears your sweet voice.

You reassured him every chance you could, usually when you were snuggled up in his bed next to him after climbing in through his window, which was most nights. He savoured every instant with you, every touch ending in an endearing embrace or a heated moment until you had no choice but to turn to each other to put out the fire.

“Sure, if you wouldn’t mind,” Bucky replied, watching you wave your parents off as they left for their weekend away. Waiting until their car had turned the corner at the end of the street, you quickly jumped the fence before sensually strutting over the grass to his porch steps.

“Why don’t we paint something else, Mr Barnes?” You asked, sliding your hands onto your hips as you stood on his path, him hovering above you.

“What did you have in mind, princess?” Bucky was standing only one step above you now, the backs of his knuckles grazing your soft cheeks, before gliding his full hand around your throat.

“Hmm…” You voiced, pretending to think it over when the sinful thought had been in your head since you woke up, you had dreamt about it. “Maybe my face with your cum, Mr Barnes.”

His hand tightened dangerously around your neck, that immoral glint darkening your lover’s eyes as he pulled you up the steps and pushed through his open front door. Whilst Bucky loved your softness, you loved this- his roughness, his hunger to be in charge.

“Naked and knelt at the end of the bed.” He ordered, patting you on the ass harshly to get you moving up the stairs.

You loved obeying his commands, always doing anything you could to get even a hint of praise out of your mate. You fed on his dominance like it was candy, never being able to get enough and coming back for more whenever you could.

The need to please your mate took over every other instinct until that one seemed the most natural, the only one that you needed to follow. Soon, you were at your destination, stripping out of your shorts and tank top as quickly as you could, discarding them on the floor in every direction.

When Bucky entered the room, you were the picture of perfection, looking so pretty when you were following orders and giving him everything he desired: being his perfect little pet.

But when Bucky started making his way towards you, something inside you stuttered, the horniness quickly dissipating into an unwarranted sentiment of unease. You knew Bucky would never do anything to cause you pain in any way, always doing his best to make your dreams come true. You couldn’t put your finger on what had changed.

Your alpha watched the shift take place, your shoulders slumping and the excited curve of your lips dropping until you were staring down at your hands in your lap.

“Hey. What happened, my love?” He asked, sinking onto one knee in front of you.

“I don’t know if I want to do this anymore, Buck.” You whispered, folding your hands over your breasts to cover your modesty. Everything had happened so suddenly, that an overwhelming dread began growing in the pit of your stomach, shoving out all traces of sexual want.

“Okay, honey. Let’s get you dressed.” He said as he picked you up, holding you close to his chest, wrapping your legs around his waist and planting a soft kiss on the side of your head.

“I’m so sorry.”

“None of that, my darling. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Bucky reached into his wardrobe, pulling out a clean t-shirt and dragging it over your head gently before urging you towards your side of his bed, lifting up the covers, slipping in and watching him round it to his side, where he climbed in and hauled you towards him.

“Tell me why you felt the need to apologise, princess.”

There was an endless list of more things you adored about your alpha- the comfortability he provided you, the communication he offered, the obligation he had to make everything perfect for you.

“I just…” You started, trying to think of a way to articulate all the explanations floating around in your head, “didn’t wanna disappoint you, I guess.”

As he nodded his head in thought, trying to make some sense of what you just said, Bucky leaned into you, taking your lips in a charming kiss. Your hand immediately reached up to his face, holding his cheeks softly in your silent plea for more of this softness. With one more peck, he pulled away, leaning over you and keeping your gazes locked together.

“What would’ve really disappointed me, sweetheart, is if you went through with it when you didn’t want to. Do you understand?” Bucky was deadly serious, enveloping his arms around your back to keep you safe. “If you forced yourself to do something you didn’t want to, that would’ve broken my damn heart, princess.”

The tears sprung in your eyes, unwillingly painting your emotions all over your face- not that Bucky wouldn’t have been able to read your expression without them. The pain, embarrassment and sadness seeped through into your complexion.

“I understand, Bucky…” You said quietly, stroking the tattoos inked on his neck as well as the smooth muscles across his chest, trying not to hold on to the ache of humiliation burning under your ribs.

After a few minutes of silently cuddling together, shrouded in the linen duvet and numerous pillows that made up Bucky’s nest, a question started to niggle in the back of his mind- a fear that he had been holding onto, hoping that he would never have to face. The one person he never wanted to frighten was you.

“I didn’t scare you, did I?”

Widening eyes and an expression of shock were what met Bucky’s question- how could he think that?

“Bucky… What? No, of course not.” You scrambled, seeing your pain now reflected in his eyes, “you make me feel safe, baby. I could never be scared of you.”

“You promise?”

“I promise, Buck. You’re my protector.”

And that much was certain. When the two of you were reading to inform the world of your condemned relationship, you would fight for each other. Nor you or Bucky would ever come to any harm whatsoever.

#bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you

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the-egg · 10 months

Text

So This is Love

Song Fic: So this is love - Ilene Woods, Mike Douglas

Miguel O'Hara x gn!reader

Summary: "you can fix him" except he fixes you too.

Tags: Mild cursing, trauma bonding, strangers to lovers, fluff

Words: 9.8k

Loving Miguel was the greatest choice your heart had ever made, and you swore your life on it. Normalcy was a temporary feeling for masked heroes, but, together with him, it bloomed to be everlasting. The sun to your moon. Together, you would learn to find peace.

Before being a part of the exhilarating world of Spider Society, you lived two lives. Two exhausting lives. During the day, you worked for the government as a public defense attorney. Long hours and a terrible work-life balance were your normal lifestyle. Then, two years ago, you were bitten by a radioactive spider that belonged to the same government you worked for. Since then, you’ve been the world’s one and only spider. The Spider, to be specific. You didn’t choose the name, much like how you didn’t choose to get bit, but at least you got to choose the suit! A shining white with silver webbed streaks across your chest. You preferred Spider-Moon or Moon-Spider as your name, but The Spider had already stuck. Much like how you were stuck patrolling the city at night, every night.

On this night in particular, nothing was out of the ordinary. You leaped from rooftop to rooftop, keeping a watchful eye on all the people you'd sworn to protect.

So, wouldn’t you believe your luck?

