#things to consider for future sessions

[marcianoliterati]

Just taking a wild guess here but i think taking several pages of notes in a less than ideal posture might have something to do with my wrist hurting

[bxdtime-ceai]

thinking about law school and im so excited to be back in an academic environment

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

"I'm not hypomanic," I say at midnight after spending a day downing a huge coffee, energy drink, and soda, on the first day in months I got to experience sunshine

[dante-mightdie]

so let me share something with you guys for a second

(nsfw)

ghost is hot, right? we all know that. picture him always having someone sneaking out his room during unsocial able hours, shushes and clattering of buckles hitting the floor as his latest hookup creeps back down the halls to the cold barracks

and you, the awkward recruit with a fat crush on your lieutenant who envys every person who shamelessly shoots their shot with him and succeeds. letting him make a mess out of them for one night only

and it is always one night only

no same person has ever left his room twice, nothing more than a cheap hookup to him. you know you wouldn’t be any different, shown the door before you can even get your cargos zipped back up but if it meant at least one night with simon riley, you really didn’t care

but when it’s finally your turn? when you finally drink up enough courage to speak to the brooding man in the corner nursing his own drink in the corner of the bar, it turns out he didn’t even know your name

but that’s okay, it’s not like he was gonna be your future husband anyway so you power through. pull out all the charisma you have stored away for moments like this and you soon find yourself back in his room, making a complete fool of yourself

struggling to unbuckle his belt, biting down too hard on his lip during the, quite frankly, terrible make-out session that led up to your current situation, responding to his dirty talk with blinded stutters

and when he finally pulls out his cock? you’re too nervous to relax, and it doesn’t fit. before he can give you some half-assed ‘s’alright, love. another time, yeah?’, you’re shoving him off and rushing out his room before you can even get yourself fully-dressed

for weeks, you avoid him. at least, that’s what he calls it. you didn’t consider it avoidance under the assumption that he had no intentions of pursuing you again

simon was under the same assumption, and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about you. every hook-up leading up to you was a performance, an act he completed as some odd way of reminding himself that he was still, in fact, human

your heated cheeks and scrunched nose every time you fumbled was strangely refreshing to simon, a friendly reminder that not everything needed to be so serious, so professional. maybe the humanising act could be an experience instead, he thinks as he reaches for his phone

that night had been keeping you up for weeks, replaying every stupid way you messed up the thing you had been thinking about since you laid eyes on simon

and then your phone pings. from an unknown number.

‘price is off base. come to my room and I’ll make it fit this time.’

[luvcaleb]

GOOD GIRL.

nsfw (18+). includes pseudocest/incest, corruption kink, some dubious consent, dirty talk, fingering, cunnilingulus, blowjob, protected sex and unprotected sex, porn ahh plot, caleb is part-time yearner full-time freak i fear, mc might not be a brotherfucker but caleb is definitely a sisterfucker thus this fic was born lmao, i am almost ashamed of the filth i created. fic is set in their student days. likes and reblogs will be very appreciated !!

perverted big brother!caleb who's probably more touchy with you than what is considered appropriate between “family.” his arm that's perpetually wrapped around your waist; his fingers sliding up your bare thigh when he tells you, “don't you think your skirt is too short? go change.”; his hand just an inch shy of squeezing your chest during nights you cuddle to sleep because you're too scared to sleep alone.

perverted big brother!caleb who you catch watching porn, his door cracked open just enough for you to hear his deep grunts and the slick noises his fleshlight makes when he pulls it down his huge cock. the girl on his laptop is loud and whiny, wailing as she's nailed to the mattress — “gege, gege, no more, i can't” — and when caleb cums, you swear he says your name.

perverted big brother!caleb who comes home earlier than he told you he would and sees you at the living room rubbing frustrated circles on your clit, struggling to fit a finger inside your cunt because you're not wet enough. so he pulls you into his lap, tunes out your exclaims of surprise, and says he'll teach you something good.

ten minutes later, you're gushing all over his pants, stuffed with three big fingers, clawing at his biceps and telling him “no more, i can't cum anymore, gege please.” yet caleb simply shushes you, chin tucked over your shoulder to admire how you squirt on his hand. “shh, you can do it. gege's gonna make you cum again.”

perverted big brother!caleb who teaches you other things that feel good as a reward when you answer the workbooks he gives you correctly. at one tutoring session, he played with your tits, licking and sucking at a bud and flicking the other. the last time, he rubbed you all over as he fucked his cock between your thighs, wet and sloppy with lube.

today, he pulls your legs apart, grabs the back of your knees, and puts his mouth to work. he makes out with your clit, licking under the hood, lightly grazes your skin with his teeth; you cream around his tongue when he shoves it inside your cunt. he sounds absolutely depraved, moaning as he drinks up the nectar from your sweet pussy, grinding his hard cock to the sheets.

it's then that he learns he loves eating you out. the next day, he makes you sit on his face, his nose bumping against your clit as his tongue laps away at your slick, fucking up his dick into his fist.

perverted big brother!caleb who teaches you how to suck cock under your silly pretense of “practicing for your future boyfriend.” he guides his dick into your mouth, gentle in spite of his thinly veiled anger and jealousy, and he teases you for having difficulty swallowing him in because your mouth is too small when in reality he's the one who's too damn big. he gives you filthy praise when you do something right, caressing your cheek as he groans his approval. “shit, it feels good when you suck the tip, mn... you better not have learned that from anyone else, pipsqueak.”

perverted big brother!caleb who takes away your virginity before anyone else can. he doesn't bring it up first — he makes you want it. sure, he stuffs your cunt with his fingers, licks all the sensitive spots on your body. he rubs his cock over your pussy and lets you give him a blowjob. but he never puts it in. so when you beg him — “gege, just the tip, please” — he doesn't make an effort to resist your request.

he lays you down on his bed, just like he's dreamed for so many years, and tears open a condom he prepared in advance. he pushes the head inside, and the tight heat of your pussy almost makes him cum on the spot. it's better than he ever imagined; so much better than his cold, pathetic fleshlight that he imagines was you. he thrusts in a slow, careful pace, watching you squirm over a single inch of his cock, and he bites back a grin as he fucks a few more centimeters every other thrust.

eventually, it reaches a point you feel utterly full, far more cored open than the first moment he slid inside you. “g-ge, that's more than just the tip...” you whine, pressing down on the slight bulge peeking out of your stomach. he merely smiles playfully before slamming home, the entire length of his cock fucking into your pussy in one, smooth thrust. “yeah. feels good, doesn't it?”

perverted big brother!caleb who takes every opportunity gran isn't home to have sex with his cute sister. not that he doesn't fuck you when she's home; it just means that neither of you has to sneak into the other's bedroom late at night, and you don't have to hide your voice anymore. now, he has you laid over the edge of the dining table, pulling your hips back onto his cock. he's always thought this table was the perfect height for him to fuck your pussy while he's standing. “you like this, pips?” he pants, enjoying the garbled moans that spill from your lips. “you like being your gege's fleshlight?”

at that, something clear sprays out of your cunt, soaking his abs wet. he chuckles darkly, thumb swiping over your clit to make you squirt more, making a bigger mess that pools at the floor beneath you. “you like being my fleshlight that much, huh? then i'll use your pussy as much as i want.”

perverted big brother!caleb who has lots of friends but he always declines their offers to hang out because he'd rather be with you. you know this because he seemingly always gets a call whenever you're in the middle of things. of course, the fucker answers the call in speaker, and you have to take extra care not letting your voice out because he's still pounding away at your pussy. “hm? gideon? sorry, i'm kind of busy. my sister needed help with something. want to say hi?”

you glare at him, but he only sets his phone beside your head, smirking in mischief. “h-hey, gideon, it's been a while. what? no, i'm totally f— ah— fine! just feeling a bit unwell, haha... hn... y-yeah, gege is taking care of me— ah...!”

once you let a moan slip, he immediately ends the call, smothering your lips with a kiss. “c'mon, princess, you couldn't hold it in? i'm the only who can hear you like this... mmph... stick out your tongue more...”

perverted big brother!caleb who gets jealous easily. when a boy gets too flirty with you, he gives them a withering glare. sometimes, you play along with the flirting just to see him get angry. later that day, the trip home would be silent, but the moment you're inside your house, he has you pinned on the door, his lips latching on your neck to suck a dark red hickey marking his territory. you don't get to move away from that spot for a long, long time — first, he wraps your legs around his waist as he thrusts inside you, then he fucks you from behind, your face pressing against the door and his hand around your mouth so you don't get too noisy. the sound of his hips slamming against your ass is almost deafening, and he takes a mental note to clean up the mess you squirted on the floor when you're done.

once he used up all the condoms he has on him, he doesn't bother bringing you to his room to get more. he fucks you raw, and now you feel every angry vein on his bare cock, sliding against your sweet spots. “should've done this from the start, fuck... your sweet pussy feels so much better... you like this better too, right? i bet you pulled that shit earlier because you wanted me to be rough with you.” he manages to pull out when he feels his release approaching, his cum spraying all over your torso as he kisses you, but you almost wish he hadn't.

perverted big brother!caleb who realizes late he's turned you into a cockslut. you visit his room more often, and even started taking birth control so he could cum inside. it's not like he'll ever turn you away, but tonight, he's feeling especially playful. “hm... i'm tired today, so i'm not feeling up to it right now. but it's fine if you're the one moving this time.”

this results in him leisurely laying on his bed, arms behind his head. he takes great pleasure in seeing you grind your bare pussy on his hardening cock, slathering your juices to make it wet. once you found it sufficiently lubed, you raised your hips, gripping the base of his dick to slowly drop on it. you've made it this far, but you're still quite shy — you take a long time pushing half of it inside you, so he decides to give you a little help and thrusts his hips upward. you gasp when all of it is slammed into you, leaning back and resting your hands on his thighs, your body in an enticing arch that presents your bouncing tits. “ah, gege, wait, that's too sudden—”

he rubs your engorged clit as you roll your hips on top of him, dropping your hips and getting back up to reach that deep spot inside. you're drooling, eyes almost rolled back, and it takes all his patience not to push you down and fuck you stupid. “what a great view. tell me, when did you become such a whore, pips? where did you learn how to do this?” he massages your tits, pulling at the nubs. “you said you liked being my fleshlight, but at this point, you're just using me to masturbate. do you like that? do you like using gege's cock as your personal dildo?”

“hng— ah— no...!”

“there's no need to be shy. c'mon, say it. you love gege's cock.”

“i... ahh...” you lose strength in your arms, collapsing in a heap over his chest. he immediately wraps his arms around you, patting your head soothingly. “gege... i love gege... i love you so much, gege... mn, haa...!”

the world comes to a stop. his brain takes a while to process your words, but you don't let him stay too long in his thoughts. you're still humping against him, whining desperately for him to move because you've gotten tired. for a moment, he even considers the possibility he was just hearing things. but there's no hiding the quick, racing heartbeat he feels pressed against his chest, matching his very own.

you love gege.

he moves his hand to cup your cheek, meeting your dazed eyes. they gain clarity when he softly kisses your forehead, an innocent peck that starkly contrasts everything you've been doing. “gege loves you too,” he utters gently, making sure you hear it loud and clear. “gege loves you the most in the world.”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Mark Zuckerberg personally lost the Facebook antitrust case

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me at NEW ZEALAND'S UNITY BOOKS in AUCKLAND on May 2, and in WELLINGTON on May 3. More tour dates (Pittsburgh, PDX, London, Manchester) here.

It's damned hard to prove an antitrust case: so often, the prosecution has to prove that the company intended to crush competition, and/or that they raised prices or reduced quality because they knew they didn't have to fear competitors.

It's a lot easier to prove what a corporation did than it is to prove why they did it. What am I, a mind-reader? But imagine for a second that the corporation in the dock is a global multinational. Now, imagine that the majority of the voting shares in that company are held by one man, who has served as the company's CEO since the day he founded it, personally calling every important shot in the company's history.

Now imagine that this founder/CEO, this accused monopolist, was an incorrigible blabbermouth, who communicated with his underlings almost exclusively in writing, and thus did he commit to immortal digital storage a stream – a torrent – of memos in which he explicitly confessed his guilt.

Ladies and gentlepersons, I give you Mark Zuckerberg, founder and CEO of Meta (nee Facebook), an accused monopolist who cannot keep his big dumb fucking mouth shut.

At long, long last, the FTC's antitrust trial against Meta is underway, and this week, Zuck himself took the stand, in agonizing sessions during which FTC lawyers brandished printouts of Zuck's own words before him, asking him to explain away his naked confessions of guilt. It did not go well for Zuck.

In a breakdown of the case for The American Prospect, editor-in-chief David Dayen opines that "The Government Has Already Won the Meta Case," having hanged Zuck on his own words:

https://prospect.org/power/2025-04-16-government-already-won-meta-case-tiktok-ftc-zuckerberg/

The government is attempting to prove that Zuck bought Instagram and Whatsapp in order to extinguish competitors (and not, for example, because he thought they were good businesses that complemented Facebook's core product offerings).

This case starts by proving how Zuck felt about Insta and WA before the acquisitions. On Insta, Zuck circulated memos warning about Insta's growth trajectory:

they appear to be reaching critical mass as a place you go to share photos

and how that could turn them into a future competitor:

[Instagram could] copy what we’re doing now … I view this as a big strategic risk for us if we don’t completely own the photos space.

These are not the words of a CEO who thinks another company is making a business that complements his own – they're confessions that he is worried that they will compete with Facebook. Facebook tried to clone Insta (Remember Facebook Camera? Don't feel bad – neither does anyone else). When that failed, Zuck emailed Facebook execs, writing:

[Instagram's growth is] really scary and why we might want to consider paying a lot of money for this.

At this point, Zuck's CFO – one of the adults in the room, attempting to keep the boy king from tripping over his own dick – wrote to Zuck warning him that it was illegal to buy Insta in order to "neutralize a potential competitor."

Zuck replied that he was, indeed, solely contemplating buying Insta in order to neutralize a potential competitor. It's like this guy kept picking up his dictaphone, hitting "record," and barking, "Hey Bob, I am in receipt of your memo of the 25th, regarding the potential killing of Fred. You raise some interesting points, but I wanted to reiterate that this killing is to be a murder, and it must be as premeditated as possible. Yours very truly, Zuck."

Did Zuck buy Insta to neutralize a competitor? Sure seems like it! For one thing, Zuck cancelled all work on Facebook Camera "since we're acquiring Instagram."

But what about after the purchase. Did Zuck reduce quality and/or raise costs? Well, according to the company, it enacted an "explicit policy of not prioritizing Instagram’s growth" (a tactic called "buy or bury"). At this juncture, Zuckerberg once again put fingers to keyboard in order to create an immortal record of his intentions:

By not killing their products we prevent everyone from hating us and we make sure we don’t immediately create a hole in the market for someone else to fill.

And if someone did enter the market with a cool new gimmick (like, say, Snapchat with its disappearing messages)?

Even if some new competitors spring up, if we incorporate the social mechanics they were using, these new products won’t get much traction since we’ll already have their mechanics deployed at scale.

Remember, the Insta acquisition is only illegal if Zuck bought them to prevent competition in the marketplace (rather than, say, to make a better product). It's hard to prove why a company does anything, unless its CEO, founder, and holder of the majority of its voting stock explicitly states that his strategy is to create a system to ensure that innovating new products "won't get much traction" because he'll be able to quickly copy them.

So we have Zuck starving Insta of development except when he needs to neutralize a competitor, which is just another way of saying he set out to reduce the quality of the product after acquisition, a thing that is statutorily prohibited, but hard to prove (again, unless you confess to it in writing, herp derp).

But what about prices? Well, obviously, Insta doesn't charge its end-users in cash, but they do charge in attention. If you want to see the things you've explicitly asked for – posts from accounts you follow – you have to tolerate a certain amount of "boosted content" and ads, that is, stuff that Facebook's business customers will pay to nonconsensually cram into your eyeballs.

Did that price go up? Any Insta user knows the answer: hell yes. Instagram is such a cesspit of boosted content and ads that it's almost impossible to find stuff you actually asked to see. Indeed, when a couple of teenagers hacked together an alternative Insta client called OG App that only showed you posts from accounts you followed, it was instantly the most popular app on Google Play and Apple's App Store (and then Google and Apple killed it, at Meta's request):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/05/battery-vampire/#drained

But why did the price go up? Did it go up because Facebook had neutralized a competitor by purchasing it, and thus felt that it could raise prices without losing customers? Again, a hard thing to prove…unless Zuck happened to put it in writing. Which he did, as Brendan Benedict explains in Big Tech On Trial:

I think we’re badly mismanaging this right now. There’s absolutely no reason why IG ad load should be lower than FB at a time when . . . we’re having engagement issues in FB. If we were managing our company correctly, then at a minimum we’d immediately balance IG and FB ad load . . . But it’s possible we should even have a higher ad load on IG while we have this challenge so we can replace some ads with [People You May Know] on FB to turn around the issues we’re seeing.

https://www.bigtechontrial.com/p/zuckerberg-v-zuckerberg-will-the

So there you have it: Zuck bought Insta to neutralize a competitor, and after he did, he lowered its quality and raised its prices, because he knew that he was operating without significant competitors thanks to his acquisition of that key competitor. Zuck's motivations – as explained by Zuck himself – were in direct contravention of antitrust law, a thing he knew (because his execs explained it to him). That's a pretty good case.

But what about Whatsapp? How did Zuck feel about it? Well, he told his board that Whatsapp was Facebook's greatest "consumer risk," fretting that "Messenger isn’t beating WhatsApp." He blocked Whatsapp ads on Facebook, telling his team that it was "trying to build social networks and replace us." Sure, they'd lose money by turning away that business, but the "revenue is immaterial to us compared to any risk." Sure seems like Zuck saw Whatsapp as a competitor.

Meta's final line of defense in this case is that even if they did some crummy, illegal things, they still didn't manage to put together a monopoly. According to Meta's lawyers – who're billing the company more than $1m/day! – Meta is a tiny fish in a vast ocean that has many competitors, like Tiktok:

https://www.levernews.com/mr-zuckerbergs-very-expensive-day-in-court/

There's only one problem with this "market definition" argument, and that problem's name is Chatty Mark Zuckerberg. On the question of market definition, FTC lawyers once again raised Zuckerberg's own statements and those of his top lieutenants to show that Zuckerberg viewed his companies as "Personal Social Networks" (PSNs) and not as just generic sites full of stuff, competing with Youtube, Tiktok, and everyone else who lets users post things to the internet.

Take Instagram boss Adam Mosseri, who explained that:

Instagram will always need to focus on friends and can never exclusively be for public figures or will cease to be a social product.

And then there was Zuck's memo explaining why he offered $6b for Snapchat:

Snap Stories serves the exact same use case of sharing and consuming feeds of content that News Feed and Instagram deliver. We need to take this new dynamic seriously—both as a competitive risk and as a product opportunity to add functionality that many people clearly love and want to use daily.

And an internal strategy document that explained the competitive risks to Facebook:

Social networks have two stable equilibria: either everyone uses them, or no-one uses them. In contrast, nonsocial apps (e.g. weather apps, exercise apps) can exist [somewhere] along a continuum of adoption. The binary nature of social networks implies that there should exist a tipping point, ie some critical mass of adoption, above which a network will organically grow, and below which it will shrink.

Sure sounds like Facebook sees itself as a "social network," and not a "nonsocial app." And of course – as Dayen points out – when Tiktok (a company Meta claims as a competitor) went up for sale, Meta did not enter a bid, despite being awash in free cash flow.

In Zuckerberg's defense, he's not the only tech CEO who confesses his guilt in writing (recall that FTX planned its crimes in a groupchat called WIREFRAUD). Partly that's because these firms are run by arrogant twits, but partly it's because digital culture is a written culture, where big, dispersed teams expected to work long hours from offices all over the world as well as from their phones every hour of day and night have to rely on memos to coordinate:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/03/big-tech-cant-stop-telling-on-itself/

When Dayen claims that "the government has won the Meta case," he doesn't mean the judge will rule in the FTC's favor (though there's a high likelihood that this will happen). Rather, he means that the case has been proven beyond any kind of reasonable doubt, in public, in a way that has historically caused other monopolists to lose their nerve, even if they won their cases. Take Microsoft and IBM – though both companies managed to draw out their cases until a new Republican administration (Reagan for IBM, GWB for Microsoft) took office and let them off the hook, both companies were profoundly transformed by the process.

IBM created the market for a generic, multivendor PC whose OS came from outside the company:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/08/ibm-pc-compatible-how-adversarial-interoperability-saved-pcs-monopolization

And Microsoft spared Google the same treatment it had meted out to Netscape, allowing the company to grow and thrive:

https://apnews.com/article/google-apple-microsoft-antitrust-technology-cases-1e0c510088825745a6e74ba3b81b44c6

Trump being Trump, it's not inconceivable that he will attempt to intervene to get the judge to exonerate Meta. After all, Zuck did pay him a $1m bribe and then beg him to do just that:

https://gizmodo.com/zuckerberg-really-thought-trump-would-make-metas-legal-problems-go-away-2000589897

But as Dayen writes, the ire against Meta's monopolistic conduct is thoroughly bipartisan, and if Trump was being strategic here (a very, very big "if"), he would keep his powder dry here. After all, if the judge doesn't convict Meta, Trump won't have wasted any political capital. And if Meta is convicted, Trump could solicit more bribes and favors at the "remedy" stage, when a court will decide how to punish Meta, which could be anything from a fine to a breakup order, to a nothingburger of vague orders to clean up its act.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/04/18/chatty-zucky/#is-you-taking-notes-on-a-criminal-fucking-conspiracy

[beefjumper]

Life Series but beefburgered

Hello my tumblr 👋 I'm not dead, I've just been fandom jumping then felt the urge to make somewhat of a reference sheet for the lifers for future use. Yap session about the designs below:

Grian: Very standard Grian. You can smell the Cherrifire influence in this one. I imagine the turtleneck being wide enough to hide his mouth behind as he stares menacingly into the distance. His eyebrows are practically fused with his eyes but it's probably best not to think about it too much. I have considered placing a literal waffle on the back of his head but it might be tedious to draw continuously.

Scar: Everytime I draw Scar he looks weird. It might be because I'm not too good with longer faces, but that's how I'd imagine the character looks like. I think I'll switch up this design a lot as his eyes and hair bug me sometimes. Maybe experiment with the scars too. Artists make him look really cool as an explosion victim.

Mumbo: The slicked back hair looks right. Extra strand sticking out to make him look a bit disheveled. I wonder if I should commit to making him look more goth/vampire-like. He gets a tiny mullet because it fits.

Jimmy: Wanted to make him look a bit bird-like so I tried to express that with the back of his head. I hope he looks pathetic enough.

Joel: Fairly shrek-like. I wanted to make him look grumpy so he has a shorter and broader build. Also decided that one green hair streak wasn't enough for my satisfaction. His brown coat has a honeycomb pattern, but that's not too obvious. Also, he is shorter than Lizzie.

Scott: Pretty sparkly guy. I wanted him to look quite friendly. He actually has thick eyelashes here instead of eyeshadow but I'm not against that idea either. Kind of miss his Last Life skin.

Impulse: I don't watch Impulse too much so this design was based on some common interpretations of him. The horns are a cute idea.

Skizz: Very standard Skizzleman design. The ripped sleeves and the arms are probably my favorite thing. Maybe I should add more hair on the arms.

Tango: People tend to draw him really different, so I took aspects from designs I liked and put it here. Both his sclera and shades ended up being red, but I thought the sclera was iconic and the design looks more interesting with shades on. I'm not sure if I'd prefer for Tango's hair to literally be made out of fire. I tried making it resemble fire instead.

Etho: Attempted to make him a contender for Top 10 Hottest Anime Men. I'm always interested to see how people work around his definitely unrecognizable Minecraft skin (sarcastic). Like other designs, I think I'll add a maple leaf on his clothes or something.

Bdubs: He looks more terrifying than I intended but that might be the point. Might change his hairstyle here. I'd like to draw his white-haired skin at some point.

Cleo: Very standard ZombieCleo design. The hair was based on their VTuber but I decided to use the clothes from their Minecraft skin. The stitches are the fun part. I might make her hair curlier.

Martyn: Very standard InTheLittleWood design. You can smell the Cherrifire influence in this one ×2. The little beard is a wonderful addition I think.

Ren: Picking between black or cyan shades was tough. He also gets an obligatory ponytail because uhm. Tail. Dog. Get it? I also took a good while figuring out how I should go about his ears. I wasn't satisfied with human ears but I needed the shades to fit somehow. You can smell the Cherrifire influence in this one ×3

Lizzie: Yes, I have watched Empires S1 and S2 and it shows. Whoever first decided to give Lizzie cat-like buns should be given an award. I like the idea of heart-shaped buns too so maybe I'll alternate on that.

BigB: Very standard Bigbst4tz2 design. Don't let his friendly interaction with Lizzie fool you but he tends to stare into your soul for uncomfortably long periods of time. The highlights in his eyes come and go.

Gem: Very standard GeminiTay design. She probably has my favorite skin among this batch. I heard there was a shortage of elf Gem (there isn't) and I have decided to contribute to that (because there's no such thing as too many elf Gems).

Pearl: Inside Pearl are two wolves and I decided to draw the one that's sopping wet. Her hair has a few crescent-shaped curls. I'm definitely looking forward to drawing her more intimidating side sometime.

Overall I was hoping to make the designs simple and mostly accurate to skins/pfps. Nothing too special, other than a few pointy ears I sprinkled around here and there. I might add more to the designs the more I draw them.

[ryusdoll]

dilf!sae who finds himself in your sheets time and time again. he knows he shouldn’t, your too young for him, early twenties and so full of life. but he can’t stop— he’s obsessed, needy for more yet he’d never admit that out loud, and addicted.

you two met at an event, you were bestfriends with this girl who was rich due to her family- and she often invited you to things like this. little did you know professional soccer players go to it. sae was in his mid thirties, getting dragged to these things by his own friends as well. he fit the part considering he was a literal millionaire.

a few words turned into a conversation, and then a conversation became.. a make out session. and we know what that led to.

the first time you had sex with the cold older man was.. intense. nothing like you’d had before. he fucked like he needed to prove a point, like he needed to be deep, deep inside you. and hell he was. you didn’t remember how many positions or rounds you did— all you knew was that by the end of that night you exchanged numbers and had a good limp for a day or two.

the cycle continued, sae couldn’t keep his hands away from you for too long. but he also found himself .. growing fond of you. your little giggles at every sarcastic comment he made, the way you’d tease him about his soccer life, the way you talked about your family in such a good manner… he really liked you.

poor sae didn’t know what to do. you guys had an age gap- a big one. the two of you discussed it before, and he knew where you stood. you said you’re completely fine with the age gap(it turns you on), but he remained in between. not sure if he should or not.

but today, he asked you on a date. a real date. not the quick texts he’d send saying: can you come over? to his penthouse, nope! not this time. he wanted a real date with you, he wanted to treat you to something you deserved. sae also had more than enough money to afford it.

you smiled as you read the message, excited. responding with a quick yes as you two discussed the plan and times.. you were happy with the way things were, and possibly how the future could turn out. sae knew he was too.

© ryusdoll || do not plagiarize or translate my work in any shape or form.

requests always opennnn!!!

i love dilfs . . .

[fishnapple]

Your effect on them

(lover/partner/future spouse)

How does your presence in their life affect them? What change do you bring into their life?

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (Read this post : personal reading)

ROSE QUARTZ

The strongest effect you have on them is an invisible one that runs underneath. The one that you might not even be aware of it. It's a subtle psychological one that tugs on their heart in an inexplicable way. This person is interested in spirituality, but they're cautious about it. They can be emotional, they feel emotions deeply, but they don't probe and ask questions to seek the roots of those emotions. They just feel but don't really want to know why they feel that way. But the connection with you will change that. The emotions they feel for you would be too pervading and strong that they can't ignore the question of why they feel that way towards you. They will want to analyse their feelings deeper, they will look at the concept of fate with more curiosity, they will start to believe that there might be an invisible force that pulls the strings behind the scene after all. In a way, they can feel a little bit helpless in their attraction towards you. So they might retreat into themselves more often, become more quiet and pensive.

The way you show your emotions or just something you're musing about in passing can have a profound effect on their mind. They feel like you've taught them something just by being open and being yourself. Your words have a cathartic effect on them, especially when they feel emotionally vulnerable. You make them consider more meanings to life than before, you make them believe in things that they thought were too far out of reach or too "out there" for them. It can sometimes feel almost like a therapy session for them when they are talking with you.

They usually believe in a slow burn connection, the one that needs lots of time to get to know each other before actually falling in love. But they will feel a spark with you from very early on. It's sudden, the love attraction just exists right from the beginning, like a puppy love, or an innocent crush you had for your classmate when you're a child. You make them want to just be in love, forget all the stuffy rules and expectations that society has put on dating, and just savour the connection. While physical attraction does play a big part, what's underneath is a feeling of fatefulness that create this instant attraction, as if deep down, they subconsciously recognise you as their lover from many lifetimes ago, even when they're a hardcore realist who only see the present.

SODALITE

They feel like you're the gate that lead them to another world, a bigger world. This person is probably quite closed off and very private. They don't like to open up to people and usually just want to keep to themselves. Almost like they revel in their solitude. They might be someone who likes to do things alone, sit in the dark, meditate, and try to figure out the secrets of life, all while presenting a very ordinary and quiet image. Their world may feel too dark and heavy for them to share with others, for fear of overburdening and scaring others away. But you show them that's not true, that opening up doesn't mean scaring people away, as long as they're with the right people. You make them want to reach out more to the world and enjoy life with a lighter attitude.

The biggest influence you have on them is you helping them solidifying their self so that they're confident enough to pursue greater goals. They may sometimes look up to you as a teacher. You make them become more ambitious and want to master their life more, to have more independence and control, instead of being swayed from side to side by external circumstances. You bring a shift to their psyche, awaken a deep desire to be themselves. They probably act more brave and honest when they're with you. Because they feel stable and hopeful with you. The stability you give them is not heavy and restrictive, it's actually freeing. They know that you will always have their back, you give them love generously, never hold back. That kind of unconditional affection and support make them want to do the same for you, to be the same source of dependability and strength for you.

Your personality and demeanour are different from them, even opposite of them, it's like day and night, you're the day, the sun, they're the night, the moon. Your presence could bring a shock to their life, they're not used to your energy, the kind that is so open and vibrant. Your values might be different, but instead of creating obstacles, they actually complement each other well. Instead of becoming defensive and withdrawn, they become more open-minded and are more willing to look from a different perspective.

For someone who's more reserved like them, they could feel like a fish stuck on land sometimes when they're with you, especially in a social situation. But with each time their insecurities creep in, you will chase them away with your assurance. And with each assurance, they become more brave and confident in the relationship with you. They would probably become more social than before, more relaxed and playful. They might not be the type to openly pursue someone when they're attracted to that person, but because of the security they feel with you, they will be more bold in their action, more decisive. They might even do something atypical of them, like showing off or telling corny jokes to get your attention.

CARNELIAN

Your effect can be felt strongly by them even when you're physically distant from each other. This might come as a shock for them. This person is probably someone who's practical and more interested in the physical world than the unseen, mysterious spiritual world. They like everything to be concrete and touchable. They like to hoard material possessions and can be materialistic. But at one point, they're going to get tired of all these possessions, they feel weighed down, stuck. But they probably won't know the true reason for this unsatisfactory feeling they're having. They will keep searching for the answer. And you will be the answer, your presence and your absence, both will bring a shock to their system. You trigger this person in both the soft way and the hard way. You guys would meet in a transitional period for both of you. You arrive right when they begin to seek a different path to change. The relationship with you will be the catalyst for their new life.