One day you were out patrolling in the late hours of the night when the full moon shined brighter than the street lights. While criminal activity was surprisingly low tonight, your senses kept you on guard. Scaling to the top of a building, you stood on the edge as you looked down below. Everyone was now just tiny ants. Tiny ants that were under your protection. There was one ant, though, that caught your eye—someone you couldn’t quite grasp whether you were supposed to protect or attack.

You peered down below, focusing on a dark alleyway that had begun to glow into a rather large hexagonal shape, a tall silhouette making its way through the light.

"Probably not a good guy," you said quietly to yourself, both hands on your hips, waiting ever so impatiently for this mystery to make an appearance.

===

"Hey, Miguel, check this out," Lyla called out from across the platform. "I found another good one for ya!"

The man in question sighed, not removing his eyes from a video of his latest anomaly capture. Despite his team's success, they still lacked in numbers. After discovering the vast concept of the multiverse, and learning from his catastrophic mistake, he needed to expand his team of spiders to keep the multiverse safe and in balance. Naturally, he couldn’t accept just anyone; he needed people he could trust not to abuse their power. People who could make the quick decision to save the lives of 100 people over the lives of one important person.

"If ‘good’ means recruiting another Spider-Plush, then I’m not interested," he replied, his tone flat. Lyla popped up next to Miguel with a smirk on her pixelated face.

"Aww, come on! Just take a peek!"

"No."

"This relationship isn’t gonna work if you’re not willing to compromise." Lyla crossed her arms to solidify her point, yet the smirk still remained.

Miguel’s eye twitched as he ran a hand over his mouth. When he said he wanted an AI with a smart mouth, he didn’t mean this. Nevertheless, it’s what he’s got, and she’s too important for Miguel to boss her around. He finally averted his eyes and looked at Lyla’s screen.

It wasn’t a Spider-Plush, which was a plus, but it wasn’t Peter Parker from the LEGO dimension, which was a minus.

The Spider

Earth 5863

"’The Spider’? That’s a stupid name," Miguel commented, crossing his arms.

"You know what I think is stupid?" Lyla said as she narrowed her eyes at the tall brood. The brood in question made a noise of disapproval. "The name ‘arachno-humanoid polymultiverse,’ but yeah, you know exactly what things sound stupid."

He turned his head to stare at Lyla, unsmiling and unblinking. The AI responded with a Cheshire smile. Taking a breath, Miguel turned his head to the screen.

All Canon Events Completed

Special Abilities…

The list droned on about the usual abilities that came with the title: enhanced speed, strength, hearing, agility, etc. Until the list came to one ability that wasn’t as common: shadow manipulation. No one else in the spider society had such an ability. This person could actually be useful.

"Lyla," Miguel commanded, "I need you to expand on this one. What can they do with this?" He pointed out the unusual ability on the list.

"Oh, so now you’re interested in who I have picked out? They can do, like, shadowy things." Lyla motioned with her hands as if imitating what a shadow was capable of. "Ya know, be one with the shadow? Kinda freaky how the atoms in their body can just go—poof! They can change their shape if they try really, really hard, though, but I wouldn’t rely on it."

Miguel had to hold back an eye roll at her unprofessionalism, but the information she provided always hit the mark.

Having The Spider on the team could be incredibly beneficial on stealth missions, especially since no one would expect them to be hiding in plain sight. Mission casualties could drop, and anomalies could be captured faster. For once in the ever-growing stress of Miguel’s life, he could feel the burden of maintaining the multiverse lighten on his shoulders. He just needed to recruit them and hope that you wouldn’t give him a hard time.

===

So this is love?

When you saw the 6’9”, absolutely stunning figure of someone walking through what you assumed to be a portal, you were wishing they weren’t a bad guy. The suit was mostly blue, save for the red lines outlining certain features of his body. Standing on the ledge, you observed as he looked at his surroundings, seemingly looking for something or someone.

Without even having to determine on your own whether they were a friend or foe (which, in your universe, anyone who had powers tended to be a foe), it hit you. The spider-sense. Connecting and flowing with a stranger you would come to realize wouldn’t be much of a stranger to you anymore.

They were like you. You weren’t alone anymore.

Feeling the same sensation, the stranger's head snapped up to see you.

===

When Miguel felt your presence, your connection, he quickly looked up to meet your gaze. As soon as his eyes saw you, his breath hitched. He felt his heart pound for a quick second before calming back down. Being taken aback by a new spider was never something that he did. Sure, the disappointment he felt when meeting Peter B. Parker was a notable first impression he had, but this wasn’t like that.

In the nearly pitch-black sky above him, you were glowing. The moon behind you gave you a soft white hue as the stars glimmered at your side. You controlled the night. Your confidence. Your power. You were in your element.

And he was about to pull you out of it.

"Moon-Spider would have been a better name," he thought to himself, quickly blinking so he could get back into his no-nonsense, super-serious mindset that everyone just loved so much. As quickly as he refocused, you had left your position at the top of the building, confusing Miguel only for a moment as you appeared in front of him. His eyes followed you as you materialized into the light of the streetlamp, holding his gaze.

"You’re like me!" you lilted, taking confident yet careful steps toward him. "Are you… from here?" You peered at him through your mask, taking careful note of his hands and feet in case he was ready to strike.

"I’m not,” the stranger replied, his voice sending a warm chill down your spine.

“I figured. Well, I’m The Spider. You might have heard of me before, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard of you…” you trailed your words, hoping that this stranger would fill in and introduce himself.

“I’m Spiderman, and I’m from a different dimension.”

Your posture went slack as you cocked a brow at this wannabe Spider. He couldn’t see your expression, but it was the thought that counted.

“If I wasn’t so tired right now, I would humor you, but last I checked, multiple dimensions haven’t been discovered. Besides, I haven’t heard of anyone talking about a Spiderman roaming the streets.”

The stranger sighed and pinched his brow before holding up his arm.

“You see this?” the man pointed at the watch on his wrist. “This device helps me travel throughout different dimensions. I’m from Earth 928, and this place is Earth 5863.”

“So that goober is supposedly transporting people into other dimensions?”

“Gizmo,” he corrected, “and it’s not just any people, it's Spider-people. People like us.”

Despite being skeptical about his story, you couldn’t deny that you felt the spider connection toward him. He couldn’t have been lying about that.

“So, there’s more of you out there? More people like us?”

“Yes, I’m only one Spiderman out of the many we have back at headquarters.”

You have to admit that it was shocking to know that multidimensional travel was possible, but to know that there were other spider people out there made your heart fill with glee. Being The Spider had taken a lot of sacrifices. Shoes that were only your size to fill. Having a friend in this could make those unbearable days bearable.

"Spiderman sounds better than The Spider. I’m jealous."

"That’s not the part you should be focusing on…"

"What? Is this whole visit to my dimension just business?"

Before he could finally get into his speech and proposition, an explosion was heard a few blocks over, followed by the sounds of several car alarms going off and the on-cue cat howling. Both heads snapped in the direction of the commotion before turning back toward one another. "Okay, now I have to go deal with my business." You pointed a thumb behind you as you started walking backward, away from him. "But I’ll be back in probably 5 to 10 minutes tops, so I’d love to hear all about this multiverse stuff when I come back!"

You didn’t wait for him to respond as you shot your webs out and swung away, leaving Miguel alone and a tad frustrated until-

"Hey," Lyla greeted as she popped up out of the fancy little gizmo, "You will never believe your timing! An anomaly has been reported here, and you’re already on the scene. Lucky you!" The sarcastic tone did nothing to bring Miguel joy, but he had a job to do nonetheless. He closed his watch and swung in your direction.

===

So this is what makes life divine?

Over a month had passed since your first interaction with Miguel and the rest of the spider society. To say you were overjoyed was an understatement. To say you were a bit overwhelmed was on point. Having this watch meant that you could finally form connections with people who understood you. They knew what it was like to live a double life. To feel like you couldn’t be friends with people knowing they only knew half of who you were.

They also knew what it was like to lose an uncle, but hey, who hadn’t here?

Despite this feeling of belonging, you felt uneven, unbalanced; it was like you were juggling three worlds. Your first life as a civilian involved dealing with caseloads on a day-to-day basis. Then, you go home in the evening to your second life: The Spider. Now, you’ve been convinced to take on a third: a member of the multidimensional spider society and one of Miguel’s best friends assets.

You were hesitant at first; your mind was muddled as he brought up this proposition while fighting your first anomaly in your dimension. Originally, you were against joining. Why would you spend your time fighting villains in other dimensions when you can already do that at home? That’s when he showed you his headquarters. Let’s just say you were more in it for the spider-people than you were for the crime-fighting, multiverse saving, and all that good heroic nobility.

This job came with a lot of sacrifice and your sleep schedule was gone to the wind, but at least you’re having fun!

Multiple times a week, Miguel would send you off to fight anomalies, assist fellow spiders, and help him track and record dimensional disturbances. Solo missions became a rarity for you, something you only did back on Earth 5863. Now, you and Miguel would fight side by side with the occasional Jessica or Scarlet Spider.

Miguel was a bit of a brood; there was no doubt about it, but there were days when his face would drop and the hard lines around his face would soften. He was just like you—exhausted.

He’d make the perfect friend, and you were determined to make it happen!

Currently, you and Miguel are in another dimension. Another anomaly report. You’ve done this song and dance before.

Miguel would always go in head first. Let the anomaly think that there was only one spider there to stop them. You would blend in as best as you could, crawling from shadow to shadow and shooting out webs in the darkness to yank the anomaly in the direction of Miguel’s attack. As the song would come to an end, you’d make your appearance known when the villain of the week was a bit disoriented and weakened, and swiftly make a joint attack to knock them cold. The song was over. The two partners would bow and make their way to their next dance.

Today, though, you didn’t bow out.

"Hey," you called out as Miguel was about to make a portal, "let’s take a breather. It’s the last anomaly of the night, right?"

"I don’t have time for a breather," he denied, not even looking at you as he summoned a portal. "You did good today. Keep it up."

You frowned before quickly walking in front of him and placing your hand over his watch.

"You act like there are not around 100 people back at HQ who could easily take over for 5 minutes." You motioned over to the anomaly trapped and unconscious in the force field. "Besides, they’re not going anywhere anytime soon."

He didn’t say anything as he stared at you. Maybe he was death-glaring, but he was wearing a mask, so what you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you. Plus, you didn’t break eye contact. It was a battle of wits, and you weren’t one to back down.

"The answer is still no."

"I’ll quit the team right now."

"No, you won’t."

You gave him a pointed glare, your hand slowly tightening around his wrist. Let him call your bluff; see what happens. While you wouldn’t actually do it, you could tell he had a little quirk about letting Lyla boss him around.

He stayed silent as he gently took his wrist away from you and set a five-minute timer on his gizmo.

"5 minutes only," he agreed in defeat. You smiled at him. He couldn’t see the smile through the mask, but it was the effort that counted.

"Perfect! We’ll be back at HQ before you start to get homesick. Come on." You motioned with one hand as you shot a web onto the rooftop of a building with the other. He muttered something in Spanish that you couldn’t catch but reluctantly followed you onto the roof. Watching you as you sat on the edge with your legs dangling, he wondered why the hell he decided to listen to you. To let you drag him around as if you knew him like you were friends.

You knew nothing about him.

As the silence filled the air around you, he sat down next to you, giving himself a considerable amount of space. He heard you sigh as you took off your mask, allowing yourself to truly breathe after the day you'd had. He followed your motions. Despite his annoyance with your request, he wasn’t fully opposed to it. Throughout your short interactions together since you started working with him, he could tell that you shared more in common with him than he would have liked. You were constantly busy. If you weren’t patrolling the night or stopping an anomaly, you were contacting clients and reviewing dockets. Your brain was a lightbulb that was never shut off until it was so hot it could burst, so when you insisted that you both take a break, he knew you meant it. He knew you were asking if he could switch off your light and you to his.

Two heroes, unmasked, sat side by side, quietly watching the sun slowly rise in the cool air.

To him, it felt nice not having a marathon of thoughts in his head, and he was glad he wasn’t alone. At the thought of your presence next to his, he turned his head and—

His thoughts came to a halt.

Even with the sun slowly making its presence known above the horizon, he could have sworn the moon was still shining right next to him. As much as he hated to admit it, he thought you were absolutely stunning.

He cleared his throat, catching your attention as you averted your gaze from the sun.