They find themselves confused by you a lot. When speaking to you, they would stumble on their words, make vague remarks that are atypical of their communication style. They also talk in a softer voice to you, or stay completely silent just to hear you talk and take in your words. They find your words to be very eye-opening. They can talk about any topics under the sky with you and find great compatibility and acceptance. They find themselves daydream more, fantasise about the what ifs, about the future, they begin to take a more philosophical approach towards life, where they consider both the practicality and the emotional satisfaction of their choices and actions. It won't be surprising if they also begin to take more interest in religious and spiritual matters.

Also travelling will be something they love to do with you, you just make them want to move, to explore what life has to offer. The trips they make with you will have a profound effect on their inner self. They could have some self restrictions and fears that they hide deep within. But when you travel together, be it a physical trip or a mental, emotional, or spiritual one, they will gradually release those restrictions little by little. There's this sense of abundance and sharing when you're together that they feel deeply safe and secure, so much that they can feel a burning desire for a lasting commitment with you.

OBSIDIAN

You feel like a companion, a lover from the past comes back to them in this lifetime, though they wouldn't necessarily think about past lives or any thing too spiritual, they probably feel a very nostalgic and familiar sense when they see you. Your love for each other just feels right and good, simple and logical, as if meant to be. You're similar to each other, yet opposite in many different ways, this create a balanced dynamic that when one is lacking, the other can fill that gap and vice versa.

There's something unselfish about the way you feel for each other. You both don't keep your love to yourself but would spread that love to everything, everyone around you, it feels both universal yet of your own. It's like when two people love, they also make positive changes to everything around them, they make their surroundings better, whether consciously or subconsciously. When they're with you, they will want to reach out more to people, to be more social , and to connect with people. You open their social circle, they, in turn, open your heart more. You guys probably like to joke and be flirty with each other through words, you make them want to express themselves creatively through verbal means, and also gestures, playful touches. There's focus on romance here, they feel very loved by you, in turn, they also want to give you that same love, it's very reciprocal and equal. You can feel like both a best friend and a lover.

Their energy before meeting you can be self-serving. They're used to focusing on themselves and their development more than others. They would choose themselves and their happiness first and foremost. But with you in the picture, they will want to share, to be there for you and be a part of a team, they would want to put your needs above them. This shift happens due to the change in their mindset. They are getting more mature along the progression of the relationship. There could be some hardship and obstacles on the road to each other. There could be sudden separation due to external circumstances or sudden change of life direction that requires both people to stay flexible and strong. Your presence will be a constant during all these. Your resilience and unwavering devotion will become their beacon of light. They might idealise you a lot. Every word, every gesture of yours means a lot to them. No matter how small and helpless they feel in front of life's many challenges, they also know that you will be by their side always, and that's enough for them to want to work harder, to gather their strength and face anything bravely and be there for you.

[jezebelblues]

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 | 𝐇.𝐒 ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐧’𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐚𝐬. [nov’18–may’19]

requested!! thank u anon, i hope u enjoy :)

𝐂𝐖: unexpected pregnancy, labor + labor pains, fem!reader. i think that’s it!!

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: approx 12.3k

❏ hope yall don’t mind that i included louis in this. i miss him fr. also, thank u again anon <3 hope this wasn’t too long

not my gif. if u have the info of the original creator, lmk so i can appropriately credit them.

Life had slowed, but only just—somehow still breezy with that undercurrent of momentum that carried him from One Direction fevered heights, to the steady rhythm of his own solo journey. Fame was no stranger, but this? These moments were the ones he cherished most. He glanced at his wife, her eyes twinkling as she sat with their son. The simple joy of this evening reminded him of how far they had come. The quiet, intimate wedding in Holmes Chapel five years ago, the shockwaves it sent through the internet because they had managed to keep it so private, and then, only a year later, the unexpected news that YN was pregnant with Atlas.

He could still remember the exact moment he found out about their little surprise, how the world had seemed to tilt on its axis when she told him. It had been unplanned, a complete shock, but one that had filled him with a profound sense of love and responsibility.

Five years ago felt like a lifetime ago, yet it also felt like yesterday.

Five Years Earlier – November first, Holmes Chapel

The cold was sharp outside, but the small cottage Harry and YN had rented for the holiday season felt warm, cozy even. A fire crackled softly in the fireplace, and YN sat curled up on the couch, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. Outside, a gentle snow, the first of the season, had started to fall, covering the village in a blanket of white.

Harry had been out all day, helping his mother with some last-minute holiday preparations. The quiet of the house felt calming to YN, but there was something on her mind, something that had been gnawing at her for the past month. Her period was late—later than it had ever been.

She had noticed other small things too. A slight queasiness in the mornings that she initially brushed off as stress from the hectic, upcoming holiday season. But now, as she sat there, the weight of realization started to sink in. She might be pregnant.

Her heart pounded as she thought about it. They hadn’t planned for this. They had only been married for about a year, and though they had talked about children, it had always been a vague, distant future sort of conversation. But now, the possibility was staring her in the face, and she wasn’t sure how Harry would react.

Would he be excited? Nervous? Overwhelmed?

She glanced at her phone, considering whether to text him and ask him to pick up a pregnancy test on his way home. No, that felt too impersonal.

She had paced the empty hallways of the cottage, occasionally texting her husband back or scrolling through instagram. She knew Harry like the back of her hand, he wouldn’t be upset—perhaps a bit overwhelmed, but upset? No, from the years they’ve known each other, he loved children. She couldn’t count on her fingers the amount of dance sessions, hide and go seeks, and cartoon watching she’d walk in on when he was with the children of his family or friends. And from the discussions they’ve shared of their own future children, she knew he’d be ecstatic—she just didn’t think it’d be so soon.

A few hours later, the front door creaked open, and Harry’s voice echoed through the small cottage. “Lovey, y’here? S’cold as hell out there.”

She stood, wrapping Harry’s sweater tighter around her frame, trying to keep her nerves in check as she walked towards him. He looked so carefree, a light dusting of snow in his hair, his cheeks rosy from the cold, a grin already stretching across his face when he saw her.

“Got y’favorite mince pies from the bakery,” he announced, holding up a small paper bag as he walked towards her. “Mum says we need to fatten you up f’the winter.”

YN laughed softly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She could feel the words bubbling up in her throat, but she didn’t know how to say them. Instead, she took the bag from him and set it on the counter.

He began to shuffle around the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a few glasses. He absentmindedly hummed a tune his wife didn’t quite recognize as he floated toward the freezer, pulling out a frosted glass bottle of rum with a smile. “Mum said she would’ve made it herself but–” He laughed, shaking his head as he set the bottle down on the counter with a heavy clank. “She’s decorating the house. Looks like autumn threw up in there.”

YN only responded in a gentle chuckle, one that made him look up with his eyebrows furrowed. Harry frowned, immediately noticing the shift in her demeanor. He paused, his eyes scanning her face with concern. “Everything alright, sweet girl?”

She swallowed hard, trying to steady her voice. Her eyes burrowed into his, shifting gaze from one eye to the other. Her lips parted, unsure of how to form the words that sat heavily in her throat. She exhaled, managing a smile as she shook her head. “Just a bit tired, thats all.”

She couldn’t tell him until she was sure. If he were to be overjoyed, she didn’t want to get his hopes up on the off-chance she wasn’t pregnant.

Harry paused for a moment, not fully convinced, but he didn’t want to push. If something was wrong, she’d tell him when she felt ready. So, he only smiled back as he unscrewed the rum and poured into the square glasses. He looked at her expectantly as he raised his eyebrows, bringing her a glass.

She stared at it as if it would jump out at her, her reflection waning in the amber liquid. She pulled her lips between her teeth, shaking her head as her cheeks flushed. “Not feeling it tonight.”

At that point, Harry knew something was wrong. He furrowed his eyebrows, setting her—well, what was supposed to be hers—drink on the counter before he took a sip of his. “You sure y’alright?”

She brushed it off with a laugh, stepping toward him as he remained leaning against the counter. YN pressed a gentle kiss on his rum-slicked lips, cold to the touch. “You worry too much.”

He wrapped his arm around her head, pulling her into his chest with a sigh. “Rightfully so, m’love. Stubborn as a mule, you are.”

She scoffed, though only humor was laced in her tone. She pushed back from him, folding her arms over her chest with a feigned frown.

“What?” He smiled, taking another sip. “Should be titled an archeologist the way I dig for your heart.”

“Oh shut it, Styles. You’ve done no such thing.”

He laughed, placing his glass on the counter behind him and gently holding onto the edges. “You’re only proving my point, lovey.”

She rolled her eyes, flicking his chest before she began to step off toward the bedroom. YN looked over her shoulder expectantly with a sly smile. “You’re not gonna join me?”

She didn’t need to ask him twice.

He tugged his shirt off, tossing it aside as his wife’s laughter echoed down the hallway. She darted toward their bedroom, her giggles trailing behind her like music. Grabbing his glass from the counter and kicking off his shoes, he chased after her, a wide, mischievous grin lighting up his face.

There was a gloomy, gray sky the next morning, the kind where the clouds stretched thick across the sky, holding back any hint of sun. YN had woken up before dawn with a gnawing queasiness—a feeling that had been creeping up more often lately. She pressed her hand to her stomach, trying to calm the discomfort.

She reached into the plastic bag, pulling out the small pregnancy test she ordered from doordash before the sun rose. She had tipped the dasher generously before staring at it in the restroom for what felt like hours. Her mind buzzed, unsteady with thoughts she couldn’t quite wrangle. The idea of being pregnant had only crossed her mind like a shooting star. She was nervous. They were still basking in the simplicity of their life, the unexpected quiet of their year-old marriage. This hadn’t been in the plan.

But here she was, two minutes ticking by like hours as she stared at the test resting on the edge of the sink.

And then, there it was.

Two blue lines.

Her heart raced, a mix of emotions she could barely process flooded her chest. She didn’t know what she was supposed to feel—excitement, worry, fear? It was all tangled together in a knot she didn’t have the strength to untangle. She felt a hint of guilt wash over her; how could she feel uncertain about something so beautiful? But it was real, and she knew it. This was so real.

She sank to the edge of the clawfoot tub in the small bathroom, hugging her arms around herself. She let herself sit there for a while, just breathing in and out, letting the realization wash over her like waves on a shore, eroding her hesitation bit by bit. Eventually, she felt a warmth begin to spread, a tentative but growing love, a sense that maybe, just maybe, this was meant to be.

Oh, god—but Harry.

Mere discussions about a hazy future never felt so prophetic.

Footsteps on the old wooden floor outside the bathroom brought her back to reality. Harry’s voice called from the kitchen, warm and sleepy, a mug clinking on the counter. “Love, you up?”

Her stomach twisted again, this time more with nerves than nausea. She took a deep breath, tucking the test in her hand and opening the door. As she stepped out, she found her husband leaning against the counter, his hair tousled from sleep, a soft smile on his face as he sipped from his mug.

“Couldn’t fall back asleep,” she murmured, her voice just above a whisper.

Harry raised an eyebrow, setting down his mug as he studied her face, his expression shifting to one of gentle concern. ”You’ve been off since yesterday, please, just tell me what’s wrong?”

YN took a breath, feeling the weight of the words she was about to speak. She crossed the small space between them, the floorboards creaking softly under her bare feet. Her hands trembled as she reached for his, and he immediately stilled, sensing her unease.

“Don’t freak out, okay?“ She said, her voice breaking ever so slightly.

Harry’s gaze softened, his fingers curling around hers. “Alright,” he murmured, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles. “Swear it.”

She swallowed, her eyes dropping to where their hands joined, and finally, she managed to say it. “I’m–” she sighed, “I’m pregnant.”

The words hung in the air between them, and she felt his hand go still, his thumb pausing mid-stroke. She dared a glance up at his face, and in his eyes, she saw the shock she’d been expecting. His mouth opened slightly, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

It was the longest silence she’d ever felt.

And then, slowly, a smile began to break across his face, soft at first, hesitant, but growing. His eyes sparkled with something she hadn’t expected—something gentle and pure, and so, so warm. “You’re… serious?”

She nodded, a soft laugh escaping her lips, a mix of nerves and relief. “Yeah. I know it’s not what we planned, and I—”

Harry pulled her into his arms, wrapping her up tightly as if he never wanted to let go. She felt his heartbeat racing against her cheek, felt the slight tremor in his breath as he held her.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes glassy with emotion. “This is… I mean, I wasn’t expecting this, but…” He paused, his voice catching. “But, YN, this—this is everything.”

A smile broke across her face, the warmth in her chest growing, all her fears melting as she looked up at him. “Are you sure?”

Harry laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his thumb lingering on her cheek. “I’m sure.” His eyes held hers, full of something she could only describe as love beyond anything she’d known before. “I mean, look at us. We’ve done everything backwards and upside down, haven’t we?” He chuckled, his dimples deepening. “Why not this too?”

They laughed together, and in that moment, all her worries felt so small, so distant. Harry pressed his forehead against hers, his hands holding her gently. “I can’t believe it,” he whispered. “We’re going to be parents?”

YN nodded, her own laughter mingling with tears she hadn’t realized were there. “I guess we are.”

Harry wrapped her up again, his arms strong and sure around her. “Our little family.” He looked around, a spark of excitement lighting his gaze. “The start of everything, right here.”

They stood there, wrapped up in each other, in the quiet of the small cottage, a peacefulness settling over them. The morning light had started to creep in through the windows, casting a soft glow over them, and for a moment, the world felt perfectly still.

But as the initial excitement settled, the reality of the situation hit her hard. Morning sickness, which was more like all day sickness for YN, kicked in with a vengeance. She wondered what crime she may have committed in a past life to deserve such a karma.

She spent most of her mornings hunched over the toilet, her stomach in knots, while Harry hovered nearby, rubbing her back and murmuring soothing words. “It’ll pass, baby.” He would say, though there was a flicker of worry in his eyes every time she retched.

The first trimester was rough. YN felt exhausted all the time, her body aching and her emotions all over the place. There were days when she could barely keep food down, and the nausea was so overwhelming that she couldn’t even stand the smell of Harry’s cologne.

But through it all, he was a constant source of support. He made her ginger tea in the mornings, rubbed her feet when they swelled, and stayed up late with her on the nights when she couldn’t sleep. He even held her hair back during the worst bouts of sickness, never once complaining or losing his patience.

Still, telling their friends and family was daunting. Anne had been thrilled, of course, immediately launching into grandma mode, talking about knitting booties and baby blankets. But YN worried about telling the public. Harry had always been fiercely protective of their privacy, and the idea of sharing something so intimate with the world felt overwhelming.

“I don’t want people to think anything bad of me.” She admitted to him one night as they lay in bed. She had spent the entire day feeling nauseous, and her nerves were frayed.

Harry propped himself up on one elbow, looking at her with a gentle smile. “No one’s going to think like that, baby.. And if they do, then screw ‘em. This is our family. No one else’s.”

His words, simple as they were, helped ease some of the anxiety gnawing at her. They would announce it when they were ready, and in the meantime, they would enjoy these private, intimate moments together.

A few weeks later, when YN was finally starting to feel a little better, they gathered their closest friends and family to tell them the news. Harry’s friend’s were among the first to know. They had gathered at their place in London, a casual get-together that didn’t feel too obvious or formal.

Jeff had been the first to catch on, his brow furrowing as he noticed YN sipping ginger ale instead of her usual glass of wine on occasions like these. “Wait a minute…” he began, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he glanced between them. Oh God, you’re pregnant aren’t you?”

The room fell silent for a moment as Harry and YN exchanged a glance, a grin tugging at Harry’s lips. “Surprise!”

The room erupted into chaos. Mitch nearly fell out of his chair, laughing and shouting congratulations at the same time. Pauli looked like he might cry, and Sarah immediately started teasing Harry about how he’d better get used to sleepless nights.

“You two are gonna be knackered for the next eighteen years,” she quipped, though there was a deep affection in her eyes as she clapped Harry on the back. “But you’ll be great parents. I know it.”

As the weeks continued to pass and YN’s belly began to show, Harry’s excitement seemed to grow right along with it. He took over more and more of the household chores, practically hovering over her with a devotion that was both endearing and—just occasionally—a little over the top. But that was Harry; he never did anything halfway, and preparing to become a dad was no exception.

One evening, after a long day, they lay in bed, YN nestled against Harry’s chest as he rested a hand on her belly. His fingers traced slow, absentminded circles over her small bump, his gaze softening as he looked down at her.

“Have y’thought about names?” he asked quietly, voice almost a murmur. There was a trace of wonder in his eyes, as if he were asking the question for the first time.

She smiled, shrugging lightly. The idea of names had been floating around in her mind for a while, but nothing had quite felt right yet. “Mm, I’ve got a few in mind,” she said with a teasing glint in her eye. “Think I’m just gonna call ’em Fetus for now.”

Harry let out a laugh, his face lighting up as he shook his head. “Poor kid,” he said, voice full of warmth. He shifted lower, pressing a soft kiss to her belly. “Fetus Styles,” he whispered against her skin, his lips brushing her gently, sending a spark of laughter through her.

Her smile never faltered, fingers combing through his curls as he settled his head on her bump, gazing up at her through his lashes. He held her gaze for a moment, then suddenly broke into a grin, blowing raspberries onto her belly with glint in his eye.

She laughed, Harry faltering into her growing tummy as his phone began to ting with a mess of texts. He grabbed his phone that lay upon his wife’s thighs, sitting up beside her against the headboard with a wide smile as the phone illuminated his face.

She knit her eyebrows together, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Who has you smiling?”

He unlocked his phone, “Lou. I told him I had to talk to him tonight.”

She laughed as Harry clicked on the contact, pressing the facetime icon as the ringing filled the air. “It’s what..?” She trailed off, flickering her eyes in thought. “Noon in LA? Surprised he’s even up.”

After a beat, the screen flashed to life, and there he was—Louis, bleary-eyed, half-sprawled across his couch, nursing a mug of tea. He squinted at the screen, a smirk forming as he took them both in.

“Bloody ‘ell, look at you two all cozy!” He drawled, taking a sip. “Thought I was interrupting somethin’.” He chuckled, giving them a teasing wink.

Harry rolled his eyes, holding the phone between them. “Shut up. We’re just havin’ a quiet night in.” He glanced over at YN, then back at the screen, his grin a little wider. “‘Nd I needed to talk t’you, yeah?”

Louis’s smirk softened, curiosity lighting up his expression. “Right. What’s this then?”

He took a quick breath, almost unable to keep the smile off his face as he turned the phone back to YN, who gave Louis a warm smile before glancing at Harry. He squeezed her shoulder, then looked back to the screen, letting the words tumble out. “We’re havin’ a baby!”

For a moment, Louis just stared, the mug paused halfway to his lips as he absorbed the words. His mouth broke into a grin, and he let out a laugh. “Oi, you’re pullin’ my leg!” He leaned closer, shaking his head. “Wait, wait, you’re serious, aren’t ya?”

“Dead serious,” YN said, her voice gentle as she leaned in closer to Harry. “We’ve known for a few weeks now, but wanted to tell you ourselves.”

He sat up straighter, rubbing a hand over his face as he took it in, his grin somehow widening. “Jesus, Haz. A dad,” he mused, a playful sparkle in his eye. “I mean, didn’t see this comin’ back when you were too busy worryin’ about a pair of blue suede shoes to think about nappies.”

Harry let out a laugh, playfully nudging YN. “See, I’m just followin’ y’example, mate.”

Louis snorted, giving a mock scowl. “Better be—Freddie’s halfway to graduating high school it feels like. You’ve got some catchin’ up to do.” He settled back into the couch, softening as he looked at them both. “But seriously, this is brilliant, you two. Gonna make one hell of a mum and dad, aren’t ya?”

Harry glanced over at YN, his gaze lingering, soft and full of a quiet pride. “Hope so,” he said, smiling down at her before turning back to Louis. “Just been… sittin’ with it. So many things I wanna teach ’em, y’know?”

“Best get started on that lullaby playlist, then,” Lou teased, though there was warmth in his tone. “Bet you’re already plannin’ that first guitar lesson.”

YN laughed, rubbing a hand over her belly. “It’s just been a whirlwind, honestly. We haven’t even found out the gender yet.”

Louis grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Surprise ’n all? Makes it even better. Though if y’need tips on anythin’, I’ve got all the dad tricks—like what not to say when they’re askin’ questions in front of their mum.”

“Great,” Harry chuckled. “Start a whole book for me, will ya?”

Lou winked, lifting his mug. “Already makin’ notes. First chapter’s on nappies and the art of avoidin’ baby food on your shirt.” Then, his expression softened as he leaned closer. “Nah, for real. Couldn’t be happier for you two. And for that kid, too. Already got the best start with you both.”

Harry swallowed, his hand finding YN’s, giving it a gentle squeeze as he held his friend’s gaze through the screen. “Means a lot, you’ll be his grumpy, old uncle, yeah?”

Louis grinned, nodding with a playful glint in his eye. “Best be—I’ll have ’em singin’ the chorus to No Control by the time I’m done. YN, darling, don’t you worry—I’ll keep him in line.”

YN chuckled, leaning her head on Harry’s shoulder. “I’ll hold you to that, Lou.”

“Damn right you will,” Louis shot back, settling back against his couch, eyes full of pride and a mischievous excitement. “And when I’m back over, s’gonna be you two doin’ the nappies, while I teach that kid how to annoy his dad.”

Harry feigned a groan, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Cheers, mate.” Louis raised his mug, a glimmer of something genuine in his gaze. “Can’t wait. Love you both, yeah?”

Harry grinned, feeling the weight of Louis’s words. “Love you, too, Lou. Cheers.”

And as they hung up, YN nestled closer, both of them feeling the joy of sharing their secret with someone who’d been there for it all.

A few months had passed, and YN was officially eighteen weeks pregnant. The kitchen was quiet, filled with the warm scent of vanilla as Harry carefully set a single white cupcake on the counter. He’d insisted on something private, just the two of them. No big reveal party or confetti—just a simple cupcake with the surprise hidden inside. YN stood beside him, hands resting on her bump, a grin tugging at her lips as she watched him fuss over it.

“You’re really gonna make me cry over a cupcake, aren’t you?” she teased, nudging him lightly.

Harry’s eyes sparkled as he looked over at her, dimples deepening. “Just y’wait.” He handed her the small knife, his fingers brushing hers, and his voice softened. “Ready?”

She nodded, her heartbeat picking up as she sliced through the cupcake. Slowly, she pulled the two halves apart, then stared down at the filling inside.

Bright green.

For a moment, they both froze, staring down in complete confusion. Harry tilted his head, mouth slightly open, brow furrowed as he looked at her, then back at the cupcake. “Uh… m’pretty sure green wasn’t one of the options.”

YN snorted, a laugh bubbling out as she lifted the cupcake up to inspect it. “Maybe they’re tellin’ us we’re having a little Niall?”

Harry’s eyes crinkled as he burst into laughter, clutching his chest. “God help us if there’s a little Irish guitar player in there.”

She grinned, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. “You think they’ll come out singin’ ‘Mull of Kintyre’?”

Harry laughed, covering his face with his hand. “First words’ll be potato, just y’watch.” He shook his head, still chuckling. “This is what we get for trustin’ a bloody cupcake.”

She rolled her eyes, reaching for her bag on the counter. “Should’ve gone with the doctor’s letter instead of dessert.” After a moment of rummaging, she triumphantly held up the small, folded envelope, smiling. “Alright, now you ready?”

Harry nodded, moving closer, his hand resting gently over hers as she slowly unfolded the paper. They both took a breath, glancing at each other before reading the bold, printed words inside.

Right underneath a blurry ultrasound picture printed onto the visit summary, there it was written.

Fetal sex: Male

For a heartbeat, they both just stared at the words, the realization washing over them like a warm tide.

“A little boy,” Harry murmured, his voice filled with awe as he shook his head in disbelief. “We’re gonna have a son.”

YN’s eyes sparkled as she looked at him, a wide smile breaking across her face. “A son,” she repeated softly, her hand covering his on her belly. Already, she could see him—a little boy with Harry’s eyes, his laughter, his kindness.

Harry swallowed, his own eyes misty as he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, then resting his against hers. “Think we’re ready for him?”

She let out a soft laugh, brushing away a tear. “Not even close,” she whispered, her fingers lacing with his over her belly. “But I think we’ll do just fine.”

It was mid February by this point, a few weeks after celebrating Harry’s twenty-fifth birthday. The air had a sharp chill, and YN readjusted Harry’s oversized hoodie that hung off her growing frame, something that hid her bump well. They were dressed comfy and warm, Harry in a pair of sunnies with his hoodie pulled over his head. She nestled closer into her husband as they walked through the quiet side streets of London. They’d just finished lunch at their favorite café, savoring the rare chance to slip out together unnoticed. She pulled the hoodie over her head as a gust of wind brushed by.

“Wish we had days like this more often,” Harry murmured, his fingers lacing through hers as they made their way back to the car. “Just us, y’know?”

She smiled, leaning into him. “You mean just the two of us and fetus?”

Harry squeaked out a laugh that sounded like the ones from his early days in the x-factor, squeezing her hand. “Right, fetus. Can’t forget our little tagalong now.”

But as they turned onto the next street, something shifted—a distant hum of voices, then a sharp click of a camera. Before they could react, the quiet street filled with flashes, and a group of paparazzi materialized around them, spilling onto the sidewalk.

It wasn’t a swarm, just about five or so that were tipped off about Harry walking about the city in a pair of sunnies, as if that could keep him hidden.

“Harry! Harry! Just one photo!” A bald man shouted, pushing forward. The camera flashes came in rapid succession, blinding in the midday light.

He immediately shifted, drawing YN closer to his side, his hand protectively resting into her waist as he tried to steer her forward. “Alright, mate, that’s close enough,” he called out, his voice tense but calm.

“Harry, are the rumors true?” another voice shouted, barely inches from them, more cameras held up like a barrier.

“Just please let us through, yeah?” Harry’s voice was firmer now, his hand moving to shield YN’s face, pressing her into his chest as the crowd closed in tighter.

A jostle from the side sent her stumbling, and Harry’s arm tightened around her, his jaw clenched. “Hey, enough!” he barked, his voice sharper than she’d ever heard it. He guided her forward, his body acting as a buffer as he tried to clear a path.

“Just one shot, Harry!” a paparazzo persisted, his lens pointed squarely at YN, his hand cupping her cheek as he pressed her face further into his chest, her heart pounding as she held onto Harry.

He shot a glare of his shoulder, jaw clenched as he remained silent, maneuvering his wife past the cameras, his hand never leaving her. He kept his eyes trained ahead as he led her through the last stretch to his car.

Finally reaching the door, he opened it for her, a quick but steady gesture, ushering her in and following right after. The cameras pressed in one last time as he shut the door firmly, finally sealing them off from the swarm outside.

Inside, the car was quiet, insulated from the chaos that still buzzed outside, windows tinted as legally possible. YN let out a shaky breath, her hands in her hoodie pocket as she glanced over at Harry. His face was flushed, a mix of worry and lingering frustration in his eyes.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice gentler now, his hand pulling hers out of the pocket, thumb brushing over her knuckles as he studied her face.

She nodded with a faint smile, trying to steady herself. “Not our first rodeo, H.” She tried to joke. And it was true, it surely wasn’t the first time they’ve been bombarded by paps. YN wasn’t famous prior to meeting Harry, a smart girl as beautiful as she, he simply couldn’t ignore.

She was a friend of Anne’s best friend’s daughter, bumping into each other at a family gathering in 2014, immediately becoming close friends. He offered her a ride home that night, and when she thanked him profusely and offered to give him gas money, he knew then and there he was going to fall in love with this woman.

Fans and paps galore started delving into her life in late 2015, when a grainy picture of them kissing at a bar after a London show exploded on twitter. Since then, she always known about the lack of privacy in Harry’s life. And honestly, she’s still trying to adjust to it.

He exhaled, his fingers tightening around hers. “Hate that they got that close to you. Wish they’d just..” He trailed off, clenching his jaw as he glanced out the window, his gaze hardening when he saw the cameras still lingering in the distance.

She squeezed his hand, her voice soft. “It’s alright, baby. I’m alright.” She could see the tension in his shoulders slowly easing, though he still held her hand as if anchoring himself. “They don’t know, and that’s okay for now. It’s just us, remember?”

Harry nodded as he pulled from the curb, driving down the narrow street toward the red light. He turned back to her, his green eyes softening, and he nodded slowly. “Just us. Right.” His shoulders relaxed a little more, a trace of a smile returning to his face as he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead while the light was still red.

But before he could pull away, she let out a small gasp, eyes widening as she felt a firm, insistent little nudge low on her belly. She looked up at him, her own hand moving instinctively to her bump.

Green illuminated over them, a honking echoing from behind as he froze in concern. “What?” He breathed, turning a corner to head to the grocery store in the distance, seeking a temporary refuge in the parking lot. He glanced between YN and the road, heart beating in his ears. “Baby, what’s wrong?” He raised his voice, though it wasn’t out of anger, just an anxiety that threatened to boil over.

She shook her head, her face breaking into a soft smile. “Nothing’s wrong, Harry. He just kicked.”

Harry’s eyes lit up instantly, his frustration melting away as he stared at her, a grin forming slowly. “He did?”

She nodded, pulling his hand to her belly as he parked. “Right here. Just now.”

He held his breath, his palm pressed against her bump, waiting. And there it was again—a tiny but unmistakable kick, nudging firmly against his hand.

Harry’s face broke into a radiant smile, his whole expression softening with awe. “Oi, there’s my little striker,” he mused, his voice thick with affection as he looked down at her belly. “We’ll have you in a Man United kit before you’re out of nappies, won’t we?”

She laughed, his words melting away the last traces of tension from the encounter outside. “Getting a bit ahead of yourself, aren’t you? Picking his team and all?”

He grinned, his eyes crinkling with pure excitement. “No chance he’ll be an Arsenal player.. First kicks mean we’ve got a future midfielder on our hands, yeah?” He grinned, “Dads gonna make sure y’got the right colors on you, bub.”

YN couldn’t help but laugh, her heart swelling as she watched the joy take over his face. She reached up, tucking a curl behind his ear, her fingers lingering against his cheek. “He’s already got you wrapped around his tiny little foot.”

Harry chuckled, leaning in to kiss her, his hand still resting against her belly, feeling another small nudge. “S’pose I’ll let him get away with it. Just this once.”

*

March arrived in a blink.

It was early, the kind of early that still belonged to the night, when Harry’s phone buzzed on the bedside table. The world outside was still draped in darkness, the streets silent, as if London itself hadn’t quite woken up. Harry stirred, slowly pulled from the depths of sleep by the vibration of his phone. He squinted in the dim light, his vision blurry, barely able to make out the name on the screen. Jeff.

With a quiet sigh, Harry picked up the phone, pressing it to his ear and trying to shake off the last bits of sleep that clung to him. He glanced over to YN, who lay nestled beside him, her breathing soft and even, lost in a peaceful slumber. Gently, he reached out and brushed his fingers along her cheek, a tired but adoring smile tugging at his lips. She stirred slightly, her head nuzzling into his hand, and he felt a warmth rise in his chest. Moments like this felt sacred, untouched by the outside world.