"Did you pick the name The Spider?" he asked, his voice quiet as if any louder would break the peace. You hummed as a smile grew on your lips.

"Nope," you denied, shaking your head slowly as the exhaustion crept up on you. "I would never pick a name that had the word ‘the’ in it, but it’s not like I could get a say in it."

"We don’t get a choice in any of it. The title and the powers."

"Yup." Your eyes went downcast, unfortunately being reminded of what awaited you back in your dimension. The unbearable responsibility. The sleepless nights. Now wasn’t the time to think about stress and work, though. You looked back up at Miguel. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged, silently shutting off the timer before it reached its end.

"I always thought Moon-Spider suited you better."

===

I’m all aglow.

It was Saturday on Earth 5863, or midday to be more specific. Despite the rest of the world already up and tackling the day, your life as the masked hero didn’t end until 4 A.M. Unfortunately, it didn’t matter how tired you were because your body refused to be dormant past 11 in the morning. You groaned, burying your head in your hands, trying to comprehend why your body wouldn’t just rest. As much as you’d like to sink in and become one with your bed all day, your social battery was empty, and so was your stomach. Your sleep was going to have to wait.

During the week, you didn’t have much time to get yourself a proper lunch, mainly just a quickly made sandwich or salad that you’d have to chow down on during a quick lunch break. This made it a struggle to really treat yourself, but you knew just the treat you’d like today.

After stretching your aching muscles, you slid out of bed and got ready for a trip through the multiverse.

===

You walked through the doors of HQ, adorning your suit without the mask and greeting every Spider as you briskly made your way to the cafeteria.

"Hey, Jess," you greeted, catching her eye as she walked in the opposite direction. "Is Miguel in his office?"

"Yup, he’s been there all night. Are you gonna go and bother him?"

"Not today, I might feed him, though. Maybe water him and give him some sunshine while I’m at it."

Jess giggled, committing to the bit, "Well, the kitchen just made a fresh batch of empanadas if you wanna give him some fertilizer."

You hummed happily with her as you carried on down the hall, desperately rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Aside from getting a small box of empanadas, you learned that their hamburgers were now made with buns that looked like Miguel’s mask.

"It’s probably a courtesy to that nice ass," you thought to yourself. Although you would never voice that thought out loud, Miguel was handsome; he was most definitely your type, and you knew that from the moment you met him. The way he acted, though, seemed so defensive, like he couldn’t trust anyone. While you enjoyed your regular rooftop breaks with him, you couldn’t help but want more.

On the other hand, Miguel didn’t know what he needed from you; he just liked it when you were near him. Whether you guys were fighting or sitting in silence. When he was with you, he felt like he had permission to loosen up a bit. Although he would never voice that thought out loud, the last thing he needed was to feel an attachment to someone who wasn’t his…

Nevertheless, one box of empanadas and two Miguel burgers later, you were off to his office.

When you arrived, Miguel was staring off into the multitude of screens around him on his platform. You knocked on the frame of the threshold before webbing yourself up onto the platform. He turned his head in your presence.

"Morning," he greeted, his tired eyes shifting back to the screens.

"Afternoon," you corrected, emphasizing the time difference. "Long night?"

This time, Miguel turned his whole body toward you, leaning back against the desk to give you his full attention. At this angle, you could see the eyebags forming on his face.

"You have no idea."

You shrugged, your own eyes just as exhausted as his.

"Try me," you encouraged as you tossed him an empanada. "Was it Hobie again?"

"It’s always Hobie!" he exclaimed as he threw his hands up in frustration, catching the empanada in the process. "Two weeks into this, and he’s managed to get sidetracked from his missions 10 times! Instead of going after the anomaly, he went after the corporate head of some phone company. Can you believe him?"

You nodded as he continued his rant but looked around the platform for a good place to set your lunch. Eyeing a small swivel chair near Miguel, you put the food there before leaning back against the desk. The ranting man continued his complaint, but you could practically see the stress rolling off his shoulders as his posture relaxed. You never really minded being a listening ear for him, especially when he let you both have a moment to relax after the pressure of it all. It was a silent, yet mutual, agreement between you and him. To rest together. To be just a bit normal together. Even if it’s the small things like having a quick lunch or taking a somewhat silent break that always lasted more than five minutes.

"I swear if he blows a hole into the multiverse next week... I don’t even know what I’m going to do," Miguel concluded, absolutely exasperated as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath before looking up at you, wanting to shine the spotlight on you. "That’s my life, I guess. What’s been going on with you? You look tired."

You took a bite of your burger before responding, "More or less than usual?"

"More."

"Damn. Well, before I start, I have a question."

"Shoot."

"Are there any universes where Doc Ock is MD rather than Ph.D.?"

"There might be a few, why?" Miguel cocked his brow at you.

"Because now I have to find a new physician." Hearing your news, Miguel’s eyes went wide as he leaned in a bit closer.

"Your physician was Doc Ock?" Miguel asked as his voice raised an octave.

"Doc fucking Ock," you confirmed, putting emphasis on the added middle name. "I had a fight with her the night before my appointment and finally caught her the next day." You finished off your burger and tossed your trash dramatically into the bin next to you. Miguel had a small smile on his face, finding your suffering just as amusing as you found his.

"How did you not catch on that your doctor was Dr. Octavius? It’s in the name!"

"She went by her married name!" you defended yourself with a smile on your face before sighing. "We’re too tired for this shit."

"Now, that I can agree with." On cue, Miguel yawned.

"At least I’m not as tired as you."

"Doubt it. Have you seen yourself?"

"Have you?" You leaned forward. "It’s like you’re moving in slow motion over there."

Miguel just scoffed, not believing your accusation.

"Yeah, sure," he agreed, with sarcasm dripping from his tone.

"It doesn’t matter anyway. Just eat your burger already; it’s probably cold now."

You motioned to the food still sitting on the chair next to him. Without turning to look, he reached a hand over to grab his lunch, confident in his aim. You watched, without a single bit of energy left to move, as he missed and hit the chair. Miguel turned to look, just as unmoving as you, and watched as the chair rolled off the high platform.

Both of you peeked your heads over to watch its descent. You turned to look at Miguel.

“So are you going to catch it or…?” you trailed as you looked back down to the swiftly descending meal. Miguel blinked once, then twice.

“Oh shit–”

It was too late. The chair and delicious food landed with a loud clatter on the ground far below.

The two of you look at the wreckage. Neither of you said anything. Neither of you even thought to web the chair as it made its descent; you were too tired to realize that you guys had the ability to stop it and simply accepted fate.

Slowly, you both turned to each other. You had to put a fist to your mouth, trying to stop the rolling laughter bubbling inside of you.

"Don’t laugh," Miguel threatened, pointing a finger at you, but seeing you try and hold it in caused a smile to bloom on his face. "It’s not funny."

"But you—" You quickly put a hand back over your mouth to stop a laugh— "I'm sorry." You laughed again before shaking your head. "You’re right, that’s not funny. It’s actually very… sad." Your lip quivered as you tried your hardest not to upset him by laughing again despite seeing the smile on his face.

Miguel turned to look back at his lunch. The top bun with his mask was resting on an exploded empanada. The urge to laugh began bubbling inside of him, but he refused to give in. He wasn’t the kind of guy to laugh at silly little things.

You followed his gaze and pointed at the bun.

"Imagine being that guy," you said, your voice breaking. He couldn’t hold it in anymore, and neither could you. Both of you started giggling quietly, gradually growing into full laughter. Miguel couldn’t tell if it was because you both were so utterly exhausted, but to him, this was the hardest he had ever laughed since he lost his daughter, and you didn’t have a clue. Neither of you could stop gasping for air, and you had to place a hand on his arm to stabilize yourself. He placed a hand on your shoulder so you two wouldn’t topple over, leaning close to you as the laughter kept rolling out.

As the humor died down and your eyes met his, the smiles on your faces continued to bloom. No matter how extraordinary the circumstances of this situation, for a moment, you two felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time: normal.

===

And now I know.

Something wasn’t right today. For once, your workload was light, and your patrol was more of a peaceful midnight walk. When it came to your third, most preferable life, you knew there had been a shift. You were sent on a mission with a different group of spiders, Miguel not being one of them. Then, when you went back to HQ, no one had seen Miguel. Some spiders had joked that he had finally taken a day off, but you knew better than that. The only time he seemed to ever take a break was when he was forced to, and not even Peter B. knew where he was!

The only information you could get out of Peter was,

"Today is not a good day for him," Peter grimaced. "It’s probably best to let him be."

"Why? What happened?" you questioned as your brows furrowed.

"It’s not my place to say, bud. Sorry!"

You weren’t going to press Peter further, already gathering that whatever had happened was a sensitive topic to discuss, but there was one thing you knew for sure. Miguel was alone. More importantly, Miguel struggled to take care of himself mentally and socially, and he struggled even more to admit that to anyone.

Despite worrying that you may be overstepping your boundaries with him, you went into his empty office and asked Lyla to track him down for you. Again, you were met with resistance.

"I dunno if I should tell you," Lyla cautioned, shrugging her shoulders at you. "He told me not to tell anyone where he was going."

"And how often do you actually listen to his requests?" you argued, noting a serious change in Lyla’s tone. "I’d like to make sure Miguel is okay. He’s my friend."

Lyla cocked a brow at you, knowing full well how "friendly" you and Miguel seem to act around one another. Taking breaks to watch the sunrise and sunset while sitting less than a foot apart. Joking around with one another whenever the moment aroused. Grabbing a meal when you stopped by his office. Yeah, these were totally activities that Miguel does when he’s "just friends" with someone. She’s seen the looks you two give each other. Whether you realized it or not, you guys didn’t like each other just as friends. Not only that, but in the six months you had been here, there had been a change in the atmosphere around HQ. Miguel was smiling more, you were happier, and missions ran more smoothly with you two as a team.

So, fuck it. Miguel can yell at Lyla later if this all goes wrong.

"Fine," Lyla groaned, despite believing that sending you to Miguel was a good move. "Good luck."

===

Miguel sat on the rooftop of an Earth that wasn’t his own. The sun was on the cusp of setting as warm orange and pink colors slowly made an appearance in the darkening sky. He refused to meddle in this world, not even going down onto the streets to interact with anyone. Instead, he sat on the rooftop alone in his thoughts as he watched the people live their normal lives down below. Doing this made him feel alone, like an outcast undeserving of the simple pleasures life had to offer. In his mind, this feeling was what he deserved; the joy of simplicity wasn’t a concept he could keep in his life. For him, he needed this reminder of how he should feel after what he had done.

The sound of a portal opening could be heard behind him. Miguel immediately tensed; no one should be here. He turned his head, already glaring at the person who dared to track him down today. Unfortunately, it was you. His glare softened. No. No. NO. You could not be here. You can’t be here. Especially today…

You stood there silently, your mask off and your hands fidgeting, as you looked at him with your kind eyes. Even without words, you could practically feel the tension radiating off of him, but you could also see the look in his eyes. He was scared. Nervous even. You had to tread carefully. He was your friend, but there was still so much you didn’t know about him.

"I don’t know what you’re going through, Miguel," you started, your voice a touch quieter, "but I’m here for you."

He turned his head away from you, unable to tell you to go away. He wanted you here with him, but—

"I don’t deserve it," Miguel finally said, his voice level matching your own. You took his voice as a reason to move closer, sitting next to him on the rooftop.

"What don’t you deserve?"

"This." He motioned between the two of you. "I don’t deserve to have this kind of peace."

"Why?" Your eyes pleaded for an answer, knowing that he had the right to not tell you anything yet silently begging for him to open up to you. He didn’t answer as he continued to look down upon the crowds of people walking on the street, a hard expression glazing over his face. He was too nervous to admit to you what he had done in fear that you would leave after knowing how selfish he once was. You reached out one more time, placing a hand on his shoulder. At the warm contact, Miguel turned to look at you again. "Please," you begged. "You can be vulnerable with me, I promise."

He searched your eyes for a sliver of regret, an instance of a fruitless promise, but he found nothing. Sighing, he placed a hand over your own, his eyes finding security in yours.

"Understand that I regret what I’ve done, and the actions I took are inexcusable."

You nodded.

"I’m here for you," you reassured, trying to quell the tension choking the air around you two. Miguel squeezed your hand before you pulled away.

He told you everything.

What he did. When he did. Why he did it.