But then Jeff’s voice broke through the stillness, sharp and apologetic.

“Harry,” Jeff said, his tone low and serious, as if he wished he were calling for any other reason. “Listen, I hate to do this to you, but we’ve got a situation.”

Harry straightened, a cold feeling settling in his stomach. “What is it, mate?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, unwilling to wake YN just yet. He kept his hand on her cheek, his thumb brushing gently along her skin, grounding himself as he listened.

“There’s a magazine,” Jeff continued with a hesitant sigh. “They got photos of you and YN leaving the clinic yesterday after the ultrasound. They’re planning to release them tomorrow—noon sharp.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Harry’s jaw tightened after he took a shaky breath, his eyes falling back on YN, still blissfully asleep. They’d planned everything so carefully, wanting to share the news of their son on their own terms. They’d waited for the perfect moment, wanting to protect this piece of their life from the relentless intrusion of the outside world. And now, it was slipping out of their hands.

“Tomorrow?” he murmured, his heart pounding. He felt a surge of anger rising, and he closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. Jeff waited in silence on the other end of the line, letting him process the news.

“Yeah,” Jeff said softly. “I wanted to give you a heads-up. Figured you’d want to tell people yourselves, do it in a way that feels right.”

Harry nodded, even though Jeff couldn’t see him, his fingers still resting on YN’s cheek, feeling the soft warmth of her skin. “Thanks, Jeff,” he finally whispered, his voice tight. “I’ll–erm–we’ll figure it out.”

He ended the call and placed the phone back on the table, his shoulders slumping as he tried to process what to do next. He looked down at YN, her face peaceful in the darkness, and he felt a pang of guilt at the thought of waking her. She deserved this moment of rest, free from worry and the weight of the world pressing in on them. But he knew he couldn’t keep this from her. Not when it was about their son.

Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his hand moving to cradle her cheek as he murmured softly, “Baby, wake up.”

She stirred, her brows knitting together as she blinked up at him, still half-asleep, a faint smile gracing her lips as she registered his face. “H?” she whispered, her voice groggy and warm. “What time is it?”

“Too early,” he murmured, his own voice weighed down by the news he had to deliver. “Sorry t’wake you, but there’s something we need t‘talk about.”

Her eyes focused, a flicker of concern replacing the drowsiness as she sat up a bit, her hand resting on his. “What’s wrong?”

Harry took a deep breath, brushing a thumb across her cheek. “It’s the pictures,” he paused with a sigh, “from yesterday, after our appointment. Paparazzi took photos, and they’re planning to release them by noon tomorrow.”

The weight of his words settled over her, and she let out a quiet sigh, her gaze dropping to the bed. They’d known this was a possibility—their lives were never entirely private—but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow. She leaned into his touch, her fingers lacing through his as they both sat there in the stillness of the early morning, grappling with the realization that their hand was being forced.

“What do we do?” she asked softly, looking up at him with a mixture of worry and sadness.

Harry’s hand moved to hold hers, his grip gentle but steady. “We tell everyone ourselves. Today. We’ll release it before they can, on our own terms.” He paused, his voice softening. “It’s not what we planned, but, at least we can still share him with the world our way.”

YN gave him a small nod, her eyes meeting his with a quiet resilience. They both knew they didn’t have any other choice. She leaned into him, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as they took a moment to steady themselves, finding strength in each other.

“Okay,” she murmured after a beat. “I trust you.”

They spent the next hour in the quiet sanctuary of their bedroom, talking about how to share the news. Eventually, Harry decided on something simple, something that would feel personal without giving too much away. He reached for his phone and opened the photo gallery, scrolling until he found the ultrasound image from their last appointment. It was a grainy black-and-white shot, but to him, it was beautiful—a glimpse of their son, small and precious, already loved beyond measure.

He glanced at YN, who gave him a reassuring nod, and then he took a deep breath, opening Instagram. With his fingers hovering over the screen, he crafted the caption, choosing each word carefully, his heart pounding in his chest.

I’ve been waiting to share this part of our journey with you all for a while now. YN and I are expecting a son, and we couldn’t be happier to welcome him into the world soon. Thank you for your love and support—can’t wait for you to meet him.

Love, H

He read it over, then looked at YN, who leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder. She gave him a small smile, her fingers brushing his arm. “It’s perfect, baby”

With a final deep breath, he hit post, setting the phone down and letting out a long, steadying exhale. They sat there in the quiet of their room, wrapped up in each other as the reality of what they’d just done settled over them. This was the first time they were sharing their son with the world, and it felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

Within moments, notifications began to flood in, messages of excitement, love, and support from fans around the world who had been waiting eagerly for news like this. Harry glanced at YN, his hand finding hers once more as he gave her a small, relieved smile.

”Cats out’v the bag.” He laughed softly.

She leaned into him, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “They love you, H. They’ll love him, too.” She reassured.

As the sun finally began to rise outside their window, casting a gentle warmth over the room, Harry held her close, feeling a sense of peace he hadn’t expected. Despite the forced timing, despite the circumstances, they had done this together. And from this moment on, they would continue this journ, hand in hand, as a family.

Weeks passed by, and it another chilly March evening, and soft candlelight flickered in the bathroom, casting a warm glow over the walls as steam rose lazily from the tub. The couple sat tucked into the water, surrounded by a mountain of bubbles that floated between them. The bathroom was cozy as Harry’s arms wrapped around her from behind, she leaned back against his chest, her bump nestled between them.

He’d insisted on running the bath for her, adding just the right amount of lavender oil to soothe her muscles, and now they were enveloped in that warm, calming scent, the soft sounds of water lapping around them. Harry’s hands rested gently on her belly, his fingers tracing light circles over the stretched skin as he hummed contentedly, clearly lost in thought.

After a few minutes of quiet, he dipped his head to press a kiss to her shoulder, murmuring, “You know, we haven’t really settled on a name yet.”

YN grinned, biting back a laugh. "Sure we have. Fetus Styles—don’t you remember?”

Harry groaned dramatically, his head falling back against the tub. "God help this boy."

She chuckled, turning her head to look at him. "Fine, fine. So, what do you have in mind, love?"

Harry hummed thoughtfully, his fingers still tracing light circles over her bump. "I dunno. Something that isn’t Fetus or something basic, like David.”

"Otis?" she suggested with a playful smirk. She knew he hated the name.

He snorted, his chest vibrating against her back, shaking his head. "Baby, Otis is the name of that big slobbery dog at the park. Our son deserves better than being named after a drool machine."

She playfully splashed a few bubbles toward him, her laughter filling the room.. "Alright, alright. So, we're vetoing Otis and Fetus, oh wise one.”

“Good,” he said, lowering his head ever so slightly and nibbling her shoulders gently. “So, what else is on your list, then?”

She leaned her head back against his shoulder, looking up at the ceiling as she tried to recall some of the names she’d been turning over in her mind. “I do like Ezra.”

“Ezra,” he repeated, as if tasting the sound of it. “It’s alright. But it sounds like he’d be in a jazz band or something.”

“Maybe he’ll be in a jazz band,” she countered, grinning as she nudged his arm. “A little musician just like his dad.”

Harry hummed, his fingers lightly drumming a rhythm against her belly. “Alright, fair point. Ezra can be a maybe. What else?”

She let out a thoughtful hum, swirling her hand through the bubbles. “What about August?”

“August’s alright I guess,” he said slowly, tilting his head as he considered it. “But I don’t know. August Styles..feels like he’d be a mischievous little troublemaker.”

“Like his dad, you mean?” she teased, glancing up at him with a knowing smile.

He grinned, shrugging. “If he takes after me, he’ll definitely be one,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to her temple. “But I dunno. Still doesn’t feel quite right. But I do like the idea of an A name.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, each of them lost in their thoughts as the water lapped softly around them. Harry’s hands moved back to her belly, his touch gentle and reverent, as if he were trying to connect with their son through the warm water and the growing curve of her bump. She closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the warmth of the bath and the feeling of his arms around her.

After a while, Harry spoke again, his voice soft and thoughtful. “What about Atlas?”

YN opened her eyes, blinking up at him, a smile tugging at her lips. “Atlas?”

“Yeah.” He shifted slightly, his hand still resting on her belly as he looked at her, his eyes warm. “It’s strong, y’know? Unique. I like the idea of him having a name that feels like he could carry the world if he wanted to.”

YN let the name settle, repeating it to herself, and feeling it take root, becoming more than just a word. “Atlas Styles,” she said softly, letting the sound roll off her tongue. “It fits him, I think. Strong like his kicks.” She giggled.

Harry’s face lit up as he grinned down at her, his dimples deepening, a twinkle of something unspoken sparking in his eyes. “Exactly,” he murmured, trailing a hand gently over her bump. “Atlas Styles. Got the name of a proper legend already. Manchester United should be countin’ themselves lucky.”

YN laughed again, rolling her eyes as she turned to face him. “Oh, really? Our boy is still going to save Manchester United, is he?”

“Obviously,” Harry said, his grin widening. “Just imagine it—Atlas Styles, midfield maestro, dominating the pitch. The crowd chanting his name.” He mimics the sound of a roaring crowd in a hush, “‘Atlas! Atlas!” He chanted in a whisper, “United will have never seen anything like him. They’d be winning the league every season with a name like that.”

She shook her head, fighting a laugh as she slipped a few bubbles onto his nose. “Right, because he won’t be busy enough carrying the world. He’ll just take Manchester United on his back too?”

Harry shrugged, brushing the bubbles away with a look of mock seriousness. “Our little Atlas can handle it all. With a name like that, he’ll be unstoppable.” He leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “But, if he’s not into football, I s’pose that’s alright too.”

YN smiled, squeezing his hand, warmth spreading through her as she thought of their little Atlas and all the dreams they had for him—footballer or not, world-bearer or not, he would be loved beyond measure.

*

The rain pattered softly against the window as April rolled in, casting a gentle gray light over the nursery. YN stood by the door, watching Harry wrestle with the crib pieces scattered across the floor. She cradled her belly, which had grown significantly in the last month. Her due date was set for mid-May, only a few weeks away, and she could feel the weight of their son settling lower, as if he, too, was getting ready for the journey ahead.

Harry sat cross-legged on the floor, brow furrowed in intense concentration as he squinted at the instruction manual. The crib, which he had eagerly declared would be a breeze to assemble, now looked more like puzzle pieces that lay scattered around him, screws and wooden slats in disarray, as he muttered under his breath.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” YN asked with a soft grin, leaning against the doorway as she watched him struggle.

He looked up, shooting her a playful glare. “I’ve got it, thanks,” he insisted, though he seemed far from convinced himself. He twisted a screwdriver, only for the wood to creak ominously in protest. Harry’s cheeks flushed, and YN bit her lip, stifling a laugh.

“Sure you do,” she teased, crossing her arms over her bump. “Maybe our son will be crawling by the time you figure that out.”

Harry chuckled, dropping the screwdriver with a resigned sigh. “Alright, alright,” he said, running a hand through his curls as he gave her a dramatic pout. “Go on, laugh at the man trying his best to be a good dad. Just what I need, huh?”

She laughed, stepping into the room to get a closer look at his progress—or lack thereof. “You’re doing great, honey,” she said, her tone light. “Maybe just… not great at building cribs?”

He rolled his eyes, but the hint of a grin played at the corners of his mouth. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to argue,” he mumbled. Then, before she could respond, he reached out, gently tugging her down to sit beside him.

“Hey!” she gasped, though she let him guide her down, leaning into his arms. Her back rested against his chest, and Harry wrapped his arms around her middle, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

He maneuvered her gently onto the carpet, hovering over as his hands resting on either side of her, leaning close, his face only inches from hers, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Maybe I should distract you so y’can’t mock me,” he murmured, his voice teasing.

Before she could respond, he started peppering her face with kisses—one on her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, her chin. She squealed, laughing as he continued, his lips brushing against her skin, his stubble tickling her and sending her into a fit of giggles.

“Harry!” she gasped between breaths, her hands on his shoulders as she tried to squirm away. “You’re ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous?” he repeated, grinning as he planted a kiss just above her lips. “Maybe. But it’s working, isn’t it?”

She gave him a playful shove, but he only laughed, pulling her closer as he trailed his kisses down to her neck, the weight of him comforting as he hovered over her, his hands gentle on her sides. Finally, when her laughter had softened, he leaned back just enough to look into her eyes, his gaze warm and full of affection.

God, how he loved her.

After a moment, he brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, his thumb lingering on her cheek. “Alright,” he said with a sigh, glancing over at the mess of crib parts. “Maybe I could use those hands of yours.”

YN smiled, brushing her hand down his chest. “Hm,” she hummed, “where?”

“Oi!” The brunette giggled, swatting her wandering hand away as he sat up, shifting to be beside her. “Wicked woman, you are. Get to work.”

She huffed, although there was no anger residing in her. Maybe an ache between her thighs, but that’s something she could sort out with her husband later. She sat up, sitting cross legged beside Harry as he reached for the instruction manual.

The two of them sat side by side on the nursery floor, her hand resting over his as they sorted through the crib parts. Harry studied the instructions once more, pointing out the next few steps with a renewed confidence that was helped by her steady presence beside him. YN held the pieces steady while Harry carefully tightened each screw, the two of them working together, their laughter filling the room whenever something went slightly wrong.

Finally, after some teamwork, a bit of trial and error, and more than a few shared smiles, they placed the last piece into place, and the crib stood finished in front of them. They both sat back, admiring their handiwork, their hands intertwined as they took in the sight of the nursery coming together, piece by piece.

Harry looked over at YN, his gaze soft as he took in her face, still flushed from laughter. “Not bad for a couple of first-timers, huh?”

She leaned her head on his shoulder, holding her hands out in front of them and wiggling her fingers. “Thanks to these.”

He snorted, gently taking her chin in his grasp to force her to look at him. “Shut up and kiss me.”

As time passed by quicker than ever, spring took the city by full force, it was finally May. Flowers bloomed in their garden, trees shook with the delicate breeze of a looming summer. The sun fell behind the hills later and later, still offering a golden glow as they ate dinner.

A gentle rain drummed against the windows as YN and Harry shared a cozy dinner on the sofa, the warm light of a movie and fading sunlight flickering across their faces. They were nestled together, plates balanced on laps (and bump) as they laughed at an old comedy. Outside, the world felt comfortably distant. Everything about this moment felt ordinary, like the calm before a long-anticipated storm.

But YN hadn’t been entirely honest with Harry tonight. She had felt a dull ache creeping into her lower back and belly since late afternoon, a sensation she had brushed off as yet another round of Braxton Hicks contractions. Her OB had warned her that false alarms would be common in these final weeks, and she’d already had a few where they’d rushed to the hospital only to be sent back home. So tonight, she’d told herself that it was nothing—just her body practicing, nothing more. But as they watched the movie, she found herself shifting uncomfortably, her breaths deepening whenever another wave rolled through her.

The contractions had grown stronger as they ate, each one hitting her lower back with a dull, throbbing ache before tightening sharply across her belly. She bit her lip, forcing a smile whenever Harry glanced her way, trying to play it off. But she couldn’t ignore the way her body tensed or the cold bead of sweat she felt on her brow as she worked to stay composed.

As they finished their dinner, Harry stretched and stood, gathering their plates with a grin. “Think I’ll wash these up. You just sit there and relax, yeah?”

She smiled, nodding as he carried their dishes into the kitchen. He hummed softly to himself as he washed the plates, oblivious to the intensity of the pain building within her. She took a deep breath, gripping the edge of the sofa as a new wave hit, this one sharper than before, radiating from her lower back and spreading between her hips, each pulse making her muscles contract and tighten. She fought to keep her breathing steady, her mind racing as she tried to convince herself it was nothing.

But then, as she watched Harry rinse a glass, her vision blurred with another wave of pain—deeper, sharper, as if her body was tightening from the inside out. Her breath hitched, and this time she couldn’t hide the small gasp that escaped her. She braced herself against the sofa, her fingers digging into the fabric as she fought to breathe through it.

Harry looked over, his brow furrowing as he noticed the tension on her face. He set the glass down in the sink, wiping his hands on a towel as he stepped back into the living room. “Love?” he asked, a hint of worry creeping into his voice. “You alright?”

She forced a smile, trying to play it off, but her voice came out strained. “I’m fine. Just–“ She grunted, “Braxton Hicks, I think.” But even as she spoke, it was like an aftershock of an earthquake, stealing her breath, the pain sharper than before. Her hand flew to her belly, fingers pressing down instinctively, and she had to close her eyes, focusing all her energy on breathing through it.

Harry’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he knelt beside her, his hand moving to rest on her knee. “That doesn’t look like Braxton Hicks,” he said gently, his voice laced with concern. “How long’s this been going on?”

She hesitated, looking down as she tried to keep her breathing composed. “Since– since earlier this afternoon,” she admitted, wincing as the pain reached its peak, leaving her feeling helpless and raw. “I thought it was nothing, really. But it’s–I dunno– it’s getting worse.”

Harry’s face shifted from concern to something closer to alarm. He was quiet for a moment, clearly trying to process her words, before his gaze softened, and he slid his hand to hers, squeezing it gently. “Alright,” he murmured, his voice steadying. “We’re not going to take any chances.”

YN nodded, relief flooding her at the calm resolve in his voice, but as she tried to stand, another contraction gripped her—this time harder than any before. It started as a dull ache that quickly sharpened into an almost searing pressure, as though her whole belly was clenching in waves she couldn’t control. She gasped, her knees buckling slightly as she clutched Harry’s arm.

Harry’s eyes widened as he caught her, his face shifting into a worried frown. “It’s happening, isn’t it?” he whispered, almost to himself, before shaking off the shock and focusing on her. He wrapped an arm around her, guiding her back down to the sofa with a gentle firmness. “We’re going t’breathe through this one, yeah? Just like we practiced.”

She clung to his hand, squeezing hard as she fought to steady her breathing, but the pain was relentless, each wave feeling sharper than the last. Her body felt like it was working against her, every muscle tightening until she was gasping, unable to fully catch her breath. She buried her face against his shoulder, her voice a shaky whisper. “H, this hurts more than I thought it would.”

He brushed a hand through her hair, his voice soft but unwavering as he held her close. “I know, baby. You’re doing so well. Just focus on breathing, alright? I’ve got you.”

As the contraction faded, she managed to catch her breath, slumping slightly against him, feeling a mix of exhaustion and dread for what was coming next. She felt his hand at the small of her back, steadying her, and she was grateful for the warmth of his touch, the calm he radiated even as she could see the worry flickering in his eyes.

“We’re calling the OB,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “This doesn’t feel like false labor, does it?”

She shook her head, unable to deny the reality that had settled in. “No..I think this is real.”

Harry’s face softened, a mix of pride and worry as he watched her breathe through everything. When the pain passed, he took her face in his hands, his thumb brushing lightly over her cheek. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice steady. “We’re going to get you through this, love. One breath at a time.”

With that, he stood, reaching for his phone and dialing their OB, staying right by her side as the call connected. He answered each of the doctor’s questions carefully, glancing at YN between each answer, his hand never leaving hers. After a few minutes, he hung up and turned back to her, a mixture of excitement and resolve in his gaze.

“She says it sounds like early labor,” he told her softly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “We’re going t’the hospital. Just you and me, hm?”

YN nodded, taking a steadying breath as she leaned into him, his strength anchoring her. With Harry’s arms wrapped around her, she knew that she had everything she needed to get through this.

The rain had softened to a gentle drizzle as Harry helped YN into the car, settling her carefully into the passenger seat, his hands gentle but steady. Her breaths were deep and focused, each one an effort to keep herself calm as the contractions continued, not close enough to urge a rush but strong enough to leave her nerves buzzing with anticipation. Harry buckled her in, his gaze warm and reassuring as he brushed his hand over her shoulder.

“You’re doing great, sweet girl,” he hummed, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Next stop, hospital. Just you, me, and our little Atlas.”

YN managed a faint smile, squeezing his hand as he lingered beside her for a moment before closing the door and sliding into the driver’s seat. The car pulled away from their quiet street, its headlights cutting through the misty drizzle, as they made their way into the city. She leaned her head back against the seat, focusing on the rhythm of the rain tapping against the windows, letting the steady sound settle her mind.

As they drove, Harry glanced over at her frequently, his hand occasionally drifting from the wheel to hold hers. “Let me know if you need anything, yeah?” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Or if I need to pull over. Anything at all.”

He rambled when he was nervous.

YN nodded, keeping her eyes closed, breathing slowly. Another contraction started, gripping her with that same deep ache that radiated from her back to her belly. She clenched his hand, squeezing as she focused on her breathing, her fingers white-knuckling against his. It was painful, but she willed herself to relax, to breathe through the intensity, letting her breath match the gentle rhythm of the rain.

Harry squeezed her hand back, his thumb tracing small circles on her skin. “Out of all women in the world who gave birth, you’re the most beautiful.” He smiled warily. His stupid compliment even made him want to smack himself upside the head. But he looked at his wife expectantly.

When the contraction passed, she released a shaky breath. Part of her wanted to shoot daggers into him with a glare, but looking at that goofy smile she fell in love with, the way his cheeks flushed pink and eyes looked unsure, she couldn’t. She mustered out a weak, breathy laugh.”Shut up.” She whispered.

They reached the hospital, and Harry pulled up to the lot, parking the car before rushing around to help her out. He wrapped an arm around her, guiding her through the automatic doors, his gaze steady and protective as he led her to the reception desk. The lobby was quiet, lit by soft fluorescent lights that made the polished floors gleam. Harry gently rubbed her back as they reached the counter, where a man with glasses and a walkie looked up with a polite smile.

“Hi,” Harry said, his voice calm but firm, “we’re here for an admission. Our OB requested it.” He grinned lightly, seeking to be polite despite his nerves. He gave his wife’s name through his smile.

The receptionist nodded, typing something into the computer before glancing back at YN, who was gripping Harry’s hand, her face pale and tense. After a moment, the man looked up. “Alright, we have you here. Just a moment.”

He picked up the phone, speaking briefly with someone before hanging up and nodding toward them. “Patient transport is on the way. We’ll get you into a wheelchair and up to the maternity ward to get settled.”

Harry thanked him, his hand resting on the small of her back, he murmured, “y’doing so well, my sweet girl.”

She leaned into him, exhaling a shaky breath as another mild contraction started to creep in, but before she could fully brace herself, a transport worker arrived with a wheelchair.

Harry helped her ease down into it, kneeling beside her and brushing his thumb over her hand. She looked down at him, her expression a mix of pain and determination. “I’m alright,” she whispered, her words braver than she felt.

He met her gaze, his eyes full of pride and unwavering support. “I know you are,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her knuckles before he stood and walked beside her as they made their way to the elevator. The ride up was quiet, each floor lighting up in sequence as they ascended to the maternity ward, and she found herself counting each breath, each second, each floor, until they finally reached the unit.

Once inside the labor and delivery ward, they were greeted by a nurse who led them into a dimly lit room that felt strangely peaceful, its walls painted a soft pink, the lights warm and low. The nurse introduced herself, her voice calm and soothing as she helped YN settle onto the bed, helping her into a hospital gown before taking her vital signs and asking a series of questions, jotting down notes while Harry sat by her side, holding her hand.

“Let’s get you as comfortable as we can,” the nurse said gently, adjusting the bed’s settings. “Now, you’re still in early labor, so we’re going to monitor you closely, but it could be a while yet.”

YN nodded, feeling both grateful and anxious at the prospect of waiting. The contractions continued, rolling in like waves, growing in intensity but not yet regular enough to signal active labor. Each one required her full focus; she found herself closing her eyes, breathing deeply as she squeezed Harry’s hand, centering herself with each wave of pain.

Hours passed, the pain deepening with each contraction as her body adjusted, stretching and preparing for the arrival of their son. The nurse checked in periodically, taking notes, adjusting her position, and checking her dilation with gentle reassurance, but progress was slow. The contractions were more frequent now, each one a sharp, relentless pressure that seemed to radiate from deep within her, pulling her to the very edge of her endurance.

Harry never left her side, his hand a steady anchor as he held hers, his voice low and soothing, guiding her through each breath. “I love you,” he whispered, his forehead resting against hers as they breathed together. “Just a bit longer, yeah? You got it.”

At one point, the pain became so overwhelming that she couldn’t bear to sit still. Harry helped her stand, wrapping his arms around her as she leaned into him, her face pressed against his chest. Her arms draped over his shoulders, clinging to him as she rocked back and forth, swaying through each contraction, finding relief in the gentle rhythm. He whispered words of encouragement, his hands rubbing her back as she trembled against him, each wave of pain stealing her breath and leaving her gasping.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, his voice a steady hum that she latched onto, focusing on the warmth of his words as the pain pulsed through her. “Just lean on me. I’ve got you.”

She clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as the pain reached a peak, her knees weakening under the weight of it. But Harry held her up, his arms strong and steady, supporting her fully as she swayed, letting the movement carry her through each contraction. She pressed her forehead into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek, grounding her, keeping her anchored in the storm of pain.

When the nurse checked again, the news was disheartening—only a few more centimeters dilated. YN felt exhaustion beginning to creep in, the hours of labor sapping her strength, but Harry was there, brushing damp strands of hair from her face, whispering soft reassurances as she closed her eyes, her head resting against his shoulder.

As the hours ticked by, the contractions grew sharper, more intense, each one like a wave crashing against her, forcing her to draw deeper into herself just to withstand the pain. Harry eased her back onto the bed, pulling a mask toward her face, releasing a gas that would help the pain. Her mind blurred under the relentless rhythm of labor. Yet, every time she opened her eyes, he was there—his gaze steady, his hand in hers, his words like an anchor.

She held the mask to her face with her other hand, breathing it in deeply. As backward as it sounded, even laboring and pushing out a baby, the thought of a seven inch needle being put into her spine scared her even more. The thought of an epidural was tempting, being numbed from the waist down—but it made her stomach churn with anxiety, too. She had enough of that already, so she stuck to the gas.

YN lifted the gas from her nose, staring at Harry through half lidded eyes. “Can’t wait to have sex with you in six weeks.” She mumbled, her voice hazy.

Harry eased the mask back onto her, his cheeks growing red from her clouded words. He let out a breathy laugh, “Okay, one step at a time, hm?”

At last, as dawn began to break outside, the sunlight bleak, barely there. The nurse’s expression shifted as she checked YN’s progress. She smiled, looking up with gentle relief. “We’re almost there,” she said softly. “Just a little bit longer.”

Harry’s face lit up, his eyes shining as he looked down at YN, his voice soft and full of pride. He pressed a kiss to her sweaty forehead, brushing strands of her hair back. “Hear that? Final stretch, baby.”

YN nodded, too exhausted to respond, but the warmth in his eyes gave her the strength to keep going. With every ounce of willpower she had left, she faced the final contractions, the pain almost blinding but her determination carrying her through, and Harry’s voice guiding her every step of the way.

Once she was ten centimeters, a team rushed in. Two nurses and the OB. Her legs were placed into stirrups, her gown bunched up over her tummy.

It was the longest, most intense thirteen hours of her life, but as she felt the final waves of pain, the medical staff guided her through the last moments, she clung to Harry, his hand a lifeline, his presence a comfort that wrapped around her like a shield. And with one last surge, a cry filled the room, and she knew it was all worth it.

“Oh.” She whimpered, her own cry emitting from her as her son was placed onto her bare chest for the first time. A nurse wiped him down as he wriggled against YN, Harry leaning down by her shoulder, staring in awe.

That was his boy, his son. A piece of him and the love of his life brought forth into the world. He wouldn’t be able to explain the feeling he felt as he flickered his gaze between his wife’s and Atlas’s.

Sparse stands of brown locks sat atop his head, a color matching his fathers. He gently placed his hand atop it, his thumb rubbing against his forehead as the little boy continued to cry.

His eyes resembled his mothers, as did his nose. But everything else? That was all Harry. He cooed at him, whispering soft nothings to to his baby boy before the nurse approached him with medical scissors. “Would you like to cut the cord, dad?”

Dad.

Butterflies surged through his tummy.

He drew a deep breath, looking at YN for silent encouragement, to which she only smiled at him. Her husband, the father of her son.

He gently grabbed the scissors from the nurse, hesitantly approaching where he was told to cut. He looked at his Atlas who seemed to calm down a bit, slowly coming to terms with being brought out into the world. He steadied himself, and then with a delicate snip, he cut the cord.

As he handed them back to the nurse, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, the enormity of the moment settling over him. He looked down at the two he loved most in the world, lightly grasping onto his little feet and silently counting his tiny toes.

“Sit.” YN softly ordered, holding the boy against her chest with one hand and patting the small spot beside her with the other.

He nodded slowly, easing himself down into the spot after lowering the right side bar so he’d fit. He leaned against YN, his feet still upon the floor.

The baby was swaddled into a pale blue blanket before she handed him over to Harry, his heart melting instantly. He cradled him against his chest, tucking his head down to place delicate kisses on his forehead, his cheeks, the tip of his nose. “I love you so much.” He whispered, hesitantly ripping his gaze away from his son onto his wife.

His lip quivered as he placed a kiss against her sweaty hair, “Thank you so much.” His voice was delicate, a murmur. “I owe you everything.”

This was all he needed. His heart swelled with a love so profound, it felt almost overwhelming, as if the sheer depth of it might consume him. It was a love that stretched beyond anything he’d known, powerful enough to break him apart and put him back together all at once. But he embraced it, letting it fill every part of him, savoring each precious drop. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt exactly where he was meant to be.

This was home.

[tarotbyjam24]

Pick a pile : 1st time sex with your future spouse LGBTQ+ friendly

(18+ mdni)

Masterlist\pick a pile feedback

Hey there! Your likes, reblogs, and feedback mean the world to me 🩷. Take a peek at the piles and see which one calls to you 🫶🏻 – let me know which you choose, I'd love to hear from you! Remember, these are general readings, so take what resonates and leave the rest.

pile 1 pile 2 pile 3

If you're vibing with my readings, You can also book a personalized reading for a deeper dive! And don't miss out on my free reading offers

1st part of readings are done by @delulutarot-deactivated20250509 rest are done by me

Pile एक

Cards : justice|temperance|knight of wands

Your fs will be taking the lead in this act . They'll initiate things . They'll be the one to take responsibility and care of you . They'll hold you so dearly . Your fs will love to ride you . They can be into boundage roping too. They'll love their privacy while doing it . So they'll only do sex in private isolated places only where you both don't get caught. They'll want to pour their all into you and hope you reciprocate it too but thats not important for them . They just wanna give all of their to you. You both maybe so different from each other. But opposite attracts ✨ you both will do it while it's dawn . Flowers can be significant too. You both can be into role switching too to see which fits you best and giving a try to being a sub and dom . You both can be secretive about doing these activities as it's important to keep our life private . Dressing up before the act can be important too which will be the reason you both will get turned on. You'll feel a new energy in you after you've sëx with them. There will be sense of emotional grounding too and this sêx will lead to new beginnings . They'll only have eyes on you same goes for you . You'll be like ahfhhfh this is the only person I want . They're mine 😩💥 your heart will be on fire for them . You both will balance and fit each other in unusual ways like a art .

Where would be your first sex ?

At the work place . You or your future spouse is most like to get turned on when either of you're working hehe like your future spouse will suddenly think about you and boom now they're horny for you . Blind folds will be prominent or just sensory deprivation in general . It's possible you might have sex when moon is in waning or waxing cresent phase .

Their fav parts of your body:

your side profile specially jawline , your legs[thighs] , your hands and the way you hold them , your serious face while doing the deed 🎀 if you identify yourself as female then your whole body is sexy for them and I feel your future spouse will find your lil chubby cheeks and hairs so sexy like they give essence to you and adds spice to your beauty.

Their kinks :

okay so finding you alone ? Is that even a kink ? Definitely teaching you is their kink like anything they can teach you be it erotic or innocent things. When the sex hits them into the soul and both yours souls are satisfied ✨ spoiling you to the death , if you're not married obviously like if you doing sex with your future spouse before marriage then having marriage with you and fucking you with that married label is their kink . You doing a cheerleading dance infront of them 🎊

previous reading

book your one -on-one sessions

Liked the reading? Consider supporting through tippings 💞

Pile दो

Cards : magician|3 of swords|hanged man

Your 1st séx with them will be decorated place . They'll prepare roses and other flowers too . They'll prepare few séx toys too . They'll be the one who's dom👀 . They can be the person who has lot of stamina. They'll heal your broken heart and help you come out of those love related traumas. They'll want to prove that they're not same as others. You may have walls and may not be communicative enough about your feelings but they'll understand it all without you being vocal to them. They're intuitive enough to understand you. They'll help you relax by engaging in sexual activities with you . Since they'll want to dominate. They'll want you to lie only and let them do all the act for you . They'll hold your hands so you don't interrupt them while pleasuring you. They'll be into proving pleasures with multiple things at once . Like doing nipple play , penetration, clit stimulation all at once 💥😭 . You'll be feeling so euphoric and at edge of loosing it all and just melt away. They or you can be into hand job or just grabbing them or their boõbies . They're true magican haha 🪄 . When you're with them they wouldn't want you to shed tears or get hurt anymore. Your 1st sêx with them will heal you from past wounds . I hope you resonate. I'll love to hear from you through comments or asks.

Where would be your first sex ?

Your first sex with your future spouse will at some party or gathering like you both may have sex under the influence of some drinks . Now this party can be in hilly areas or areas where there's silence most of the times and it's reserved area where people aren't seen very much .

Their fav parts of your body:

your breasts , the way you stick out your tongue , your hands placements on their body and specially when you put hands on their face 😭 they go crazy like they could be twerking inside lmao, your lips , your pointy nose tip , when you're wrapped in sheets

Their kinks:

pleasuring you with so many things at once so that you cum very badly all over the place . Breeding kink , providing for you , making you feel secured , solving your issues are few of your future spouse's kinks

previous reading

book your one -on-one sessions

Liked the reading? Consider supporting through tippings 💞

Pile तीन

Cards : 4 of swords|10 of swords|4 of cups

Alright pile 3 , your fs may get turned on while you're asleep and they'll just want to initiate things with you . They could have been holding on to their sexùal thoughts for so long . They could've even contemplating over them . Probably they could have been even pleasuring themselves too with the thought of yours. They'll want to submit to you and beg you for having sêx with them. Lowkey you would've been wanting to fuck them too but somehow you both are not very vocal about your feelings and don't take actions either lol. It's giving all people around you realise that there's sexual tension between them and ughh it's so hot . But only you and your fs are the only people who haven't realised it yet. But when you're asleep they'll finally decide that they need to take action on these thoughts and ask you for it . You could probably even be having nightmare and them comforting you so when you wake up it'll lead to sêx to get you comfortable again . They'll fuck you so hard that you'll finally sleep peacefully for longer lol because you'll have no energy left and probably wake up again with pains 🥴 thanks to them and their cock\pussy.

Where would be your first sex ?

Okay pile 3 your sex will be somewhere where you get chance to sneak out like you've come out of city or country for some work related issues or just a conference or some competition to participate in and you do the deed there . It's possible that you sneak out from your colleagues or friends or family to have sex together haha but I feel you or your future spouse will definitely take guidance 1st from someone experienced. So that they can give outmost performance and experience 🎀

Their fav parts of your body:

your smile , your chin I feel there can be something about your chin probably it's more baby like having more fat over there , the way you put your face down when you're not satisfied enough , and ooh when you criss cross your hands it's over for them 🌊

Their kinks:

intoxication kink , trying adventures with you like exploring new positions, new places , reward kink , sub dom kink .

previous reading

book your one -on-one sessions

Liked the reading? Consider supporting through tippings 💞

Thank you SO much for stopping by and letting me share my insights with you. Wishing you the most wonderful day/night! Sending you tons of love! - Jam

[hwaflms]

round & round! ★ [ l.dh ]

{💭} hyuck : i suggested playing spin the bottle because i wanted to kiss you, but now everyone’s kissing you except me :/

[☆] pairing. haechan x reader, slight jaemin x reader ft. 00’ line, chaewon of lesserafim and sieun of stayc

[☆] genre. smut + fluff | stoner!nct, pwp bc it’s me

[☆] wc. 6.1k

[☆] warnings. explicit content (mdni), weed/marijuana use, lots of making out, slight choking, dirty talk, fingering, sexual stuff in a semi-public place, use of the word ‘slut’, very slight degradation, not very proofread, pretty tame tbh

[☆] notes. my first time writing again in like??? two years???? istg i didn’t mean to abandon this acc 😞 pls be nice i haven’t written in a while and this is not my most favourite work but i’m warming up for more stuff in da future i just wanted to post a lil self-indulgent smth abt hyuck bc bf☝️ idk how active i’ll be because of uni and other things but i missed u guys!!! any feedback is appreciated enjoy :p

even through the clouds of smoke engulfing the little living room of jeno and jaemin’s shared flat, your hooded eyes still met.

today was an important day amongst your friend group; it was chaewon’s first time smoking up with everyone. your friends weren’t really the type to pressure anyone into doing anything they weren’t sure about, but considering the astounding majority who enjoyed smoking some variation of weed, group sessions were a frequent occurrence. you either joined in or didn’t, chaewon being the latter until she decided of her own accord that she was going to try it with the people she trusted.

you sesh with jeno most often, seeing as he was the one who introduced you to weed and taught you everything you know about it. after weeks of listening to you complain about sleepless nights, jeno suggested you try smoking a joint before you go to bed, especially since it was starting to affect your attendance. (“i can’t keep attending these zoology classes without you, y/n. every time something stupid happens, i laugh and make a joke out loud because i forget you aren’t there, and now i’m pretty sure people think i’m either insane or just really fucking lonely”.)

now, smoking up has been a pretty regular occurrence, especially since jeno introduced you to a bunch of his friends and vice versa, all of you making up one big, happy group of stoners. chaewon and sieun were your friends who got along with everyone else just fine, and though they didn’t hang out with the others as much as you did, they were still welcome whenever.

presently, you are leaning back against the couch, all the way on the end, because jaemin is sprawled out alongside you, opting to rest his legs on your lap. haechan makes a joke that you don’t understand, but you laugh anyway along with everyone else, except renjun who covers up his laugh with cough.

“you can never let me have it, huh?”, hyuck scoffs, narrowing his eyes at renjun who’s mouth forms a thin line. “i know for a fact you find me funny.”

you hear that he makes a remark back at haechan but what he says doesn’t register in your head, everything sounding far away. remembering the special occasion, you turn to face chaewon and sieun, who are giggling away on the floor about something between the two of them. you don’t know what they said but you smile anyway. she clearly seemed like she was having a good trip, and so was everyone else.

swallowing nothing, you realise how dry your throat feels, and with that realisation came this undeniable desire for some form of liquid. “jen,”, you tilt your head back and call out to the boy who was already rolling another joint on the table behind you. “did you end up buying more coke?”

“check the fridge”, he mumbles without looking at you, tongue poking his cheek out of concentration as he focuses on what he was doing. with a groan, you heave jaemin’s legs off your lap, muttering a couple ‘sorry’s when he starts to complain about the change in position.

you all but float to the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge and spotting the fresh cans of coke placed neatly in the overcrowded appliance. the first gulp feels like heaven against your parched throat, taking a few more while standing there.

“you gonna share or no?”, a voice startles you, turning to find haechan’s figure looming right behind you with a dopey smile on his face.

“god, we need to get you a bell or something. i never hear you coming”, you roll your eyes before grabbing two glasses from the cabinet. you’re disappointed to see that there was no ice in their freezer, but you pour the drink into the glass anyway.

“why are you pouring it into a glass?”, haechan furrows his eyebrows, looking pointedly between the glass and the literal can in your hand. “now we have to wash two glasses when we could’ve just drank it from the can.”

he’s right, of course, but you’re not gonna tell him that. instead, you pretend that you were planning on adding some lemon juice to the drink because you saw it on instagram. while you figure he doesn’t believe you, he humours you anyway and tries your little concoction, which ends up being pretty damn good.

out of all of jeno’s friends, haechan definitely stood out to you. you didn’t really understand why, you were just drawn to him, even way back before you met him, when jeno used to tell you about his friends. “loud and annoying” were the words he used to describe him, but the smile that appeared on his face anyway let you know that he was someone special to jeno. this was not to say his other friends weren’t special, you got along incredibly well with all of them, meshing right in with their group.

as of right on cue, jaemin’s voice loudly sounds out from the living room, “are you guys fucking in there or what?”.

sighing, you pick up your glass and begin to walk out of the kitchen, but not before purposely knocking haechan’s shoulder when you walk past him, hearing him snort before following you out as you exit the room. perhaps if you had lingered in the kitchen for a couple seconds longer, you would’ve heard haechan muttering something along the lines of “i wish” under his breath.

“jeez, took you long enough, can i have some of that?”, renjun drawls, lifting himself off the armchair with a smile, to which you roll your eyes but pass him your glass anyway. you sit down on the floor opposite the couch and he looks as if he is about to compliment your drink-making skills before haechan cuts him off.

“dude, chaewon and sieun look like they’re about to fall asleep, let’s do something”, he half yawns out, opting to stroll over to your spot on the floor and sinking down next to you.

“not…sleepy…”, chaewon murmurs, but her voice is muffled because her cheek is pressed against sieun’s shoulder, both of them sprawled out on the floor like it was a comfortable bed.

“sure you aren’t…”, jeno chides with a smile, getting up from the table to walk over to where all of you were situated. he twirls his newly rolled joint between his fingers, finally holding it out in his palm as if it were some magical gadget, and if you were being fully honest, you were sold. “round 2? or 3, I can’t really remember…”

some words of agreement were muttered across the room, chaewon and sieun even groggily getting up from what looked like a very comfortable napping spot. another rotation began, and you made sure to blow out your smoke directly into an unsuspecting haechan’s face when it was your turn.

“let’s play a game or something”, jaemin suggests, taking a long puff and passing it to jeno who sat beside him, and soon the room was hazy once again, the smell of weed infiltrating your nostrils.

“like what?”, chaewon coughs weakly in between her hit and renjun pats her back before he hands her your coke that you hadn’t received back after you gave it to him. so long for that.

“monopoly?”, jeno offers with a shrug and haechan lets out an obnoxious snore as a reply, making you laugh but you cover it up with a cough when you meet jeno’s playfully narrowed eyes. “okay then, big guy, what’s your incredible idea?”

haechan appears to actually think about it for a moment, looking around the room for some sort of inspiration maybe, until his eyes land on you.

“okay jaemin, get that empty wine bottle from last week, we’re playing spin the bottle”, he is grinning from ear to ear, wiggling his eyebrows even though all his suggestion receives is a bunch of groans and sighs.

your eyebrows are raised however, and you try not to let your reaction show too much on your face. spin the bottle? you hadn’t played that since you were maybe fourteen, but that was the least of your concerns at the moment. haechan wanted to play spin the bottle? who was he hoping to kiss? or was it just a whimsical little suggestion that was more of a joke?

it didn’t fully seem like he meant it as a joke, judging by his expression as he awaited some actual responses from the group. “what are we, fourteen?”, renjun might as well have read your mind, but he soon joins you and haechan on the floor, the others following suit. jaemin presents the empty bottle and places it in the middle of the little circle you have formed, everyone seeming slightly more keen as the joint runs out.

maybe it was the thc talking, but it didn’t really seem like a bad idea to you anymore. you were all single, attractive and close enough that it wouldn’t make things weird, and most importantly, you wouldn’t mind getting more familiar with haechan’s lips.

you shocked your own self with the sudden lewd thoughts in your head about the male sitting next to you, squirming in your position slightly. he turns his head towards you like he could hear your thoughts (“shut up, y/n, he can’t hear your thoughts…right?”) and you swear his eyes soften a bit. “are you sure you wanna play?”, he asks softly, mistaking your tenseness for discomfort, but you shake your head a little too quickly for your liking.

“no, no, let’s play, it’s not like we have anything better to do, right?”, you feign indifference and after everyone else agrees, the bottle is spun for the first time by haechan.

much to renjun’s dismay, it lands on him, and it’s almost comical the way he looks at the bottle pointing at him before slowly looking up at haechan. “renjunnie, let me kiss you”, haechan whines in a high pitched tone while drawing out the “you”, puckering his lips expectantly. the next three minutes consist of renjun listing every single person he would rather kiss than haechan, and you’d have half the mind to volunteer yourself if you weren’t clutching at your sides laughing at the whole exchange, slapping at both jeno and sieun who tried and failed to dodge your waving hands.

renjun finally relents when chaewon suggests he lets him kiss his cheek instead, but haechan is no quitter so he makes sure that he plants the loudest, most wet kiss on his face before sighing in victory when he sits back down. renjun is not the most happy with this, and he tells jaemin to take his turn instead while he rushes off to the bathroom to wash his face. hyuck looks indignant, calling out behind renjun, asking if he wants another one.

taking the turn instead of renjun, jaemin spins the bottle harshly, and it spins and spins and spins for what seemed like an eternity. your eyes are so focused on the way the bottle looks as it spins that you don’t even notice that it has stopped, until jeno nudges you with his shoulder. it’s neck is pointed directly at you, and you finally look up from your trance at jaemin, who wears an undeniable smirk on his face.

while you didn’t exactly see him that way, there was absolutely no denying that jaemin was a very attractive man, and he was no different presently, the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up as he propped himself up with his arms, looking at you expectantly.

you don’t want to look at haechan right now, because you can see out of the corner of your eye that his face is looking straight forward, not at you or jaemin, just forward. you wonder what is going through his head, but your thoughts are cut short when jaemin scoots closer to you in the circle.

“are you okay with this?”

and when you think about, you are. “yeah, i mean it’s just a game”, you reply, not wanting to ruin the fun or raise any suspicions, to which jaemin agrees and inclines his head towards you.

he kisses you, more fully than you were expecting, but you had no complaints really as you kissed him back, titling your head in the opposite direction to slip your lips over his. you wonder if your lips were as dry as they felt, and in the back of your mind it registers that your friends are watching you kiss your other friend because they hoot and giggle, but you can’t really bring yourself to care.

jaemin’s lips taste sweet and he smells sweet, his touch soft as he brings a hand up to your cheek, gently holding it while he continues kissing you. it probably wasn’t as long as it felt, but jaemin finally pulls away, the remnants of his sweet chapstick lingering on your lips. you are aware of how hot your face feels when you pull away and return to your spot, tucking your hair behind your ears.

“dude, what chapstick do you use?”, you ask after clearing your throat, and jaemin rummages in his pant pocket for a moment before whipping out a cute pink tube, holding it out in front of him. “strawberry dream, baby”, he winks, reapplying it on his lips. “never go anywhere without it.”

renjun returns after god knows how long, stating that he had to re-do his skin care routine because haechan had completely thrown off his skin’s ph balance, and is saddened to hear that he missed witnessing you and jaemin.

the game continues in a steadfast manner for the next couple of rounds thanks to haechan insisting we play one more round, though it doesn’t exactly go in the manner you were hoping for. the group is practically in tears after watching jeno and jaemin share an awkward kiss, chaewon arguing that they can’t claim “no homo” because it was the most homo thing she’d seen in a while, and that was saying a lot because she was, in fact, gay.

you have now kissed sieun, jaemin once again and an especially endearing renjun, who’s cheeks and tips of his ears are painted a bright red after you plant a full peck on his waiting lips. haechan grumbles something about renjun not having kissed anyone besides his mom to explain his reaction, but jeno is quick to cut renjun off before another argument ensues.

“i don’t know about you guys, but i think that’s enough exchanging of saliva for one day”, he all but sighs, lying down on the floor dramatically. while you do agree, you’re disheartened, because not once has the bottle landed on you when spun by haechan, or the other way around. it feels like the universe is fucking with you, because really how many times can you spin a bottle between a group of seven people and not have it land on the one person you want to kiss even once.

haechan looks like he wants to say something, but appears to decide against it in the end, stretching and standing up. it is then mutually agreed by everyone that it was time to watch a movie.

“super bad?”, jaemin proposes, and even though most people had already watched the movie, no one argues against it and jeno starts setting up the movie on their big screen tv.

settling into the couch, you glance over at haechan and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling a tad bit disappointed. this whole spin the bottle thing makes you wonder about all the other times where you could have had an opportunity to make a move on the brown-haired boy.

you’d gone on long drives together, gone partying, even drank with just each other a couple of times. the closest the two of you had ever come to crossing that line was while you where dancing at a party and his arms were looped around your waist from behind, slowly swaying to the beat. you’d danced with him tons of times before that but you recall thinking the air was a little different than normal, more heated, but you also recall mistaking renjun for your professor, so you didn’t trust yourself. the moment came and went, and neither of you ever had the balls to address it, and now it had been way too long since to bring it up.

“this seat taken?”, haechan snaps you out of your bitter thoughts, jerking his head towards the spot on the couch next to you. you clear your throat and shake your head, scooting over slightly so he could sink down next to you. “what’s up, y/n, you look a little…not present. you still high?”

it’s funny because your mind certainly wasn’t present, it was in the gutter, but you choose to blame the weed. “yeah, i’m still high”, you answered truthfully, and so was he, his red, hooded eyes a dead giveaway.

“okay, perfect, i wanted to show you this stupid tiktok i saw”, he’s pulling his phone out of his pocket and leaning closer to you to show you some video of a cat, or maybe a dog, you weren’t paying attention. he laughs at whatever the animal did, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he does so, and you observe him instead of watching. when he doesn’t hear you laugh, he peeks over at you but you’re quick to turn your head back to his phone, letting out a very late giggle at the video.

if he did catch you, he doesn’t mention it, continuing to scroll and show you more videos. jeno finally gets the movie set up and turns off the lights, taking up the final seat left on the couch. the movie begins, and everyone falls into a comfortable silence bar hyuck, who makes the occasional comment that earns him a snort from you each time.

at some point during the movie, haechan stretches his arms out behind him, placing his arm on the head of the couch directly behind you. glancing at him quickly, you can’t tell whether the action was purposeful or not, because if it was, he was doing a very good job of looking nonchalant. you try your best to ignore it, but his hand is resting directly above your shoulder, inches away from touching you- but it never does.

you had never noticed what nice hands haechan had before. long and slender, nails clipped short and clean, his middle, ring and index finger adorned with various silver rings. you note that he wears three rings on his left hand, but none on his right. his right hand sits on top of one of his thighs, two of his fingers drumming against it following some rhythm going on in his head. his fingers are long, and the only thing you can think about is just how nice they would feel inside–

no, no, no, stop it, since when are you this horny?

you realise stressing out about how horny you are all of a sudden is just going to lead to a bad trip and you don’t want that, and you want to clear your head. even though you’re feeling a different kind of thirsty, you figure a distraction for a couple minutes would be helpful, so you excuse yourself to go get some water, jumping up from the couch and walking towards the kitchen. unbeknownst to you, haechan’s watchful eyes follow your figure as you exit the room.

finally away and in the kitchen, you fill up a glass and lean over the sink, closing your eyes to collect yourself. you can finish the movie without driving yourself crazy over haechan, right? tonight is no different than any other hangout and you don’t want to weird haechan out with your unnecessary staring and poorly concealed thirsting. you just need to stop thinking about his stupid hands, his stupid thighs, his stupid hair and his stupid kissable lips. “kissable? lock in, y/n, lock in…”

“who are you talking to?”

you wince but don’t turn around, eyes screwed shut tightly. you’ve been gone for a couple minutes and you don’t know when he left the room, but you put down the glass and turn to face him.

“what’s got you so jumpy?”, he questions, leaning against the counter. his arms are folded and his gaze is piercing, face tilted slightly to the left as he observes you. this is the second time he’s startled you in the kitchen today and also happens to be the very reason you’ve been so jumpy.

“nothing, i just…god, you need to starting announcing your entry into a room, dude…”

he furrows his eyebrows but lets out a chuckle anyway, slowly sauntering over to where you stood. eyes never leaving yours, he now stands directly in front of you, caging you in between the sink and his body. the closer proximity and dim lighting isn’t helping your case in the slightest, feeling all hot and bothered as if there was a sudden change in temperature. “what’s happening? you’re usually never like this, we’ve smoked up together so many times. are you having a bad trip?”

you understand why he might think that, what with your jerky movements, dazed staring and just overall disconnected demeanour. while you were wound up a little tighter than usual, you weren’t having a bad trip, your mind was just very slightly preoccupied. “no, hyuck, i’m fine, i just…needed some water”, it’s a half-lie you tell, choosing to not tell him the full truth for the sake of your own pride.

“you just seem…off”, he seems to pick his words carefully, eyes roaming over the expanse of your face. “no, i just…”, you trail off to try and find the words to explain this situation away, but he’s just looking at you so intensely. it’s so silent in the room and the air feels all too still, and you swear you’re trying to speak coherently but haechan switches his weight to his other leg, wetting his lips with his tongue while he awaits an answer and you just freeze. “i…”

“‘i’ what? see? you’re doing it again”, he starts, running a hand through his hair, and the muted light that leaks in through the window illuminates only one half of his face, but you can see him so clearly that even the way his pretty eyelashes brush against his cheek when he blinks doesn’t go unnoticed by you. you’re subconsciously chewing on your bottom lip, feeling a little like a deer caught in headlights. “you have this look in your eye. like you wanna…”

“…what?”

everything is still and unmoving, until your eyes zero in on haechan’s hand as he raises it, slowly bringing it to graze his fingers over your cheek. his touch leaves a burning hot trail on your skin and using his thumb, he releases your bottom lip from under your teeth, hand lingering cautiously for a fleeting moment before he drops it.

“like what, haechan?”, you repeat yourself, urging him to just say whatever it is he has to say, getting tired of this back and forth. you could sell a kidney just to see what was going on in his mind right now, because he looks torn between speaking his mind and just staying silent.

“like you want to kiss me.”

a few beats of complete and utter silence pass, not even hearing the dull sound of the television in the living room anymore over the thudding of your heart in your ears. haechan takes a small and tentative step towards your frozen figure, gripping the counter you’re using to lean against with his right hand, effectively trapping you in your place. now you really are a deer caught in headlights, because he’s spoken what you’ve been thinking about for the past couple hours into existence and he is absolutely correct.

“am i wrong, pretty?”

judging by your sharp intake of breath and open-mouthed expression, you’d have to be a fool to think otherwise. he looks as if he’s waiting for you to answer him regardless, giving you a chance to get out of this, but your voice is no longer functioning, and it takes all the strength in your body to shake your head ‘no’.

his eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips, tongue peeking out to lick his lips again. “i suggested playing spin the bottle because i wanted to kiss you”, his voice is strained as he admits this, quiet and careful like he’s holding back while his eyes are trained on yours like he’s daring you to break eye contact. you don’t. “but then everyone else was kissing you but me.”

normally you would giggle at his little frown, but all you can muster up is a whisper of his name, finally breaking his all-consuming eye contact in favour of looking at his lips again. you don’t know who moves first, but the next thing you know is your lips are pressed together in a fierce kiss, your hands tangled in his soft, brown locks while he grip your waist and pull you into him.

he kisses you like a man starved and you do the same with equal fervour, not even being able to process that your little daydream is coming true. his hand comes up to caress your cheek, soon moving down your neck after stroking your face softly, using it to tilt your head for you. the position of his hand is very purposeful because his thumb presses into your throat ever so slightly, but his grip is still tight enough that you couldn’t break the kiss (not that you wanted to, anyway). the other hand snakes around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer, pressing his hips into yours.

you’re positively drunk off the feeling of haechan’s lips molding over yours and you think you might just ascend when he tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, using the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. body on fire, you mewl against his lips, swirling your own tongue around his while he slowly but surely bucks his hips into yours.

no wards are spoken while your hands thread through his hair, pulling on it and letting out a sound of surprise into his mouth when his hand trails down to your ass and grips it harshly. he finally releases you from the searing kiss, but he doesn’t let you catch your breath, instead spinning you around in his hold so that his front presses tightly into your back, hands slipping around your waist from behind. this feels like a déjà vu kind of moment because you are reminded of the time when you both were dancing in this exact position, except this time you were getting exactly what you wanted.

“you know how bad i wanted this?”, his voice echoes your thoughts and breaks the silence, hands running up and down your front in a teasing manner. lifting your shirt up slightly, he trails his fingers over the exposed skin of your torso and the action makes you squirm in his hold a little, and much to your surprise, he groans lewdly against your ear. “fuck, i’ve been thinking of this for so long. kissing you, having my hands all over you…”

you get the sense he’s talking more to himself than you, but you revel in it nonetheless. his hand grips your jaw and squishes your cheeks together so your lips form a pout, forcing it to the side where he plants one, two, three kisses to your puckered mouth. his other hand slips further up your shirt where he brazenly cups your boob through your bra, fondling one of them while his tongue peeks out to flick at your bottom lip.

you’re putty in his arms, all gasps and squirms and whispered ‘haechan’s. “what, baby?”, he mumbles into your cheek, the hand gripping your jaw letting go in order to slink down to your hip where it lingers for a moment. “what do you want?”

your lack of answer doesn’t bode well with him, earning you a tight squeeze to your hip as a kind of warning. “need you to touch me”, you whisper out defeatedly, and you feel haechan laugh mockingly against your face.

“yeah? need me to touch you?”, he mimics your voice while tutting, letting his hand slip further down to where you needed him the most, but not letting you have it just yet. “think you can be a good girl and keep quiet for me? we don’t need everyone outside hearing what a little slut you’re being in here.”

everyone outside. the fact that you were just a room away from all your friends who were sat watching a fun little movie together had completely slipped your mind, but if you were being honest, you couldn’t find it in you to give a shit. everything about your current disposition was so dirty. one hand under your shirt, the other about two seconds away from fingering you right in the middle of your friends’ kitchen, while said friends were sat outside, unaware of the goings-on under their own roof.

though you didn’t think actually getting caught in this position would be the most pleasant experience, the idea of it dampened your panties and caused you to whine out loud, tilting your head back against haechan’s shoulder. you receive an immediate hand clamped over your mouth in return, haechan tutting in your ear condescendingly. “looks like the little slut can’t follow a simple request.”

even though he reprimands you, his hands begin fumbling with the button of your jeans anyway, undoing it and pulling the zipper down. one hand comes up to wrap around your front and rests on your shoulder, holding you in place, and the other he sticks down your pants and cups your heat but makes no effort to move, chuckling when you try to move yourself against it. his crotch ruts against the swell of your ass and for you, any friction is better than no friction at the moment. with one hand gipping the arm around your shoulder, you slip the other behind you to palm at his hard cock over his pants, making him let out a sound of approval.

“please, hyuck”, you shake your face free of his hand and turn to look him in the eye, and he grips your throat and presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

he seems to accept your plea, finally moving his hand against you and you breathe a sigh of relief, lost in the feeling of his fingers rubbing circles on your clit over your wet underwear. he’s quick to slip his hand inside your panties, cold fingers pressed directly on to your bare pussy, spreading your wetness all over you. when he ultimately slips a finger into your tight, waiting core, you moan but it’s cut short when he slaps his hand over your mouth again. “keep. quiet.”

if someone were to walk in, the two of you would be a sight to see. you writhing in his tight hold while his hand is stuffed in your pants, two fingers pistoning in and out of you at a fast pace as his forehead is pressed against the side of your face, releasing short breaths. you look positively fucked out, and you’re both in a state of complete bliss as you grind against each other in a timely rhythm.

“my pretty girl. if i had known you wanted this too, i would’ve just grabbed you and kissed you like i wanted, in front of everyone.”

his voice is honey-like and sultry, and his fingers are nothing short of heavenly. they pump in and out of you, and he still manages to use his thumb to toy with your clit in this position, leaving you breathless and on the edge. “can’t believe jaemin and renjun got to kiss you before me.”

you’re so wet that your cunt makes downright sinful noises as he fingers you and you’re hoping that it isn’t really as loud as it seems. “you’re so wet, angel. so this is what had you all jumpy today”, he laughs like he’s stating the obvious, and you’d have half the mind to feel shy if his ministrations didn’t feel so fucking good right now.

you’re aware that you’re close and so is he because you’re clenching around his fingers, so he quickens his pace both inside you and against your clit. “you gonna cum for me, baby? right here, in the middle of kitchen, while everyone’s outside?”, he purrs against your face and you grip the part of his arm that isn’t shoved in your pants, digging your nails into his skin in a way that’s sure to leave a mark. his words make you feel dirty in the best way, not even knowing you could feel this turned on.

he peppers kisses along your jaw and neck, sucking here and there, and through the pale moonlight bleeding into the room from the window, the red blemishes that begin to bloom on your skin are visible to hyuck, and he seems pleased with his artwork. “that’s it, sweetheart, let go for me.”

your moans are muffled against his palm when you finally come, the orgasm ripping through you so strongly that you go limp in his hands, legs almost buckling at the sensation. with the added boost of the weed you smoked earlier, your orgasm is immense, feeling it pulse through your body until it’s too much, whining and wriggling in haechan’s firm hold. he holds you still and helps you ride out your high, whispering utterances of “that’s right, baby” and “my good girl” into your ear while you throw your head back and try to regulate your breathing.

in a moment, his hand slips out of your pants, turning you back around so you’re now facing him, grinning down at you from ear to ear as if you both hadn’t just defiled jaemin and jeno’s kitchen. “you feeling okay?”, he mumbles, tucking your hair behind your ear with the hand that wasn’t soaked, pressing a number of kisses all over your face as you nod and giggled, trying to evade his attack. he lets you go just to wash his hands, and it’s when he dries his wet hands on the material of his pants that you notice his raging boner, immediately feeling bad.

“wait hyuck, let me–“

as if he’s reading your mind once again, he shakes his head and takes both of your hands into his, wrapping them around his own waist while pulling you into him. “we can save that for another time, pretty”, he insists, his expression turning shy when he realises the implications behind his words. “that is, i-if you want another time, of course–“

it’s your turn to cut him off this time, but you do so by leaning up and connecting your lips again, bring a hand up to stroke his cheek. “of course i want another time, hyuck. i want this. i want you.”

your assurances do good to bring a smile to his pretty face, taking ahold of the hand on his cheek and pressing his lips to your skin gently, lovingly. “so, so, perfect.”

taking note of the prolonged amount of time the two of you had been gone, you skulk back into the living, but this time, hand in hand.

the scene you’re greeted with is a surprising one, because you find every single one of your friends to be sound asleep, much to your amusement and hyuck’s dismay. “so you’re telling me i could’ve been hearing you moan the whole time and none of these idiots would have even known?”, he is appalled, a hand coming up to rub at his face out of frustration. “i did all that for nothing?”