Your heart cracked inside your chest. It yearned to reach out and hold him. To tell him that it wasn’t his fault. That he couldn’t have known the consequences of breaking canon. This tragedy had become the driving force behind all that he did within the Spider Society. He’s exhausted because he felt he didn’t deserve to rest knowing he put the lives of an entire reality six feet under, including his daughter. The daughter that wasn’t really his. The daughter, the family, that he so desperately craved but felt he could never achieve in his own time.

Instead of an embrace, you told him everything that was running through your mind. You knew that his self-deprecating mindset was not something you could fix in this conversation, but you could push him in the right direction. Encourage him to go to one of the many therapists back at HQ, help take some of the blame off his shoulders, and remind him that he deserves and will find his own happiness and normalcy in his own life. In his own reality.

Miguel listened to every word you had to say, taking it more into consideration than he would have if it were someone else. As he continued to sit close to you, listening to your sweet voice, he felt his heart swell before realizing he was in deep trouble.

He was in love with you.

===

The key to all heaven is mine.

This mission was a shitshow.

Three Green Goblins, all from different dimensions, combined forces to try and carry out their mission here in your dimension. Even with Miguel’s help, you struggled to do your song and dance, and once your position was revealed way too early, you had to call for backup.

It was barely enough.

Jess and Peter B. were an enormous help, but the anomalies were too erratic with their movements; their lack of coordination, unfortunately, proved to be a solid strategy against the spiders. Miguel told everyone to split up and try to drag the Green Goblins away from one another, so you quickly got the attention of one and tried to maneuver them away. With your abilities, you normally relied on stealth to carry you through a mission; unfortunately, you were forced to face this villain head-on. Jessica was handling the one on the left, while Miguel and Peter were farther down the street.

It hurt like hell. You had been knocked into a building one too many times for your liking, but honestly, your pride was more bruised than your body. Thankfully, your little shadow disappearing act came in handy, allowing you to web your green fucker up nicely between two tall buildings. Admiring your handiwork for a mere second, you had to act fast and trap him before assisting the others.

"Watch out!" Miguel screamed from down the block, his voice practically vibrating the space around you. Quickly, you turned around as you saw a large shadow loom over your head, far too close for your liking. It was a semi.

Son of a—

===

Miguel watched from afar as the semi-truck crashed directly where you stood with a chilling crunch. His heart dropped to the bottom of his chest, and his eyes were fixed on the crash site.

He didn’t see you leave on time.

At that moment, something crushed inside of him; the adrenaline in his body pumped faster, and the ringing in his ears grew louder. His mind had forgotten about the mission. He couldn’t, not when you were...

He needed to get to you now. His senses slowly came back to him, but the weight in his chest still hung heavy.

"Fuck!" he cried, swinging to your location as fast as he could, not hesitating to start dragging the semi with all of his strength. Jessica and Peter came to assist as soon as they captured their anomalies; they couldn’t waste a second knowing that their teammate had been hurt, or worse.

Together, they pulled the semi away to reveal nothing.

You weren’t there.

Miguel was frantic. His eyes scanned the surrounding area, looking for a trace of your white suit. Still nothing. He called your name. His vision was blurred. He couldn’t find you anywhere. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t even think. He called your name again.

Jess placed a hand on Miguel’s shoulder. He tensed at the contact.

"You keep searching for them. Peter and I will take care of the anomalies. Breathe, Miguel," she urged, trying to soothe the man who was losing himself in the depths of his mind. Her words meant nothing to him, not when he couldn’t even think straight. Despite his scattered mind, his eyes caught something—the white that had brought him so much comfort these past several months.

There, under the shadow of the semi, you emerged, a little roughed up but otherwise fine. You were alive.

"I’m sorry," you panted as you took off your mask. "Even in the shadows, I couldn’t find a way out from under the—"

He didn’t let you finish.

Moving quickly toward you, he took off his mask and pulled you tight against him. Arms wound around you in a tender, shaking embrace. He pressed his chest up against yours, desperate to feel your heartbeat and to give him more assurance that you were alive.

"Miguel?" you spoke, your voice soft as you were unable to do anything but hold him. "I’m sorry, did I scare you? I didn’t have time to swing out, so I had to go under." You pulled back slightly, feeling resistance from Miguel’s hold on you. Noticing the tears building up in his eyes that were looking through you, you placed a hand on his cheek. "Hey," you consoled, bringing him back to the present. "I’m okay."

Finally, he met your eyes fully, taking a couple controlled deep breaths like he had been practicing in the therapy sessions you urged him to go to. His hand came up to grasp the one on his cheek. He never wanted to go through this feeling again. He never wanted to let you go.

"Yeah…" he trailed, "I’m sorry I—" he sighed—"I didn’t mean to overreact like this. It’s just—"

"No," you asserted, not allowing him to downplay his emotions. "You didn’t overreact. I would have done the same thing if this had happened to you. Please don’t apologize." He hummed at your words, a small smile growing on his face. Turning his head, he kissed the inside of your palm; your heart fluttered at the contact.

"Cariño, you’re too good for me."

You smiled, your face heating up at his sudden affection. This man made your heart swoon over the simplest of things, and you made his heart go crazy. You both wanted more from each other, but you knew it was going to take time. It was going to take healing. As long as he continued to hold you with such tenderness and love that you could not compare, you knew you wouldn’t mind the wait. For now, though, you two would go back to HQ, side by side, and continue to save the multiverse.

You’ve waited this long to find someone you can be at peace with; a little more time wouldn’t hurt anybody.

===

My heart has wings.

And I can fly.

Exhausted couldn’t even begin to describe the state that you were in. The juggling act you had been doing for about a year now had started toppling over. Your work had gotten sloppy; you were constantly missing your targets on missions and somehow portaling to the wrong dimensions. The worst was when you nearly showed up late to a trial at work. Despite teetering on the edge of insanity, you still willed yourself to go to HQ, as you craved the comfort your friends could provide simply by talking to you. Even if it was during a mission.

This mission in particular was your breaking point.

It was just you and Miguel. The two of you were in a dimension you couldn’t remember the name of while fighting the next villain of the week. The sun was still shining brightly out on a Sunday afternoon, and it seemed like this earth was having a peaceful day until a comic book Prowler came crashing in.