“i wouldn’t say for nothing”, you reveal, biting your lip and smiling up at the boy shyly. “i might have woken them up.”

“oh yeah, well now you’re going to”, and with that, he’s dragging you back to the kitchen while you giggle, nearly tripping over your own feet before he all but scoops you up in his arms, muttering to himself about having left something in the kitchen that needed urgent fetching.

[richarlotte]

How I got my life together.

Getting your life together, and I mean really getting it together, should be a priority of yours. You can’t miss out on your life by staying in a pattern of losing it all, pulling it together as quickly and as carelessly as you can, and then losing it all again because you weren’t ready enough or devoted the first time. I made a choice to pull my life together when I was 18, and I’ve stayed improving myself ever since; I bettered my mental health, fixed my body, changed my mindset, found an aesthetic and style that worked for me and that I loved, and have done my part to keep steadily improving my life and my mindset. If you are devoted to yourself and your life, you will do well and find that the path towards your future will become much clearer as time goes on.

Exercising.

You need to be exercising, bettering your body, and taking the time to nourish yourself and your health. This means eating whole meals and taking the time to cook and prepare them, considering removing heavily processed foods and alcohol from your day-to-day diet, and taking the time to do at home or in gym workouts. I do Move with Nicole videos in the morning, finish up with a quick yoga session, go to the gym in the evenings, and make sure that my body is being fueled by real foods and being properly hydrated throughout the day. You will live in the same body for the rest of your life; you need to make sure that you’re caring for it and nourishing it in ways that will let it support you for the rest of your life. You won’t regret a health journey, and you should actively be on one. 

Socializing.

Isolation will kill you, and if you already have anxiety, it will worsen it. You should be meeting people, getting to know them, leaving your comfort zone, and trying new things. Your late teens and early twenties are all about taking the time to know people, making and losing friends, and figuring out the sorts of people you want to have in your life forever. You have to socialize, go to social events, join clubs and different activities, and get out of the house. I’m a person who believes in spending time around and loving other people, and that has saved my life. If you aren’t sure how to socialize, don’t have friends, or aren’t sure of what you like, now’s the time to learn how. You don’t become good at meeting people in one day; it takes time and failure, but the more you do to leave your comfort zone, the easier it will become as time moves along.

Studying.

I believe that life is meant for learning. It’s important to always be learning, to always be bettering yourself, and to always be keeping your mind busy. While I strongly believe that every woman should have a university education and a degree, I understand that it’s not always feasible. If it’s not possible for you to get a degree, you have to learn a trade, a skill, a language, or find something to occupy your mind so that it’s not idle. It’s important to always be doing something, and it’s important that you’re pursuing a passion; life isn’t much if you’re not passionate about what you’re doing, so you have to find them and do more with them. Education can come from work experience; it can come from pursuing projects, cultivating wisdom, and spending your time nourishing your mind and reading books. Life is a learning experience, and you should be in constant pursuit of educational excellence. 

Seeing More.

Life is about seeing more and seeing things you’ve never experienced. If you’ve always wanted to watch a tennis match, step into the ocean, or see the sights in a new city, now’s the time to start making plans to do those things. We all deserve to see and experience beautiful things, so it’s important that we find the time to do so. If I hadn’t made the time to find beauty in the mundane, I wouldn’t have made it far. You don’t have to spend money pursuing beauty; I find the most beauty I’ve seen in my life is found on short walks and time spent around my city. You should spend your time both looking for beauty and becoming beautiful too.

Doing More.

Doing more is next. I’ve spent my life trying new things, failing, succeeding, having a good time, and learning about what I enjoy. You should be doing more; your twenties are for moving away, visiting new cities, trying new foods, working jobs you hate and finding jobs you love, going to new restaurants and getting into new relationships, and doing more with yourself. All of the greatest women I’ve ever known have told me that they spent next to no time resting in their twenties because they had so much life to live. I’d encourage you to do things without holding yourself back, and if you don’t know what to do with yourself, find things to do. You can't waste your youth being idle; now is the time to get out of your room, see the world and what it has to offer, and do more with yourself and your gifts.

Richarlotte x

[baekhyunsbestie]

── ❝ truth be told ❞ 🐰ྀི ̟!!

⟢ a pediatrician!baekhyun au req'd by this lovely anonie <3 :') ty baby!

sum: you and baekhyun were college sweethearts, bound by shared dreams of a future together. but when he was accepted to a medical residency program across the country, you kept a secret—you're pregnant. fearing that your news would derail his dream of becoming a doctor, you chose to disappear, raising your daughter alone. three years later, in a new city, you bring your little girl in for a routine check-up, only to discover her pediatrician is none other than baekhyun, her father.

જ⁀➴°⋆ content: 18+/MDNI. 24.2k+ words. omg Hahaha 🫣. baekhyun x f!reader. chanyeol x f!reader. baekhyun x f!oc. lovers to strangers to co-parents to lovers again. angst, slow burn, fluffy, then we get reaaaallll smutty ⟡ pet names, praise kink, body worship, unprotected sex, p in v, bulge kink, creampie, slight breeding kink (y'all should know me by now 🤟🏼😣) ⟡ ALSO! i made a playlist for you guys to vibe out to while you read cus i love u <3 :') its linked in the title!!!

you and baekhyun had once been the epitome of college sweethearts—late-night study sessions that bled into spontaneous adventures, laughter, and whispered dreams of a future together. you were inseparable, his drive to become a doctor and your quiet dream of building a life with him making everything feel so perfect. you could picture it all—the home, the life, the love, knowing you’d be together forever.

during those years, you moved in together. things got serious quickly. talks of marriage, kids, and a future you’d both start building when the time was right were always at the forefront. but as much as you both wanted to dive in right away, you both agreed that you’d wait until baekhyun had at least finished his schooling and residency. it made perfect sense—his dream of becoming a doctor came first, and you were happy to support him, knowing you’d have a lifetime to make it all happen.

you’d completed undergrad together, then post-grad, and now, with your master’s behind you, baekhyun was finishing med school and applying to residency programs. everything seemed to be unfolding just as it should.

but life, as it tends to do, shifted unexpectedly.

when baekhyun’s acceptance letter arrived—the one from his dream residency program across the country—your world tilted, skewed into something unrecognizable. this was his number one pick, the culmination of years of sacrifice and determination. you should’ve been ecstatic, screaming with joy for him, for his future. but instead, a foreign weight settled low in your stomach, twisting into something unnameable.  

you’d only just found out, barely two days ago. pregnant. the word clung to you like a vice, heavy and suffocating. you hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t even considered it a possibility. and yet, here it was—undeniable. that stupid test, its second line blaring back at you like a neon sign, mocking the life you thought you had under control.  

you stared at it, willing the line to fade, to disappear, to become a cruel trick of your imagination. but it didn’t. and the next test didn’t either. nor the one after. five little sticks, five blaring truths. undeniable. inescapable.

you didn’t want to hold him back. not when his dreams were so close. not when the future he had worked so hard for was finally within his grasp.

so you made a decision. you couldn’t tell him. you couldn’t bear to see the guilt and the pain in his eyes as he would undoubtedly sacrifice his dreams for you and the baby. you thought it was the right thing to do, that you were doing him a favor by disappearing, by cutting off all contact. 

you had moved to a new city—far from the places where memories of baekhyun lingered, far from the shadow of the life you’d carefully unraveled. it wasn’t easy; untangling yourself from him had felt like pulling threads from a tapestry until it barely resembled what it once was. but over time, you found a rhythm. a life where thoughts of him became a quiet hum rather than a deafening roar, where the love that had once consumed you slipped quietly into the recesses of your heart.  

and now, three years later, you stand here as someone completely transformed: a mother.  

raising your daughter alone had its challenges, sure, but you couldn’t deny the sense of purpose it gave you. you were made for this. or maybe it was her—the tiny miracle who had made it all feel so natural. from the moment she came into the world, she was an angel, a light so radiant it softened even the hardest days.  

sure, she had her moments. she was a toddler, after all, still learning how to navigate big feelings in a little body. but her resilience—the way she could fall apart one minute and bounce back the next—made everything easier. she was your shadow, your little mimic, always wanting to copy everything you did.  

the love she gave you was pure and boundless, something you hadn’t realized could exist until she was in your arms. it was a love that filled the spaces in you that you didn’t even know were empty, a love that made the sacrifices and sleepless nights worth it.  

you often found yourself wondering if she was a gift straight from the universe, a little piece of heaven sent just for you. every smile she gave, every tight hug, every soft ‘i love you, mommy’ felt like proof that you were the luckiest soul alive.

and as you watched her now, her tiny fingers curled around her favorite stuffed bunny, a swell of overwhelming gratitude washed over you. life had twisted and turned in ways you never could’ve anticipated, but somehow, in her, it had gifted you everything you’d ever need.

maybe it was the depth of love she gave, the way she radiated warmth and light, that made the thought of telling baekhyun even more terrifying. she was everything—the way her laughter could turn any bad day around, the way her eyes sparkled with innocence and curiosity. a fragile little soul, so beautiful it almost hurt. and you knew, deep down, that baekhyun would’ve adored her. loved her more than words could describe.

the thought of it—of him finding out, of him knowing you’d kept her from him, hidden this piece of him, this precious life from him—it twisted something deep inside you. it made your chest tighten, your thoughts spiral. the guilt, the shame—it felt like a constant ache, one that only grew the more you thought about it.

you and baekhyun talked about it, after all—the future you both dreamed of. lazy nights tangled together under blankets, whispering about what life would look like years down the road. marriage, a house filled with warmth and laughter, children.  

he wanted a family with you. he was so sure of it, so sure of you. he used to say that he couldn’t imagine anyone else being the mother of his kids. the way he looked at you when he said it—it was as if his soul had reached out, seen yours, and said, there she is, the one we’ve been waiting for.

he was a dreamer. he’d mapped it all out in his head—two girls, two boys. his perfect little quartet. the oldest, a girl, to set the tone, to be the leader of the pack. then a boy to balance things out, another boy to roughhouse and make the middle feel less lonely, and finally, the baby of the family, a girl to soften the edges of the chaos. he laughed at the improbability of it all, at how life doesn’t work like that, but he loved dreaming about it anyway.  

you still remembered the way his face lit up when you’d asked him, teasing, what he’d name his first daughter.  

he didn’t even hesitate. he looked up at you, that smile you used to know better than your own, and said, minji.  

your little girl, minji, was the brightest star in your universe, her laughter a melody that softened every hard edge of your world. her smile—warm and golden—was like sunlight spilling into the corners of your heart, chasing away the shadows that lingered from the life you left behind. she was growing so fast, each day a reminder of how fleeting these moments were, and how much you wanted to hold onto them.  

sometimes, though, when the house was quiet and the weight of the past crept in, you allowed yourself to think about baekhyun. it was never for long—just a passing thought, a wondering what if. you didn’t dare to linger, didn’t dare to stir up the bittersweet ache of old feelings and lingering regrets. he had his life now, and you had yours.  

but still, he had been the love of your life, and that kind of love doesn’t just disappear. curiosity tugged at you from time to time. late at night, when minji was fast asleep, you’d catch yourself wondering what he was doing, where he was, if he ever thought about you, too.  

yet no matter how strong the urge, you never gave in. you wouldn’t let yourself open his socials, wouldn’t let yourself peer into the window of the life he was living without you. it wasn’t that you didn’t want to know—it was that you couldn’t. because knowing might hurt more than not knowing, and the delicate balance you’d created would come crashing down.

you hadn’t blocked him, not on anything. instead, you deleted every account, wiped your digital footprint clean, and changed your number. you made sure there was no way for him to reach you, no thread he could pull to unravel the wall you’d built between you.  

you never allowed yourself to dwell on how hurt he might have been—how confused he must’ve felt, waiting for a call or a text that never came. the promises you’d made to him echoed in your mind, haunting you. i’ll tell him when the time is right. but the right time never came.  

and then she was born. tiny fingers curling around yours, eyes so full of life. she reached milestones—her first smile, her first steps, her first word—and with each one, the weight of telling him grew heavier. how could you? how could you drop this truth on him after he’d already missed so much?  

you imagined his reaction: the sharp edge of his disappointment, the rawness of his hurt, the anger that would burn in his chest. he’d ask you why—why did you wait? why did you let so much time pass? and you’d have no answer, nothing that could make it right.  

as the years went by, the truth turned into a mountain too steep to climb. every day that passed felt like another brick in the wall separating you. every moment you stayed silent made it harder to imagine breaking that silence.  

you told yourself it was for the best. you told yourself he deserved better than someone who had made this choice, this mess.  

because deep down, you believed it: you didn’t deserve him. not anymore. not after this

the sound of tiny sneakers squeaking against the linoleum floor filled the pediatrician’s office as you followed your daughter toward the nurse’s station. she clutched her favorite stuffed animal tightly in one hand while the other reached back for yours, her eyes wide with curiosity as she took in the colorful murals on the walls.  

it was a routine check-up for minji, nothing out of the ordinary. she had been a healthy, happy child since birth, and today was just another appointment to ensure that everything was progressing as it should.

you had scheduled the appointment weeks ago, not knowing who the pediatrician was going to be. when you walked into the small, sunlit office, minji tugged excitedly on your sleeve, her eyes wide with curiosity at the brightly colored walls and the small toys scattered around the waiting room.

“mommy, look!” she gasped, pointing to a painted giraffe. her excitement momentarily eased the nervous flutter in your stomach. “a giraffe!”

“yes, it is, bun! good job!” you smile down at the little girl, holding your hand tightly.

it had been over three years. three years since you’d left your old life—and him—behind. baekhyun was supposed to be a part of your daughter’s story, but you made the impossible choice of keeping him out of it. his dreams had always been so big, and you didn’t want to weigh them down with your own.  

a medical assistant called your name, her warm, practiced smile cutting through the haze of your thoughts.  

you scooped your daughter into your arms, her tiny hands clutching her stuffed bunny, and followed the nurse into the examination room. she wriggled slightly but settled on your lap, the bunny tucked snugly under her chin as she began the usual routine.  

height. weight. temperature. the nurse kept up a cheerful, steady rhythm of chatter, her voice a soft hum in the background as your daughter giggled at the stickers offered to her.  

“dr. byun will be in shortly,” the medical assistant said with a final smile before leaving the room.  

your heart stopped.  

'dr. byun'?

no. it couldn’t be him. it had to be a coincidence. it was a common enough name, wasn’t it? but the sound of it crashed into you, unraveling the calm façade you’d so carefully built.  

you told yourself you were being ridiculous. you told yourself to breathe. but the name echoed in your head, louder with every passing second, until you could barely hear your own thoughts over the roar of panic rising in your chest.  

then came the knock.  

soft. polite.  

the door creaked open, and time seemed to slow to an agonizing crawl as he stepped inside.  

your breath caught in your throat.  

it was him.  

fuck.  

no.  

this wasn’t supposed to happen. not like this. this wasn’t how he was supposed to find out. there were plans you never made, conversations you never had.  

this was a complete and utter nightmare. and there was no waking up from it.  

“hi, i’m dr. byun—” his voice wavered, the words barely leaving his lips before they caught in his throat. his eyes found yours, wide with recognition, a spark of disbelief flashing like lightning in a storm.  

his gaze drifted downward, landing on the little girl perched on your lap. her tiny hands clutched your sweater, her curious eyes meeting his with unfiltered wonder.  

for a moment, the world seemed to stop turning.  

his lips parted, and your name slipped out, soft and breathless, as if saying it might make the moment vanish. “it’s you,” he murmured, a mixture of shock and something deeper lacing his tone.  

you couldn’t find your voice, couldn’t push past the lump forming in your throat. it was as though every nerve in your body had frozen, locked under the weight of his stare.  

your daughter, oblivious to the tension coiling around you, tilted her head with a sunny smile. her voice rang out, bright and pure, shattering the silence like glass.  

“hi, dr. byun!” she chirped, her words sweet and unassuming, a small anchor of innocence in the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to pull you under.

baekhyun’s eyes widened instantly, flickering between you and her. you could see the cogs in his mind turning, the pieces falling into place far quicker than you were ready for.  

his gaze lingered on her—studying, comparing. the resemblance was impossible to ignore. the same dark, expressive eyes that had once melted your heart, the same warm, radiant smile that mirrored his own.  

“is…is she?” his voice was barely above a whisper, as though he wasn’t asking you but trying to make sense of the impossible himself. his eyes never left her, as if every second he stared brought him closer to the undeniable truth.  

her delicate features were a perfect blend of you both, like a portrait painted with pieces of your souls. the curve of his nose graced her face, paired with the flush of your rosy cheeks. his silky black hair framed her tiny head, while your lips formed the gentle pout she wore even in sleep. your eyes shone through hers, but her ears—those were unmistakably his. she was everything you were, everything he was—woven together into this perfect, fragile little person, carrying pieces of a love that felt both timeless and out of reach. and now, looking at her, there was no denying it.

your mouth opened, but the words didn’t come. you tried to speak, to explain, to say something—anything—but all that escaped was a breath, shallow and lost in the silence that filled the space between you. the truth hung there, thick and fragile, like a thread that could snap at any moment, leaving you exposed.  

you could only nod, slow and uncertain, as the weight of everything pressed down on you. the guilt was suffocating, heavy like a stone lodged in your chest, threatening to spill out in the form of tears you couldn’t afford to shed. but there was no escaping it anymore.  

she was his.  

baekhyun sank to his knees in front of her, his movements tentative, as if afraid that any sudden motion might make her disappear. he leaned in, eyes soft with a mixture of awe and something deeper, something unspoken.  

“so, tell me. what’s your name, sweetheart?” his voice was gentle, tender, the words falling from his lips like a promise he wasn’t quite ready to make.  

“minji,” she said proudly, her tiny hands holding up her stuffed bunny, as though it were the most important thing in the world. “this is sonny. she’s a bunny.”  

the moment her name reached his ears, something shifted in baekhyun’s chest. his heart skipped, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, soft and amazed. for a brief second, he was lost in the memory of a quiet conversation—the one where you’d asked him what he would want to name your daughter, and how that moment, so simple, had felt like a lifetime ago.

“hi, minji,” he said softly, his voice trembling as his eyes locked onto her small, curious face. he crouched slightly, lowering himself to her level, and the words caught in his throat. “i’m…” his gaze flickered upward to yours, and in that brief second, the weight of it all was laid bare. his expression faltered, his eyes glossing with unshed tears, carrying the unspoken words and unresolved emotions that hung heavy between you.  

you saw it then—the man he was before, the one you fell for, unchanged and yet altered by time and pain.  

“…a good friend of your mommy’s,” he finally managed, the words shaky but kind.  

minji giggled, her laughter light and carefree, like a burst of sunshine breaking through a storm. “mommy has lots of friends!” she chirped, her innocence unknowingly twisting the knife in baekhyun’s chest.  

he nodded with a soft smile, his lips barely curving, as if the weight of her words was too much to bear. “she does, doesn’t she?” he murmured. his hands moved carefully as he began preparing for her exam, every motion deliberate, like he was trying to steady himself through the task.  

but his eyes… his eyes stayed rooted to the ground, skirting around yours as if meeting your gaze would undo him entirely. and as you stood there, watching him avoid you, something inside you cracked. you knew why. you knew he wasn’t ready yet—not to face you, not to confront the flood of everything that had been left unsaid.  

as baekhyun began the check-up, it was as if the floodgates of your heart had been ripped open. memories surged in, overwhelming you like a tidal wave—those plans you had once woven together, the future you had dreamed of, the life you thought you’d build before everything crumbled. nearly four years had passed since you disappeared without a trace, but those dreams now felt like fragile, delicate threads, tangled in the web of secrets you’d spun to protect him. 

baekhyun moved with the same calm professionalism that you remembered—his hands steady and sure as he worked. but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from him, from the way he interacted with minji—his touch soft and deliberate, his voice lilting with that same soothing cadence. it was a tenderness that sliced through you, sharp and immediate, a reminder of everything you’d lost. how could you have let him slip away? how could you have convinced yourself that walking away was the right choice?

watching him, gently checking minji’s ears, his voice quieting her in the way he once did for you, something inside you twisted painfully. you couldn’t run from him anymore. not now. not ever again.

the exam ended far too quickly. minji bounced off the examination table, her bunny clutched in her small arms, and baekhyun handed you a stack of papers—educational handouts, visit summaries, the usual paperwork from a child’s wellness check. his fingers brushed yours as he passed them to you, and the brief touch left a burning trail that lingered long after.  

minji’s small hand tugged at your sleeve, warm and insistent, her voice a soft melody that cut through the heavy air. “mommy, mommy! can we go play now?”

you forced a smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. the weight of the moment pressed on your chest, and you fought to keep the tears from falling. “sure, bun. we’ll go in just a minute.”

the word bun hung in the air between you, and baekhyun flinched. his eyes flickered with something raw, a mix of pain and recognition. that name. it was something he used to call you— a relic of a past that felt both distant and achingly close.

his gaze didn’t leave you, like he was trying to unravel the walls you’d so carefully built around yourself. there was a quiet intensity in his eyes, as if he was searching for something buried deep within you. the space between you both thickened, heavy with unspoken words. it felt suffocating, like the air was being stolen from your lungs. this was it. the moment that would change everything.

after what felt like an eternity, baekhyun cleared his throat, his voice thick with restraint. “we need to talk,” he said, the words heavy and laced with something you couldn’t quite name. “please… i just… i have so many questions.”

you nodded quickly, the anxiety twisting your insides into knots. “um, sure… i can meet you after i drop her off at daycare?” your words rushed out, frantic, as your brow furrowed in uncertainty.

"there’s a coffee shop nearby," he murmured, his voice soft yet steady, the words deliberate. his hand moved to pull out a notepad, pen poised above the paper. with a few swift strokes, he jotted down the name of the place before folding the paper and handing it to you. "i have a couple more patients to see this morning. do you think you can meet me there in an hour?"

his voice was calm, but his eyes—those eyes—told a different story. they flickered with something raw, something desperate, like a storm fighting its way to the surface.

you took the slip of paper, your fingers brushing his, a small shock of warmth shooting through you at the touch. you glanced down at the paper, his handwriting still familiar, though now slightly uneven, as if his nerves had bled into the ink. beneath the coffee shop's name, his number was written—neat but hurried, a subtle tremor in the lines.

you looked back up, and his gaze met yours—quiet, intense, full of unspoken things. without a word, he nodded toward the paper, his voice steady but laced with something fragile, something that didn’t quite fit with the man you knew. "that's my number, bun. just in case you're running late or something."

you nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, but it felt tight, strained. his nickname for you—a small, tender thing—lingered in the air like a spark. you felt it in your chest, but the words caught in your throat. too much. too many emotions swirling. your hands moved on instinct, gathering minji’s things, offering him a tight, polite smile before ushering your daughter out of the room.

but just as you turned to leave, you swore you heard him whisper—barely audible, a plea caught between his teeth, "please, don't leave me hanging this time."

it hit you like a blow to the gut, leaving you breathless. the weight of it pressed down on you, suffocating. 

and in that moment, you knew with brutal clarity—you deserved that.

you sat there, the weight of your nerves pressing down on you, each breath feeling too loud in the quiet of the café. baekhyun chatted casually with the barista, ordering drinks like it was any other day, like nothing had changed between you two. his voice was light, unbothered, but it only made the tension in your chest heavier. you gripped the strap of your bag so tightly your fingers ached, heart pounding in your ears, drowning out the soft hum of conversation around you. your mind raced in circles, desperately searching for the right words—something to apologize for the years you took from him, for keeping his daughter from him, for all the lies. but no matter how hard you tried to form the apology, the truth hovered over you: what you did was unforgivable.

when baekhyun finally returned, he slid your drink in front of you, his movements slower than usual, almost tentative. you brought the cup to your lips, the warmth of it familiar, the taste exactly as you remembered—comforting, like a quiet reminder of everything you'd tried to bury. 

"i remembered how you liked your coffee," baekhyun murmured, his voice softer than before, tinged with uncertainty. "i hope it's still the same." 

you met his gaze, your throat tight as you forced a small smile. "it is. thank you."

baekhyun exhaled a heavy breath, running a hand through his hair, his fingers snagging in the tousled strands. his eyes drifted away from yours, unable to meet your gaze, as if the weight of this moment was pressing down on him just as much as it was on you.  

"so..." you began, your voice hesitant, but before you could find the right words, he interrupted.  

“i’m engaged,” he blurted, the words sharp and sudden, like a slap to the face.  

it hit you in the chest, the shock stealing the air from your lungs. the room seemed to tilt, the ground beneath you crumbling, and you couldn’t find your footing. as if this day wasn’t heavy enough, this new weight crushed you under its force.  

"oh," you whispered, the word tasting hollow, barely escaping as your heart constricted. "congratulations. i'm sure she's... amazing."  

"mhm," he hummed softly, a brief flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before it faded. his eyes dropped to his coffee cup, watching the steam rise like he was searching for something in the shifting mist, anything to avoid the tension between you.  

you couldn’t find the strength to say more. words seemed pointless now. instead, you sat there, biting your lip, your gaze fixed on the table as jealousy and heartbreak clawed at you from the inside. you knew you had no right to feel this way, no right to be hurt after everything that had happened. but still, the ache lingered, a quiet, relentless sting.

his fingers raked through his hair again, the tension in his jaw unmistakable as he exhaled sharply, frustration thick in the air. when he finally met your gaze, his eyes were raw with hurt, every unspoken word between you now painfully exposed. "so why didn't you tell me? about minji?"

you'd rehearsed this moment a thousand times in your mind, each word crafted carefully, but now, sitting across from him, it all felt empty, hollow. "you had just gotten into your residency program," you said softly, voice shaky. "it was your dream. i…i didn’t want to hold you back."

his eyes darkened, the hurt twisting into something sharper. "so what? you thought you could decide for me? you think i wouldn't have wanted to be there?" his voice cracked with emotion, rising. "do you have any idea how much i waited for you? how many nights i sat by the phone, praying you'd call?"

the weight of it hit you, hard. you'd known, of course—he'd been dropped from the program. he'd fought tooth and nail to get into a second-choice school, one that brought him here, to this city. and now, here he was, sitting across from you, the remnants of his sacrifice hanging in the silence between you.

his gaze faltered, dropping to the steaming cup in front of him. he stared at the swirling mist as if it held the answers, as if the rising steam could ease the hurt, the questions, the ache that had settled between you.

you didn’t know what to say anymore. words felt pointless, insignificant in the face of everything that had unfolded. instead, you sat there, biting your lip, unable to meet his eyes, while jealousy and regret clawed at your chest. it wasn’t your place to feel this way—not after everything you had done. but the sting of it, sharp and biting, wouldn’t fade.

the tears you had spent so long holding back finally began to break free, each drop feeling like it had been waiting a lifetime to fall. you didn’t want to keep apologizing, but the words slipped out, hollow and fragile. "it wasn’t an easy choice, baekhyun. i thought i was doing the right thing." 

“‘the right thing’?” his voice softened, but the hurt in his words still rang out like a chord being pulled too tight. "you didn’t even give me a chance. i missed everything—her first steps, her first words. you took all of that from me." 

your throat tightened, each breath harder to catch. you swallowed, and your voice cracked under the weight of the truth. “i know,” you whispered, the regret clawing at you. “i regret it every day.” 

baekhyun’s hands were curled into fists, white knuckles pressing into the table like they could anchor him in place. he didn’t look at you—his gaze was lost in his coffee, the silence hanging heavily between you both. and then, after what felt like an eternity of stillness, he spoke again, his voice quieter, as if the question had burned him from the inside. “does she know?” 

you shook your head slowly, feeling your chest tighten. “i haven’t told her. i didn’t know how... but she’s been asking. she sees the other kids with their dads and wonders why she doesn’t have one.” 

baekhyun covered his face with his hands, rubbing his eyes as if trying to erase the raw pain. "i can't believe this. i can't believe you." 

"i know, baekhyun," you whispered, tears spilling down your face without control now. "you have every right to hate me... and if you want, you don’t have to see either one of us again—" 

his voice sliced through your words, thick with disbelief, tremoring as if he couldn’t comprehend what you were saying. "are you... are you serious right now? you’d leave? again? how is that supposed to fix anything? did you not think i wanted her? wanted you? we’ve talked about this, bun... you knew what it meant for me to be a dad."

the sobs broke free from you then, impossible to hold back, your chest aching with each desperate breath. you wiped at your face, but your hands trembled too violently, the tears just wouldn’t stop. all you could choke out were broken apologies, fragments of regret slipping between your breaths. "i knew you’d drop everything for her. for us. but... you becoming a doctor, that was your dream... and i was just so scared."

he leaned forward, his expression softening, but there was still a fire in his eyes. “i want to be in her life,” he said, his voice firm, steady, eyes red from the silent tears streaming down his face. “she’s my daughter. and i want to know her. i want her to know me. her father.”  

you looked at him, your heart heavy with guilt. “i wasn’t planning to keep you away,” you said, your voice cracking. “i just... i didn’t know how to tell you after all this time.”  

baekhyun’s gaze softened, his voice quieter but resolute. “we’ll figure it out. but i’m not letting you push me away again.”  

you paused, biting your lip, anxiety clawing at your chest. “but what about your fiancée? you already had a life of your own before today…i can’t help but feel like i’ve fucked everything up for you, baekhyun.”  

he shook his head, a soft, bitter laugh escaping him before he quickly suppressed it. his voice faltered, the nickname slipping out before he even realized it. “don’t worry about that, bun—” he stopped mid-sentence, the word tasting strange and wrong on his tongue after your mention of his fiancée. it was as if, in that moment, he’d completely forgotten about her. he cleared his throat, trying to steady himself. “i mean… just let me handle that. but for now... please, promise me you won’t disappear again. promise me you won’t take her away from me. i’m begging you... let me in. i feel like you owe me that much.”

you nodded, the promise catching in your throat. “i promise.”

you scrolled slowly through your camera roll, fingers grazing over the images of your daughter, sharing them with baekhyun—each one, a snapshot of her life, a memory you’d held in secret for so long. each photo was like a tender piece of your soul, each moment a quiet confession of everything that had unfolded without him. there was a rawness in it, a vulnerability that felt like you were unwrapping your heart for him, and it was overwhelming. for both of you.

he sat there, eyes scanning the photos, and a storm of emotions swirled within him. there was anger, sharp and bitter, that you’d kept minji hidden from him. all those years, a secret that was both yours and hers to carry. betrayal lingered in his chest, not from you, but from the truth that he hadn’t been there, that he’d missed out on so much. and yet, despite it not being his fault, guilt settled heavy in his heart—guilt that you had to raise her alone. guilt for every moment you’d carried the weight of motherhood without him by your side.

but baekhyun, the man who had always been able to push past the shadows of the past, found something in the photos—something bright, something he could hold onto. minji’s smile, sweet and dimpled, was a beacon of hope. it was everything he needed to see, to ignite a fire within him. it wasn’t just a reminder of what was lost—it was the fuel that would drive him to make up for every single moment he’d missed.

the weight of the conversation shifted slowly, and before you even realized it, the words spilled out. you couldn’t stop yourself—you had to ask about her. his fiancée.

he told you her name was soo. they met during his residency, he said, when she helped pull him from the darkest corner of his life—the place where your absence had left him, broken and barely breathing. she was the one who stitched him back together, the one who healed the wound you’d left, a wound that, it seemed, only she could mend.

and yet, even as he spoke, despite the rawness of his confession, he wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty. he didn’t want to hurt you. but the words hung there, thick with unspoken emotions.

then, he showed you the photos. of her. oh god, she was beautiful. radiant, in a way that seemed to glow from within. they looked like they were made for each other, perfectly matched, intertwined in a way you could never hope to be. he spoke of her with awe—how brilliant and kind she was.

and as he spoke, something tugged at the edges of your thoughts. his eyes, usually so bright and full of warmth when he spoke of someone he loved, were different now. softer, distant. the sparkle that once lived there had dimmed, as if the affection he had for her wasn’t as alive as it once had been. you told yourself not to read too much into it, to not dwell on the subtle shift. it had been years. people changed, didn’t they? he wasn’t the same baekhyun you remembered. especially not after everything you had put him through.

it stirred a jealousy in you, sharp and bitter, but deeper than that, it left a dull ache settling in your chest. you longed to be the one he spoke of with such adoration, the one he admired in every way. you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering if he ever spoke about you like that—if he ever felt for you the way he now seemed to feel for her. it burned like poison in your veins, a vile and familiar ache that made you sick to your stomach. you hated it. hated how it made you feel so small, so unimportant. the weight of it made you want to vanish, to slip out of your own skin, anything to escape the suffocating reality of it all. you should be happy for him. happy that he had found someone who could make him feel whole again. but all you could feel was the hollow ache of your own failure to ever be enough.

you tried to smile, tried to hold yourself together, but each compliment, each story, each glowing word about her, hit you like a dagger to the chest. you couldn’t listen anymore. you didn’t want to.

it was too much. before you even realized it, you were standing, your throat tight as you forced the words out. “i... i need to go. um, i have to make dinner…and pick up minji from daycare. i’ll text you. we can figure out a time for you both to meet properly.”

before he could respond, you were out the door, the bells above the café door jingling as you fled. 

but you didn’t make it far. a few seconds later, you heard the hurried footsteps behind you, his voice calling out. “bun—fuck, wait! slow down!”

you could feel the tears streaming down your face again, hot and uncontrollable. you wiped them hastily, hoping he didn’t see. but of course, he did. he always did. 

“look,” baekhyun began, his voice softer now, tinged with something you couldn’t place. “i never thought i’d hear from you again. and now you just—pop back into my life, on a random friday, with a daughter i had no idea about. i’m sorry if you’re upset that there’s someone else in my life. but please... don’t punish me for finding myself again after you completely destroyed me.”

his words hit harder than anything you could’ve prepared for. your knees felt weak, your heart shattering with every syllable. because it was true. every part of it. you had done this. you’d pushed him away, and now you had no right to feel this way, no right to demand anything.

"baek," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, trembling under the weight of everything you couldn’t say. "you’re right. i don’t have the right to feel this way. i just... when i saw you again, it was like everything came crashing back. all those old feelings—things i thought i’d buried—flooded back in an instant. but i swear, i won’t keep minji from you. i won’t. and... i’m honestly so glad you’ve found happiness. and soo—she... she seems amazing. i can see why you’re with her. and... i’m genuinely looking forward to co-parenting with you both. really."

you swallowed hard, the words like sandpaper against your throat. the lie at the end tasted bitter, clinging to the back of your tongue, but you forced them out anyway. you needed him to believe it. needed him to let you go so you could retreat to the quiet of your own space, where you could curl up and weep in the solitude of your own shame.

his expression softened, though there was something unreadable in his eyes. “hmm…okay.” he reached into his pocket, pulling out your phone. “you left this on the table. and, uh… you promise you’ll stay in contact?”

you nodded quickly, unlocking your phone and typing your name into the message. “you have mine now, too.”

a small relief flashed in his eyes when he saw your name on the screen. he nodded, his voice steady. “thank you. let me know when you’re both ready. we’ll make this work.”

you nodded, your throat tight as you wiped away the last of the tears. you offered him a half-smile, barely managing to hold it together, before turning away. your feet felt heavy as you walked to your car, the silence between you louder than anything.

when you finally arrived home, everything came crashing down at once, a tidal wave that hit you full-force. the weight of everything you’d been holding inside pressed into your chest, suffocating, like your lungs had forgotten how to breathe. you collapsed, body trembling, as sobs wrenched their way through you—soft, guttural cries that seemed to echo in the emptiness of your apartment. tears streamed down your face, thick and relentless, each one heavier than the last, as if they were washing away more than just your sorrow. how had you managed to mess everything up this badly?

the feeling of being lost in your own failure was dizzying, a dark spiral that threatened to swallow you whole.

chanyeol, your next-door neighbor, was more than just a friendly face. he was a single parent too, his daughter nari being the same age as minji. from the moment you’d moved in, the girls had been inseparable—like they were two halves of the same whole, constantly together, sharing everything from toys to whispered secrets. and over time, you and chanyeol had become something more than neighbors. you were lifelines to one another, navigating the chaos of single parenthood side by side. daycare pickups, late-night texts for advice, emergency contact calls—they were moments that built trust, moments that held you both up when the world felt too heavy.

but then there were the other moments. the ones that neither of you had planned, yet they happened all the same.

on nights when the girls had sleepovers, tucked under either your roof or his, the house would fall into an eerie stillness, a quiet so profound it felt almost alien. no toys scattered across the floor, no giggles or whispers. just an empty house, and the faint hum of the world outside. in those moments, the bottle of wine always made its way to the table—deep crimson liquid swirling in your glass, catching the soft light in a way that felt too intimate, too inviting. the scent of it lingered in the air, rich and heady, like a secret waiting to be shared. one glass became two, then three, until the words flowed freely, unguarded.

laughter bubbled between you both, light and carefree, mingling with the quiet sounds of the night. and somewhere, in the subtle space between casual conversation and shared history, something shifted—unspoken, but impossible to ignore. it wasn’t deliberate, not in the beginning, but it was undeniable. a quiet tension hung between you both, the kind that hummed just below the surface, like a chord waiting to be struck.

in the warm, dim light, the lines between friendship and something more began to blur. his lips brushed yours—not quite a kiss, but not exactly innocent either. the taste of wine lingered on his mouth, mingling with something darker, something deeper, something unspoken. your hands—almost of their own accord—found their way to each other, fingers tracing the outline of familiar paths, not quite daring to go any further. the touch was careful, deliberate, like a dance on the edge of something you both knew was dangerous, but too tempting to resist.

each kiss lingered just long enough to leave you wanting more, but never deepened enough to cross the line you both feared. the weight of unspoken rules hung between you, pulling back every time either of you tried to cross the line. clothes were the only barrier between you, a fragile wall that you both clung to, even as the urge to tear it down grew stronger.

but even in the silence, the weight of your unresolved feelings for baekhyun settled heavily in the room, a ghost that neither of you could escape. and chanyeol—he carried his own baggage. the loss of his wife, a wound that had never fully healed, leaving him to raise nari on his own, balancing grief and fatherhood in a way that only he understood. he wasn’t looking for more. not from you. not yet.

the timing was all wrong, the space between you wasn’t yours to claim. but in those rare moments, it felt as if maybe, just maybe, it could have been.

it was never spoken aloud, but you both knew the truth. chanyeol knew you still loved baekhyun, and that truth hung between you like a quiet weight. neither of you disturbed it. the unspoken agreement between you was that your daughters came first, no matter what. whatever might have blossomed between you, if it ever did, had to come naturally, unburdened by guilt or pretense.

but in those moments, when the air between you grew thick with something more, a quiet voice inside you would pull you back. it reminded you of the messy knots still holding your heart in place, the wounds that hadn’t yet healed. you couldn’t move forward—not yet. not while your heart was still tangled with baekhyun.

chanyeol, always the gentleman, never pushed. he was patient, always aware of your needs, always respectful of the boundaries you set. when you needed to talk, he listened; when you needed space, he gave it. but in the quiet of his own heart, he couldn’t help but feel more for you than he allowed himself to admit. how could he not? you were beautiful, strong, and a devoted mother. you embraced nari as your own, and in doing so, you made his heart ache in ways he couldn’t express. even knowing your heart was still tethered to someone else, he couldn’t stop himself from wishing—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, one day you’d find your way to him.

he carried that silent ache with the kind of grace only he could muster, never letting it slip, even as it quietly wore at him, just a little more each day.

so when you texted him—asking if he could pick up minji, keeping the explanation vague, not wanting him to worry—he was there. barely ten minutes later, a soft knock at your door echoed through the silence.

when you opened it, his wide eyes met the mess that was you—mascara streaks trailing down your cheeks, a crumpled tissue clenched in your trembling hand. you tried to muster a smile, but it felt paper-thin, your voice weak and brittle. “yeolie? what’s up?” 

the words barely left your lips before he froze in place, his expression shifting from confusion to alarm. “a-are you okay? what’s going on? did someone—did something happen? is minji okay? are you sick? do you need me to take you to the hospital?” his voice cracked, the flood of questions spilling out in rapid succession, his panic tangible.

you stepped aside, pulling the door open wider, silently inviting him in. he didn’t hesitate, stepping through, his gaze glued to yours like he was searching for answers in your tear-stained face.

he trailed behind you to the couch, his presence steady and grounding as you collapsed onto the cushions, tears streaming freely. through shaky breaths, you unraveled the tangled mess of your day—the awkward reunion, the jumbled emotions, the weight of everything that seemed to be crumbling all at once. you didn’t dare admit the jealousy clawing at your chest, the hollow ache that filled you when baekhyun spoke about his fiancée with such love. that part you kept tucked away, too raw, too humiliating to expose.

chanyeol sat beside you, his towering frame a comforting shadow as he listened. really listened. his hand moved in soothing circles along your back, a silent reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

your words poured out, no longer confined to just the events of the day but expanding into everything—the years that had passed, the guilt that had burrowed deep and refused to let go. every regret, every misstep, every weight you’d carried alone spilled out in a torrent of tears and confessions. and chanyeol just sat there, unwavering, holding space for you in the way only a true friend could.

“hey,” he began, his voice soft yet steady, as if anchoring you in the storm of your own thoughts. that signature dimpled smile appeared, warm and reassuring, carrying a kindness that made your chest tighten. “no one’s perfect,” he said, his gaze locking with yours, as though he could see the weight of your regret. “it’s okay to have moments you wish you could take back. you don’t need to have it all figured out right now—just take it one step at a time, yeah? what matters is where you go from here, and i know you’ll choose the right path.” 

his hand brushed against yours, grounding you further. “no matter what, nari and i will always be here. for you and minji. you’re not in this alone.”

you swallowed hard, his words cutting through the mess of emotions tangled in your chest. the sincerity in his voice, the unwavering warmth in his eyes—it was almost too much. you nodded slowly, blinking back the tears threatening to spill. 

“thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but you knew he heard it. “i don’t even know if i deserve this kind of support... but it means everything. truly.”  

your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your sleeve, the weight of his reassurance settling over you like a safety net. the corner of your lips lifted into the faintest smile, a flicker of gratitude breaking through your doubt. “and…thank you, yeollie. for always being here for us.” 

he pulled you into a hug, the kind only chanyeol could give—one that made you feel like you were wrapped in the coziest, softest blanket on the coldest day. his size alone made it impossible not to feel safe, like he could shield you from the entire world.  

"stay put," he murmured, his voice low and soothing against your hair. "i’ll go pick up the girls. how about we pick up a pizza on the way home? maybe a bottle of wine to go with it?"  

you couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up, the weight on your chest lifting just enough to let it out. "yeah... i’d like that. thanks, yeol."  

he grinned as he stood, his steps sure and familiar as he moved to the fridge. the sound of the door opening and bottles clinking against each other filled the room. when he returned, he handed you one of the water bottles, twisting the cap off for you with ease.  

"drink up," he said, flicking a finger gently under your chin to tilt your head up, a playful glint in his eyes. "don’t need you passing out on me from dehydration."  

his teasing tone, coupled with the affection in his gesture, made your heart feel a little lighter. you took the bottle from him, your fingers brushing his briefly, and for the first time all day, you felt a spark of comfort.

later that night, minji lay tucked beneath her soft quilt, her favorite bunny held close to her chest. the warm glow of the nightlight painted her face in soft hues, the shadows dancing gently across her room like a lullaby. you leaned over her small form, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "i love you," you whispered, your voice a soothing murmur. "sleep tight, bun."

as your hand hovered over the light switch, her voice stopped you in your tracks, delicate yet filled with curiosity. "hey, mommy," she called, her tone innocent and thoughtful. "why does that doctor from earlier call you that, too?"

the question struck a chord deep within you, freezing you for a moment as your heart stumbled over itself. turning back toward her, you forced a smile, smoothing the sudden tension coiling in your chest. walking slowly to her bedside, you perched at the edge, meeting her wide, trusting eyes. "well," you started softly, your voice steady despite the fluttering unease within. "like dr. byun said, he's a really good friend of mine. that’s where i got your nickname, too."

her face lit up, her small smile so pure it made your heart ache. she nodded slowly, processing your words in that way only children can, her gaze thoughtful yet brimming with trust. "he was nice," she said, her tone sweet and certain. "i really liked him."

"yeah?" you asked, crouching down so your eyes were level with hers, the warmth of her sincerity wrapping around you like a blanket. her simple joy tugged at something tender within you. "would you like to see him again?"

her smile widened, blooming like the sun breaking through clouds. excitement sparkled in her eyes, her whole face lighting up in a way that mirrored her love for ice cream on hot afternoons. she nodded vigorously, her enthusiasm bubbling over. 

"uh-huh!" she chirped, her joy infectious, spreading a flicker of warmth through your own heart.

you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound soft and full of love. "okay, bunny," you said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, your voice tender. "sleep tight, 'kay?" you pressed another soft kiss to her forehead, lingering for a moment, before turning off the light. the door clicked shut softly behind you.

standing in the hallway, your back against the cool wall, you let out a long, shaky breath, the weight of the day settling heavily in your chest. the silence was broken by a ping from your phone, pulling you out of your thoughts. you stared at the screen, the light illuminating your face as a new message appeared.

baekhyun:

thank you for today. let’s talk soon about how we move forward—together.

your chest tightened, the words settling over you like a heavy blanket. this was the beginning of something you hadn’t seen coming, something that made your pulse race with equal parts fear and exhilaration. 

you responded quickly, almost without thinking:

you free tomorrow to go over details?

the path ahead was a little scary and clouded with uncertainty, but one thing was for sure: baekhyun was here, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

baekhyun and minji bonded quicker than you ever imagined. their first playdate was a sunny afternoon at the park, where baekhyun seemed completely absorbed in her. every giggle, every burst of energy as she dashed between slides and swings, every scrunched-nose smile lit up his face. it was as if he was trying to memorize every little detail about her, committing her essence to memory. minji, ever the social butterfly, welcomed him without hesitation—just as she did her classmates, her teachers, and even chanyeol.

chanyeol.

his name slipped into your thoughts uninvited, a shadow that tugged at your focus. why were you thinking about him now? you blinked hard, shaking the thought away. the last thing you needed was to let another layer of complication invade your already chaotic emotions.

then came that afternoon. baekhyun had come to drop minji off at your place, the usual familiarity of the moment interrupted by the unexpected. when the door swung open, it wasn’t you standing there—it was chanyeol.

“baekhyun, right?” chanyeol greeted him warmly, his easy smile bright enough to momentarily disarm. his dimple pressed deep into his cheek, as if it was carved there just for moments like this. snapping his fingers in playful recognition, he added, “i’ve heard so much about you.” he gestured casually over his shoulder, as if to invite baekhyun in. “i’m chanyeol. and that’s nari over there.”

baekhyun froze, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like an invisible force. for a split second, his expression faltered, eyes flickering to the cheerful little girl in the background, her laughter filling the air. then, his gaze shifted back to chanyeol, studying him with a quiet intensity. there was something unspoken in the air between them, subtle yet impossible to ignore—a tension that lingered like a low hum.

his eyes darted past chanyeol, chest tightening as they landed on you. you were seated on the floor, cross-legged, a radiant smile stretching across your face as you and nari played with minji’s toys. the sound of your laughter, bright and unguarded, hit him square in the chest, stirring something raw and vulnerable deep inside him. you looked so at ease, as if the joy spilling from you was effortless, untouched by the weight of the past.

“hi, chanyeol!” minji’s voice rang out, cutting through the fog of his thoughts. her tiny arms stretched toward the tall man, her excitement spilling over in a cheerful squeal.

chanyeol didn’t hesitate, scooping her up with the ease of someone who’d done it a hundred times before. “i missed you!” minji giggled, wrapping her small arms tightly around his neck.

“i missed you too, bun,” chanyeol replied with a wide grin, holding her close.

baekhyun’s stomach twisted, the word hitting him like a slap. bun. his nickname for her. no—their nickname. a sharp possessiveness surged through him, hot and consuming. did chanyeol call you that too? the thought crept in like a poison, making his jaw tighten. it was irrational, and yet it burned, carving out a hollow ache in his chest.

you stood then, walking toward them, your smile warm and glowing like the softest light. chanyeol still had minji perched on his hip, cradling her as if she were his own. he leaned in, planting an exaggerated, playful kiss on her cheek, earning a burst of delighted giggles from her.

the sound, the sight of it all—your ease, minji’s trust, chanyeol’s familiarity—brought baekhyun to the edge. his chest tightened, his breathing shallow, and for a brief, unsteady moment, he felt like he might collapse under the weight of it. the life he wanted was right in front of him, his life, and yet, it felt just out of reach.

“i missed you, bunny,” you murmured, your fingers tenderly brushing through her soft, dark hair. minji tilted her head up to you, her eyes glittering like tiny stars. then she turned to him, her small hand waving eagerly. “bye, baekhyun!” she chirped, her voice bright and pure, her little toothy grin so heartbreakingly innocent it nearly brought him to his knees.

baekhyun’s chest tightened, the pressure unbearable. how could something so sweet hurt so much?

you stepped closer, and for a fleeting moment, baekhyun forgot how to breathe. your smile was warm, easy, and devastatingly familiar—a smile that used to be his. it softened the tension hanging in the air, but to him, it cut deeper than any blade.

“thanks for picking her up from daycare,” you said, your voice gentle, almost apologetic. the sincerity in your tone slipped past every defense he’d tried to build since that day you walked back into his life. “did you wanna come inside for a bit? we usually do taco tuesdays with chanyeol and nari. you’re more than welcome to join us.”

your words were casual, but the invitation felt anything but. “i think it’d be great, actually,” you added, your voice bright with optimism. “since chanyeol’s been in minji’s life for a little over a year now.”

the floor seemed to tilt beneath him. his body stiffened, and a violent twist gripped his heart. chanyeol. a year. the words echoed mercilessly in his mind, louder and louder until they drowned out everything else. he wanted to tell you no, to scream it, to tell you he’d rather rip his chest open and claw his heart out than walk into that house and see the life you were building without him. a life that looked so perfect. a life where he was nothing but a footnote.

instead, he forced a smile—thin, hollow, the kind of smile that only deepened the cracks in his façade. it was nothing more than a mask, a feeble attempt to conceal the storm raging beneath his skin. “i’m actually in a hurry,” he said, the words stiff and unnatural as they stumbled off his tongue. “gotta get to the clinic.”

a lie, plain and simple. it came too easily, slipping past his lips like second nature. the instant it escaped, he felt the sick churn of regret twisting in his stomach, his voice betraying him with a clipped edge he couldn’t quite hide.

your head tilted slightly, confusion flickering across your face like a shadow. “didn’t you guys already close for the day?” you asked, your brows knitting together in that subtle way that always made his chest ache. “it’s past six.”

his pulse stuttered, a silent curse tumbling through his mind as he fumbled for an answer that wouldn’t shatter the fragile distance he was desperately clinging to. but nothing came. nothing convincing enough. nothing that didn’t feel like quicksand.

his feet shifted instinctively, retreating before his resolve could crumble further. “charts and prescriptions and... you know, stuff,” he mumbled, taking an awkward step back. “i’ll see you later.”

before you could say another word, he turned, walking briskly toward his car. his steps were measured, his pride refusing to let him break into a full-on sprint, even as his heart hammered like a war drum. every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of his lie and your confusion pressing down on him like a vice.

he didn’t dare look back. if he did, he knew he wouldn’t have the strength to keep going.

from behind him, minji’s giggles rang out like music, the sound breaking through the thickness in the air. you were pressing playful kisses to her cheeks, your exaggerated smooches sending her into a fit of laughter.

it was almost too much. the scene—the two of you together, so natural, so perfect—made his knees weak. he gripped the handle of his car door and paused, his chest heaving as he fought the urge to look back. to stay.

but he didn’t. he slid into the driver’s seat and pulled away, leaving behind the ache that followed him everywhere you and minji weren’t.

as baekhyun drove away, his grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned a stark white. the image of you standing there with chanyeol and the two girls—your girls—seared into his mind, an indelible mark he couldn’t shake. you looked like a perfect family, like something pulled straight out of a dream. but for baekhyun, it was nothing short of a nightmare.

every mile he put between himself and your door pressed harder on the ache in his chest. his thoughts roared louder than the hum of the engine, drowning out everything but one relentless truth: that should’ve been me.

he couldn’t keep doing this—living in the fragile shell of a life that barely held him together. pretending he was fine without you, without minji. pretending that every day apart wasn’t hollow, wasn’t agony. each moment away from the two of you felt like a wound he couldn’t heal, the kind that gnawed at him constantly, leaving him restless and raw.

he dragged a trembling hand through his hair as the silence around him became unbearable. pacing the length of his living room later that night, his mind was still trapped back at your doorstep. he could hear your laugh echoing in his ears, the way it always lit up every corner of his world. the memory of your voice, soft and full of meaning, saying his name. minji’s tiny hands gripping his, her trust as effortless as her love. every memory sharpened the longing, the undeniable knowledge that you were his. you always had been. and yet, here he was—stuck in a life that felt like it belonged to someone else.

it wasn’t fair. not to him. not to you. and certainly not to her. the woman waiting for him at home, wearing the ring he had slipped onto her finger when he was too weak to face the truth. she deserved more. she deserved better. she deserved a man who wasn’t haunted by another woman’s smile, another child’s laughter.

his fists clenched at his sides as the weight of his choices bore down on him. guilt dug into him like a blade, twisting with every second. and yet, beneath it all, one truth burned brighter than anything else: he needed you. he needed you and minji, your warmth, your chaos, the life you had created without him.

he could feel it unraveling, the lie he was clinging to. every passing day stretched it thinner, threatening to snap. and when it did, he wasn’t sure what would be left of him—only that it wouldn’t be enough without you.

after a few more park playdates, you invited baekhyun over for dinner. when he arrived, he held two bouquets—one vibrant and blooming for you, and a smaller, delicate arrangement for minji.  

minji’s face lit up as she clutched her flowers, her excitement spilling over as she helped baekhyun carefully arrange them in vases. you watched from the kitchen, your hands busy with dinner but your heart quietly swelling at the sight of them together. 

dinner came and went in a blur of laughter and easy conversation. afterward, baekhyun insisted on helping clean up, minji trailing behind him like his little shadow. yet through it all, you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze lingered on you—soft, almost yearning. and every time you caught him, he’d quickly look away, his cheeks tinged with a hint of pink.  

you tried to brush it off, convincing yourself it was nothing. that the bouquet meant nothing. but your heart betrayed you, skipping a beat every time your eyes met. your cheeks warmed under his gaze, though you told yourself it was absurd. he’s engaged, you reminded yourself firmly. he’s in love with someone else. it’s not you anymore. it hasn’t been for years.

later, baekhyun offered to get minji ready for bed, his enthusiasm lighting up the room. he approached each part of her bedtime routine with such care—a playful splash during her bath, patient encouragement as she brushed her teeth, and a warm smile as he read her a bedtime story.  

you stood in the hallway, listening to her giggles and his gentle voice, your chest tightening with a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite name.

you walked back to the kitchen, the soft hum of the house wrapping around you as you reached for the wine bottle. the deep red liquid swirled as you poured it into two glasses, the rich aroma curling in the air. baekhyun had worked magic tonight, easing a rowdy toddler into sleep as if it were the simplest thing in the world. the image of him tucking minji in still lingered in your mind—a quiet smile on his face, his touch gentle but sure.

you thought about all the time you and minji had been spending with baekhyun lately felt like something out of a dream. it was everything you’d ever wished for but never thought you’d have. he slipped so seamlessly into her world, as if he’d always been there. their bond was undeniable—tickle fights that left her squealing with laughter, quiet moments where she leaned into him with absolute trust. watching them together only deepened the ache in your chest, the one that whispered how foolish you’d been to keep her from him for so long.  

you told him as much one late afternoon, after a long stroll through the park. minji had fallen asleep in his arms, her little body spent from an afternoon of running through the playground while he chased her, pretending to be some silly monster. her tiny cheek squished against his shoulder, her breath soft and steady as she drooled onto his jacket. the two of you had laughed quietly, careful not to wake her.  

“guess she’s making up for all the times it was you she drooled on instead,” he teased with a smirk, his voice warm and low.  

it was in that fragile, golden moment that the words you’d been holding back tumbled out. “baekhyun, i... i’ve been feeling so awful. i’m not saying this for pity, i just—every time i see you with her, the guilt claws at me. i can’t believe i kept her from you for so long…i’m so sorry.”  

your voice cracked, and then there were tears—hot, stinging, relentless.  

baekhyun stopped in his tracks, his steps crunching against the gravel path as he gently grabbed your arm. his touch was firm but steady, grounding. he turned you to face him, his gaze steady, unwavering.  

“hey,” he said softly, his voice pulling you out of your spiral. “what matters is now. and the future. i trust you, and i know you won’t keep her from me again. i’ve forgiven you... but maybe it’s time you forgave yourself.”  

his words settled over you like a balm, soothing and unyielding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of your guilt began to feel a little lighter. 

you’re pulled from your thoughts by the soft click of her bedroom door, the quiet shuffle of baekhyun’s steps filling the silence as he makes his way toward you. you know the sound of his walk so well, even after all these years. it’s comforting, familiar—the same measured rhythm, the same ease. in so many ways, he hasn’t changed. his laugh, his warm personality, the way his eyes crinkle into crescent moons when he smiles.  

“she’s out,” he announces from the hallway, his voice soft but tinged with satisfaction as he spots you at the dining table.  

you hand him the glass of wine you’d poured moments before, holding it out like a peace offering. “this is for all your hard work,” you tease, a light grin tugging at your lips.  

he chuckles, the sound low and warm as he takes the glass from your hand, his fingers grazing yours for a fleeting second. the touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, unexpected but unmistakable, and you quickly avert your gaze, staring down at the table like it holds all the answers.  

he settles into the chair beside you, close enough that you can feel the faint warmth radiating from him. you sip your wine, trying to steady yourself, before speaking. “so... have you and soo talked about setting up a time to meet her?”  

his face shifts at the mention of her name. the change is subtle but telling—a flicker of discomfort, the kind you can’t unsee once you notice it.  

“yeah,” he says after a pause, his fingers fidgeting with the stem of the wine glass. he takes a sip before continuing, his tone quieter now. “i actually wanted to talk to you about her.”  

your heart sinks, unease settling in your chest like a stone. “oh?” you ask, cautious. “is everything okay?”  

the worst thoughts swirl in your mind, a storm of possibilities. maybe she doesn’t want baekhyun spending time with minji. maybe she’s uncomfortable with you being part of the equation.  

he exhales sharply, his thumb brushing against the rim of the glass. “yeah... i mean, i guess.” there’s a pause, a weight to his words that makes you hold your breath. “the engagement’s been called off.” his voice is steady, almost too steady, as if rehearsed.  

your jaw drops before you can stop it. the shock is written all over your face, and baekhyun winces at your reaction, his gaze darting away. you quickly compose yourself, snapping your mouth shut as heat rises to your cheeks. “what happened?” you blurt, the words spilling out before you can think twice. “you seemed... so happy.”  

your voice falters, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve overstepped. the weight of your question lingers between you, heavy and unspoken, and you brace yourself for whatever comes next. 

“i was. or... at least, i thought i was,” he says, his voice low and almost hesitant, as if he’s afraid to admit it even to himself. his hand moves to his hair, ruffling it in that familiar way he always did when the weight of his thoughts pressed too hard on him. a reflex, a habit you never forgot.

“and then you walked back into my life.” his voice is quiet, but there’s a rawness to it, like he’s pulling the words straight from the deepest part of him. your breath hitches, the air between you growing unbearably still as his gaze locks onto yours. there’s something in his eyes—something aching, desperate, like he’s trying to hold himself together while unraveling all at once.

“with her,” he continues, his voice breaking just enough to make your chest tighten, “this little girl who’s... everything. everything i didn’t know i was missing. she’s you and me, all tangled up in the most perfect way.” he swallows hard, his jaw clenching as though he’s fighting to steady himself. “and suddenly, nothing else makes sense anymore. not without you. not without her.”

the moment those words left his lips, the air seemed to shift. everything stilled—the hum of the world faded into silence, leaving only the thunderous echo of your heartbeat in your ears. had he really said that? the words hung between you, raw and unguarded, threatening to unravel everything you thought you understood.  

his eyes searched yours, hesitant but resolute, as if willing you to see the truth in his gaze. when he spoke again, his voice softened, carrying a weight that made your breath hitch. “and the more time i spent with you both... the more i realized you’re what i want. you and minji. you’re what i really want in my life.”  

his confession hit you with the force of a tidal wave, knocking the air from your lungs. you felt the ground tilt beneath you, the walls you’d carefully built around your heart quaking under the pressure of his words.  

“baekhyun…” you whispered, your voice barely audible, your chest tightening as you forced yourself to ask, “are you… are you serious?”  

but you already knew the answer. you could see it, clear as day, in the way his gaze didn’t waver. 

“we can take our time… start slow,” baekhyun exhales, his voice carrying the weight of his confession as if it had been lodged in his chest for years. the vulnerability in his tone is raw, unguarded, and it almost makes you forget to breathe. “i mean… if that’s what you want, too.”  

his words trail off, and for a moment, his usual confidence falters. a quiet doubt creeps into his thoughts—what if you’ve moved on? what if you don’t want this? the possibility churns in his mind, making him feel smaller, suddenly unsure.  

“sorry,” he blurts out, shaking his head, gaze dropping to the floor. “i shouldn’t have said that—”  

“no,” you interrupt, your voice firm but gentle, grounding him. your hand finds his, your fingers curling around his in a touch that feels achingly familiar, as though no time has passed. the warmth of his skin against yours sends a spark racing through your veins, a reassurance you didn’t realize you both needed.  

he looks up, his eyes wide with hesitation, and you hold his gaze. “i’d… actually like that,” you admit, your voice softer now, a smile tugging at your lips. “start slow and see where we go.”  

his shoulders visibly relax, and the faintest glimmer of hope flickers in his eyes. he squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, and for the first time in a long time, it feels like the two of you are stepping into something whole and unbroken.  

two weeks later, you stood in front of your closet, the door wide open and a growing pile of discarded clothes spilling onto the floor. 

you were getting ready for a date.  

with baekhyun.  

your first date as parents.  

the thought made your stomach flip with nerves and excitement. it felt surreal, almost like stepping into a story you didn’t dare dream for yourself. but as much as the idea of this new beginning thrilled you, the reality of your wardrobe—or lack thereof—was starting to feel like a nightmare.  

minji was spending the evening with chanyeol and nari, her overnight bag already packed and slung over chanyeol’s shoulder when he came to pick her up. you couldn’t miss the way his expression shifted when you told him the reason for the favor, his smile faltering for the briefest second.  