The usual song and dance were done, and the Prowler was contained and ready for the Go-Home-Machine. There were a few minor flukes along the way, like missing a couple of webs and not having enough energy to stay inside a shadow for very long. All of which Miguel lightly scolded you for, but you found it to be more out of concern for your well-being than out of anger.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t take a nice, long break. There wasn’t a time in your life when you could relax for hours on end or do nothing for a whole weekend. There were always some tasks you had to do: grocery shopping, night patrolling, taking your car to the shop, missions, cases, house cleaning, laundry, and the list goes on and on and on. It was ruthless and never-ending.

"It’s still pretty early," Miguel noted as he picked up the unconscious Prowler. "How about we grab some lunch when we head back?" You weren’t focused on him, though.

The fight had taken place at a nature center with beautiful forestry and vast trails throughout the area. Your enhanced senses picked up on someone in the distance in the parking lot.

You.

A version of you who was getting out of the same car you drove. Eyebags were nonexistent. Your body glowed and radiated with energy and joy. It was like looking at the sun. There you were, happy, content, and normal, hanging out with friends on a Sunday afternoon in a nature center. You held no secrets about a double life. No hint of exhaustion. There is no looming worry about upcoming stress.

This version of you was living the life you dreamed of while you lived like this. Not living one life, but three.

Your eyes grew wet as your breathing slowed. All this suffering. All this exhaustion. What was it all for? You couldn’t tear your eyes away from yourself.

"Hey!" Miguel called out, noticing your lack of response. "Are you all right?" You couldn’t hear him. While you were wearing your mask, he recognized the symptoms and noticed your labored breathing. "Cariño—" he said, placing his free hand around your shoulder—"regresa a mí." He followed your gaze and saw what had shut you down. His heart sank. He knew all too well how you were feeling. "Let’s go."

Gently, he guided you back through the portal, dropping you off at his office for a quick moment while he took care of the anomaly. You sat on his new, non-swivel chair and stared at the multitude of holographic monitors showcasing all around HQ. All these different Spider-people, laughing and communicating as if they’ve gotten a good night's rest, as if they can guarantee one square meal a day. What were you doing wrong?

You bit the inside of your cheek as the envy bubbled within you.

Why did you have to get bitten?

A warm hand on your shoulder halted your thoughts. You turned your head to see Miguel standing over you, his eyes holding an empathy that could make you melt if you weren’t tipping over the edge of your mentality.

"I’m sorry," you murmured, taking a breath. "I shouldn’t have reacted like that in front of civilians. It wasn’t very professional of me." Allowing yourself to embrace his comfort, you placed your hand over his. In return, he grabbed your hand and kneeled in front of you.

"I know we joke about our terrible work-life balance, but I’d rather see you happy and healthy than make jokes about your misery." You managed a small smile.

"Being funny is my charm. The misery comes with it."

"But having you in my life is a charm I never want to lose," he argued, not wanting to feed into your humor. "I know how much seeing something like this can hurt you, so please talk to me."

You trusted Miguel with your life, so you opened a part of your heart to him. A part that buried your burdens with each passing second because you worked for others and not yourself. The part that people hide from others to give the impression that they had their whole lives life together. Because if you didn’t, then you were incapable. Then you weren’t strong enough. Then, you weren’t worthy of a title you didn’t ask for but would still die on a hill defending the name.

You were incapable of living three lives, yet didn’t you just start out with one? What happened to that one?

Avoiding his gaze, you looked down at your interconnected hands. Unable to look at him without shedding tears, you flooded him with three different worlds. Your worlds.

He rubbed small circles into the palm of your hand, mesmerized by the weight of your hand against his. He wished he could hold it forever. How he wished he could take away the pain that was destined to fall on you. The feeling of your hands intertwined was one that he wished would take root and grow—a touch that was fairly unfamiliar to him yet one that he found himself craving desperately. Without a complaint, he absorbed every word you spoke like a sponge, knowing full well how you had dropped everything to do the same to him, his heart aching at every self-deprecating comment you made.

He understood where you were coming from. The worthlessness you felt as you wondered what it was that you were doing wrong. He also knew now that it's harder to see the ocean when you’re the one drowning in it. It was going to take time, just like how he was learning to forgive himself, but he’d help you through your struggles the same way you did with him: by providing patience, care, and normalcy.

When you eventually came to the end of your stressed ramble, he watched you take a shaky breath before he placed his hand on your cheek.

"I know you’ve already told me this once, but you deserve to be happy in your own life, and you will find it. You’re not weak for wanting to take on less responsibility or for wanting to be normal." He wiped a stray tear that was falling down your cheek, noticing the buildup of tears glazing over your eyes. "You and I both know that what you’re doing isn’t manageable, but I want you to know that I am here for you. I… I want us to be as normal as we can be as Spider-people, and we can do it together, okay?

The tears bundled in the corners of your eyes flowed freely down the wet tracks on your face. Trying desperately to take a breath—a breath meant to calm you and help clear your head—got caught in your throat.

You sobbed.

You sobbed like you had just lost your uncle, like you did when the captain of the police force (one of your closest friends) died. You sobbed like you did after a month of being Moon-Spider, except now you weren’t alone.

Miguel wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down to join him on the platform, on stable ground, as he rubbed your back and let you have your long-overdue breakdown. Though your mind was scattered, your heart was set here with Miguel. No matter what, being your dimension’s masked hero was a title you would hold with pride, and you refused to hang your cape even if it killed you. Yet not all your lives revolved around the mask.

When Miguel calmed you, he reluctantly said his goodbyes as you insisted on going back to your own dimension. You weren’t going to sit here anymore and cry; with a newfound freedom, you went home.

You took on no new clients.

Finished your cases.

And quit.

===

I’ll touch every star in the sky.

So this is the miracle,

Everyone had their own nickname in the Spider Society. After a year of being members, you and Miguel were crowned the "work spouses." It started off as a joke.

"Hey, your work husband is mad again. Do you mind talking to him, please?"

"Miguel! Where did your work spouse run off to now?"

Now, it wasn’t really a joke. After everything you two had done for one another, how could someone not fall in love?

===

That I’ve been dreaming of.

"Break?" Miguel offered after the now-paralyzed anomaly was safely captured. You agreed, stretching your arms above your head to look at the sky. Despite it being around six in the morning, it had begun to lighten up. Together, you picked out the highest rooftop you could find and swung up to take your usual five(ish) minute break. Side by side, you sat, enjoying each other’s company and having idle chit-chat.