“it’s just dinner,” you’d explained softly. “we’re taking things slow, seeing where it goes.”  

chanyeol had nodded, his lips pressing into a tight line. he couldn’t quite mask the pain in his eyes, though he tried.  

“of course,” he’d said eventually, his voice steady despite the storm you could feel brewing beneath. “you know i’m always here for you…and minji.”  

because that was just who chanyeol was—a steady, selfless anchor, even when it hurt.  

now, as you tore through hangers and drawers, you glanced at your phone, a spike of panic shooting through you. less than two hours. how had the time slipped away so fast?  

you groaned, flopping onto your bed as you stared at the heap of options that just weren’t right. nothing screamed ‘first date with the father of your child.’ nothing said ‘i’m nervous but excited and maybe a little terrified but i also want to look stunning.’  

baekhyun.  

you imagined the moment baekhyun would arrive, the image of him clear in your mind as if he were already standing at your door. he’d look effortlessly polished, the way only he could manage—like he’d stepped out of a magazine without even trying. his shirt would probably hug his lean frame just right, the soft fabric teasing at the lines of his shoulders and chest. his hair, always perfectly imperfect, would fall into place with a casualness that made you suspect he’d only run his fingers through it once before heading out.  

and then there were his eyes—those warm, honeyed depths that had a way of making the world feel quieter, smaller. they carried a quiet determination now, a depth that hadn’t always been there, like the years apart had reshaped him, sharpened his focus. you could almost see the subtle tilt of his lips when he caught sight of you, a smile that wasn’t overly practiced but natural, like it belonged there because you did.  

he never needed much time to get ready, and yet he always looked like he did. that was the thing about baekhyun—everything about him was easy, seamless, like he existed in his own effortless rhythm. it wasn’t about the clothes he chose or the way he styled his hair; it was about the energy he carried, the quiet confidence that drew people in.  

and tonight, he’d be coming to pick you up—not just as the baekhyun you’d known before, but as someone determined to start fresh, someone who wanted to show you that maybe, just maybe, this could really work out.  

you exhaled deeply, steadying yourself as you slid off the bed. pull it together, you thought, brushing your curled hair out of your face. tonight wasn’t just another evening—it felt like the start of something new, something tentative and hopeful, and you wanted to look the part. not just for baekhyun, but for yourself. you wanted to feel like the best version of you—the woman you were before, and the woman you were becoming.  

your eyes drifted toward the top of your closet, where an old, forgotten box rested among stacks of seasonal items and spare blankets. a spark of hope flickered. you vaguely remembered stuffing your pre-pregnancy clothes up there, unable to let them go but convinced they might never fit again. now, that box felt like a treasure chest waiting to be rediscovered.  

grabbing a step ladder, you climbed carefully, brushing the thick layer of dust from the box’s lid before tugging it down. a cloud of nostalgia seemed to escape as you peeled it open. there they were—rows of fabrics, textures, and memories you hadn’t touched in years. silky blouses, form-fitting dresses, sleek skirts... all the outfits you used to wear when going out felt like a second skin.  

you sifted through them, piece by piece, fingers grazing over familiar fabrics as your heart swelled with a mix of apprehension and excitement. you pulled out a sleek dress, holding it up against yourself in the mirror. to your delight—and a little disbelief—it still fit, hugging your post-pregnancy curves in ways that made you feel both proud and beautiful.  

you were finishing the last touches on your hair and makeup when the doorbell rang, slicing through the air like a sudden jolt. a flutter of butterflies stirred in your stomach, their wings beating furiously as nerves surged through you all at once. instinctively, you reached for your perfume, spritzing it lightly over your neck, the familiar scent wrapping around you like a soft, comforting embrace.  

you took a long, steadying breath, eyes tracing your reflection in the mirror, checking every detail—the delicate curve of your lashes, the soft glow of your skin, the way your lips curved just right. you stepped back, allowing yourself a moment to really see the woman in front of you. had it really been so long since you dressed up like this? for anyone? the question lingered in the air.  

and then it hit you, clear as day. it had been since baekhyun. a quiet chuckle escaped your lips as you shook your head, bemused by the realization. there was something about tonight that felt different, something about this moment, this new chapter, that made everything feel... significant.  

with a final glance at your reflection, you straightened up, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. you walked toward the door, each step a little more deliberate, a little more full of purpose. this wasn’t just a date. this was something else entirely.

when the door swung open and baekhyun saw you, his breath hitched, the air suddenly too thick to pull into his lungs. his gaze swept over you, deliberate and slow, as if his mind needed time to register every curve, every detail, every shimmer of the fabric that clung to you. his heart thundered in his chest, a wild rhythm he couldn’t control, and for a moment, all he could do was stare.

you were devastating. the dress—that dress—hugged you perfectly, its soft sheen catching the dim hallway light, every subtle movement making it seem alive, as though it had been designed for this exact moment. it was the same one you’d worn before, in a memory he kept locked away for years. back then, you’d twirled in front of him, laughing, your joy so infectious it had carved itself into his soul. seeing it again now, seeing you now, was almost too much.

but this wasn’t just a walk down memory lane. this wasn’t then. everything was different now—he was different, you were different. yet, somehow, that pull between you felt as raw and undeniable as it had the first time he’d laid eyes on you.

except now, you weren’t just the girl he’d loved with everything in him, the girl he’d lost, the girl he thought he’d never have again. you were minji’s mother. his daughter’s mother. and seeing you like this—so stunning it almost hurt—sent a new kind of longing through him. it wasn’t just want, though god, he wanted you. it was need, aching and all-consuming, a yearning that went far beyond physical desire. he needed to prove himself, to prove that he could be more for you, for minji. that this time, he wouldn’t let you slip away.

his hands twitched at his sides, desperate to reach for you, to touch, to hold, to pull you close enough to feel the warmth of your body against his. the temptation was staggering, nearly unbearable. his mind flickered with flashes of all the ways he wanted you—how it would feel to bury his face in your neck, to whisper promises against your skin, to hear you say his name like you used to.

but he held himself back, swallowing hard, locking it all down. not now. he couldn’t rush this. he couldn’t risk ruining it.

when his eyes met yours, his lips curved into the softest of smiles, one that didn’t quite mask the storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface. “you…” he paused, his voice catching before he found it again. “you look incredible.” the words came out low, steady, but there was no mistaking the weight behind them.

for a brief second, his eyes dropped back to the dress, his mind betraying him with an image of it lying forgotten on the floor, of you in his arms, of everything he was fighting to keep at bay. the thought made his chest tighten, and he let out a soft chuckle, as if to diffuse the tension he felt coiled so tightly within him.

but he didn’t move. not yet. instead, he let the moment stretch, imagining the day when he wouldn’t have to hold back, when he wouldn’t have to hesitate. when he could love you the way he wanted to—completely, without fear, without doubt, without restraint.

after dinner, the two of you strolled back to your place, the night humming with the warmth of shared laughter and lingering glances. the soft glow of streetlights cast a golden sheen over everything, making the world feel dreamlike, almost suspended in time. the wine coursing through your veins made the air lighter, the edges of reality softer, as though nothing truly mattered except the man walking beside you.

when you reached the door, your fingers fumbled with the keys, the metal slipping awkwardly in your grasp. you giggled, a sound so sweet it made baekhyun’s chest tighten. he stood behind you, his presence warm and steady, his hands gently finding their way to your waist. his touch was light, but it burned in the most delicious way.

“need a hand?” he asked, his voice low, teasing, his breath grazing your ear as he leaned closer.

you turned your head just slightly, your smile playful. “please,” you murmured, trying—and failing—to mask the way his closeness made your pulse quicken.

together, you managed to coax the door open, his hand guiding yours with a deliberate slowness that made you shiver. once inside, he closed the door behind him with a quiet click, the sound reverberating through the stillness of the space.

“nightcap?” you asked, your tone casual, though the mischief in your eyes betrayed you. your cheeks were warm, not just from the wine but from the way his gaze lingered, heavy and intent.

baekhyun didn’t answer right away. his eyes stayed locked on you, tracing the curve of your cheek, the way your lips curled into that familiar, teasing grin. his gaze dipped lower, lingering on the dress that clung to you like a second skin. that dress. the one he couldn’t stop thinking about all night, the one he wanted to peel off you with his teeth.

he swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep himself in check. the air between you thickened, crackling with an unspoken tension. he took a slow, deliberate step closer, the movement barely noticeable, but the way his eyes darkened said everything his lips couldn’t.

“yeah,” he finally murmured, his voice low, rough around the edges. “a nightcap sounds good.”

but it wasn’t the drink he wanted. no, the only thing he wanted was standing right in front of him, flushed and radiant, looking at him with eyes that could undo him in a heartbeat. every instinct screamed at him to close the space, to kiss you breathless, to pull you into him and never let go. but he didn’t. not yet. he was holding onto a thread of control, as thin and fragile as the air between you.

for now, he could wait. but god, you were making it impossible.

he could barely hold himself together, his self-control stretched thinner with each passing second. honestly, he deserved an award—no, a damn medal—for the composure he managed to keep throughout dinner. every moment was its own quiet war, every glance from you a calculated blow, every soft laugh a fatal shot to his already fragile defenses. your presence was a sweet, maddening intoxication, pulling him under in waves he couldn’t escape.

the way you looked at him—those eyes full of something gentle, something tender, something that felt like home—was almost his undoing. his fingers curled tightly against his thighs, his knuckles blanching as he fought the urge to reach for you. your smile, radiant and unguarded, had him aching in ways he thought he’d forgotten, stirring something raw and desperate in the pit of his stomach. and your voice—god, your voice—danced through the air, warm and melodic, like the first song he’d ever loved.

and then there were those moments when you looked at him, really looked at him. it was in the softness of your gaze, the way it lingered a second too long, the way it stripped him bare without a single word. it was as if you still saw him—truly saw him—the way you used to, back when you were his. that look, full of unspoken truths, clung to him like an echo, whispering things he didn’t dare hope for. you still love me. you still love me. the thought struck like lightning, leaving him dazed and breathless, his pulse thundering in his ears.

his chest tightened with the weight of it all—the yearning, the disbelief, the sheer impossibility of the moment. it was as though everything that had gone wrong, all the time that had stretched between you, suddenly dissolved, rendered meaningless in the face of this. it was just the two of you now, the world fading into a blurry background, holding its breath as if waiting for him to do what every fiber of his being screamed for: close the distance.

the need was relentless, searing through him like fire. his fingers twitched with the urge to touch you, to cradle your face in his hands and trace the contours of your cheek, to see if your skin still felt as soft as he remembered. his lips burned with the craving to kiss you, to taste the laughter that had tormented him all night, to claim the love he had been starving for since the day you walked away.

it had been almost four agonizing years since you left him behind, taking the light of his world with you. he thought he’d buried the pain, that he’d learned to live with the emptiness you left. but now, here you were, so close he could hear the rhythm of your breaths, feel the warmth radiating from your skin. and he realized with a clarity that stole the air from his lungs: none of that pain mattered anymore. not the silence, not the heartbreak, not the years. all that mattered was you—here, now, in front of him.

his breath hitched at the thought, and he found himself imagining what it would feel like when he finally kissed you again. his lips hovering just inches from yours, the space between you crackling with tension. he could already feel the pull, that same magnetic connection that had always been there, waiting for the moment he could touch you. and when their lips finally met, he knew—he knew—it would be just like before. that same sweetness, that same softness, the curve of your lips fitting perfectly against his, like you were always meant to belong to him.

no one had ever kissed him the way you did. no one else had ever left him breathless, drowning in the intensity of it, as if your kiss had the power to remake him. and god, he wanted it again. needed it.

he wanted you, wanted you so badly, the need pooling in his chest, a hot, tight ache he couldn’t ignore. he could already taste you, feel the warmth of your lips beneath his. he remembered how your kiss had once made him feel weightless, like he was falling into something beautiful, intoxicating. it was all he’d thought about the entire night. 

and the way you looked now, that dress clinging to you like it had all those years ago, just made him ache even more. he couldn’t stop the images running through his mind—ripping it off of you, feeling your body pressed against his, tasting the sweetness of your kiss once again, just like he had done so many times before. the desire to feel you underneath him, to bury himself in the softness of you, was almost unbearable. he wanted it. he wanted you.

but instead, he nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “yeah,” he breathed, his voice thick with barely contained longing, “yeah, a nightcap sounds good.” 

his fingers twitched, wanting nothing more than to touch you, but he held himself back, feeling the heat rise between you both, a tension so thick it was almost unbearable.

"here, let me pour the drinks for us," he murmured, his voice low and steady as he took your jacket and purse, hanging them with a quiet care on the coat rack. 

you raised an eyebrow, teasing, "oh?" the corners of your lips twitched, fighting back a smile as you bit your bottom lip. your lashes fluttered lightly, casting delicate shadows across your cheeks as you met his gaze. "i’m just getting spoiled tonight, aren’t i?" you teased, the memory of how he'd practically wrestled the check from your hands earlier still fresh in your mind. it made you laugh softly, a sound that seemed to melt into the air.

but before you could say anything more, he was there, his hand coming up instinctively to cup your cheek. the warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, his thumb brushing lightly against the softness of your skin, tracing the curve of your cheek, your chin, and finally resting just below your lower lip. his touch was so gentle, so deliberate, and yet it stirred something deeper inside you—a quiet yearning that you were both trying to contain. 

you met his eyes, searching his face, knowing the unspoken truth before he even voiced it. you could see it—the way his gaze lingered, the way his breath hitched just slightly as he studied you. he wanted to kiss you. you could feel the tension rising, thick and palpable between you, but still, he held back, the weight of restraint pressing on him.

not wanting to push him, you offered him a sweet, reassuring smile, the kind that spoke of understanding without words. the sight of it seemed to stop him in his tracks, and his heart skipped a beat, his breath catching in his throat. 

baekhyun’s lips curved into a playful smirk. “spoiled?” he echoed, leaning in just slightly, enough for his voice to drop a fraction, rich and smooth. “c’mon, bun, i’m sure you remember what me spoiling you really looks like.”

his words hit like a soft nudge to a locked door, memories rushing in before you could stop them. you remembered the way he used to spoil you relentlessly back in college, how his love language seemed to be written in lavish gifts and thoughtful gestures. designer handbags you could never justify buying for yourself, delicate jewelry that always seemed to match the sparkle in his eyes when he fastened the clasps himself.

he’d surprise you with new outfits for events you didn’t even know you’d be attending until he planned them—your wardrobe practically transformed by his generosity. every time the newest iphone dropped, he’d make sure it was in your hands within days, complete with a customized case he knew you’d love. he’d slip his card to waiters or store clerks before you could even think to pay.

and then there were the practical things, like covering your car payments or arranging maintenance before you even realized you needed it, his way of taking care of you without ever making you feel small for it. he never wanted you to stress, and you’d laugh at the absurdity of it all while secretly melting at the way he seemed to know what you needed before you did.

baekhyun had money. plenty of it. his family’s wealth wasn’t something he flaunted, but it was there, shaping the way he provided for you. your family wasn’t poor, but you didn’t have the same financial ease. you worked hard for the things you had, but baekhyun never made you feel less than, never made you uncomfortable about it. his quiet humility and the way he never flaunted his wealth made it all feel normal—money was never the issue. it was always about the love you shared.

you swallowed hard, heat creeping up your neck as you met his gaze again. his eyes were on you now, softer but still teasing, as if he could tell exactly where your thoughts had gone. “besides” he murmured, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “i’m just making up for lost time. can you blame me?”

one glass turned into two, then three, each sip loosening the tension in the air, but also building something new between you, something heady and electric. laughter spilled from your lips, the sound light and careless, but underneath it, a growing warmth that neither of you could ignore. the night seemed to blur around the edges, the wine clouding your thoughts, making everything softer, more daring. 

the bottles emptied one by one, their presence a witness to the hours that had melted away as you lingered in each other’s company. the glasses tipped over, forgotten, their contents pooling on the floor like spilled memories. it didn’t matter. nothing mattered except the way he looked at you—intensely, as if every part of him was drawn to you in a way that left him no choice but to pull you closer. 

and then, he kissed you.

it was slow at first, almost tentative, like he was relearning the shape of your lips, the rhythm of your breath. but it didn’t stay that way for long. in an instant, the kiss deepened, the years of separation melting into a blur of heat and urgency. his hands found your waist, pulling you closer—closer, until you were climbing into his lap, your legs straddling him without hesitation.

his mouth was scorching, addictive, just like you remembered. it was the taste of him, rich like wine but unmistakably him—a flavor you thought you’d buried, but now you realized you could never forget. his kisses were messy, hungry, each one leaving you breathless as soft moans and breathless whimpers slipped between you. his hands roamed with purpose, sliding down to cup your ass, pulling you flush against him. his grip was firm, possessive, so achingly familiar that it made your head spin.

you felt the growing bulge beneath you, hard and urgent, straining against his pants. the pressure sent a sharp jolt of need straight to your core, igniting a fire you couldn’t ignore. warmth pooled between your legs, soaking you as your hips rocked instinctively against him. a deep, guttural groan escaped him, vibrating against your lips as you kissed him harder, hungrier.

“i missed you,” you breathed, the words tumbling from your lips as they traveled to the curve of his neck. you nipped at the sensitive skin below his ear, the spot you knew drove him wild. sure enough, a soft, desperate moan spilled from him, and you smiled against his skin, savoring the sound of him unraveling beneath you.

"i love you, bun," he whispered, his voice soft yet heavy with meaning, a tremor of raw emotion in every word. his gaze, unwavering and intense, locked onto yours, as if he could reach inside you with just a look. his lips brushed yours, so lightly it almost felt like a delicate promise. "i... i don’t think i ever stopped."

the words crashed into you, like a wave breaking against the shore, unexpected yet inevitable. your heart skipped, breath caught in your chest as the depth of his confession wrapped around you, pulling you under. "i love you, too, baekhyun," you breathed, your voice barely more than a whisper, but steady—anchored in the truth that had always been there, buried beneath the years of silence. "i never stopped."

and then, his lips were on yours again, and it was as if the world snapped back into place, the pieces aligning with the force of your shared confession. finally, it felt like home. like you were where you were always meant to be. your body responded instinctively, moving closer, desperate to feel the heat that had always simmered between you two. you ground against him, slow, deliberate, an aching need rising in you both. the friction between you sent jolts of electricity through your veins, a fire sparking to life as you felt him tense beneath you, his hands tightening on your hips.

for a brief moment, you thought he'd pull you in fully, lose himself in the moment as much as you were. but instead, his body went rigid, stilling beneath you as if every muscle had locked in place.

"wait—" his voice cracked, the sound thick with a dangerous mix of yearning and restraint. his hands stilled your movements, holding you in place. you could feel his chest rise and fall beneath you, shallow breaths betraying the storm inside him. "i don’t want to pressure you into anything you’re not ready for. i know we agreed to take things slow. i can wait."

his words cut through the haze of your desire, stopping you dead in your tracks. the sincerity in his eyes hit you like a tidal wave. he was holding back—for you. 

for you. 

the ache in your chest was sharp, but in the best possible way.

without saying a word, you reached down, sliding his hand beneath your dress, guiding him to where you were already burning. his breath caught when his fingers brushed against your bare skin. his eyes widened, shock crossing his features as he realized you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

"feel how wet you’ve made me?" you whispered, your lips grazing his ear, your voice low, sultry, teasing. the way his chest moves as his breathing becomes more deeper, heavier as if it’s taking everything in him not to put his fingers to work on that sloppy cunt of yours. you could feel his restraint fraying, and you couldn’t help but smile.

"still think i wanna take things slow?" you teased, your thumb tracing the curve of his bottom lip, urging him to act.

you could feel his body tremble under your touch, his hands shaking slightly as he adjusted, his fingers just barely grazing where you needed him most. the hunger in his eyes was almost unbearable, and you leaned in closer, brushing your lips over his jaw, waiting for him to break.

his composure shattered. his eyes fluttered shut as you brought his slick-coated fingers to your mouth, your tongue swirling around them slowly, deliberately. the taste of yourself on him was heady, and you sucked his fingers clean, the act sending a shiver down his spine.

“fuck,” he groaned, his voice thick with hunger. “ya sure about this, bun?” each syllable a desperate plea as his restraint teetered dangerously close to breaking.

you nodded, eyes wide and shimmering with a mix of innocence and promise. your lashes fluttered like the softest caress as you looked up at him, lips swollen and bruised from his fevered kisses, a delicate pout lingering on them. the sight of made his dick twitch. “always been sure when it comes to you, baek.”

the words hit him like a wave, and with a shuddering sigh, he couldn’t hold back anymore. his lips crashed against yours, possessive and hungry, claiming you as if he’d never get another chance. one arm wrapped around your head, fingers threading through your hair with a desperate need, while the other hand slid to your ass, squeezing it roughly. his grip tightened, a subtle warning, but you could feel the way his muscles strained, the raw tension in his touch. every press of his fingers into your skin felt like a brand, like he was marking you, anchoring himself to you. his touch was a blaze, a wildfire that scorched you in the best way, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear an inch of distance.

and then the world tilted.

with a surge of power and urgency, he lifted you without hesitation—strong, commanding, as though he was claiming you in the most primal of ways. a breathless gasp escaped your lips, the sound of surprise barely escaping before his hands cradled you, holding you as if you were made of something more fragile than glass. he held you with reverence, but there was an edge to it, a possessiveness that promised he would never let you go.

his breath is heavy against your neck, warm and uneven, betraying the restraint he’s barely holding onto. your body is pressed tightly to his chest, his heart pounding against yours, every beat echoing the unspoken promises that linger in the air. each step he takes toward your bedroom is deliberate, charged, as though the distance is unbearable, as if he can’t get you there fast enough. 

"shit," he muttered, his voice rough and low as he lowered you onto the edge of your bed. the realization hit him like a tidal wave, cold and relentless, stealing his focus. his gaze flickered to yours, a storm of panic swirling in his eyes. “i didn’t bring any condoms. do you… do you have any?”

his question lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken, cutting deeper than the surface. the knot in his stomach tightened, the thought of someone else touching you during the time apart clawing at his insides. he hated the idea more than he cared to admit.

your laughter cut through the tension, soft but laced with something playful, a gentle ring that seemed to fill the space between you. "no, baek," you replied, your voice a breathless melody. "i haven’t had sex—well, any action, really—since you." the confession slipped out before you could stop it, and though a blush bloomed on your cheeks, you held his gaze. there was a flicker of vulnerability in your eyes, but it only made his heart race faster.

his breath hitched audibly, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. his heartbeat thundered in his ears, his chest rising and falling with the weight of your words. “you’re serious?” he whispered, disbelief laced with something else—pride. his lips curved upward into a slow, cocky grin, the kind that made your stomach flip. the thought of you untouched by anyone else since him fed something primal, something possessive.

you nodded, your teeth sinking into your lip like you were weighing the impact of your words. embarrassment rushed to your neck, but it was quickly replaced by the heat of his stare. it burned through you, molten and unwavering, making your heart thrum harder with every passing second.

“fuck,” he rasped, the word almost guttural, like he couldn’t contain the surge of raw emotion. it was your turn to smile, a cocky glint lighting up your eyes. but when he spoke again, the weight of his confession hit you harder than you expected.

"i haven’t gone raw in anyone since you."

the words hung heavy in the air, suffocating with meaning. the way he said it, so casually, like it was a fact that only made sense in the world he had built around you, made your pulse spike. it was everything—the promise, the truth. your knees weakened at the depth of his gaze, molten like a fire you couldn’t escape.

"d’ya trust me, bun?" he whispered, voice low, the words slipping from his lips with a possessive kind of hunger.

you swallowed thickly, your breath coming out uneven, heart pounding in your throat. your pulse raced, and despite the weight of his question, you somehow found your voice, breathless and full of raw honesty.

“with my life.”

his lips curled into that signature, boyish grin that had always undone you, a glint of mischief dancing in his darkened eyes. 

without hesitation, he closed the distance between you, his hands brushing the smooth, delicate skin of your arms before they drifted to the zipper at your back. in one seamless motion, his fingers tugged at the fabric, pulling your dress down with a fluid grace that seemed almost too effortless, as if he’d done it a thousand times before. the fabric slid off you like a memory, slipping to the floor as he guided you back onto the pillows, leaving you bare under the weight of his gaze.

his breath faltered as he drank you in, his eyes tracing every inch of your skin, the intensity of his hunger for you pressing against him like an ache that made his chest tighten. "god," he breathed out, the word barely escaping his lips as if he was speaking to himself more than to you, his hands gently exploring your exposed body like he was memorizing it, as though each touch could never be repeated.

but then it came—the surge of insecurity, creeping in from the edges of your mind like a dark cloud, unwelcome and cold. without thinking, you crossed your arms over your body, your hands instinctively covering the soft curves you’d learned to live with, but had never quite come to accept.

baekhyun saw it instantly. the shift in you, the way you tried to pull away, to hide. his expression softened, his gaze darkening with understanding as he stepped closer. his voice, low and steady, was a balm to your wounded confidence. “don’t you ever feel the need to hide from me,” he murmured, each word laced with an unspoken promise. his hands were gentle, yet firm, as he took hold of your wrists, slowly guiding them away from your body and placing them at your sides. the weight of his touch was reassuring, a silent command for you to trust him, to trust that he saw you—all of you—and that was all he wanted.

his touch was almost ethereal, like a whisper against your skin. his fingertips grazed the curve of your breasts, lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch. “bigger,” he murmured, the word thick with admiration, as if discovering something new about you—something he’d always known he wanted. his hands traveled lower, tracing the lines of your waist, feeling the soft expansion of your hips beneath his palms.

when his fingers brushed over the subtle stretch marks on your ass, a low, guttural groan escaped him, the sound vibrating through the air between you. his body tensed, his desire unmistakable, radiating off of him in waves. “god, you’re so beautiful,” he said, his gaze never leaving the soft, inviting shape of your body, as if memorizing every inch of you.

his hand drifted to your stomach, his finger moving with slow deliberation, drawing a path down the center of your abdomen, a slow, torturous line that set your nerves alight. “you’re gonna feel me,” he rasped, his voice husky, the words carrying a weight of promise. his thumb pressed gently into the sensitive skin just above your belly button, sending a shiver spiraling through your body. “right here,” he murmured, his eyes locking with yours—dark, smoldering, intense with intent.

the teasing, the way he looked at you like you were something precious, something intoxicating—it was too much. your hands clenched at the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer, the need to feel him overwhelming. without a second thought, your lips crashed against his, urgent and desperate. the kiss was hungry, frantic, your mouths pressing against each other as you fumbled with the fabric of his clothes, your body burning for more.

his laugh rumbled against your lips, the sound low and rich as he pulled back just enough to smirk down at you. “eager, aren’t we?” 

you didn’t miss a beat, your fingers working at his waistband as you bit back, “just wanna see if you still know how to fuck me properly.”

his laugh deepened, full and throaty, as he shoved his boxers down, freeing his throbbing cock. “glad to see that smart mouth of yours hasn’t changed, bun,” he said, his grin wicked. he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he added, “i’ma have fun puttin’ it to good use later.” 

your breath hitched, your heart pounding in anticipation as he pressed closer, the weight of his words and his presence igniting every nerve in your body. 

he positions himself at your entrance, and your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding so hard you can feel it echo in your ears. the heat radiating from him, the subtle brush of his skin against yours, sends a shiver rippling through your body. his tip, swollen and leaking, nudges against you, dragging slowly through your wetness, teasing with a precision that makes your toes curl. 

he lingers at your entrance, just barely pressing in before retreating, spreading his precum and your slick together in a maddening rhythm. the sensation of his velvety tip gliding over your folds, grazing your clit, sends jolts of pleasure through your core. every deliberate movement feels like a silent taunt, a reminder of how much he’s savoring this moment—savoring you.

“baek, please,” you whimper, your voice trembling, desperate. your fingers clutch the sheets beneath you, nails digging in as if grounding yourself could somehow stave off the overwhelming need building inside you. tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as the relentless teasing pushes you closer to the edge of begging.

his own restraint is fraying, evident in the way his breath hitches, the way his hands tremble slightly as they grip your hips. he leans down, his forehead resting against yours, his dark eyes smoldering with a mix of lust and longing. “oh— fffuuuccck, i missed you,” he groans, his voice strained, thick with emotion and need.

his words barely register before he begins to push in, his throbbing tip stretching you inch by agonizing inch. the sensation of him filling you—so warm, so familiar yet impossibly intense—forces a soft gasp from your lips. he exhales sharply, his jaw clenched, savoring every second, every sensation, as though this moment is the only thing that matters in the world.

baekhyun’s gaze flickers to your face, catching the faint wince that creases your features, gone as quickly as it came, but not quick enough to escape him. his brows knit together, his concern palpable, etched into the soft lines of his expression. he stays perfectly still, his body taut with restraint, as if afraid to move and hurt you. the stretch stings, yes, but there’s something deeper beneath it—a delicious burn that ignites every nerve, leaving you teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure.

“baby, you good?” his voice is low, soft, a husky murmur that wraps around you like the warmest comfort, his tone threading worry with tenderness, his concern a steady anchor in the haze between you. his dark eyes search yours, flickering with a mix of restraint and hunger, like he’s balancing on the precipice of losing control but refusing to let it happen until you’re ready.

you nod, though your breath catches, a sharp inhale that betrays the lingering ache as you will yourself to adjust. you shift your hips slightly, testing, feeling the stretch give way to something deeper, something raw that tugs at your core and sets your pulse hammering.

he groans, low and guttural, a sound dragged from the depths of his chest as he feels you take him in just a little more. his breath stutters, breaking like a thread pulled too tight, his hands flexing where they rest on your hips. the sharp ache dissolves into heat, into a magnetic pull you can’t resist. his reaction tells you he’s just as wrecked as you are, caught in the unbearable tension of holding back when everything about this moment demands he let go.

baekhyun’s exhale shudders, his head tipping back as his grip on your hips tightens just enough to remind you of his control. “fuck,” he rasps, the word rough and shaky, his voice carrying a mix of awe and restraint. “i missed the way you feel around me.”

his words send a ripple of heat through you, raw and unfiltered, a confession of just how much you’re undoing him. his fingers dig into your skin, grounding him, though his gaze never strays from yours. the tension coils tighter with every passing second, his dark eyes blazing with something possessive, something unrelenting, as though he’s holding back the storm brewing just beneath the surface.

your need burns hotter, desperation clawing its way to the forefront. “baekhyun—,” you beg, the words tumbling out before you can catch them. “please... just hurry up and fuck me.”

the plea comes out shaky, your voice trembling with want, and for a moment, you feel utterly exposed. but the effect on him is instant. his lips curl into a slow, wicked smile, his expression one of pure, devastating control as if that's all he needed to hear. “as you wish, sweetheart,” he grunts, his voice thick with promise and unrestrained desire.

his hands tighten their hold on your hips, strong and commanding, as he shifts his position. with a flex of his arms, he lifts you with effortless strength, your body rising until you can feel the head of his cock stretching you once more. the tension builds, unbearable and heady, before he slams you down onto him in one fluid motion.

the force of it steals the breath from your lungs, the intensity of him filling you completely, stretching you to your limit. the sound that escapes you is ragged, a cry of pleasure that seems to echo in the air between you. baekhyun’s growl rumbles low in his chest, primal and rough, as his hips meet yours, bottoming out with a precision that leaves you trembling.

his movements are deliberate yet feral, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge, his hands never leaving your body as if anchoring you to him. his need is palpable, pouring out in every motion, every flex of his muscles as he claims you with an intensity that sets every nerve ending alight.

“ya feel so fuckin’ perfect,” he groans against your skin, the words muffled but soaked in reverence as his lips press to your shoulder, your neck, anywhere he can reach. every motion, every sound, every touch pulls you deeper into him, blurring the lines between where you end and he begins.

he missed you. god, every inch of him missed you. it’s like his cock remembers every curve, every slick ridge of your walls, molding to him perfectly. and of course, he lets you know, his voice breaking into a string of desperate confessions. “f-fuck… m’sorry. ya squeezin’ me so tight. i think ‘m gonna cum soon hah– and ‘m gonna fuck it right back into this perfect—ngh—cunt.”

“hah—baek,” you whine, your voice trembling as you fully surrender to him. your body rocks helplessly in rhythm with his relentless thrusts, his cock plunging so deep it leaves you gasping. “s-so deep—hngh… can feel you here—” your hand snakes down, guiding his to press against your stomach, right where the swollen head of his cock is relentlessly hitting that devastatingly sweet spot.

his breath hitches, a low, disbelieving laugh huffing out as his fingers press into your skin. “fuck,” he groans, his eyes dark with lust, fixed on you, utterly wrecked beneath him. his hand is on top of the other as they press down over the slight bulge where he’s buried so deeply inside you. “feel that, baby? that’s me… stretching this pretty pussy out so good.”

his words send a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, and it’s too much—all of it, the weight of him, the filthy praise falling from his lips, the way his hands grip you like you’re something precious, even as he loses himself in you.

“baek—oh god!” your cry echoes through the room as your body shatters beneath him, the first orgasm of the night ripping through you with a force that leaves you trembling. his lips crash against yours, swallowing your desperate moans as his hand moves lower, fingers finding your clit in quick, precise circles. the overstimulation sends sparks shooting through your veins, the pleasure stretching, elongating, as he coaxes every last wave from you.

“that’s it—hah. cum for me angel,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice softening even as his hips keep their punishing rhythm, chasing his own release. “y'so perfect, baby. nngghh—so fuckin' perfect for me…and finally mine again.”

“been y-yours,” you hiss, dragging out the word as his crazed tip whacks itself against your sensitive spot. again, again, and again—he’s hitting against that same spot as if it were a target and he never misses. his frantic hits against your core causes your toes to curl and your back to arch even further as you’re slowly being brought closer to your orgasmic, teetering edge. “ffuuck! ‘m cumming again, baek, cumming.” 

your release crashes over you like a tidal wave, sweeping you into a realm that feels like heaven itself. your body gives out beneath the intensity, collapsing back against the mattress as baekhyun hovers over you, his breath hot and heavy. his tongue trails a slick, wet path down the curve of your neck, his touch a sinful mix of reverence and hunger as you unravel completely beneath him.

baekhyun’s body is pressed flush against yours, his every movement slow yet calculated, like he’s savoring each second, each inch, as if the world might steal you away from him again. the heat of his skin seeps into yours, the sheer intensity in his dark, lidded eyes making it impossible to look away. his breath is ragged, the sound mingling with the soft gasps spilling from your lips, the two of you lost in a rhythm that feels as natural as breathing.

“please,” he rasps, his voice cracking, raw with emotion. his forehead presses to yours, the touch grounding and desperate as he sinks deeper, his hips stuttering like the closeness of you is too much, too overwhelming to contain. “please, don’t fuckin’ leave me again.”

his words linger, heavy and aching, filling the space between you with the weight of every unspoken hurt, every moment lost. his fingers tighten on your hips, digging into your skin as though the feel of you beneath him is the only thing tethering him to reality. his thrusts grow erratic, uneven, each movement betraying the fragility of his control.

“nggghh—i think...” his voice falters, a low groan spilling from his lips as he buries his face into the curve of your neck. his mouth grazes your skin, reverent, desperate, the ghost of his breath hot and trembling against you. “i think i’ll die if you do. god, i can’t—i can’t spend another fuckin’ day without you.”

your heart clenches painfully, his vulnerability cutting straight through you like a blade. his body trembles against yours, every inch of him straining to keep you close, to pour everything he feels into the spaces between you. your fingers find their way into his hair, threading through the damp strands as you tug gently, coaxing him to meet your gaze.

his eyes lift, dark and glassy, brimming with emotion so unguarded it threatens to undo you. devotion, fear, yearning—they’re all there, laid bare and unfiltered.

“baekhyun,” you whisper, your voice a delicate tremor, barely audible over the shared gasps of breath between you. your hands cradle his face, fingertips brushing over the damp strands of his hair as if trying to ground him, to ground yourself, in this fragile, fleeting moment. “’m not going anywhere. i’m here... i’m yours. we’re yours.”

his breath catches, shuddering under the weight of your words, and a sound—fragile, broken—escapes him. he surges forward, pulling you closer, deeper, until it feels like he’s trying to fuse your souls together, to erase every inch of space between you. his thrusts are slower now, deliberate, every roll of his hips steeped in something more than desire—something raw and sacred, like a plea, a promise, an apology all at once.

your body arches into his, a guttural whine ripping from your throat as his cock pulses within your walls, stretching, filling, consuming. your muscles clench around him, your body dragging him deeper into your heat, and his control shatters like glass.

“f-fuckin’ shit,” he growls through gritted teeth, his hips jerking erratically as he spills into you, heat blooming deep inside, marking you in every sense of the word. the intensity steals the breath from your lungs, and as the waves of pleasure crash over you, pulling you under, your release spirals into his, the two of you breaking apart and piecing yourselves back together in the same breath.

his lips find yours, the kiss frantic and messy, a collision of tongues and teeth as if he’s trying to reclaim the time you spent apart. every ragged moan, every whispered curse and gasp fills the room, the air thick with the symphony of your shared need. the world outside fades, leaving only the two of you—entangled, desperate, and utterly consumed by the moment.

it’s not just lust, not just longing—it’s everything. years of heartache, love, and an aching, unrelenting need poured into every kiss, every thrust, every whispered vow that promises you’ll never leave each other again.

your walls clench around him again, coaxing more from him, and he groans deeply, his arms looping around your waist to anchor you to him. his grip is firm, almost desperate, holding your trembling hips in place as his thick, creamy release paints your insides. it’s obscene, the way it trickles down your shaking thighs, a messy, lewd reminder of everything he’s giving you. but baekhyun doesn’t stop—not yet. his hips slow, but only slightly, rolling into you with a lazy, unrelenting rhythm as if determined to fuck every drop back into you.

it’s filthy, yes, but there’s something almost tender in the way his lips brush against yours again, his deep moans muffled as his movements grow languid, sweet in their intensity. he nips at your bottom lip, his voice a teasing rasp when he finally pulls back just enough to speak, his forehead pressed to yours.

"how ’bout we give minji a sibling, huh?" the words spill from him, low and teasing, yet dripping with intent, his hips punctuating the question with a deliberate thrust that has you crying out.

your brain short-circuits, the world spinning as his cock drags against your sensitive walls. your head nods before you can even process his words, a frantic, needy motion as your body betrays just how utterly drunk you are on him. thinking straight? impossible. all you can manage is a breathless, choked moan of agreement, your fingers digging into his back as he continues to work you into oblivion."yeah?" your voice trembles, still riding the waves of your last high. "well, we’ve got all night to try."

the morning sun filtered softly through the trees as you stood at your front door, your body still humming with the afterglow of the night before. baekhyun’s car had just turned the corner, leaving behind the faint scent of his cologne and the weight of his goodbye kiss still lingering on your lips. you smiled to yourself, the memory of his warm hands on your waist and the way he’d looked at you all night filling you with a quiet joy.

but then your thoughts shifted, and a familiar ache settled in your chest. you glanced to your left, to chanyeol’s house, where your daughter, minji, was probably still fast asleep. you wondered when you should go pick her up, already missing the sound of her giggles and the way she always ran to you with open arms.

your gaze lingered on his house, warm affection for your daughter mingling with a twinge of guilt. chanyeol had been nothing but kind—stepping in to watch minji overnight so you and baekhyun could have this time together. but as your eyes traced the windows, movement caught your attention.

the curtain in the living room fluttered, a shadow shifting behind it before it was quickly pulled shut. the abruptness of the action made your heart sink. someone had been watching. you didn’t need to guess who.

your stomach twisted as the realization hit you. chanyeol.

the look on his face from last night flashed through your mind—the way his mouth had tightened, his expression faltering when you’d casually mentioned your plans with baekhyun. you’d tried to soften the blow, telling him you were "taking things slow," but now those words felt hollow, like a broken promise.

slow? the sight of you outside your front door in baekhyun’s shirt, kissing him goodbye, told a different story.

the weight of the moment pressed on you, guilt pooling heavy in your chest. chanyeol didn’t deserve this. he didn’t deserve to see this, to piece together the night you’d spent with baekhyun and feel whatever it was you knew he must be feeling.

for a second, you thought about knocking on his door, about saying something—anything—that might ease the tension now crackling in the air between your homes. but instead, you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to step inside your own door. maybe it was better this way, to let the moment settle, to deal with the aftermath later when your thoughts were clearer.

but as you shut the door behind you, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

chanyeol:

hey, can we talk?

a sigh escapes your lips, the guilt in your chest an ache that refuses to fade. you were already bracing for this conversation, knowing it had to happen, knowing you owed him this clarity. more than that, you still wanted him in your life—him and nari both. they had become such an integral part of your and minji's world, their presence a steady anchor in the chaos. you had to make sure he understood that.

your thumbs hover over the screen, the words forming before you can second-guess them.

yeah, i think we should, yeol.

chanyeol sits on the couch beside you, though the space between you feels like a canyon. it’s a noticeable difference from how he used to sit, closer, as if the world wasn’t big enough to separate the two of you.

he brought minji home a few minutes ago, fast asleep against his shoulder, her cheek pressed to him in the way only a child could manage, soft and unguarded. her little mouth hung open, a whisper of snores escaping as if the world around her didn’t exist. she’d been worn out from a full morning playing with his sister’s kids and nari, her tiny form so peaceful it made your heart ache. you’d both had quietly tucked her into bed together. and now here you were, back in the living room, perched on the edge of an unspoken conversation.

his sister had stopped by his place earlier this morning, her kids in tow for a chaotic playdate with nari and minji. she’d agreed to watch nari while chanyeol brought minji back home and you and him have this talk, though he’d been vague about why he needed the time. what was he supposed to say? “i’m going next door to talk to the girl i’ve been madly crushing on for over a year about seeing her kiss her ex-boyfriend and baby daddy and now i don’t know where i stand.” no. too messy. too raw. too much.

his jaw tightens, a small movement you barely catch out of the corner of your eye. the weight of his presence feels like it’s pressing against your chest, suffocating and grounding all at once. you glance at him, then quickly look away, unsure of how to start this conversation. unsure if you even can.

the silence between you stretches, awkward and heavy. you try to fill it with small talk, your voice soft. “how was minji last night?”

he glances at you, a smile tugging at his lips, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. there’s something pained in his expression, something restrained. “she was great. she always is.”

you smile faintly, but it fades as guilt bubbles in your chest. “look, chanyeol,” you start, your voice tentative, “i’m sorry for what you saw this morning. it probably didn’t make me look like ‘mother of the year.’” you pause, exhaling slowly. “i know i said baekhyun and i were going to take things slow, but… one thing led to another, and—”

“stop,” he interrupts, his voice sharp but not unkind. his hand comes up, almost reflexively, as if to shield himself from your words. he winces, and you know it’s because he’s picturing it—baekhyun’s hands on you, his lips on yours. where chanyeol wishes his own could be.

his shoulders slump as he exhales, the tension in his body evident. his face is a mosaic of emotions—hurt, frustration, resignation. “i don’t think i want to hear the details… about what happened with you and baekhyun.”

the air grows heavier, his words filling the space between you. for a moment, neither of you speaks. then, he sighs again, his voice quieter this time, softer. “i just came to say that i get it.”

you blink, caught off guard. “you do?”

he nods, his gaze falling to his hands, which rest loosely in his lap. “yeah,” he says, the word heavy with a weight he’s carried for longer than you probably realize. “i always knew your heart was still with him. filled with him. i thought that maybe, over time, with me… and nari… we—i—would fill it instead.” his voice cracks slightly, and he clears his throat, forcing himself to go on. “but then he came along. and even then, i was still foolish enough to believe i had a chance.”

your heart clenches, the rawness in his voice cutting deeper than any accusation ever could.

he looks up at you, his eyes earnest despite the ache swimming in them. “but i just want you to know… don’t feel guilty. about this. about me. nari and i—we’ll still be here for you and minji. always.”

his words hit you like a wave, and you’re left staring at him, your chest tight and your throat dry. there’s no anger in his voice, no bitterness, just an overwhelming sense of loss and quiet acceptance.

and somehow, that hurts even more.

you open your mouth, but no words come out. what can you possibly say to that? to a man who has just stripped himself bare, laying his feelings and heartbreak at your feet without a hint of resentment? guilt swirls in your stomach, heavy and unrelenting, but beneath it is something softer—gratitude.

“chanyeol,” you finally manage, your voice quiet, shaky. “i… i don’t even know where to start.” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, a nervous habit you’ve had for as long as you can remember. “i never meant to hurt you. i swear, i didn’t.”

his smile is small, sad, and fleeting. “i know.”

“you mean so much to me,” you continue, your voice gaining strength. “and not just because you’ve been so good to minji and me, but because you’re… you’re you. you’ve been a constant in our lives when everything else felt so uncertain.”

his gaze flickers to yours, and the weight of his emotions is almost too much to bear.

“but,” you add, hesitating because the truth feels like a betrayal, “i can’t lie to you. when baekhyun came back, it stirred up so much that i thought i’d buried. i thought i’d moved on, but… seeing him again…” you trail off, unsure how to finish without twisting the knife further.

“i get it,” he says softly, sparing you the need to say more.

“i don’t deserve you,” you whisper, shaking your head. “you’ve been nothing but kind and patient, and i hate that i’ve put you in this position. but… thank you. for everything. for understanding, for being here, for—”

“don’t,” he cuts you off gently, his voice firm but kind. “don’t thank me like this is the end of something. nari and minji are still best friends, and i’m not going anywhere. you don’t get rid of me that easily.”

his attempt at humor coaxes a faint smile from you, though the tears welling in your eyes threaten to spill over. “you’re too good, you know that?”

he shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in something that’s almost a smile. “or maybe i just have bad timing.”

you both fall silent again, the unspoken understanding settling between you like a fragile truce. you want to hug him, to thank him properly, but you know it’s not what he needs right now. instead, you place a hand on his, squeezing it gently.

“i’m sorry,” you say again, your voice barely above a whisper.

he squeezes back, his touch warm despite the distance he’s trying to keep. “me too.”

and with that, the moment shifts, leaving behind a bittersweet ache that doesn’t feel quite like an ending but more like an understanding—a quiet closure to what could have been. as chanyeol stands to leave, his hand moves instinctively, gently cupping your chin. his thumb grazes the soft curve of it, a gesture so intimately familiar it almost feels like a promise.

his eyes meet yours, but this time, there’s no playful glint, no trace of hope lingering there. instead, his gaze is calm, tinged with a bittersweet acceptance that sits heavy in the space between you. his lips pull into a small, wistful smile—warm enough to remind you of the connection you once shared but tempered by the reality that things have changed.

“we’ll be okay,” he says softly, the weight of his words lingering in the air. “nari and i… we’ll always be here for you and minji. that doesn’t change.”

his voice is steady, not heavy with regret but grounded in the knowledge that some paths aren’t meant to intertwine the way he might have once hoped. and as he steps back, the warmth of his touch fades, but not in a way that feels cold or distant.

instead, it feels like understanding.

he hesitates for a moment, the faintest flicker of something unreadable crossing his face, but then he nods slightly, his smile growing just enough to feel reassuring. “see you around, yeah?”

“yeah,” you manage, your voice soft but steady.

with that, he turns and walks out the door—not leaving behind a void, but rather a quiet sense of peace. the kind of peace that comes with knowing some connections will always remain, even if they’ve shifted into something new.

baekhyun had started staying over on weekends. it had been his idea initially, a way to make up for the years he missed with minji—but somewhere along the way, it became about more than that. your relationship with him had been blossoming, as if no time had been lost.  

the nights you spent together felt like a rediscovery of who you both were, a bittersweet journey through what was and what could be. after minji would fall asleep, the two of you would sit on the couch, sharing stories from the years apart. his late-night shifts at the hospital during his program, your struggles navigating motherhood alone, the little triumphs and heartbreaks in between.  

what surprised you most was how much had stayed the same. you still had the same taste in music, still argued playfully over which movie to watch. even the new interests you’d each picked up fit together seamlessly—baekhyun teasing you about your new baking obsession while you mocked his newfound love for photography.  

it was during one of those weekends, after a long day spent at the park with minji, that things shifted. the house was quiet, save for the soft hum of the night outside. minji had gone to bed hours ago, worn out from a day of running around, and now you lay tangled in the sheets with baekhyun, your skin still warm from the closeness you’d just shared.  

his arm draped lazily over your waist, fingers tracing absentminded patterns on your skin. “i’ve been thinking,” he murmured, his voice soft but serious.  

you turned to face him, your cheek brushing against his bare chest. “about what?”  

“about telling her,” he said, his hand stilling on your side. “minji. that i’m her dad.”  

you blinked up at him, the words settling heavily in the air between you. it wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed your mind, but hearing him say it made it feel... real.  

“you think she’s ready?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.  

he nodded slowly, his dark eyes meeting yours. “she’s smart, you know? she already knows there’s something different about the way i am with her. and with you.” his lips quirked into a small smile. “plus, i want her to know. i want her to know how much i love her. how much i love... this.”  

your breath hitched, his words wrapping around your heart like a warm embrace. “you really think now’s the time?”  

baekhyun shifted, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down at you. “i do. but only if you’re ready, too.”  

you bit your lip, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. but as you thought about how minji had been bonding with baekhyun—her laughter during their tickle fights, the way she lit up every time he walked into the room—you realized he was right. she deserved to know.  

“okay,” you whispered, your fingers reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his face. “let’s tell her.”  

he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his voice a gentle promise. “thank you. for letting me be here. for giving me this chance.”  

the following day, during lunch, you sat minji down. the late afternoon sun poured into the kitchen, casting soft golden streaks across the table where you, baekhyun, and minji sat. the aroma of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup lingered in the air, a comfort meal chosen carefully for this important day.  

minji swung her little legs under the chair, humming a tune in between bites, blissfully unaware of the weight of the moment looming.  

you glanced at baekhyun, his fingers tapping lightly against the edge of his bowl—a nervous tell he couldn’t quite hide. catching your eye, he gave you a small nod. it was time.  

“minji,” you began gently, setting your spoon down and leaning forward. her big eyes flicked up to you, still chewing, her cheeks puffed out like a little chipmunk.  

“mommy and i want to talk to you about something important,” baekhyun added, his voice warm but tinged with a nervous edge.  

minji blinked, tilting her head curiously. “what is it?”  

you took a deep breath, reaching for her tiny hand across the table. “you know how you’ve been spending a lot of time with baekhyun lately? going to the park, playing games, having fun?”  

she nodded enthusiastically, a grin spreading across her face. “yeah! he’s so fun! and he’s really good at hide-and-seek!”  

baekhyun chuckled softly, his fingers brushing through his hair. “well, there’s a reason we’ve been spending so much time together, minji,” he said, his voice tender. “it’s because i’m your dad.”  

the room went quiet for a moment as her little brain worked to process the words. her eyes flicked between you and baekhyun, her brow furrowing slightly. “my... dad?”  

you squeezed her hand gently. “yes, sweetheart. baekhyun is your dad. he loves you very much and wants to be in your life, just like mommy is.”  

minji’s lips pressed together in a thoughtful pout. then, she looked at baekhyun, her small voice filled with curiosity. “are you gonna stay forever?”  

his breath hitched, and you could see the emotion pooling in his eyes. he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table to meet her at eye level. “yes, minji. i promise i’m not going anywhere. i want to be here for you, always.”  

she studied him for a moment, then turned to you. “is that okay, mommy?”  

your throat tightened at the question, the innocence of her trust nearly breaking you. you nodded quickly, brushing a hand through her soft hair. “of course, bun. it’s more than okay.”  

a beat passed, and then her face lit up with a smile that could rival the sun. “so... does this mean i can call you daddy?”  

baekhyun laughed, his voice shaky but filled with relief. “only if you want to, bunny.”  

without hesitation, she slid off her chair and ran to him, wrapping her tiny arms around his waist. “hi, daddy.”  

baekhyun’s arms enveloped her instantly, holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world. his eyes met yours over her head, glistening with unshed tears and a gratitude too deep for words.  

in that moment, you knew everything would be okay. your little family had found its way back together.  

˗ˏˋ ꒰ a/n ꒱ ˎˊ˗ omg k first of all, i’m so, so, sooooo sorry it took me forever to finish this fic 😭😭😭 i really wanted to try something new with this one. more angsty vibes, some slow-burn, and some juicy subplots to keep it interesting hehe :') instead of my usual "plot? what plot? oh wait, you mean porn" approach (which ofc the next like 4 fics are definitely giving that lmfao) ANYWAAAYYYY, i hope you enjoyed it!! <3 as always lmk ur thoughts <3 <3 (unless you hated it or thought it was mid...then pls...keep it to urself because i am a fragile lil bnuy n will cry 😭🤚🏼) k that's all bye love you guys!!!! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა 💖

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* masterlist ° ᡣ𐭩 . 

[cursedpiratestash]

Iron fist(Lin Lie) x Reader

General relationship headcanons

a/n: I'm sorta rusty sorry :')

As focused as he can be on anything but romance in the beginning I like to think he does pick up on any signals you send his way. Whether or not you can pick up on any of his signals may vary.

If you happen to be particularly oblivious he doesn’t shy away from grander gestures such as bringing you gifts or snacks that you’ve mentioned are your absolute favorites. Must he rip the bandage off and confess he does so by taking you on a more scenic route back to base.

After that you hardly see him leave your side unless a mission truly calls for it. Not that he didn’t already keep a close eye on you on the battlefield before, of course.

Outside of missions his favorite way to relax is just on a couch having his head in your lap while you play with his hair or even just leaning on you while you’re busy reading or on your phone as your presence can sometimes help him focus on mitigating the pain in his hands.

He quite enjoys any sort of activity you drag him into and often uses everything as inspiration for future date ideas.

That being said, he loves taking you out to places he thinks you’d like. Although if you’re more of a homebody he passes you no judgement and will only occasionally drag you out when he succeeds in convincing you. Of course his face card grants him a lot of leeway.

He makes it a bit of a habit to show you off when he can considering he can be quite cocky at times. Regardless of whatever dynamic you two conjure up you lift his doubts with ease. They’re still there of course, but one look at your face and a soft touch can do quite a lot for him.

I don’t believe very many things spark an argument between you aside from perhaps the stereotypical “You shouldn’t be so reckless!” on missions that happen to go a little more awry.

Fortunately he can be rather interpersonal and comes to an understanding very easily. If you’re the one being stubborn, however, he gives you some time to yourself to cool down before he returns to you with an apologetic smile and a heart to heart. He doesn’t make too many promises, but leans more towards realigning your focus and reminding you what these missions are for. Whatever the problem may be he tries to the best of his abilities to comfort you.

That may pertain to a much needed session in the bedroom whether the resolve ends up being wholesome or not…

[optimisticmosquito]

heavenly demon SY au, with a teaspoon of familial cumplane and a pinch of shenliushen.

Some decade before the tianxi era TLJ has a one night stand with a male demon who gets pregnant. Surprise! it's airplane who wanted a taste of that doomed heavenly pillar. He's older than MBJ in this au and hasn't had the chance to meet young MBJ yet. MBJ has enough on his plate without some random older demon howering around him. SQH is many things a creep he is not, thank you very much.

So instead he gets pregnant by TLJ, has a cry session, wonders if he's going to birth the protagonist, cries some more over all the death flags he has raised for himself, and then just accepts his fate. TLJ doesn't care much about this little surprise, it was just a one night stand after all. However, his advisors have been nagging him about getting hitched and producing heirs, so he sees his chance to finally getting rid of one problem by throwing the other one at it. Very clever indeed!

SQH becomes TLJs first concubine. SQH does not become empress, but until TLJ marries further, he's as good as one. So SQH (with babybump proudly on display) starts fixing up TLJs court, all administrative tasks, and generally making it run smoother than it has for generations. TLJ is happy as can be, finally he can leave his empire for months on end to follow his true calling, reading and watching every human romance story that has ever been produced!

SQH gives birth to a healthy baby boy. But before he can think of naming him LBH, the System interrupts and has him name it SY instead (weird cause neither him nor TLJ is named Shen). SQH figures this is either another transmigrator or the system has plans involving this child. Which, dude, hands off his spawn! Not cool.

SY grows up as the apparent heir to the entire demon realm. Which is awesome! He can pretty much do anything he wants whenever he wants. But also, what about LBH? He isn't meant to be the demon emperor, that's his future didis job! Fuck, he is going to have to fight LBH for the throne isn't he? He's so dead.

It doesn't help that his mother (second father? He's not going to think too long on the logistics behind his birth) is strange even for demonic standards. For a demon he is increadibly skittish, always avoiding conflict like the plague. And he constantly walks around muttering to himself, stoping the moment anyone comes within hearing distance. Although, SY has to admit he's a pretty good parent all things considered. He always makes sure SY has everything he needs and puts away at least one day a week just for the two of them.

SY does find out who SQH is when he one day hears him mumble about the plot and LBH. SY interrogates him and finds out he's another transmigrator. That explains a lot! SQH is happy to learn his child is another transmigrator and not a puppet for the system to push its agenda. So happy in fact he spills he's actually the author of this world, which sends SY through the five stages of grief before circling back to anger. What do you mean that lousy hack author is his mother!?!? Someone end his misery, this should count as child abuse!

He has half of the mind to run away and never be seen again but SQH begs him to stay. He's only in this position bc SY exists and if SY runs away he might get kicked out or pressured into having another child. SY despite it all still on some level sees SQH as his parent and reluctantly agrees to stay and continue on his path as heir. He hasn't met TLJ that often and he knows TLJ wouldn't do anything to stop the rest of his court if they decided to kick SQH out.

So life continues until news arrive about TLJ being burried under a mountain. SQH tells SY that SXY is LBHs mother and probably imprisoned in HHP at that moment. They decide the best course of action would be to kidnap SXY and bring her to the demon realm. SQH should have enough control over the empire even with TLJ gone. Especially with SYs help as the de facto heir and a heavenly demon in his own right.

SY for his part is also fully on board with this plan. He can help raise the protagonist and give him the childhood he deserves? Count him in! It would also help to be on good terms with LBH if he ever decides to take over the demon realm. SY would gladly help him take the throne!

However, before they can set any plan in motion the system assigns them a mission to keep the demon realm from falling into chaos. Moments later the court splinters as factions start fighting each other over power, and the empire dives into unrest and civil war. At the end SY comes out on top and is crowned as the new emperor.

They are too late to do anything as the coldest day of the year has already passed. When they try and send people out to find the newborn LBH they are met by HHP cultivators searching for SXY and end up in multiple skirmishes. In the end SY pulls the demons back over the border when the sects, thinking SY is out to revenge his father, starts threatening with another war.

SY is beyond himself, now how will he escape the protagonists wrath!? SQH deals with the setback the only way he knows, by burying himself in the administrative work. The following years SY spends stabilizing the realm with SQHs help (it's mostly SQH), and starts travelling around to see what the world has to offer. He soon gets a reputation of taking after his father.

SQH all the while continues to run the realm by himself again (nothing new there) and meets the future king of the Northern desert, Mobei-jun. Mobei-jun of course immediately takes interest in the MILF of the demon realm. Half the time he acts like a frightened rodent, the other half he rules the demons with an iron fist, what demon wouldn't be besotted! (SY is well aware most of the realm seems to have the hots for his mother. He tries not to think about it.)

MBJ starts trying to court SQH in typical demonic fashion. H e tries to fight SQH, sends gifts in the form of treasures and kills, and gives over power of the northern desert to SQH. SQH is used to this type of treatment. Most demons seems to want to hit him for some reason? He just writes off the gifts as taxes. And isn't it only natural for demons to push all the work on those that are weaker. MBJ has his work cut out for him.

Meanwhile SY starts travelling the human realm in search of his lost little brother. He's hoping to at least find him before LBH joins CQM. He should be able to at least stop that much of the abuse LBH is meant to experience. And he does find him! At the steps of CQM 10 years after his disappearance. Shit.

SY doesn't dare get too close yet. His disguise isn't good enough to test the scrutiny of cultivators, so going up to LBH right now would be suicide. He decides to come back later, after getting an artifact that would let him hide every trace of his demonic presence. He has no plan on ending up like TLJ. Poor Binghe will just have to survive the tea scene and the first weeek on QJP. SY will make it up to you later! Promise!

SY only shortly returns to the palace to see MBJ is still trying his best to woo mother airplane (without success!). He goes back to the sect and walks directly up to QJP to find LBH, and is instead directed to the bamboo hut. There he's questioned about his intentions, and decides to speak the truth (well most of it). His little brother went missing years ago and now SY believes him to be on this very peak! He has returned to bring LBH back home.

SJ of course hates LBH for the similarities he has to himself, but who would have guessed he also was abandoned by his older brother? Fate is truly laughing him in the face! This won't make SJ hate LBH less, but he has no plan on just giving him over to this stranger who took too long to return for his didi (just like qi-ge). So SJ claims he isn't willing to give up a disciple just like that. Hoping SY will show his true colors and abandon the little beast once and for all. When SY instead doubles down on wanting to take LBH with him, SJ decide to test how far this determination will take him (prove you are not like qi-ge).

Which leaves SY to stay on QJP as a guest while being continuously tested by SJ. And with time they slowly befriend each other and spend time just to share a cup of tea and talk literature (if SJ slowly starts trusting SY with things he's never told anyone else then that's his business).

At some point SY successfully catches a moment with LBH where he introduces himself as LBHs elder brother from their father's side. He offers to take LBH with him and leave that moment, but after LBH has digesting these new revelations (he has a brother!), declines. His adoptive mother wanted him to be a righteous cultivator, so a cultivator he'll become!

SY, already unable to deny this little bun anything, just has to accept he'll have to spend some time on QJP. Maybe he'll be able to persuade LBH to join him once SJ decides he has passed all tests. It's not too bad, SY has complete access to the library and oh boy is there a lot of things he never learned about the human realm before.

At the same time he meets the rarely seen bai zhan peak lord. LQG immediately thinks something is fishy with this QJP guest, but he's not sure what exactly (his war god senses are tingling). So to SJs great annoyance he starts showing up more often, trying to figure SY out. He even invites SY on a few monster hunts to see if he slips up, but to no avail (there are a few close calls). The more time they spend together the more he finds he enjoys talking about beasts with SY (he'll take it to the grave how his stomach flutters when SY teases him). SY even succeeds in getting LQG to teach LBH some swordforms once in a while.

When SYs identity as the demon emperor is finally revealed, it's a surprise to all three of them.

(Once SY is finally able to return to the demon realm for a visit it's to MBJ introducing himself as SYs new stepdad)