For once, this break wasn’t a desperate attempt to switch off a light bulb that’s been shining for far too long. After quitting your job over a month ago, life became much more bearable. There was still a long road ahead to unstick the pessimistic mindset you had grown comfortable with, but being able to breathe without the resistance of stress on your shoulders outweighed the costs. You were still missing something, though: peace. A type of peace that was so close to you that you could hold its hand. A type of peace that was so handsome that sometimes you found yourself blushing. You wanted that peace, and peace wanted you. It wasn’t enough to be friends with it anymore.

"Miguel?" you said softly, moving your hand to press up against his. "Can I ask you something?"

Miguel placed his hand on top of yours.

"Sure."

You took a moment before responding.

"What am I to you?"

His hand practically froze on top of yours as he turned to look at you, the gears turning in his head.

"We’re… friends."

You scoffed, but there was no malice behind it and gestured at your hand intertwined with his.

"Do you really call this ‘friends’?"

"Okay. Close friends."

"Miguel."

Nervous about the confrontation, he stood up abruptly and headed toward the unconscious anomaly, ready to head back to HQ.

"I don’t think we should mess with what we have now," he lied straight through his teeth, not wanting to look at you in fear he would fold. You stood up after him, slightly shocked at his response but not wanting this conversation to run away.

"Am I just a work spouse to you?"

"Now you know that you are more than that to me," Miguel scolded as he turned and pointed a finger at you, upset that you would think such a thing.

"Then why don’t you want to show me? Treat me the way I want to treat you? I don’t want to keep acting like this knowing that I love—"

"Fuck, I’m scared!" His voice raised slightly as he cut you off, his heart pounding at your near confession. You froze, recognizing the look in his eyes, but still pushed to ask:

"Why? What makes you so scared to be with me?"

"How every time I start feeling excited about my future, how I start feeling excited with you, it goes terribly wrong. I’m scared it's all going to crumble. No quiero perderte, amor. If something bad happens to you, I just— It would be my fault!"

His words sat in the air. This behavior was familiar. It was the same ocean, just a different person drowning.

"And if you were to get hurt…" you cautioned as you carefully chose your words, not wanting this to become an argument, "…would it be my fault?" Miguel opened his mouth, but you refused to let your words go unsaid. "If I were to feel loved and safe with you, would it be my fault or yours? You can’t control the actions of others, Miguel, but you can control yourself and how you respond to others." You sighed as you gazed at him with those worried eyes he loved so much. "Miguel I thought you were working on this," you said, referring to the therapy sessions he had taken in the past.

"I have—chingado—lo siento!" He cursed, trying to remedy the situation. "I swear I’ve been. It’s just… I love being with you, but I’m worried that if you get too close, you’ll get hurt. Having that normal life, it feels unnatural to me."

"In the year I’ve known you, I have never gotten hurt because of something you've done," you refuted, refusing to let him compare this situation to what had happened with his daughter. You walked closer to him and reached out to hold his hands. "I understand why you’re nervous, but this is different. We are different. It’s your own happiness. It’s your own life, and it hurts watching you try and punish yourself for living it. You’re not a bad person, Miguel."

Unable to form words of his own, he pulled your intertwined hands toward him and wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"You don’t understand how good you are to me," he sighed as he embraced your comfort. You move your arms around him, allowing yourself to sit in this temporary peace for a moment. When you felt he was calm, you spoke again.

"Do you feel ready to be in a relationship right now?"

He was hesitant to answer, but when his head was above the water, he knew denying it would be self-sabotage.

"Only if it’s with you."

Your face heated up; you were constantly at the mercy of Miguel O’Hara’s words.

"We can take things slow. It’s not like I have much experience with relationships either, you know? So, if there’s anything you ever wanna do or try, just ask. Just stay with me, and I’ll stay with you."

Miguel hummed, and you could feel a smile forming on his lips in the crook of your neck. Slowly, he moved his head to face you, leaving a mere few inches between you two.

"Can I kiss you?" With your breath now hitched, all you could do was nod before he closed the gap. It was short, sweet, and addicting. He held you tight around your waist, and in return, you moved your arms around his neck, pulling him in. When you broke apart, who could blame you when you leaned back in for another? Another? Okay, maybe just one more, but you promised it was the last.

Miguel chuckled, finding it in himself to pull away and open his eyes to you. Your pupils were dilated, and your lips were slightly swollen; you were electrifying. He had the urge to finish what he started right there on the rooftop, but you didn’t deserve some quick sex in a random dimension. He’d have to settle with just this for now. Leaning back in, he trailed his lips along your jawline, stopping to leave little pecks along the way. Pecks on your cheek, your nose, your forehead—anywhere he could reach without letting you go.

You couldn’t stop giggling, the light trail of his lips tickling your face. Your heart bloomed with a love for him that could last forever. He leaned away and gazed at you with loving eyes, taking in every little feature that made you who you are. The shape of your lips and how they fit perfectly between his. The curve of your nose as you dragged it across his jaw. The look in your eyes as you looked at him with a love that’s meant only for him.

The sun began peaking over the horizon, shining behind Miguel in blooming shades of yellow and orange. He was so beautiful; his vulnerability and care warmed your soul. He shined a light on your life and helped you learn to grow and to continue to grow together.

Your sun.

From his view, the dark shades of pink, purple, and blue colored the sky. The glittering stars only illuminated your presence in front of him. So pretty, so handsome. You were so perfectly flawed. To hold his heart so gently in fear that someone might come and hurt it. Not you, though; never you.

His moon.

To him, you provided the peace he needed to come to terms with. Someone to help ground him in the quiet hours of the night and show him that comfort was a calm feeling he should indulge in.

Fuck, you were just so—

"I..." he trailed, his throat closing in a nervous tremor. You hummed, urging him to continue as you trailed your fingers up to cup his face in your palms. "I want to be normal with you. Te amo, cariño."

You grinned, the corners of your eyes crinkling.

"I love you," you lilted, giving him another quick peck. "Let’s go be normal together."

So this is love.

{Hope you guys liked it! It's my first try at an x reader. I had two people check over my Spanish, but if there's something that's not right, please let me know!!}

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